#every piece of technology that has made me use windows has hated me personally

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

My current laptop is a 2015 model and it’s saying I need to replace the battery (this would be the second or third time I think) and sometimes people are just like “keeping that thing going can end up being more expensive than just buying a new computer” but I’m ride or die with this thing. We’re together until god themself takes its life for the final time. I don’t care if its tenth birthday is coming up, we’re in this mess together, and even when I will one day be forced to get a new computer for outdated software reasons, I’m keeping this bitch until they pass on to computer heaven (because it’s been a good computer but my last personal one is in purgatory and my old highschool laptop is in hell) I used my 2014 (or was it 2014?) phone until the screen started to detach from the frame, don’t test me. I’m too stubborn and autistic.

[hansensgirl]

not all who wander are lost.

summary. | He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering.

warnings. | Strangers to lovers, smut, naive reader, mentions of trauma, angst, fluff, slight violence, slight dub/con, slight blasphemy, drinking, DD/LG, daddy kink, corruption kink, ring/hand kink, size kink, creampie kink, teasing, spanking, choking, spitting, manhandling, praise, male masturbation, handjob, degradation, a bit of humiliation, oral sex, virginity loss, marking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 11k

pairings. | Daddy!Destroyer!Chris x Little!Reader.

a/n. | one of the few fics inspired/based off of chemtrails over the country club. please heed the warnings and don’t forget to reblog. ily! thank you so much to @dragon-of-dreams @mypoisonedvine @tenuntilfightcall and everyone else for helping me out with some information! and thank you to my bb sara @asadmarveltrashbag for beta-ing and being there for me during this insane month, ilysm!!

The first time he laid eyes on you, was six months ago.

Meadows like the ones that surround him only exist in movies and Instagram posts. But even those need editing for perfection. Yet, the ones around him made him feel as though he has camera lenses for his eyes. Each piece of grass is a beautiful green, and some had flowers between them. His thighs may hurt but the view is a reward for all the trouble he just went through. A cute cottage lies on the hill he stands on. It resembles one from a Pinterest board but he doesn’t mind.

Birds chirp, sheep bleat, cows low and chickens cluck amongst Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of Summertime. Chris walks a few more steps and onto the porch he goes. This isn’t his destination. Well, technically, it is. But he isn’t supposed to be knocking on your door like he is now, and his heart shouldn’t be beating out of his chest. To the right of this cottage — Chris’s right — is another cottage.

It’s more modern than he’d prefer it to be. It only looks so because inside lives a drug lord who is on the run. It’s truly unfortunate his girlfriend sold him out for immunity. He knocks on the wooden door and takes a step back. Who knows what kind of person is behind it. “Coming!” your sweet voice calls. Chris doesn’t let go of his grip on his gun that’s down the waist of his pants.

Even the sweetest seeming things can always end up being sour.

You struggle not to trip over your own dress. The tail of it drags behind you and sweeps the floor, too. But it makes you feel just like a princess, so you don’t care. On your hip is a basket, and inside is Cotton. Your bunny. She’s been your company for years, and you don’t know what you’d do without her. Barely anyone visits anymore, only because cars can’t handle the long drive up and many people hate nature. But when the occasional knock on your door echoes throughout the house, you can barely keep your excitement inside.

You open the door and gasp. The man… is brooding. And he’s not the type of broody that would grumble insults under his breath or the type that would stalk people, either. He’s the dreamy type, the man your parents say is bad news when really he just needs love. You take in his form. You can tell he’s slightly tired and you just have to give him credit for walking up to your home. He has no flaws, except for the dirt that stains his clothing.

“Hi, do you live here?” the strange man asks, looking around the inside of your home. You jump and you’re not sure why but your skin raises with goosebumps. His voice is deep yet so soft-spoken. For some odd reason, his hand is reaching backwards and you assume that it’s because he has some sort of ache from the walk. You finally register his words and look up at him.

“Y- yes, do you live here?” you stupidly ask. You don’t even realize what you just said until you noticed his puzzled look. “Oh, sorry,” you look down and notice that his black boots are covered in pollen, something that can be oh so bothersome. “‘S’alright, I was hiking a- and I don’t have anywhere to go… Do you think you could let me stay here?” he asks, letting go of the gun. “Uhm, s- sure, what’s your name?” you ask him, moving out of the way.

Naive, so fucking naive.

“Chris, what’s yours?” he asks, stepping inside. You give him your name and he nods. He goes to wipe his shoes on the rug in front of the door but there is no rug. You hand him a rag and he gratefully takes him, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ “Are you a tourist?” you ask him, setting your basket down onto the floor. Cotton hops out of it and runs off to the kitchen, probably to chew on your apron. “No…” he solemnly answers. He hands you the rag back and you shyly take it.

“O- okay… Are you a photographer? I’ll tell you God’s truth, the most beautiful photos are taken when the sun rises, when it sets and when it’s raining,” you pointedly inform him. You drop the rag into your basket and turn back around, your dress spinning in a slight swirl. His eyes rake your body up and down, taking in every inch of your body. Red cloth with white polka dots covers your body and your mushroom earrings bring the entire outfit together.  Chris has to assume that the heavens above or whatever the fuck else is there have handcrafted you to absolute perfection.

He’s never read any stories about Greek gods, but he knows that Zeus would be absolutely infatuated with you. He takes note of how your body tenses up when he makes eye contact with you, and he gives you a small smile.

“I’m not a photographer,” he clarifies, looking around. He can’t believe you let him in just like that, but the more he found, the more he understood why. A lonely, innocent little girl like you doesn’t have anyone to tell you right from wrong. “Then what are you, sir? Are you lost? I can call the Consulate if you’d like,” you offer, walking towards him. “I’m not lost… I’m a wanderer,” he whispers almost hesitatingly.

“But you only ever wander when you’re lost, no?” you confusingly ask him. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before peering out of the window. Luckily, he has a direct view of the other cottage. He really did hit the jackpot. “Not all who wander are lost, little girl. Now tell me, why would you let a stranger inside your home?” he asks you.

Cotton hops from the kitchen to your bedroom, and you stand in place. “I… Well, I’m not sure. You didn’t give me any reason to not let you in or to make me believe you’re dangerous, sorry…” you shyly tell him. “Don’t apologize, just know that not everyone in this world is good. There’s always going to be someone with a little more darkness than the rest of us…”

Chris unzips his duffle bag, and you let out a giggle. “Quite ominous of you, but then again, it suits your whole aesthetic. The cool, bearded man, with his cool words,” you smile at him, but it carries a bit of sadness. “Treat this place as your own, make yourself at home. And if you need anything, I’m always here.”

Chris stays at the window for most of his days. Always with a pair of binoculars and a pack of saltine crackers. Sometimes, he pulls a juice bottle out of his duffle bag, You’ve countlessly offered him something that’s actually filling, such as angel cake and sandwiches. He rejects them all, and you wonder if he’s some sort of super-human. But technology hasn’t invented wireless technology yet, so it’s impossible.

“Uhm, Mr. Chris-Sir? I don’t think those crackers are good for you, they’re all you eat…” you sheepishly admit, carrying a cup of water to him. The mug has a little frog painted on it, but the green paint has chipped away over seven years. You set it down gently, onto the table next to him and Chris just stares out at the cottage. “Bird-watching is so cool, isn’t it? If you see a robin, let me know, they’re so beautiful,” you tell him, before walking off.

At first, he doesn’t take in your words. But once they’ve settled deep in his mind and sunk in, he realizes that you assume he’s bird-watching. He’d honestly take any other assumption, but at least you don’t know he’s spying on the criminal next door. He looks down at the table with a sigh and then notices what you’ve done. Not only did you set a cup of water down, but you also gave him two slices of toast. One has strawberry jam on it, and the other has melted butter.

His mouth surprisingly salivates, but it also doesn’t shock him. Every day he sits there, basking in the beautiful smell of your food and humming. His personal favourite is the smell of focaccia bread being baked. He watches and waits until you leave the room to go tend to the chickens. Apparently, one of them laid a few eggs. He quickly shovels the two slices of toast into his mouth and downs the glass of water like a starved man. Because he is one.

Cotton hopes around once again but all Chris sees is a fluffy white blur. He recalls his memories from when he was younger. Younger him always wanted a pet. Even a fish that would die in the span of two weeks would suffice. But his mom couldn’t afford it, so he dropped the idea. Sometimes, he wishes he had dropped other ideas, as well. Like the idea that he’d enjoy life as an undercover agent, or the idea of sacrificing himself for Erin.

His fingers are sticky with jam. He hates the feeling. He spreads his fingers out and goes to get up from his seat. “Shit,” he curses, realizing that something may happen while he’s away from the window. He stands there, contemplating whether or not he should risk his mission just to wash the fucking jam off of his stupid fucking hands. He calls your name, loudly, hoping you’ll hear him all the way outside the cottage.

“Is everything alright?” you shout, running inside the house. He didn’t expect that reaction, but he’ll take it. You’re holding onto the corner of two walls, slightly bent over. Your chest, your beautiful chest, is the first thing Chris lays his eyes on. He nearly chokes on his saliva, and he just can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. “Uh, hi, I need help,” he gruffly says, his voice a bit deeper than usual. He clears his throat with a loud ‘ahem’ and you begin to stand up straight, much to his dismay.

But he doesn’t think the image of your tits nearly falling out of your dress will leave his mind any time soon.

“Of course… Did you enjoy the toast? I can make you some more if you’d like,” you shyly offer him. “It was good, but I’m fine, thanks though. Can you stay here, right at the window, while I go wash my hands? If anything happens, you have to tell me.” Chris doesn’t leave any room for argument, but your curiosity and naivety get the best of you as always.

“What happens if I don’t tell you?” you ask him, walking towards the window. He blocks your path and suddenly personal space is no longer a thing you need. “You don’t want to know what I’m gonna do if you don’t, little girl,” he warns with a hint of lust in his tone. You nod your head and feel tingles bloom just above your core. You’re not sure whether they’re butterflies or those tingles.

Chris walks past you and you quickly rush to the window. You never realized how beautiful this view is until now. The sun is bright, angled in the most perfect manner so that it doesn’t shine directly in your eyes. The sky is so clear, even with the occasional fluffy cloud that always manages to look like some animal. The window blows gently, shaking the sheer curtains that frame you. You sigh and fold your arms, resting them on the windowsill.

You lay your head on your arms and stare out the window with joy filling your heart.

Chris watches you as you look out the window. You’re slightly bent over, once again. Your ass sticks out, and you subconsciously sway your hips side to side, almost purposefully teasing him. Your white dress has a few strings hanging from the hem, but it doesn’t make you look any less gorgeous. He feels like he’s in a dream.

Not only because of the beautiful scenery, and the beautiful woman in front of him but also because he’s trying his hardest to wash his hands quickly, but his movements are so slow. He looks down and rubs his hands together at a furious pace. Chris hears you gasp and he looks up. “Did you see something?” he asks you, turning off the sink.

“Yeah, my neighbour! I haven’t seen him in months, I need to go say hi,” you tell Chris, before rushing out the door. He only then registers your words once you’ve run out of the house and into the unknown. “Fuck- Wait!” he yells after you. He runs behind you and is so grateful when he notices you haven’t gone too far. But you’re still running and Chris’s target is about ten meters away, so he decides to do what he does best.

He decides to save you.

Chris’s feet hit the ground harshly, crushing the flowers beneath him. Running in socks isn’t fun, but at least he has something to protect him. He calls your name and crashes into you with all the force in his body. You both go down and hit the ground from his fierce tackling technique. You go to cry out in pain and lose your mind, but Chris clams his hand over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. You’re not hurt, okay? I’m sorry I had to do that, but you can’t go running off like that,” he lectures, throwing his right leg over your body. He frames you down, and you don’t have much room to move. You’re frozen in place, chest heaving, and you furrow your eyebrows at his words.

“Listen, I need you to listen. You may not know me and I may not know you, but when I tell you to do something, you’re going to listen. Understood?” he chastised with a harsh tone. You nod meekly, like a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “And just so you know, that sweet neighbour of yours over there is wanted by the Feds.” Chris looks over his shoulder and doesn’t see the man there anymore, so he begrudgingly climbs off of your body.

You gulp thickly, out of fear and nervousness. Chris doesn’t seem to want to add on to this newfound information, so your anxiety makes work of it. For all you know, your neighbour could be a murderer. Chris senses your nervousness and gives you a pat on the head, almost as if you’re his pet.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of you under him, helpless and with his hand clamped over your mouth is something that gets his blood (and hand) pumping. He helps you up, and you don’t even realize it until he brushes some dandelion seeds out of your hair. “Thank you… and thank you for saving me, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” you shyly speak to him. He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets, finding an old cigarette from before he quit.

“‘S’alright, I just need a few things from you,” he gruffly reassured. “O- Of course, anything for my guest and for the man who saved my life,” you beam with a small giggle punctuating your words. He basks in it, almost as though it’s sunlight over a beach. “Ah, you flatter me. Just tell me about yourself, I’m going to be staying for a while,” he says as he turns around to walk back inside.

A bottle of gin is in Chris’s hands. The colourless yet pale yellow liquid swishes inside its rightful bottle. It’s half full, only because last night, he downed the rest. He hasn’t drunk in a while. Since he got over being left for dead. And that’s only six months ago.

He’s shirtless. Only left in his grey jeans and jewelry. His rings clink against the glass bottle and his bracelets hang a little past his wrist. The gunshot wound on his left side had a faint scar on it. He hates it. Every single time he stares in the mirror, that fucking scar just stares back at him.

His father told him it makes him seem more ‘manly’, but it just feels like a point of weakness. Maybe if he was a little quicker, he would’ve saved that bank teller. He would’ve gotten Silas behind bars. He would’ve been able to be proud of himself.

Chris groans at the memories and spins the cap off of the bottle. It flies somewhere across the room, probably hitting one of the wood walls. He mumbles a ‘fucking hell’ and brings the bottle to his lips. The last time he drank like this was three months ago, and he ended up fucking the bartender.

She was bent over the counter, her tits spilled out of her bra and his cock pummeled into her sloppily.

She ended up kicking him out after they were done.

Chris groans again and sits down on the bed, kicking his legs up. His pants are stained with the pigment of dandelions and grass. The splotchy stains are juxtaposed to the grey of his old jeans. They have wear and tear all over them, but he doesn’t care.

Every now and then, he sighs — he sighs quite deeply. The puffs of air come from deep inside his chest. He tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling, thinking back to earlier today. He smiles to himself, recalling the way you looked so innocent beneath him.

He’s only known you for a few days, and he already has lewd thoughts for you. Fuck. He just can’t help himself, though. Especially with your innocent doe eyes and pretty little dresses. He closes his eyes slowly, using that memory to fuel his much-needed mental images.

You’re beneath him once again, but you’re naked. His hand is wrapped around your throat, and he’s naked too. His cock is slowly driving in and out of you. He’s teasing you. Your pulsating, wet walls hug his fat cock, and you’re both moaning softly.

“Daddy…” you whisper to him, clenching around his cock. “What’s wrong, baby?” he softly asks you. “Please fuck me harder, please, Daddy,” you beg to him, before biting down onto your bottom lip. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take my cock like that, baby,” he shakes his head.

“I can take it, Daddy, I’m your good girl.”

Chris opens his eyes and his right hand has found its way down his boxers. His cock is all swollen and hard, hard as a rock. He places the bottle of gin down on the bedside table and gets himself all comfortable. Chris slowly begins to stroke himself gently. He goes from the base all the way to the top, and then back down. His thumb occasionally swipes against his leaking tip and all he can think of is teaching you how to make him — your Daddy — feel good.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, feeling a vein throat against his hand. He moans your name and speeds up his movements. His fingers are slightly sticky, but it’s the type of sticky he doesn’t mind. He begins to slow his hand down, and he sighs, not wanting to come just yet. He hasn’t been this hard in ages, and touching himself feels so fucking good.

“Did you say my name? Is everything alright?” you ask, barging into his room. He jumps and his hand flies out of his pants. You both stare at each other, not even daring to blink. You eventually break eye contact and notice the bottle of gin sitting on the bedside table. There’s only a sixth of it left, and you frown. You don’t like it when people you care about drink. “Uhm…” he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and then takes in your form.

You’re in a nightgown, and it’s sheer as fuck. The gin gets to him and his mind has a slight buzz to it. His heart beats rapidly and his cock throbs with want and need. Chris’s eyes rake up and down your body like how they usually do whenever you’re in front of him. His mother would scold him for ogling at you, but he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I- I am so so so sorry, I should’ve knocked. I just thought you needed help with something because I heard you say my name, but sometimes I just tend to hear random things, so sorry,” you apologize in a panicking manner. You slowly walk back to the door, but you don’t turn around. Your bare feet leave a faint imprint on the floor from the cold sweats that have taken over your body.

“Come back here,” he orders, sitting up on the bed. Chris’s unbuckled belt clanks quietly, and he begins to remove it in one quick motion. You gulp thickly and exhale shakily. You slowly walk to where Chris is sitting, and he pats the spot next to him. You’ve never had such an interaction with anyone, ever. You sit down next to him, but you keep your distance.

Alcohol should not be called alcohol in Chris’s utmost humble opinion. No, it should just stick to its nickname ‘liquid courage’ because it’s more accurate than anything else. He may not seem like it, but he’s just a man who doesn’t have the heart to do much. Adrenaline doesn’t exist for him anymore, not since the incident.

Chris turns his head and stares at your pretty face. You look down, unable to make eye contact with such a God-like man. You have to assume that even Apollo is envious of Chris’s beauty. “How’d you hear me? Because I know these walls aren’t thin enough, and I know I wasn’t being loud, so tell me; How’d you hear me?” he interrogates you like one of Silas’s companions, but this time is slightly different.

Lust is what’s pumping through his veins, not rage.

“Uhm, well… My room was right there, and I wasn’t doing anything but thinking, and since your bed is against the wall, I- I heard you say my name,” you explain shyly. He hums, and you’re not sure whether it’s a hum of delight or disbelief. “Thinking of what?” he presses, inching his body closer to yours.

You continue to stare at his hand, even though you can feel his heavy breathing against your face. “I… Well- I was uh,” you stutter embarrassingly, and it makes you burn up with shame. “Spit it out, little girl, and don’t think of lying to me,” he growls, placing his hand on your thigh. Your gaze follows his movements, and you take in the set of rings that adorn his fingers.

They’re all black and of similar styles. One has a skull, one is completely plain, one has a cross on it and the last one has the word ‘Daddy’ engraved on it. His veins are so prominent. They bulge out with intensity, and you’d just love to trail your fingers along each of them. “Am I going to have to force an answer out of you?” he roughly asks. His other hand goes to the back of your head and he brings your gaze to his face.  

You quickly shake your head in objection, and he raises his eyebrows for you to spit your answer out. “I was thinking about you, and the way you tackled me…” you admit to him in a low and soft voice. “You liked the way I was on you, little girl?” he asks, moving his hand to the back of your neck. “Y- Yeah, made me feel all… Tingly…” you whisper to him.

“I want to hear you say it, little girl,” Chris ushers, squeezing the back of your neck slightly. “I liked the way you were on top of me…” you tell him breathlessly. “Good girl,” he praises in a slightly deep voice. He pulls you onto his lap and you gasp. His hard, wanting cock is right under your thighs, and you exhale nervously.

“You feel that, little girl? That’s all because of you, you did this to me. And you’re proud of it, aren’t you? Got me so fucking hard just because of you.” Chris squeezes your waist, and you really can feel it all. He’s not wrong, either. You’re so proud that you’ve made a man like him so desperate for you. “Do you know what I was doing, little girl? I was jerking off to the thought of fucking that cunny of yours until you’re begging me to stop,” he growls in your ear.

You moan softly, and the picture comes to mind, making your pussy gush with want. “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You nod, and he raises his eyebrows in warning again. “Yeah, I want that so bad,” you murmur to him. You and your pussy want him so bad. Chris’s hand inches further up your thighs until he’s just an inch away from your bare pussy.

Your thighs are already slightly sticky from your arousal. “Do you know what jerking off is, little girl?” he asks, pulling his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a pathetic, child-like whine, and he begins to lift up your nightgown until he sees your naked body. “Kind of… Isn’t that when a man touches himself? Like how women touch their… down there?” you innocently ask him.

Chris chuckles at how cute you are. So innocent yet oh so slutty. “Have you ever touched yourself, little girl?” he asks, lifting the nightgown over your head. It’s strewn across the floor behind you, and neither of you cares. But you quickly use your hands to cover your most precious, most private parts. “No, no, I don’t want to see any of that. You’re so beautiful, baby, you’re built like an absolute angel,” he husks, and you feel so flustered that you can’t help but giggle.

“T- Thank you… And I’ve done it a few times,” you inform him. Chris nods and smirks, catching the way your nipples have pebbled up. “Have you ever made someone feel good before?” he questions, trailing his broad hands up and down your body. “N- No, it’s pretty lonely up here…” you almost-ashamedly admit. He coos at you. “Do you want me to teach you how to make me feel good, little girl?” he questions, palming your tits.

You moan softly and rub your thighs together as he pinches and pulls at your hard nipples. You’re so small in his large hands, it makes him even harder. You nod your head fervently, wanting to make Chris feel so fucking good. Chris takes his hands away from your body and shifts you in his lap. He reaches down his pants and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You gasp, having never seen something as big as that. He smirks and uses his right hand to grasp the base of his thick cock. Chris brings your dominant hand down to where his cock is and guides you to wrap your fingers around him. Chris shudders at your soft touch, and he moans softly. “Good girl, yeah,” he praises. “Wrap your hand around me a bit tighter, baby,” he urges, and you do exactly that.

He groans loudly and a small smile stretches across your lips. “N- Now, you’ve got to move your hand up and down. Start off slowly, go all the way to the tip, and then back down,” he instructs, even though he’s helping you out. His hand brings yours all the way to the tip, and then back down; just like he said. His hand leaves yours and goes back to feeling up your pretty body.

“Now do it by yourself, but in a twisting motion, little girl.”

You listen to his words and jerk him off, feeling yourself get wet as his cock twitches in your hand. Your clit throbs and so do the veins on the side of his shaft. Chris curses, and you bite down on your bottom lip. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good around me,” he moans, squeezing your waist. You focus on his cock, watching as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down the side of his dick.

It drips onto your slow-moving hand, and you exhale as your movements grow a bit faster. You look at him, watching as his pupils darken with lust. You can tell — it’s written on his face — he wants you to go faster. Your hand speeds up around his cock, making him a moaning mess. “Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. You like making me feel good, don’t you? So eager to please like the good little girl you are,” Chris husks.

His praise goes straight to your needy cunt and he knows this because he can just tell. Your thighs rub together, your breath hitches, you let out a giggle and squeeze a little tighter around his cock. Chris’s hand goes up to your head and smashes your lips against his. You both moan into the kiss, and you straddle both his thighs to get more comfortable.

You place your other hand on his cock and mimic your dominant hand’s movements. You try to keep up with the kiss, but you just can’t. Teeth clash and so do tongues as Chris moves his mouth against yours. He pants and his chest heaves as you continue to stroke him. “Go faster, baby,” he urges, and he pulls his mouth away from yours. He can feel you soaking his jeans, your wetness joining the abundant amount of rips and tears in the material.

Your hand moves faster, twisting perfectly and occasionally squeezing his most sensitive spots as well. Chris pushes your hands away abruptly, and you’re confused. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? What happened? “Shit, wrap your mouth around the tip, little girl. Trust me, you’re gonna fucking love it,” he says, and you quickly do so.

You’ll do anything to please him. His mushroom tip is leaking and a raging red. It’s the same red as the rest of his cock, and you could swear it’s almost purplish. You can tell he’s aching because you’ve been through a similar thing. You drop down to the floor and kneel in front of Chris. Your lips smooth around the tip of his hard cock, and you can taste him as soon as he hits your tongue.

He tastes of musk and manliness, along with a hint of saltiness, and it’s oh so addicting. You keep the tip of his cock in your mouth like it’s one of your favourite lollipops and smile around him. Chris smiles and wraps his hand around himself. He jerks himself off quickly, desperate to come in your mouth. “Fucking shit– god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” Chris rasps as he reaches his climax.,

His balls tighten up and his blue eyes roll back into his skull. White, hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his tip and fill your mouth. You’re not sure why, but a moan escapes past your throat, and it only makes Chris’s high much better. Chris places both hands on the sides of your head and holds you there, gently. You swallow all his cum as it fills your mouth and leaks from the corners of your lips.

Chris so desperately wants to push your head farther down his cock, but he knows he shouldn’t. Plus, there’s always going to be more time for things like that. He pulls your head away from his cock and watches as a string of saliva tries to keep the two of you connected. You gently lick your lips, still savouring his taste and he smiles down at you. You can’t lie — you feel giddy. Giddy in a way in which you crave his praise and approval like no other.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Thank you for helping me out… I do suppose I should return the favour, right?” he teasingly says, lifting you up into his lap. You shake your head out of nervousness. “No? … Why not, baby?” Chris asks, and you gulp thickly. “Don’t wanna rush it… I- never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” you look down and fiddle with your fingers.

The grooves of your nails are smoothed over by your pointer finger. Some dips and rises make you cringe, and others satisfy you. He looks down at your hands and notices the skin picked on the sides. He knows how painful those can be, and he doesn’t want you to feel any pain at all. “I’ll try to understand, darling, but if you don’t tell me, then I’ll be completely clueless,” he speaks to you lowly. “I like the way your words make me feel…” you shyly admit to him.

“Aw, how do they make you feel, baby?” Chris presses, grasping your two hands together. “All warm and small… makes me feel like I have it all. Hey, that rhymes!” you exclaim, bubbling in the utmost adorable giggles ever. “You’re a natural poet, darling. But tell me more…” he urges, rubbing his coarse thumbs against your soft skin. “I get butterflies, and I feel all shy and safe. Your words make me so comfortable yet so vulnerable…” you describe to him even though words can’t describe what you feel.

“Is that right, baby? You’re so cute… Do you- Do you get all tingly and babyish when I use my words?” Chris hesitatingly asks. His voice is so gentle and soft, a low whisper that is so soothing to your ears and rough edges. You nod meekly and smile to yourself. Your cheeks may hurt from all the laughter he caused earlier today but that doesn’t refrain you from hiding your smile.

Now, Chris is no doctor. He’s no professional, he’s no master. He’s just a broken man, but he knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he won’t explain what it is, because he needs you to learn on your own. Maybe with some guidance from him, but he won’t trick you into thinking something completely off base.

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay? Then we’ll sleep, you need the rest. We both do.”

He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering. But he isn’t. He was never. The stick-and-poke tattoo may seem a bit much, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. Your name is written in your pretty handwriting. The ink is in his skin, and he’s practically marked as yours, now.

The days go by slower, much slower than he’d like them to. But it doesn’t matter now, because his mission is over, and he’ll be leaving soon. But Chris doesn’t want to leave. His wanderlust has found an end as he finally has a place where he’s meant to be. He’s found heaven in the hills, and between your legs.

“D- Daddy…” you whisper under your breath, loud enough for him to hear. Your hands are locked with his, and they rest at your sides. You’re just in a small bralette, and your hard nipples poke through the fabric. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and your ankles lace together behind his head. Your neck aches from the angle your body is in, but the pleasure blooming from your core is much more powerful.

Chris is between your legs, and he hums against your wet, throbbing pussy. You moan loudly and squeeze your eyes shut from the feeling. He sucks on your clit harshly, and wetness seeps from your hole. “Feels so good… Oh, my…” you pant. Your hips gyrate and you subconsciously grind your wet cunt against Chris’s face. He pulls his face away from your pussy and licks a broad stripe against you.

You moan again and squeeze his hands tighter. His tongue swirls around your swollen and throbbing clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your taste is addictive, and he could stay between your legs for hours on end, if not for eternities. His beautiful, lovely rings dig into the sides of your fingers, but you don’t care. Chris may treat you like a delicate doll, but he should know how much you love it when he’s rough with you.

“I think I’m gonna come, Daddy…” you cry out to him before a strangled moan leaves your mouth. Chris pulls away from your pussy once again, but this time he spits on your lips. His saliva drops down your cunt and mixes with your wetness, and he goes back to devouring you. He eats you out like a starved man, and you’re squealing at the overwhelming pleasure.

If he was on death row, he’d have your sweet pussy as his last meal.

His tongue works over your clit and brings you closer and closer to your release. It’s coming fast. A searing, heated feeling takes over your body and abdomen as your back arches off your couch. Chris is as hard as a rock, staring you directly in the eyes, and he makes you come on his mouth.

“Oh- Daddy!” you cry out loudly, your mouth falling open into a silent, voiceless scream. Your eyes roll back into your skull and in Chris’s past words, you look like a brain-dead slut. Your wetness gushes out of your drooling hole, and he laps it all up with no problem. He drinks up everything you give him, and then some. Your hands are still laced with his and your chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

“Shh… You did amazing, little one. Taste so fucking sweet, just like nectar,” he hums like a hummingbird, before smacking his lips. You slowly come down from your high as he strokes your hands with his thumbs. Your lids are slightly heavy, but you don’t want to get any shut-eye. Time away from Chris is practically a sin in your eyes. “Thank you, Daddy,” you gratefully reply.

“You’re welcome, little one. Got me so hard,” he husks as he moves to get up. He carefully handles your body and pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. They’ve been washed and scrubbed but there are still faint dandelion and pollen stains that he just doesn’t care enough about. Though the adorable face you were making whilst washing them is something that’ll never leave his mind.

Just like the mental image of you coming undone beneath him.

“Can I make you feel good, Daddy? Pretty please?” you ask sweetly and Chris knows he could say yes, but he doesn’t want to. Making you feel good pleases him, but he doesn’t want to sound so poetic so he chuckles. “Soon, little one, I need to clean you up properly,” he tells you and you jut your bottom lip out, pouting. He coos at you and you scrunch your nose up at the attention.

“But I’m all clean, Daddy!” you reason, reaching over to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Chris chokes on his saliva at the feeling of your touch. “In a bit, little one, you need to listen to Daddy. Okay?” he rasps with a warning in his voice. “Okay, Dada…” you trail off with a deep sigh punctuating your sentence. You fiddle with your fingers as Chris carefully cleans up your pussy.

The damp washcloth is gentle against your sensitive skin. Each movement of his is carried by gentleness and love. “I have a question, Daddy,” you hum after a few seconds of silence. “Go ahead, mushy one,” he says with a smile. You giggle at the nickname before calming yourself down. “Were you really wandering?” you bluntly ask him. Chris’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and you gasp.

“What do you mean, little one?” he asks, looking up at you. “Well… You said you were a wanderer! And that’s how you found me! But you don’t seem like a wanderer, you’re too clever to be one,” you explain with a smile on your face. Chris begins to chew on the inside of his cheek, and the skin has already been filled with bite marks and scars. At this point, he should tell you, right? You already know the deepest, most darkest pieces and part of him.

You’ll love him no matter what.

“Well, I wasn’t wandering. You’re so smart, little one. The smartest baby in the world!” he cheers and moves to get up. He sits in the empty spot next to you and lifts you into his lap. You’re still naked and Chris has his shirt off (as usual), so the skin-on-skin contact has you feeling even sleepier. “Sometimes, we lie to protect people. I lied, to protect you, along with many other people. Myself included, of course,” he starts.

“I was sent here with the sole purpose of bringing in your criminal neighbour,” he pauses “and I did.” You nod along with his words, your mind only allowing the most important phrases to sink in. “I arrested him around a month ago, and I was supposed to leave three weeks ago,” he sadly sighs. You look up in a panic, and you’re in shock. “Two weeks ago, I turned in my resignation. I’m not going anywhere,” he quickly adds and your face lights up.

“I’m staying with my best girl, okay?” Chris smiles and leans in to kiss you. You let him do so because God-damn, you’d let him do anything he wants to you. “T- Thank you so much, Daddy!” you squeal and hug him tightly. He laughs in a beautiful cacophony of sounds, and it’s right in your ear.

Chris feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders as you writhe around in his arms. You wiggle around on his hard cock and Chris suppresses a groan. His hands trail from your shoulders to your waist, down to your hips. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and excitement runs in your veins at his touch. Your head rolls back and you exhale shakily. He grips your hips tightly, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his crotch.

Both you and Chris moan before he moves both his hands to your ass. He gropes you roughly, feeling a bit of your wetness on his fingers. “Oh, baby… What’s all that for? Hm? Didn’t Daddy just eat your sweet little pussy out?” he asks in a slightly worried tone. “Y- Yeah… But I can’t help it, Daddy, you always make me so tingly…” you admit to him, shyly.

“Mmm, I like knowing I do this to you. Gets me so fucking hard,” he groans, slapping your ass. You yelp in surprise, but it gets cut off by a whimper. Chris caresses the hit skin and soothes you down from the shock. He smiles at you and then lands another hit. Then another, and then another.

The sting is addictive, just like he is. It leaves you writhing in both pain and pleasure and yet you still want more. “M- more, please,” you quietly beg and Chris coos at you as if you're a pet. And the truth isn’t far off. The coolness of his rings is both brutal and comforting. It soothes you yet acts as if they didn’t just hurt you. “You want more, baby?” he asks in that sweet yet sultry condescending tone of his.

You nod your head and chew on your bottom lip. “‘S too bad you’re gonna have to take what I give you and keep quiet, baby,” he husks, and you whine loudly. Chris flips your bodies around and suddenly you’re on your back, and he’s leaning over you. He locks lips with you and you try your hardest to keep up with the kiss.

His lips move sloppily against yours, but you don’t mind because you’ll take anything he gives you. You moan into true kiss and Chris wedges his knee between your legs. You’d hump him like a bunny because that’s what the demon on your shoulder is telling you to do. But the last time you did something without his permission, you weren’t allowed to make him come for a week.

You just know you’re soaking his jeans but neither of you cares. Chris kisses the corner of your mouth and trails down to your neck, peppering kisses behind as if he’s leaving a trail on your body for when he’s going to explore you later. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw tickles you and Chris falls even more in love with you as your laughter fills the air.

“D- Dada…” you whisper to him as you tilt your head back. His lips land on that sweet spot of yours and your back arches off the couch. Chris smiles against your skin and begins to suck on that sweet spot. Your breath hitches as he bites, licks and sucks on your skin. He marks you up like no other, and you know how much he loves to know that you’re all his.

“Dada… No teasing, please,” you sweetly ask in your soft tone. And how can he turn you down? “In a bit, little girl, be patient for Daddy.” Chris continues to mark you up until he’s satisfied. The feeling of his teeth against your neck and collar bones makes you even wetter than you already are. Possessiveness is carried in his movements, and it only drives you to be needier.

Chris moves further down from your collar bones to the valley of your breasts. Each curve of yours makes him want to sin without any repentance afterwards. He places a kiss there and then looks up at you. “Please, Daddy,” you whisper so quietly it takes him a few seconds to realize what you’ve said. Chris’s hand wraps around your body to your back.

He slowly unclasps your bralette and drags it away from your body at the same pace. You both maintain eye contact all whilst he undresses you to your vulnerability. Chris throws your bra somewhere behind him and places his hands on your body. “Aw, baby… You’re so cute and small,” he sweetly says in an almost shocking manner. Almost as if he doesn't use the size difference as a weapon to make you all soft and mushy.

“Hm, thank you, Daddy,” you tell him because good girls always have manners. “So good, using your manners for Daddy,” he praises, and you wonder if he can read your mind. Your Daddy can do anything, so it would be no surprise if he can. Chris sits upon his knees, but he remains in his towering position. Gently, and with care, he spreads your legs open until he’s satisfied.

He watches as you clench your needy pussy. He just knows your clit is throbbing, and you’re tingly because he just has that effect on you. “Poor baby… Is this all for Daddy?” he asks, and you quickly nod. “Say it, tell me it’s all because of me,” he growls placing his hands on your thighs. Chris slowly moves his hands further down your thighs. His touch is gentle, and he can feel the goosebumps on your thighs beginning to raise.

“‘S all yours, daddy. It’s all because of you,” you tell him breathlessly. “And this pussy is all mine, isn’t it, little girl?” he asks, inching closer to your wet pussy. “Mhm, only yours, Daddy!” you happily assure him, and he smirks at you. “That’s right, little girl. And since it’s all mine, doesn’t that mean I can do whatever I want with it?” he questions, and you nod with no hesitance at all.

Chris traces your wet pussy with his ring-donned pointer finger. “Oh my…” you gasp at the feeling. It may not be much, but your sensitive little pussy struggles to handle it. You clench around nothing again, and he watches, before chuckling at you. “Such a pretty pussy you have, baby, I can’t fucking wait to ruin it,” Chris growls, and you whimper. “Gonna fill you up with my cum after I fuck you, little girl,” he promises, and you never wanted to be fucked so badly until now.

He wonders if his cock could even fit inside you. Usually, he’d want to eat you out and finger you to prepare you. But he’s now thinking with what’s between his legs, and not what’s between his ears. He trails that same pointer finger on your pussy, and becomes mesmerized with the sight. Chris watches as your hole drools with want and need, whilst you watch him.

His already dark eyes are blown out with lust, and it only turns you on even more. Chris knows you’re watching him. He’s not one of the best agents in the FBI for no reason. He looks up at you, and you lock eyes with each other. He smirks and pulls his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a whine, but you still pout in disappointment. Chris begins to unbuckle his pants, and you’re filled with eagerness.

You smile widely, and he coos. “Aw, you’re such a desperate little slut, it’s adorable,” he chuckles, and you shy away. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers slowly. Chris takes off his jeans and boxers completely, and throws them somewhere around the house. You watch as his cock bounces up and leaks with pre-cum. You just know he’s aching because of how red his cock is.

He’s big, and you already know that. But seeing him in all his naked glory is just something else. The simple yet not so simple idea of Chris’s cock being inside of you is electrifying. It’s both terrifying and exciting. He grabs the base of his cock and the prickly hair pokes the soft skin of his hands, but he doesn’t care. His left hand goes back to your pussy, and begins to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh… Daddy,” you moan quietly. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, so you involuntarily try to shut your legs and keep Chris out. Your knees touch for a brief moment, and he’s having none of that. He separates your legs and climbs on top of you, all while staring you directly in the eyes. His cock drags against your inner thigh. “Oh, is it too much for you, little one?” he asks with faux pity in his tone. You nod and clench your fists to control yourself.

“Too fucking bad, you’re gonna take whatever I give you, and you’re not gonna complain. Isn’t that right, little girl?” he sneers, and you gasp. Usually, you can’t handle someone who raises their voice in the slightest. But hearing Chris do it makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. “Yes, Daddy,” you hum delightfully, and he smiles. “Good girl,” he praises. Chris presses harder on your sensitive pearl of nerves and rubs you in faster circles.

“Daddy…” You moan and it goes straight to his cock. He looks up at you and just knows you’re beginning to drive up that cliff. He slows down his ministrations on your nub, and you bite back a loud whine. “You’re so needy, baby… Already so close to coming, it’s kind of pathetic…” he trails off and more wetness leaks out of you. You’re absolutely soaked and are a little bit ashamed of it.

“Please, Daddy! I’m so close, I’ll do anything,” you beg, but he just doesn’t buy it. “You’ll already do anything I tell you, baby, begging is so useless,” Chris chortles. You let out a small huff and move your hips in a circle, grinding against his thumb. In a flash of blurry moments, Chris pulls his hand away from your pussy and wraps around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, and you gasp quite loudly.

He raises his eyebrow in warning, and you nod in understanding. “Good girl, I don’t want to put you over my knee when I’m feeling so gracious,” he assures, and you smile. Chris brings the tip of his cock to your swollen, needy clit and his pre-cum begins to mix with your wetness. You both moan softly as he rubs his tip on your clit. Your bottom lip finds a home between your teeth and Chris’s tongue swipes over his.

The sight and feeling of his cock on your silky pussy make him so weak in the knees. “Fuck, baby, do you like that? You like it when Daddy makes you feel good with his cock?” Chris asks in a deep, gravelly voice. “Yeah, Daddy… love it so much…” you tell him through a mushy haze of pleasure.

“You’re getting all dumb and stupid already? You’re so cute, little one,” he purrs, and you giggle at his words even though there’s nothing funny about them. “Do you want my cock, little baby? Say it, tell Daddy you want his cock,” he urges, and you look down to where you’re both nearly connected.

“I wan’ your cock, Daddy. Want it so bad, I need it, Daddy,” you beg, and Chris hums. “Just a little more, little girl, it’s like music to my ears,” he smirks, and you bite your bottom lip. “Sing for me, hummingbird,” he pushes, and you just go with whatever your neediness tells you to do.

“I wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy. I want your cum to fill me up until I’m leaking and all stupid. Please, Daddy, please fuck me. I really want your cock, I need it,” you beg and blood rushes to his face and cock. “Fuck, yeah, I’ll give you my fucking cock, and you better take it like the good girl you are,” he growls, and you whimper. Chris slowly drags the fat tip of his shaft down to your drooling, slutty hole.

You whimper loudly, and he looks back at you. Fear is written all over that pretty face of yours, and Chris knows the exact reason why. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be gentle, okay? If you want to stop just say so, and I’ll listen. I won’t hurt you, darling. I promise,” he gently reassures you. You sigh with an almost heavy yet full heart.

You then nod and Chris thanks you for allowing him to fully make you his. “Wanna hold your hand, Dada… Please,” you ask pleasantly, and he nods. “In a bit, little girl, I just need to be careful,” he whispers. Chris slowly begins to push into your wet, tight cunt. You swallow him slowly, and the sight is mesmerizing.

The tightness of your cunt squeezes him in a strong hug, and he wishes he could be buried deep inside you for the rest of his life. “Fuck- Baby, you feeling so fucking good,” he moans while trying to compose himself. You’re still whimpering from the pain, and your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace.

“C- Can I push all the way in, little one? It’ll only hurt for a bit,” he asks, and he looks deep into your eyes. “Mhm… Wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy, please,” you beg, and Chris tries his hardest not to come right here, right now. He thrusts his hips forward, and bottoms out inside you completely.

Your mouth falls open, and you’re silently screaming. The pain isn’t too much, but you feel as though the wind is being knocked out of you. Chris shifts a bit, and that’s when you start to feel it more. He’s so deep inside you, and he’s splitting you in two. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” he says.

You realize you’re holding your breath and it’s no wonder why your heart was beating out of your chest. “You’re doing so- so well, darling. Your little cunny looks so nice when it’s stuffed full with my cock,” he groans, and you whimper. “Dada, is hurtin’...” you whisper, and Chris wants to pull out because he can’t stand the thought of his little girl being hurt.

“Do you want me to stop, little one?” he asks, but you quickly shake your head in objection. Even though the pressure in your core is dwindling, and even though you feel a little too full, you don’t want him to stop. “No stopping, Daddy, please,” you whine and flail your arms towards him. He shushes you soothingly, and you calm down as soon as he flashes a stern look.

The pain soon burns away into nothing but dust and ash, and you finally see why he was so desperate to shove his cock inside of your cunt. It turns into pleasure and your pussy leaks around him. You’re soaking Chris’s cock with no shame at all. “Oh, fuck, baby… You feel so fucking good,” he moans, and you follow with a gasp. “I like the way y- you feel inside me, Daddy, makes me all tingly…” you admit shyly, and Chris chuckles.

“Yeah? Bet it makes you want to be fucked stupid, right, baby?” he questions with a playful smirk on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you moan. You’re never aware of your surroundings because you’re too caught up in the moments. It’s something Chris scolds you for, but you never learn. But in this moment, you can feel everything. The veins on his cock throb against your silky walls, and you can feel his balls against your ass. His hot breath fans over you as Chris struggles to compose himself.

He slowly drags his hips backwards, pulling out of your pussy until his tip is the only thing in your cunt. The sudden almost-emptiness is surprising, but you quickly get used to it. Chris then pushes back into your pussy, and you moan loudly. “Fucking hell, little one,” he curses under his breath as he bottoms out again. He begins to fuck into you slowly and gently, careful to not hurt you. Even if he wants to fuck you until you’re crying.

The sound of skin on skin is quiet and almost unintelligible. The squelching sounds from your wet pussy and moans fill the room. Chris gently grips your hips and watches as your face contorts into a frown of pleasure and not pain. “Daddy…” you pant softly as you look up at Chris. “Yeah, baby? Am I hurting you?” he asks out of worry. “N-No, it feels so good…” you trail off as one particular thrust lands near your g-spot. And he knows that.

“Wan’ you to fuck me hard, wan’ you to destroy me, Daddy. Please fuck me like the slut I am…” you gently beg and Chris halts his thrusts. His cock twitches inside of you because of your words. Only he can corrupt an innocent angel such as yourself. “Shit- Little one, I don’t want to hurt you, that’s why I’m being so gentle,” Chris explains, but you shake your head. “You could never hurt me, Daddy. Please, I need you,” you beg for one last time, unaware of what you’ve done to him.

Chris roughly pushes his cock back into your cunt without warning. “Awe, I see. My little princess wants to be fucked like the whore she is, hm? Well, whatever princess wants, she gets,” he growls because beginning to fuck you roughly. You moan loudly at the feeling as with each thrust, his cock pummels against your sweet spot roughly. His pelvic bone rubs against your swollen clit and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Chris pounds into your poor pussy. The room fills with moans, groans, curse words and wet sounds that all come from the art you two are making. “Aw, what’s wrong, little girl? Can’t take daddy’s cock anymore? Hm? Well, I don’t really give a fuck, you’re just gonna lie there, and take what I give you like a good fucking girl,” he sneers, and you push at his chest.

“It’s so sensitive!” you wail like a little bitch in heat. “But I bet you don’t want me to stop, do you?” Chris asks as a moan bleeds past his plump lips. “Uh-uh, please don’t stop, Daddy!” you squeal after a harsh thrust. The stretch of Chris’s cock is amazing, and you never want the feeling to stop. Chris’s hand leaves your hip and crawls all the way up to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, and squeezes the sides, making you clench tightly around his big, thick cock.

He lowers his face to yours and watches as you react to the way he’s being rough with you. “Oh, God!” you cry out as he makes his thrusts more powerful. “Actually, it’s just ‘Daddy’, but I’m fine with that too,” he slyly smirks. You’re too fucked out to even laugh at his joke. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your back begins to arch off of the couch.  “Awe, are you gonna come around my big fat cock already, slut? How cute,” Chris mocks.

You nod your head and begin babbling like a baby. “But remember, little girl, I have to give you permission to come, okay?” he reminds you, and you whine. Chris’s hand around your throat moves up to grab your jaw, and he stops thrusting into you. “None of that is allowed. Don’t forget your place, little girl,” Chris warns with fury seething through his words. You mumble an apology, trying to formulate the proper words to speak.

“Seems like I really did fuck you stupid,” he chuckles, and you moan at his words. You clamp down on his cock, tempting him to do what you want, like a siren using her voice to lure men into the sea. “Open your mouth up first, little girl,” he orders, and you obediently listen. The searing arousal in your core begins to fade away, and you feel a panic beginning to rise inside you.

Chris drags his hand back down to your throat and rests it there. You watch as he puckers his lips up, and suddenly, he spits into your mouth. You open your mouth even wider and stretch your tongue out. His saliva lands directly on your tongue, and you wait for further instructions before you give in to your desires.

“Swallow it, little girl,” he instructs, and you do exactly so. You open your mouth back up just to earn some praise. “Good fucking girl. The best baby ever,” he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Daddy! … Can I have cummies now?” you lovingly ask your Daddy.

“Of course, little one,” he says as he smiles down at you. Chris begins to fuck into you again, deep and hard. With each thrust, he pounds your g-spot and his balls slap against your ass. His remaining hand on your hip moves down to your clit, rubbing your little button with rough circles.

“Daddy… ‘m gonna come!” you moan loudly and Chris fucks you harder. “Come one, baby, come all over my big cock like the good girl you are,” he urges. The building feeling inside you increases, and you feel yourself getting closer to your release. “Fucking come, little girl, wanna hear you sing for me,” he growls. And with one specific thrust, you find yourself coming undone beneath him.

The sight is so fucking beautiful. Watching you as your eyes turn up, your mouth falls open and your cunt hugging his cock just gets him going, and he wishes he could take a picture of you right now. “D- Daddy! Oh, my-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan and Chris keeps on rubbing your clit and fucking you through your orgasm.

You soak his cock until it’s dripping and even then you’re still coming. You moan loudly and Chris can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm. His balls begin to tighten up and a droplet of sweat drips from his neck down to his chest. “Daddy, are you gonna come?” you sweetly ask as he fucks you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own.

“Yeah, baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up with his cum. I’m gonna leave you leaking with my seed,” Chris growls as he fucks you faster. “Please, Daddy… Please, I want your cum so badly! Please fill me up with your cum, Daddy,” you beg and Chris tosses his head back.

“Fuck, yes, yes yes,” he shouts as his balls tighten up again. He quickens his pace until white, hot, thick ropes of cum spurts out from his aching tip. He fulfills his promise and your wish, filling you up with his cum until there’s nothing left. His cum mixes with your juices as he paints your walls with no expertise whatsoever. Chris slumps on top of your body, engulfing you in a bear hug as his cock remains buried inside of you.

You’re both panting and struggling to come down from the euphoric feelings. You look up at Chris make lock eyes with him for the nth time. There’ll never be a day where you don’t get lost in his eyes. They’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful. “You did so fucking good, little one,” he praises, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Thank you very, very much, Daddy,” you slur, feeling yourself beginning to sleep into little space. “Daddy?” you call out, tapping his bicep after a few seconds. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, lifting himself up to get a better view of your face. “Will you really stay?” you ask with a bit of worry in your voice. He sighs with a full heart.

“Always.”

[ashesandhalefire]

okay but why didn’t they spread this hallucination plot over like three episodes for the maximum unhinged psychological drama effect

michael and alex get actual development in the first half of the season and are back together by 3x06 no i won’t justify or explain just know that i’m correct. we cut the vision plot and anything else that wasted time and accelerate the lockheart machine and jones because those are the ones that are a) semi-interesting, b) purposeful, and c) relevant

we actually see michael or alex asking each other out on their very first real in-public date because that’s a big fucking step for them and i think it’s dumb that we got told it happened in some dialogue

it can be that it wasn’t going to be for another day or two because hello they have other priorities like kyle, who is mentioned every other sentence in my version of s3 because everyone in this town loves him and is horribly repentant over how they’ve underappreciated him <3, and max, who is also unconscious while a sexy maniac borrows his body

anyway they spend time apart working on their respective side plots and that is okay! because we’re getting indications that they’re thinking about each other either from direct mentions or glances at texts or dumb little post it notes from each other that they keep on their desks

and we actually get to see that conversation with sanders because michael being able to confide in someone about this is a big fucking deal and again i didn’t deserve to be told about it in some throwaway dialogue like it wasn’t a scene that had the potential to shatter me

alex is working on the lockheart machine in the meantime and he genuinely thinks that he’s accessing an alien visual guide for the machine because it’s nora! nora is good! nora can’t be evil! and she’s generally unhelpful and speaks like a guide he doesn’t understand how to use properly and then he notices the project shepherd insert and thinks - oh! duh! - she’s corrupted! but technology is his thing and he’s going to figure this out, so he keeps working

and we get a scene of him going to visit kyle, who is safely being cared for at deep sky, where their scientists are working on waking him up under ramos’s constant, intense, unyielding supervision, which coincidentally alleviates the confusion of “why is this coma patient in a random barn” and “why has nobody noticed alex sitting around for two days even though all the walls are glass”

and alex gets to have a little self pep-talk with kyle about how he’s nervous and how he’s trying to resolve the machine issue before it becomes a problem like everything always does, and he also gets to be a little teary and say that he misses working with kyle and that he wonders if maybe he hadn’t been distracted by deep sky things and if they had stayed a team if kyle would’ve still been in so much trouble now

so alex feels guilty and helpless and he goes hard into solving the machine, and he does something - he moves the turquoise closer, he turns a knob, he prods at the project shepherd insert a little too hard - and suddenly the nora that he’s talking to is a little different. she’s a little more personable. she’s kind. she’s friendly. she still doesn’t have a lot of super helpful answers for him because she’s still kind of corrupted. but he doesn’t mind talking to her.

we can still get the same “how’s the office honey” convo because that was cute, but i think alex should be surprised when michael calls because he hasn’t realized how long he’s been working. he didn’t realize that his safety window expired. he didn’t even hear the alarm. he didn’t realize he turned it off. and nora is there the whole time, just smiling and being fond, and alex swears that he won’t forget their date and hangs up.

the music starts playing again, and nora tells alex that there was no music on the planet where she lived, and then alex gets caught up in telling nora about michael because for a second he forgets that she’s not nora. that she’s just a visual manual. she’s not actually michael’s long-lost alien mother that alex accidentally got killed when he brought two civilians along on a recon mission

but she likes alex, which is appealing in a way he can’t explain. she thinks he’s smart and she believes he’s going to solve the machine and she likes knowing that he’s been trying to take care of michael. he leaves deep sky to do other plot related things in town, to visit kyle, whatever, and when he comes back, she’s there and she’s smiling and she’s so happy to hear about her son. her beautiful son that obviously loves alex very much and who alex has worked very hard to protect

but she doesn’t like that he hasn’t always been successful

she doesn’t like that alex was the one that put michael in jesse’s crosshairs, and she doesn’t like that alex didn’t have the foresight to think twice before bringing michael to the shed, and she doesn’t like that he’s made michael feel like he was ashamed of him, and she doesn’t like that he lied about having the console piece - that he tried to trap michael just like every other manes man was always trying to do - and she doesn’t like that he got her blown up. that she lived all those years, that she survived the worst that jesse manes had to offer, that she had hope of escaping and finding her son, all until alex came along. and even after that, alex didn’t learn. even after getting nora blown up, alex still tried to trust his father, still took the console piece back and got himself kidnapped and made it so michael had to build a bomb that would kill what was left of his family just to save alex from his father

and now it becomes clearer that alex’s progress with the machine isn’t really progress. it’s still turning off and on at random. he can’t reach the project shepherd piece. nora isn’t speaking to him kindly anymore, and her clothes are tattered and her hair and face are dirty.

she prods at him again about the ways he has put michael in danger, and alex argues back that he has worked very hard to make sure nothing his father did could touch michael. he looks tired, frazzled

and nora thinks this is especially amusing because maybe the one thing that alex should be making sure isn’t touching michael is himself. maybe alex himself is the one manes weapon that he hasn’t considered.

and the conversation devolves into the same fight and comes to the same conclusion - that alex fears his capacity for love is not enough to overcome his father’s capacity for hate

and alex knows that she isn’t real. she isn’t real, she isn’t real, she isn’t real. she’s a hallucination, she isn’t real

but she doesn’t need to be real to tell the truth, alex. she doesn’t need to be real to be right. all it means for her to be a hallucination is that alex has known the truth all along, that deep down alex has always known that he isn’t enough, that he’s broken inside, that michael is better off without him.

and - oh, look! - the balcony door is open

[sehunniepotwrites]

caught in your web | m.l

🕷SYNOPSIS— in which you can’t stand mark getting hurt anymore, not when you’re madly in love with him 🕷GENRE— mcu!au, spiderman!au, fluff, suggestive  🕷PAIRING— spiderman!mark lee x person in the chair!reader (gn) 🕷WORD COUNT— 1771

🕷WARNINGS— mentions of violence and battles, cleaning wounds, making out (lmao)

 🕷AUTHOR’S NOTE—day two of my mark lee breakdown and i came up with this. i have been in love with the idea of spider!mark ever since i’ve read @xiaomoon​‘s leap of faith and i finally got to write my own version of peter marker ;;; hope y’all enjoy this! (briefly edited, some mistakes may remain!)

—🕸🕷—

You don’t exactly remember how and when it all went down, but to sum it all up, your best friend of all time is Spiderman and you’re his person in the chair. You’re the J.A.R.V.I.S. to his Tony Stark or are you his F.R.I.D.A.Y.? You can’t be his Karen because his Karen is the user interface of his current suit— never mind that, that’s not really relevant. 

The most important takeaways from this are that:

your best friend, Mark Lee, is the newest addition to the Avengers

you’re the mastermind behind the computer that guides him through New York City

And lastly, you’re in love with that dumbass of a superhero. 

At first, you were mad that Mark didn’t tell you. Then, you were quite surprised that he kept a secret from you for that long— that boy has a hard time keeping his mouth shut. 

When you first found out, Mark in full superhero garb entered his room through the window while you were impatiently waiting for him on his bed with a Death Star Lego set in hand. You dropped the almost complete set out of shock and it shattered to pieces. Mark, with his red and black mask in hand and a suit that clung to his surprisingly fit body so perfectly (like honestly, when did he look like that?), made you promise that you would never tell his Aunt May. You linked your smaller pinky with his own, swearing not to tell but on one condition— that you could be his person in the chair.

Being behind-the-scenes while in the chair is extremely thrilling. Sure, you have no superpowers to contribute to the fight but you have the brains and the technology to help Mark in any way you possibly could. You tell him the best possible route with Karen backing you up and Mark will blindly follow. You are his tracker, eyes in the sky, and his safety net—you have his complete trust.

The worst thing about being his person in the chair, though, is watching Mark get hurt in action and knowing there is not much you can do about it without physically being there. Watching the person you love get hurt—no matter how enhanced their body was—is beyond taxing. You never know if he’s going to make it and it kills you inside when you’re barking commands into your headset, calling for Karen to activate the best mode to get Mark out of the battle site. It tears you to absolute pieces and that’s how you ended up here, in your bedroom with violent tears running down your cheeks.

Mark is laying down on your bed with his torso resting against your lap. His mask is discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor while the top half of his suit is peeled off his injured body. You’re crying, hands trembling as he’s gasping for air and wincing every time you attempt to clean a wound. 

“How could you be so reckless, Mark?!” you scold him through a hushed whisper. You press another alcohol-soaked swab onto a cut. He hisses, his hand squeezing your knee to keep him from screaming. “You’re an idiot!”

Mark is groaning, body twisting and turning while sinking his teeth onto his bottom lip. You can tell he wants to scream but your parents are home and you don’t want them to walk into this gruesome sight. They think you’re just up to your usual game playing. 

“I had to!” Mark argues back. His nose is scrunched up and you can just see how much pain he’s in. You want to do nothing but kiss the pain away but there were more pressing matters to attend to, like disinfecting all the cuts scattering his body. “They were heading this way, to this neighborhood. To you!”

God, you hate how headstrong and stubborn he is at times. “And that matters why? I can easily reroute you and you know that! For some reason, you chose not to listen and now you’re badly hurt and you’re bleeding a lot and I can’t even take you to the hospital and—”

“Hey, hey, hey, no, no, no. None of that, okay? It’s fine, I’m fine.” He must’ve sensed how the panic was seeping through your veins with his spidey senses or maybe Mark just knew you well enough. 

“See?” Mark gestures to an arm you had already patched up. The cuts you already tended to look so much better than before and the bruises are healing faster than the normal rate. 

“I’ll be fine in a day or two, bubs,” he reassures you with a pained smile. That didn’t reassure you at all.

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what— ow, fuck, you’re pressing too hard, ow— what is?” Mark tries to wriggle away and you press a hand onto his firm chest (oh my god, seriously, how is he built like this?) to keep him still. 

You’re done dressing his wounds and you take in the number of supplies you’ve used to tend to him. 

The battles out there are getting worse and the teenager just comes up more battered and bruised. You don’t know much longer you can take seeing your best friend like this. You’re so caught up in him and you can’t leave. You feel as if Mark shot some of his web fluid at you and suddenly, you’re just trapped in this ridiculous web of love and you can’t fight your way out of it. 

“If you keep acting recklessly, there will be no more friendly neighborhood Spiderman!” You can’t stand the thought of Mark being gone. The world out there was tough to live in as it is but a world without your idiotic best friend with superpowers? You can’t even imagine it. 

“What if I want to be more than that?” he asks, his voice dropping lower than his usual volume, 

“Well, you can’t be more than that if you’re dead!” you hiss back at him. “And that’s something I don’t want to see!” 

He flinches at your tone.

“No, wait— ugh, that’s not what I meant,” he lifts a hand to run through his hair. “What if I want to be more than just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman?”

“Mark, I really don’t get what you’re saying.” You look down at him, confusion buzzing through your features. “And that’s saying a lot.”

“What if I wanted to be more than just Spiderman to you? Because— I don’t know, that’s all I’ve wanted for a while now? Besides, like doing this whole Avengers-slash-saving the world thing?”

You blink at him, trying to process his words as Mark rambles on, his bare back still pressed against your thighs. 

“Do you even get what I’m saying? I don’t think I’m making any sense. Shit, how do people do this?” Mark continues as you try to make sense of his ongoing rant.

“Do what?”

“Confess to the person they like? Is there, like, a step-by-step guide or something because I don’t think I’m doing this right,” he replies fairly quickly before he realizes what came spilling out of his mouth. Mark’s face turns as red as his suit and his eyes are as wide as his mask’s lenses; you’re sure your face is mirroring a similar look. 

You swallow and clear your throat, trying to organize the many revelations running through your scattered brain. “So, let me get this straight.”

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Mark almost squeaks in disbelief. 

“You almost died in my arms just now and you’re worried about the proper way to confess to me?” You laugh in disbelief. What a typical Mark thing of him to do. 

“Well, uh, yeah, ‘cause dude, I’m pretty sure you know this but I haven’t done this sort of thing before.” He’s avoiding eye contact, clearly embarrassed by the situation. His hands are playing with the ends of his suit, a tell-tale of his nervousness.

You grab his hands, pulling them away from ruining the fabric, and squeeze them gently. “You’re such a nerd,” you tease fondly. 

“Hey!” he yells back at the insult.

“But it’s a good thing that I, um, like nerds,” you manage to cough out, a heat seeping through your cheeks. Your confession is barely above a whisper but Mark’s enhanced senses help him pick up your words perfectly. His body freezes for a second before his head snaps up.

Mark’s brown irises lock onto yours, hope swimming through them. “You—you do?” 

“Yeah,” you let out a breathy laugh. Your hand runs up the side of his neck to comb through his hair. You feel him shiver at your touch and you shyly smile at him. You’re nervous but you shouldn’t be—Mark’s your best friend. 

“There’s this one nerd running around the city in a red and black suit. Ever heard of him?”

He’s laughing at this point and all your worries disappear. “Yeah, I think I have. He’s pretty cool.”

“I think he’s pretty cute, too” you confess, dipping your head down to move a bit closer to him. Mark meets you halfway, his hand wiggling its way to clasp the back of your neck. Your heart is beating so hard against your chest and the butterfly wings are tickling your stomach at the proximity. 

You touch your forehead to his, nuzzling them together and he lets out a deep chuckle that sets your heart ablaze. “I guess you could say I got caught in his web,” you tease. You hear him suck on his teeth.

“Just kiss me already.”

“Only if you promise that you’ll listen to me and be more careful out there,” you reply, boldly pressing a kiss by his mouth. He chases your lips and you quickly pull away.

“Ah, promise me.”

“Promise, yes, I promise,” he groans. “Just let me kiss you.”

The word “okay” barely leaves your mouth before he pulls himself up to press his body against yours. Mark slots his lips against yours and you sigh into him, breathing in his scent. It starts off as innocent but the kiss takes a turn when Mark breaks away to slide off your lap. He keeps his hand behind your head and lowers you down to lie completely straight on your bed.

Mark climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips as he captures your lips again. Your fingers fly to his hair and he lets out a noise as your nails scratch his scalp. “Love you,” he whispers into the kiss. 

“Love you, too,” you smile as you tug him even closer. 

Yeah, you love being Spiderman’s person in the chair but you think you love being Mark Lee’s person a hell of a whole lot more.

[girl-in-the-tower]

CHAPTER I

Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue

Kore: Woah, to think the ghosts would go all out like this just for today! Even though I told them that they didn't have to bother with it, they wouldn't listen, at all... It's... It's kind of embarrassing to be fussed over like this! If it was Grim I would have understood but this, uh...

Ah! And I'm supposed to have a guest over today as well! Hm, I guess some tea should be in order... maybe some cakes as well... I wonder if there's any sugar left...

Ace: Yo!

Kore: Ah, just a moment- Oh, it's just you, Ace.

Ace: Ha? What's that supposed to mean? 'It's just you'? It's super rude to greet your dear guest like this, you know?

Kore: Is that so? But calling you a guest is...

Ace: What's that?

Kore: Hm...

Ace: Well, doesn't matter because my feelings were hurt either way! So I'll help myself to this krumkake to make myself feel better! Let's dig in~

Kore: Hey, that- Aaah, that was meant to be for Grim. He kept complaining all day yesterday that he should have a cake all to himself too since it's a special day so I woke up extra early just to make it for him. Now he's gonna be mad...

Ace: Haa? A whole cake just for that furball? You've got to be kidding me!

Kore: What are you talking about? You know how much he likes krumkake.

Ace: Nah, I doubt there's really anything that guy won't eat... But that's not the point. You're spoiling him too much. He's gotten really fat, you know?

Kore: It's fine. I still make sure he exercises and he looks cute round like that too, so it's not a problem.

Ace: No, I definitely still think there's something wrong here. Mainly with your head.

Kore: Haaaaaaa, you wanna pick a figh-

Ace: Oh, I almost forgot! Here you go!

Kore: ... What's this?

Ace: Isn't it obvious?

Kore: Well... Huh? Wait a minute- That can't-!

Ace: Ta-da! It's a limited edition Griffons varsity jacket that's been all the rage with Magift meatheads like you~

Kore: No way!! This is- This is-

Ace: Cool, righ- Hey!! Don't jump on me like that! You almost knocked me off the chair!

Kore: Sorry, hahaha! I was so happy I just couldn't contain myself! To think that I would be able to actually get my hands onto something so valuable!

Ace: Yeah, we figured you'd like i-

Kore: This season has really been a blessing from above for them, you know? Everybody is in top shape and playing at their best! I heard their new manager actually made them go through this super difficult training regime that has been working wonders for them. Though it's only speculation so far!

Ace: Uh, Kor-

Kore: If you ask me, it's definitely also thanks to those new brooms that they ordered for the team. The wood is apparently from the Valley of Thorns and super-resistant so they go all out without worrying about breaking them. For the moves that the team is pulling, they really need that propulsion time! Even a second helps when you're in a headlock. I remember back in the vs Mandrakes game that they switched brooms in between-

Ace: Heeeeey! You Magift boar woman! Can you hear me?

Kore: Wh-Why are you yelling like that?! I'm right next to you!

Ace: Haaaa, when you start talking about Magift you might as well be in a completely different world... No wonder they all think of you as the Magift Encyclopedia. I bet you have hundreds of useless pieces of information like that stuck in your head.

Kore: You-! Huh? What's this?

Ace: A-Ah! That!

Kore: It's rice pudding- Ah! It's homemade from the Mountains!

Ace: Hm? Ah, ye-yeah... That came with the jacket...

Kore: Eh? They put pudding in jackets when they sell them?!

Ace: O-Obviously! Don't tell me you didn't know? Bwahaha, man, you sure are clueless...

Kore: ... It's my favourite flavour too...

CHAPTER II

Ace: Alright, next to the first question!

Kore: Eh?! Question?! Is this a quiz of some kind?!

Ace: I guess you could think of it like that, so anyway- Your first question as today's birthday girl issssss: "If you were stuck on a deserted island, who would you take with you?" Hm, here it says that you can't pick members of your own dorm, but given that you guys don't even have a dorm, I'm not sure that the restriction applies. Not that it matters since you wouldn't choose Grim anyway, right?

Kore: Huh? Why not?

Ace: You're serious?! You'd pick that furball?! Hey, we're talking about a deserted island here so think carefully! Don't you want to get off it?!

Kore: Well, obviously I would... But...

Ace: But?

Kore: I can do that on my own.

Ace: Huh?

Kore: Survival is all about securing shelter, food and formulating an escape plan. If it's a deserted island I assume there would be some fauna and animals too, so we could feed ourselves through fruit gathering and hunting. It might be hard if we don't have any tools, however, but I think Grim's claws would be sharp enough to cut through the skin and meat fairly easily. I make sure he takes good care of them after all.

Ace: I-I see...

Kore: If there's no drinkable water then we'll have to boil some from the sea in order to deal with the thirst. Grim's flames, when properly utilized, would be able to do such a thing. Not to mention that he could start fires to keep us warm at night and to cook food to sustain us! Also, it could be a great emergency signal if we end up at sea and need rescuing.

Ace: You want to use him as a flare?!

Kore: That sounds so mean! I would only do that as a last resort, however! Grim's pretty sensitive about having his belly scratched so I wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable like that!

Ace: Haaaa, I get it, I get it! So you're saying that the furball has his practical uses too. But I can't help but worry about some flaws...

Kore: Flaws?

Ace: No matter how much you feed that glutton, his stomach will never be full, you know! Whatever provisions you managed to gather, he's sure to inhale them with the first occasion!

Kore: Wah- That's a horrible thing to say! There's no way my Grim is so selfish!

Ace: My Grim?! What is he?! Your child?! And he's totally selfish, you know!!

Kore: HAAAAA?! ARE YOU REALLY PICKING A FIGHT WITH ME?!

Ace: Ca-Calm down!! I take it back, ok?! You can bring the furball with you!

Kore: Hmph.

Ace: Seriously, getting this angry over that cat...

Kore: Isn't that normal? Grim is my special person, after all!

Ace: SPECIAL PERSON?!

Kore: The person you care for a lot, like they're part of you, right? Like Cay-senpai said!

Ace: I-I see, so that's...

Kore: Being on a deserted island isn't ideal, but at the end of the day I know I can be ok on my own. Farmwork, housework - those are things that I'm used to from the Mountains. Life isn't so easy back home, but we all make do with what we can - magic or no magic. Even if I'm stuck in a bad situation, I can manage to get through so I don't need anybody else.

Well, that's what I thought before I came to this place anyway...

Ace: ...

Kore: Besides you're wrong about something!

Ace: Huh?

Kore: In order to survive it's not just physical attributes that are important, but mental ones as well. And in that case, Grim has the real trump card!

Ace: He-He does?!

Kore: Mm! You see, Grim, he... has the cutest paws and the fluffiest fur in the world!

Ace: HUH?!

Kore: Mm! Every time I feel like giving up or am reaching the end of the rope, all I'd have to do is give his paw pads a little squeeze or lay on his tummy and my mood would instantly clear up again! In a situation full of despair like that it would make a world of difference, you know?

Ace: SO HE'S THERE JUST FOR MORAL SUPPORT?!

Kore: Well, that too! It's important after all!

Ah, this pudding is really good actually...

CHAPTER III

Ace: Haaaa, I give up... Your boar mind is way too difficult to understand...

Kore: HUH?!

Ace: Anyway, let's get on with our next question and- Ah.

Kore: Hm? What is it? You suddenly stopped in the middle of the sentence. Did the falcon get your tongue, hehe?

Ace: It's a cat, not a falcon! And I only stopped because- uh...

Kore: What?

Ace: "You're offered the chance to pick another dorm, which one would you choose?"

Kore: ...

Ace: I swear, that Headmaster doesn't even think of these questions at all...

Kore: Yeah, there's no way I can answer that...

Ace: I figured. So instead! "Please share your opinions on the dorms!"

Kore: Ah!

Ace: Nice, right? You can definitely count on me when it comes to quick thinking, you know?

Kore: ... I guess.

Ace: You guess?!

Kore: I'll start with Diasomnia then!

Ace: Hey, don't ignore-

Kore: Hm, I'm not really sure about the atmosphere there but- Don't you think that their interior decor is pretty fancy? I haven't seen stuff like that in magazines for quite a while, so I feel like it's definitely something that must have required a lot of work! It's kinda dreary though, what will the windows not letting enough light and the greenery around it could stand to be looked after better, hm...

Ace: So you're only interested in the decor, huh? Alright, what about Ignihyde?

Kore: It's too technological.

Ace: Huh, I guess that you're right. For somebody like you, it would really be a struggle living there...

Kore: ...

It's even more depressing than Diasomnia, so I feel like I would be stuck in a bad mood without enough sunlight, you know? Though I must admit, it really is super clean inside! That's a very important detail! Clean homes are necessary for good health!

Ace: There you go again, sounding like a mom... Next is Pomefiore!

Kore: IT'S SUPER FLASHY!

Ace: I know~?

Kore: No, no, you don't get it! It's so flashy it actually scares me! All that pomp and glamour! The rugs themselves look like something from the fall collection that sold out about twenty years ago and the chandeliers are bound to be at least four times Theo's salary! Walking through those hallways is like stepping on opulence! A continuous loop of flashiness!

Ace: HEY! Get a hold of yourself! Let's go over to- Ah, Scarabia...

Kore: It's so hot there!!

Ace: Oh, yeah, you're super weak to heat so you'd definitely hate it there. Right?

Kore: Mm, hate is... I think that if it was the old me, I would never have even stepped in there. But now I feel like... Yeah! I definitely think that I can give it another try! Scarabia is pretty rich too, but it feels more homely? There's a lot of people gathered around and there are banquets and feasts pretty often too. It's always lively and warm... In a way, I imagine that's what a home would feel like...

Ace: ...

Kore: I can't say the same for Octavinelle however. Hmph!

Ace: Bwahaha, that's true. It really feels like you'd get scammed in there pretty quick.

Kore: Not even that! But building a dorm underwater? I admit the decor is pretty nice and classy, but the atmosphere is too cold! There's a lot of types that I can't get along with at all so it would definitely be a miserable time for me. No, I definitely don't want to set foot there ever again!

Ace: I totally get it~ All that commotion after the exams was enough for me too. Guess the same goes for Savanaclaw too, then?

Kore: ...

Ace: HA?!

Kore: I-I refuse to believe that anybody who loves Magift is a bad person!

Ace: There's that meathead in you talking again! Are you seriously that obsessed with it?! I feel like there's a sickness that applies in this case!!

Kore: He-Hey!! That's way too- I understand that what they did was bad, and I definitely haven't forgiven Kingscholar-senpai yet, but there are definitely good points to them as well! I think!

Ace: So you're not even sure?!

Kore: A-Anyway, as for Heartslaybyul-

Ace: Don't go changing the subject!

Kore: - if I had to pick that would be my favourite.

Ace: Huh?

Kore: I love Scarabia too, a lot, but at the end of the day all that rich atmosphere is scary. I really don't feel like I would belong there at all. I'd stick out like a sore thumb among everybody else - more than usual at the very least. But in Heartslaybyul, even if Rosehearts-senpai is strict, I feel like everybody is sort of content with the oddness. There's not much that stands out about it, but I think that's what makes it so appealing, you know?

Ace: ... So... what you're saying... Is that we're a shabby dorm full of weirdoes?

Kore: I-I wouldn't go that far...

Ace: But that's the gist of it, isn't it?!

Kore: Ummmmm...

Ace: ... Alright, I get it.

Kore: Huh?

Ace: You know, it just so happens that there's one more thing I have to tell you about.

Kore: One more thing?

Ace: Yup! You see, there's this tradition where the presenter has to give the 'gift of fortune' in order to make sure this ends up being a great birthday! And it just so happens that you're lucky enough to have me here today to deliver the goods~

Kore: Huh? What are you-

[SPLATTER]

Kore: ...

Ace: BWAHAHA, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST STOOD THERE LIKE THAT!

Kore: ...

Ace: Oh man, the look on your face is hilarious! Oh, let me take a quick picture to show the others too!

Kore: ...

Ace: Ok, so then- He-Hey! Don't- AUGH! MY FOREHEAD!

[ijustwant2write]

Confidence-Bucky Barnes x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @sunoficarus​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello there angel! I've been reading your cute imagines lately and they really warmed my heart and got me out of depression cloud! so i tried to be brave and request something bcs i'm usually shy ><~ can i request a Bucky Barnes x Reader oneshot, the reader is kinda a chubby avenger and she has feelings for him but she gets sad bcs she thinks he'll never fall for someone like her bcs sh's not like the other pretty female avengers annnddd.. yeah! XD~♡’

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name     

Replication=Being able to make a copy of yourself, biological cloning, or the splitting of the body into multiples

Warnings: Insecurity, negative talk about weight/image, sad/crying reader, fluff

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Opening the fridge, I took out a water bottle, instantly opening it before taking a big swig. We had come back from a mission early afternoon, the team had been away for just over a week, so it was good to be back. Even though I had showered, eaten and unpacked, I still had an immense thirst in me.

"Hey, I'm making toast, you want some?" Natasha asked as she walked in.

"No, I've eaten thank you." I replied, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

As she began making her food, she continued talking."You OK after the last week?"

"Yeah, just tired. The longest mission I've done is four days, it's amazing what a few more days can do to you."

"You were great out there, a real natural. Your powers are much more controlled than they used to be."

"Thanks, it's all down to the training I guess."

"And your confidence."

"Really?"

Nat placed three pieces of bread into the toaster, turning around to face me once the lever was pushed down."Yes! It wasn't like you were extremely shy when you first came, but there's a difference in you."

If only I was this confident around someone else.

“You gonna head up early tonight?” Nat asked.

“Definitely. The last time I used my powers like that was when you guys first brought me in. And that was when I didn’t have as much control over them. I think it’s a good idea, we all need the rest.”

“So am I. Actually, Dr Cho wanted to see you. She said something really medical and science-y to explain why but I made no sense to me. Something about your cells splitting...or recreating?"

"Oh, she did mention that before we left. Think she's trying to help me connect more with my replicas, so that I can confuse whoever we're attacking even more. Thanks for telling me."

She nodded, turning around once the toast popped up. I said goodbye, scrolling on my phone as I made my way to Dr Cho's lab. My power to basically clone multiple versions of myself seemed useless at first, until I figured out how to control them and thought about tactics they were useful in. It was very strategic, everything had to be carefully planned. But now that I was getting used to it, everything seemed like second nature. And I had the team to thank for that. 

"Hey (Y/N), thanks for coming by." Helen greeted as I walked into her lab, holding her tablet as she usually did. 

"Hi. So, am I being wired up to a machine today?" 

She smiled."No, nothing like that. Tony and I have been working together on something that will ensure you can keep track of all your replicas."

Helen turned her back to me, grabbing a tray with what looked like four silver bracelets. She gestured for me to stand by her as she placed the tray on the table in front of us. 

"These are your new accessories." she started, picking up a pair."You'll wear them when on missions, and these will be able to connect you to any replicas you create. It's just to help you keep a better track. And any time they are hurt in anyway, the energy from the hit will drive into your bracelet." 

"Like T'Challa's armour?" 

Helen nodded."But instead of propelling back that energy, it'll just mean your replica can hold the energy and use it as a shield. Say someone was stood behind it and the enemy attacked the replica, the real person behind them would be safe." 

"That's amazing!" 

She held out her hand, wanting me to give her my wrist. I complied, letting her put the bracelets on me. They glowed blue before returning to the silver colour, feeling weightless on me. 

"They're able to become translucent depending on what uniform you're wearing. That way they won't be able to differentiate you from your replicas."

"Wow, thank you." 

"Don't thank me just yet. We still need to trial them. I definitely need Tony for this, just to make sure he's happy with them." 

"I think he's gone to rest right now." 

With a cheeky grin, she said,"Don't worry, he won't mind, this is important." 

Helen left me by myself, and I felt slightly awkward around all of the expensive and confusing technology that surrounded me. A thought flashed in my mind to try out the bracelets, but I decided against it, not wanting to risk anything going wrong. Slipping them off and placing them back on the table, I caught myself in the reflection of the windows. My hands subconsciously moved to my stomach, brushing against it before grabbing the skin; they traced upwards to my forearms, repeating my actions despite my brain screaming that I shouldn't. It grossed me out every time, why would I want to touch those parts of me? 

Turning to look at myself side on, I sighed at how stomach looked, almost wincing as my gaze travelled down to my thighs. All that training, the healthy meals I ate, where were the results? Why didn't I look like Natasha or Wanda? I battled with my conscious everyday over this. The tiniest part of it begged me to not look at myself that way, not to throw my hard work away or belittle myself over such a thing; but that was an extremely rare thing to happen, and that voice was hard to hear. The voice that spoke much too often had something completely different to say. It would force me to look at myself whenever I passed anything reflective, to make sure I looked decent, although I never did. It wanted to point out my flaws, it wanted to make me aware and punish me for looking like this,despite all the hard work I put into training. And training had never been about losing weight, it was purely strengthening, learning how to fight/defend myself as well as keep up with my stamina. 

Taking a deep breath in, I faced myself properly, squeezing my hands in and out of fists as I replicated myself, scanning my eyes over every single version of me. There were seven of me altogether, three replicas on either side of me, and I wondered why I even thought about doing this to myself. I made each replica turn more than the other, meaning I was looking at myself at every angle, and I hated all of them. It wasn't fair. Why was my power to make copies of myself when I didn't even like the one, true version of me? 

"(Y/N)?" someone startled me, my replicas instantly disappearing. 

Whipping around as my concentration broke, my face broke out into a blush as I saw Bucky standing in the doorway. It just had to be him, why couldn't it have been anyone else? 

"Y-yes?" I stuttered, immediately breaking eye contact. 

"Sorry, I needed to speak to Dr Cho." 

"Sh-she, uh, she just left, a-actually." 

"OK, I'll come by later." I glanced up, seeing him move to leave before turning back to me."You sure you're alright?" 

I nodded."Mhm."

He slowly nodded, but mostly to himself."Good job this week by the way, you were great." 

I hated how hot I was feeling after the compliment, even when he was gone I felt embarrassed by myself. Did he see me looking at myself like that? He must have thought I was an absolute weirdo for doing such a thing! 

Helen reappeared, a yawning Tony following in behind her."Right, this shouldn't take too long-" 

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this right now." I blurted out."I’m really tired and I want to make sure that the results are accurate." 

They were taken back by my snappy tone, slowly nodding as I refrained from bolting out of the room. Brushing past them, my hands instantly wrapped around my torso, making a beeline towards the elevator. My breaths were sort and sharp as I hit the button, fingers poking into my sides as I crossed them again. Why wasn’t I toned? Why was I able to grab so much skin? Once I was out of the elevator, I picked up the pace towards my room, resisting slamming the door to not gain any more attention. Grabbing the throw at the end of my bed, I threw it over the mirror, making sure I could not see any part of myself before I collapsed onto my bed, covering myself with the bed sheets.

Silent sobs ran through me as I gripped onto the sheets that were bunched up around me. I hated my mind, I hated how I looked, I hated how I could never be at peace with how I looked. Sleep would come to me late tonight, but only once I exhausted myself from crying. And I hoped that I would not dream tonight. 

Waking up, I felt how dry my moth and lips were, and also where the tears had stained my cheeks, as well as my pillow. My neck was aching from the position I had fallen asleep in, it felt worse as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Rubbing my eyes, I coughed to clear my throat, definitely needing water after I felt how hoarse it was. Although it would have been so much easier to stay holed up in my room all day, avoid questions from everyone (even making small talk could reveal how I was really feeling), staying here would cause more fuss than needed.

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)." Vision greeted as I walked the halls.

"Morning." I mustered up the best smile.

"I hope I am not coming across as rude or interfering, but are you alright?"

I nodded, hiding my panic."Yeah, just a little tired from the mission. And I think overwhelmed, it's been my longest one yet."

"That is understandable. Though I am sure the experience will serve you well in future missions, especially with your stamina."

"Yep, hopefully."

Vision hadn't done anything wrong, he was being a good friend. But my mind wondered whether anything had been said about me. Did I look bad? Did I look exhausted? Why did he mention stamina? He could have just left that part out. I engaged with more small talk as we made our way down to the kitchen (Vision liked to be part of an everyday routine), though part of me wished that I was alone again.

"Ah, morning Mr Barnes." Vision said as we walked in, and I instantly cringed.

"Morning." Bucky mumbled, sending a small smile our way, but I quickly looked elsewhere. He was finishing a bowl of cereal as he sat at the kitchen island.

"Miss (Y/L/N), could I tempt you with a fully cooked breakfast? Something that is full of nutrition but still quite enjoyable? I believe it would help with your recovery." Vision offered.

"Oh, that's very kind Vis." I quietly said."But I'll just stick to coffee for now."

"You sure? I wouldn't pass up that opportunity." Bucky added.

I could only muster,"Mhm." before focusing on the coffee machine in front of me.

"Well, the offer stands if you wish for it." Vision said, and I could tell I had upset him.

He said his goodbyes to us as he left, leaving me alone with Bucky. Keeping my back to him, I played with the end of my sleeves, coming up with normal answers that I could say if Bucky started asking questions. I knew that even with backup answers, I wouldn't be able to speak properly to him, my mind would go blank.

"You should have something to eat really. At least an apple or something." Bucky said.

"I'll have one once I've woken up more. Don't feel like eating just yet, think I'm overtired."

"Just make sure you're looking after yourself."

I poured out the coffee into a mug, prepared to leave when I caught Bucky looking at me. My demeanour became smaller, shy, more withdrawn.

"What were you doing the other day? In the lab?"

"I...was testing out a new gadget Tony and Dr Cho created for me."

"(Y/N), I don't want to make assumptions-"

"Then believe what I say. Why would I be lying?"

He looked shocked."I didn't say anything like that."

My eyes cast down, panic setting into my mind, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Forgetting about my coffee, I gave myself no other choice than to run away from any confrontation. I thought that would be the end of it, it usually was, but I heard footsteps behind me, heavy ones, belonging to Bucky. At first, I kept going, hoping he was just going to call out to me before giving up, but again, I was wrong. 

“(Y/N), please!” Bucky pleaded.

Not knowing where to go made me falter, it was only for a split second, that was enough time for Bucky to open a door and drag me inside. Breaking away from him, I sighed when I realised we were in an old conference room; it was empty now, no furniture or screens, it was currently being upgraded and renovated. However, that also meant no one would have any intention of walking in, meaning we were very likely to not be interrupted. 

“Bucky, I don’t want to talk about this.” I rushed out.

“So there is something wrong!” he exclaimed, but kept his tone calm.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re my friend, my teammate (Y/N), I care about you.”

“Fine! You want to know what’s wrong? I’m surrounded by images of strong, fit people, who I work just as hard as, yet I never look like them! I train and train and train, but for some cruel reason, my body never changes. Sure, I’ve slimmed down slightly since I arrived here, but it’s not enough for me. I’ve been called a superhero, I fight alongside all of you with your slim physiques, huge muscles and beautiful faces; so when I see a picture, or news footage of us fighting, I look like the odd one out, the huge odd one out. I don’t look right standing beside any of you, even an agent from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed as he continued staring at me. I scoffed, facing away from him.

“Now you’re seeing it. Or at least your thoughts about me are confirmed. I understand. I know you guys are my friends, you don’t care what I look like. But you must look at me in the line up and think I look out of place.”

“(Y/N), I could never look at you, or think of you in that way.”

“You don’t have to pity me-”

“I’m not. (Y/N), you don’t realise how beautiful you are.”

I glanced over my shoulder, shocked by his sentence.“Don’t do this to make me feel better, because it doesn’t work.”

He took a step closer to me.“How long have you been holding this in for?”

“I’m a woman who’s been bigger than everyone else around me my entire life, and I also have powers which made me a freak before people realised I could save them. So, basically my whole life.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why would anyone in my position want to speak up about this? You didn’t say anything when your nightmares came back.”

I saw that throw him off.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to...to mention it, or-”

“No, you’re right. I know what it feels like to keep something to yourself. You don’t want to burden anyone around you, especially the ones you love. You think it’s not that important, that you can handle it by yourself, or you can ignore it until it goes away. But that’s not the right way to handle things. I can see that, looking back on everything.”

“But your nightmares were worth talking about. They scarred you, reminded you of that awful past. I’m a stupid girl crying over weight that can easily be shifted if I just work harder.”

“You would work yourself to death if you did that. (Y/N), I see you everyday training hard, making sure your powers are being improved everyday, going over tactics you can use by yourself or with the team. Everyday you ensure you are at your best because you want to help people out there that can’t defend themselves. If people judge you on how you look instead of your actions, they’re not even worth thinking about.”

Letting my arms drop to my sides, I faced Bucky, gathering enough courage to look him in the eyes.“Thanks Bucky.”

“(Y/N) I mean it. I’m not saying this to just be nice. You matter to me.”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t. I...I really like you (Y/N). And I know you may not see me in the same way, but you’re such a caring, powerful and hard working person. We come back from a mission, and you could be carried out on a stretcher but you still keep positive and make sure everyone else is safe before yourself. I’m telling you this because...well it just feels right. I’m also not making this up because you need validation from a man to make you feel better about yourself. You should be able to look at yourself in the mirror and love what you see, no matter what you look like.”

My chin was trembling as my lips pursed, trying to hold back my tears. Shaky breath escaped my nostrils, and as Bucky kept looking at me with those nurturing, safe eyes, I broke. No one had ever said something like that to me. I could tell he meant it. He wouldn’t be putting all this effort into this if he just wanted to be a good friend.

“Do...do you really mean it?” my voice wobbled.

He smiled.“Yes.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around me tenderly, pulling me into his chest. Surprisingly, my instincts made me quickly copy, gripping onto his t-shirt as I started sobbing. My mind was confused. One minute I was absolutely hating myself, then I had covered up my sadness, panicking because someone was about to see me break, and here I was, letting it all out in front of him. But I didn’t feel embarrassed like I thought I would. It felt amazing to feel that dragging weight on my shoulders suddenly lift away, the comfort of someone else was welcoming. 

“Th-thank you Bucky.” I sniffed.“I’ve always thought that I need to keep this sort of thing to myself. I’ve been terrified to even be sad, even though I know it’s OK to be sad, but for some reason, my mind would never let me. It’s been building up inside of me, I’ve never been able to express myself properly.”

“We’re here for you, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here to listen...and you tell you how beautiful you are every time I see you.”

I giggled as I pulled away, wiping my cheeks.“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I want to.”

“Thank you Bucky, I really appreciate your help.”

He kissed my forehead.“I’ll always be here.”

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll make sure of it) Chapter 9

Summary:  This chapter is about Monica and why she wants to help Wanda so much. It also follows the post credit scene of episode 7 and a little of the finale.

Previous part: chapter 1,  chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 9: Rambeau

Ever since her talk with Wanda, Monica was even more determined to help the woman. She had had her own painful experience after finding out her mother had lived two more years, only for her cancer to come back. It had taken her multiple days to really accept that she could have had more time with her, had the blip not happened. Also, adjusting to a universe that was five years ahead of her had been a challenge. Everything was different, not only culturally or technologically, but even in spots she had thought untouchable. Her favorite shop her and her mom used to go to escape the everyday stress of life was now gone. The owners were blipped, they had come back to find an empty lot that once contained their whole life. Monica, not one to dwell too much, decided that it would be better to move. Her apartment only served as a reminder that her mother truly was gone. Maria had probably wandered the same walls trying to convince herself that her daughter would come back only to succumb without finding out she was right all along. So, she had changed town, one closer to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters, that way, she could concentrate on more assignments. She had tried going to therapy, the world had offered counseling for those who came back. Monica had found it unfortunate that no one seemed to consider that some needed more than just talking out their feelings. As much as she understood why they limited their service to this, the entire world was grieving after all, she just wished there were more options.

She had instead focused on getting herself back together and forming a new world for herself. She had tried socializing, but every conversation eventually ended up talking about lost opportunities and the grief people or their loved one had endured. She bought books of the latest invention and discovery, trying to understand the world who moved on without her. She had eventually settled her finances with the bank, her position at S.W.O.R.D. gave her priority over the everyday citizens. She was part of the lucky ones, her mother’s hope had kept her from claiming her life insurance, which made things a lot easier since she didn’t have to restart her life with a debt. While she wasn’t at peace with what happened to her mother, she decided to come back to her work. She couldn’t take the days alone, being assaulted by advertisements about fake opportunities offered by scam artists looking to make quick money on the web.

So, after three weeks of trying to adjust in a grieving world, she was back at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. She was then assigned to the Westview anomaly which opened a whole new world of weird. Being mind controlled by Wanda had been one of the strangest things she had ever experienced. She was expected to hate her once she had been pulled out; but she couldn’t bring herself to. The avenger wasn’t doing this out of hate, but out of grief. She had felt her pain, one that was so similar to her own. The whole experience only made her more certain of her future: she had to help Wanda Maximoff.

...

That’s why even after being clearly shown that Wanda didn’t want her help, she decided to stick around. Agnes was definitely suspicious; she knew Wanda was grieving and seemed to want to keep it that way. Luckily, Wanda’s brother had intervened. That was another thing, who was he? He wasn’t on the resident board and he definitely wasn’t the real Pietro; she had seen the footage of Ultron. They didn’t even look similar. Yet Wanda seemed determined to keep him at her side and he seemed convinced that they truly were twins. She felt for the man, the mind control of the town definitely wasn’t a pleasant experience.

There were whispers of newcomers on the base the same day she, Jimmy and Darcy had been kicked out. She didn’t have time to learn much, but Hayward didn’t like them. Then again, he didn’t like most people that wasn’t directly on his team or that obeyed him without questions. Still, their arrival had ruffled some feathers, the identification process was made even more of a priority. She guessed that they were part of the many agencies that dealt with insurance and were trying to prepare for the storm of paperwork coming after the Hex would be brought down. As far as she knew, the counseling offered only covered the effect of the blip, not the after effect of being mind controlled by a grieving avenger.

After being pushed away, Monica wasn’t sure where to go. She walked around aimlessly; last time she was in town it was the 70s. Now, the advertisements were different, and everyone were dressed in the 2010s. She had to admit how impressive it was that Wanda was able to rewrite reality like that. She saw Herb, or John Collins, according to the citizen chart. He was watering his backyard and taking care of his garden, something he’d been a fan of even when she was part of the town. She didn’t see many other of the ‘main cast’, but she did see a few couples. Still no children, like Vision had pointed out on the last episode she saw on the base. The Halloween one didn’t count since she missed most of it trying to hide on her own base. After about half an hour, she decided that Wanda had probably calmed down. She had to talk to her again, she had begun to form a connection, she knew she could make Wanda see reason. She walked over to her house, but soon realized that nobody was there. Instead of going after her, she decided to investigate Agnes’ house. She looked through the windows, but not much was happening. The TV was on, but no one was watching it. She went in the back, perhaps she could find clues there. After watching through the windows and still not finding anything, she spotted a cellar.

She walked over and examined the door before opening it. She found what looked like vines that escalated the walls. She could see them glowing a deep purple, probably had something to do with her newfound powers. They seemed to give her the ability to see energy field that surrounded her. She was about to step inside when she felt a sudden gush of air.

“Snoopers gonna snoop,” came a voice next to her.

She gasped as she took in the person. It was the man who was cast at Pietro, only, he seemed off. Like he was doing something he didn’t want to. Before she could ask him anything, he grabbed her arm and the back of her neck. In a blur, they were in the house. Nausea suddenly hit, she grabbed onto a nearby table to stabilize herself.

“Give it a few minutes, it’ll pass,” reassured the man. “Happens with everyone.”

“W-who are you?” She asked once her head had stopped spinning.

“I’m Pietro, I thought you knew that?” She stared at him; something was strange about him. He seemed so kind, why would he help Agnes?

“That’s not what I mean,” she started. “It might be hard, but the mind control usually let you access a few memories of your true identity. You just need to concentrate.”

The man looked at her with a confused look. Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she tried running out of the room, but he stopped her only a few steps away from the window. He put a hand in front of him, with one finger, she was catapulted back onto the couch. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of her.

The man looked at Monica, “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out of here. T-the witch, whatever she is, she has my nephews. I have to keep you here or they get hurt.”

She smiled at his comment, relieved he wasn’t just another villain. “You truly care about them, don’t you?”

The man turned to look outside the empty street before answering, “of course, they’re family.”

“You truly can’t remember?” Monica looked at Pietro, who once again looked confused at her questions. “Nothing here is real, Wanda is giving everyone fake identity, giving them roles to fill. You’re no different.”

“What? Of course not, Wanda’s not like that.”

“Please, think about your life before Westview. Pietro Maximoff died; how can you be here if you were killed?”

“I-I,” He stammered. His confusion was a good sign, he was starting to wake up. He looked at her once again. “Look, I know my sister, she wouldn’t-“

Suddenly, his necklace glowed a scarlet red and his eyes glazed over. He looked disoriented for a second before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out, my family’s lives are on the line.”

Monica didn’t react to what he said, she was all too focused on the necklace. What was it? It seemed to be controlling him, but what could the jewelry piece do that the Hex couldn’t?

She reached for it but stopped as the man backed off. Realizing how rude she was being, she cleared her throat, “may I?” Hesitantly, the man nodded yes. As she was about to touch it, it glowed red and sent a burning sensation through her hand. She gasped and put her hand in a fist, “I’m sorry, I can’t remove it. Do you remember when you got it?”

He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before shaking his head, “I’ve just always had it.”

Monica had more questions but screams in the street made them both turn towards the window. Agnes was somehow floating in the air, holding both of the boys with a magical rope. She saw Pietro disappear, only to reappear a second later.

“I can’t get out, there’s a sort of barrier keeping me from leaving.”

She quickly got down the stairs, she was surprised he let her go, considering that his nephews’ life was on the line. She supposed the real threat compared to possible one was a good enough reason. She opened the front door, only to come crashing into a purple barrier. She put her hands on it, it felt strange, it was like... an energy field. She knew she could get rid of it, but she didn’t know how.

“So,” said Pietro, appearing beside her, “how to we get out? Considering we can’t even see the barrier.”

She pushed against it once again, the magic bending to the force but not letting them pass. “I can see it, but I don’t know how to break it.”

They both contemplated their options, but they couldn’t think of many. That is, until Pietro spoke up. “What... what if you synced your powers with the frequency of the barrier?” His eyes seemed slightly foggy, like he was remembering something from long ago. “You keep your hands there, and you concentrate as much as you can. You can match the strength, and slowly increase it until it becomes too much, and it breaks.”

She did as he told her, feeling her way through. Her fingers began to slightly vibrate, increasingly speeding up as her fingertips began to glow blue. After a few seconds, the barrier shattered, and they were free to go. She turned to the man, both surprised and excited that it had worked. “How did you know that would work?”

The man shrugged, “I think I did it once... on glass? Not sure but I definitely remember using this technique.”

She nodded and they ran to Wanda, Agnes, and the twins. The final battle was ready to begin.

...

Notes:  So, we are close to the end! I promise that we will be back to Wanda's point of view after this one, I simply thought more context on Monica couldn't hurt. Also, she doesn't remove the necklace, I figured that if someone had to remove it, in the context of my story at least, it has to be Wanda. Props to those who understood the days of future past reference! Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated!

[just-fandomthings]

For the kiss writing prompt 💕 frostiron + 29. "...as a promise"

Read on AO3 (Post Avengers, 2012)

...as a promise. 

“During my invasion, why did you offer me a drink? You were trying to stall, I’m aware, but why was that the method you chose?”

Stark startles, dropping the gauntlet he’s working on. “What the hell, warn a guy before you appear like that, would you? I’ve got a heart condition.”

“Apologies,” Loki says honestly. “I would have thought you were expecting me; JARVIS told me you agreed I could come down.”

“Yeah, I said you could, but I wasn’t expecting you to be here thirty seconds later. Doesn't matter, I heard you say ‘drink’, are you here to finally collect on my offer?”

“Sir, Loki asked permission to join you ten minutes ago,” JARVIS inputs.

Stark blinks. “Oh. Guess I lost track of time. So, what was your question?”

Loki clears his throat. “I was wondering why you offered me a drink in your tower when you first came to threaten me.”

Stark gives him a strange look. “Well, I needed the bracelets behind the bar so I’d have a suit in case we fought- or, in your case, if you decided to throw me out a window.”

The words are said lightly but Loki still grimaces. “That doesn’t explain why you offered me the drink,” he points out after a moment.

“Why not? I needed to get my bracelets and was planning to pour myself a drink to keep you distracted, so I offered you one too. I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for here.”

“I was not your guest, you owed me nothing. I was your enemy who had just killed your friend- you should have left your armor on when you came inside, instead of selecting a new armor to don.”

“The other one was damaged,” Stark says. “Needed the upgrade- besides, do I have to remind you that was my tower you were using as home base? JARVIS had my back the entire time.”

“Indeed I did,” JARVIS agrees.

“Is this you trying to tell me I’m reckless?” Stark squints at him. “Trying to tell me not to take on an enemy in battle when I’m out of armor or something? Because I gotta tell you, out of everyone on this team except maybe Bruce, I was expecting you to understand that I am more than just-“

“No, that’s not it,” Loki interrupts quickly. “Well, I would rather you not die since you are the least annoying person on this team I’ve been forced on, but I know that you are more than well-equipped to handle any difficult situation with no more than the clothes you are wearing.”

“Thank you, I don’t know why people always assume I’m helpless outside of my armor. And right answer, by the way, I was gonna stick Dum-E on you with the fire extinguisher if you were trying to pull a Cap on me. So, what’s with the third degree, what’re you trying to figure out?”

“I suppose, I am trying to ask why you were polite to me,” Loki mutters. “You did cleverly insult my manhood not a mere minute later, but you saw me in your building, in your home, and your response was to offer me a drink. You certainly weren’t expecting me to accept and talk with you, so why offer it?”

“Uh, common courtesy? Because I wanted to?” Stark frowns at him. “Either of those, both of them really, have your pick. I really don’t see what the big deal is, you know. It‘s not like I had time to stop and think everything through beforehand, so I just did it. And either way, I was going to get a drink as a stalling tactic so I could get to my armor, so why not offer you one too? You haven’t even taken me up on it in the three months you’ve been here, by the way, what's up with that? I thought you would have, to be honest.”

Loki is quiet for a moment. “May I do so later this evening?”

“Seriously?” At Stark’s incredulous inflection, Loki bristles, about to take it back, insult him, and storm out, but Stark surprises him by agreeing, “About time you took me up on my offer! I’m game, but I need to finish this upgrade first. Is my penthouse at eight-thirty alright, maybe later?”

“It’s not as if I will be busy with nefarious plans at that hour,” Loki huffs. “Yes, that is fine.”

Stark grins. “It’s a date then.”

The first two minutes of their conversation is stilted and awkward, with neither of them apparently knowing what to say. It lasts until Stark glances at him, drains the rest of his glass of scotch and goes, “Oh what the hell, I’m going for it. Please don’t smite me for this, okay, because I know you’ve gotten defensive every time someone has asked, but I really want to know about your Seiðr. How you learned it- I’m assuming you were taught- what the scope of your abilities is, and mainly, how it works. From one genius to another, can you please give me some answers?”

Loki blinks, retort dying on his lips. “You truly wish to know?”

“Uh, why would I not? It's probably the most powerful and complex thing I’ve ever come across- which hurts to admit- and I know nothing about it, which sucks, by the way. I hate not knowing things, especially things that interest me.”

“And my Seiðr interests you?”

“Yeah, thought I’d made that pretty obvious by now. I mean, Cap told me off for practically drooling during that battle last week when you eviscerated those doombots. I would have paid good money to see Doom’s face when he saw you literally rip his bots apart with just a wave of your hand.”

“That is but a simple trick,” Loki murmurs. “You are truly fascinated by my Seiðr, aren’t you?”

Stark’s gaze is expressive and searching for a moment before he nods. “It’s probably the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, and I don’t say that lightly.”

Loki exhales slowly. He thinks Stark might just be genuine. “What do you want to know first?”

It takes only an hour of discussion for them to rearrange the furniture of the penthouse against the wall to give them an open floor space so Loki can show off his Seiðr. Stark keeps up with his conversations remarkably well for a mortal, far surpassing Loki’s expectations, and he finds himself relaxing, indulging in discussion of the more technical aspects of his Seiðr.

When they finally call it a night, hours into the morning, Loki is surprised when he finds himself wishing to stay longer and discuss his Seiðr further with Stark. So few have ever been kind in consideration of his Seiðr, even less have expressed an interest in it, and for Stark to have done both...

Loki doesn’t have words to describe it.

(Later, Loki will consider that evening as the dawn of their friendship.)

It is invigorating to engage in a battle of wits and intellect with Stark, Loki soon comes to find. Such was what had initially impressed him about Stark when he had been under the control of The Other, but with his presence in his mind gone, Loki finds himself naturally drawn to the inventor now. Their conversations are thrilling, and Loki finds himself leaping at the chance to flex his intellect with Stark.

They spend the following months spending an increasing amount of time together, even more so following the cease of Stark’s relationship with Pepper Potts. (Stark isolates for two weeks after that, before he emerges with an impressive performance of being fine.) They discuss in length his Seiðr, Stark’s technology, and other pieces of their lives that they both find interesting.

Stark’s technology, in particular, holds Loki’s attention, for while the designs that Stark has managed to come up with are far superior to anything else on Midgard, a select few are also unlike anything he has come across in his travels of the Realms. It’s an impressive feat, and Loki tells him so.

Loki is also especially fond of Stark’s creations, finding himself impressed by how his bots seem to have such curiosity and personality. (Dum-E and U both, he quickly realizes, are fiercely loyal of Stark.)

As their conversations of his Seiðr continue, it grows impossible to go without mentioning Frigga. Loki isn’t sure what he expects Stark’s reaction to be when he first mentions her, but Stark’s gentle smile and, “She sounds incredible, she must be proud of how talented you are,” far surpasses anything he had expected. The sentiment touches him, and something in their dynamic changes that night.

(Perhaps, it is because that is the night Stark changes to Tony.)

Despite this, they still do not engage in conversation easily about personal topics, both of them with too many difficult stories to wish to recall such information. Still, however, there are many nights where their respective nightmares leave them stripped of their shields, with only vulnerability left behind. It is on those nights that their bond is solidified; empathy and understanding found through sharing stories of past tortures and betrayals.

During one of those nights, Tony tells him of a man called Stane, sharing with him how Dum-E first, and then Pepper, had saved his life. His voice is broken, no more than a whisper, and his hand remains firmly on the device in his chest the entire time he speaks; a further testament to the pain of that betrayal.

Loki vows to him in that moment that he will never betray Tony, he swears it, for he would rather stab his own heart than cause his (only) friend pain in any way.

Tony just looks over at him, his expression sad and resigned all of a sudden. “I don’t think that’s a promise you want to make,” he says quietly. “Not when I’ll likely give you a reason to break it.”

“You know me; I say no less than what I mean,” Loki tells him. “And I can think of no reason that would ever make me want to hurt you or betray you.” He has betrayed others throughout his life, for reasons so little as for fun (stabbing Thor), but he knows he could never harm Tony.

Tony just shrugs. He doesn’t seem to believe him, but he provides no further argument. The blanket covering their laps as they sit together on the sofa suddenly feels stifling, but Loki resolutely ignores it. He understands that Tony’s skepticism is not personal, it is just a mere consequence of being betrayed time and time again by the people he cared about most. Loki knows he would hesitate to accept such a promise as well, even from Tony. Life has taught them both that it’s not safe to trust.

(Perhaps together, they can learn to trust again.)

The other members of the team remain wary of him, distrustful to the point that Loki is certain he will never be able to earn an ounce of trust with them. Outside of Tony, Thor seems to be the most accepting of the fact he is serving a ten year sentence for his attack on New York as a member of their team. Knowing he has Tony‘s friendship makes it easy, however, to disregard the fact that the others do not trust him, even on the field of battle. Never mind that his Seiðr has been limited to keep him in check, they clearly do not trust him to fight on their side. Loki pays this no mind; their belief in him or lack thereof is of no importance to him.

When he finally meets Pepper Potts, Col. James Rhodes, and a man named Happy Hogan, they all threaten him past the point of any return should he hurt Tony in any way. He believes them. The CEO of Tony’s company, his ex, however is the one whose threat genuinely gives him pause. He knows better than to anger her.

But for all their initial threats, the three of them all seem to accept him as Tony’s friend, therefore, as a part of their lives as well. It is awkward at times to be around Potts or Hogan, or even Rhodes when he is able to return home, but those moments of awkwardness, he finds, are worthwhile if it means he can remain at Tony’s side.

It’s a thought that should scare him, that he wants to be wherever Tony is, but he finds himself oddly at peace with that fact. They have grown close over the last five, almost six months since they first shared a drink in Tony’s penthouse, and Tony is incredible, a force of light wherever he goes; it is impossible not to be drawn to Tony, he thinks.

It’s a brisk day in mid-March when he and Tony crowd together on the sofa in his penthouse with a video feed in front of them to watch the fallout of their latest prank on Barton. Tony bursts out laughing at Barton’s indignation and leans against Loki as he praises their prank, saying they absolutely have to prank Cap next. Loki is overcome with joy realizing just how lucky and happy he is to have a friend who partakes and enjoys mischief just as much as he does.

That is also the moment Loki realizes he’s falling in love.

Tony has gone quiet as his side, eyes still sparkling with joy even as he asks, “You okay, Lokes?"

“I’m fine,” Loki reassures. “Just thinking of what to include in our next prank against Captain America himself.”

“I love the way you think,” Tony laughs, snuggling into his side the way he seems to do so frequently, now that Loki thinks about it. “Well, hit me with it. What’re you thinking?”

It’s easy enough to conjure a list of possible pranks at a moment’s notice, and from that moment onward, Loki’s feelings fall to the back of his mind, always quietly lingering in his every thought. Given enough time, he knows they will become a force he cannot hope to control, but that is a problem he can deal with in the future; the present includes planning a prank, and that comes first.

(Later, Loki will consider the moment he realized he was developing feelings for Tony as the day everything changed.)

“Can I join you?”

Loki startles minutely, so caught up in his reading, so relaxed, that he had not been paying attention to his surroundings in any capacity. But this is Tony who has come to his bedroom, and Loki knows he need not keep his guard up when the inventor is around. "Are you alright?" Loki asks, lowering his book to his lap.

"Fine," Tony says automatically. He looks uncertain. "I know you're reading and it's late, so if you want me to leave, don’t hesitate to say so.”

“Nonsense, I always enjoy your company,” Loki reassures absently, frowning at Tony’s haggard experience. He gestures to the space next to him on the bed, adding unnecessarily, “Please, sit.”

Tony hesitates for a moment and then sits down on the bed next to him, leaning back. His hands twist unnaturally together; a sign of his anxiety.

Loki marks his page and sets his book on the nightstand. “Do you wish to talk about what has you so tense?”

“Not really,” Tony mutters. “Not like there’s much to say anyway though. I fell asleep working on an upgraded set of arrows for Clint and woke up screaming. J said you were awake still, so I came up.” He pauses and then adds, "You've been reading all this time? Usually you call it a night at midnight."

"I got enthralled in an old journal on Seiðr and lost track of time. When I realized it was past two, I figured I would wait until I came to a natural stopping point before I retired for the night,” Loki admits ruefully. "I'll be tired in the morning, but it will be well worth it."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you," Tony says lightly. "Staying up until all hours of the night to finish something is my shtick, not yours."

"You have a point. You did, after all, initially encourage my pranks, then you took to assisting me with them, and now you have me staying up to all hours of the night," Loki points out, teasing, participating in the lighthearted atmosphere Tony seems to be trying to create. A distraction for his nightmare, perhaps, and Loki is happy to help. "You are a rather bad influence on me."

"Guilty as charged," Tony agrees, snorting. "Though I'm pretty sure everything prank-related is a result of you being a bad influence on me."

"A mere pleasant consequence of our friendship. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you first let me share a drink with you in your penthouse."

"I did knowingly sign up for all the mischief and chaos, you're right." Tony shrugs, looking pleased. "But as Rhodey will be more than happy to tell you, I caused plenty of trouble throughout my life, so you sadly don't get the privilege of claiming responsibility for all of my evil ways."

"I plan to ask about those stories, just so you know."

Tony laughs, looking lighter now than he had when he had first appeared in Loki's doorway. "Pretty sure you'll have to clear your schedule for the weekend when you do- but keep in mind, Rhodey did also participate in a lot of my plans. He was my partner in crime. So don't let his exasperated tone fool you, he's just as much a prankster as we are."

"In that case, we will have to include him in our plans to prank Thor whenever both your colonel and Thor are present in the Tower," Loki muses.

"Deal," Tony responds instantly. He goes quiet just a moment later, his expression darkening a little.

Loki frowns at the sudden shift in mood. "What's wrong?"

"I should probably go, let you finish the chapter you were reading so you can go to bed."

“I am more than happy to have you here," Loki says carefully, sensing that there is something else weighing on his mind. "But if you wish to go, that is your choice to make.”

“I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Then prepare for bed and lay with me,” Loki says without thinking. He pauses, realizing what he just said. Norns, he had not meant to offer that, but the offer has been extended and he is not one to take back his words. Still though, he clarifies quickly, “It’s an innocent offer, no more than the simple opportunity for you to not be alone tonight, if you don't want to be.”

Tony looks startled. “You want me to stay?”

“You are welcome to, if you want.”

“Why?”

“You are my friend,” Loki says simply. “We have fallen asleep watching movies together on the sofa before and that is fine, is it not?” At Tony’s nod he continues, “So too would your decision to stay here for the night. Nightmares are painful, and if I can offer some small comfort or reassurance of safety, I would happily do so.”

“You’re sure?”

“I mean every word I’ve shared,” Loki says gently.

Tony sighs and leans against him, his head on Loki’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he says softly. “For letting me stay and for not judging me.”

“You know how common my own night terrors are,” Loki points out. "I have nothing to judge."

Tony shrugs but doesn’t offer a response.

“Go, get ready for bed,” Loki says, nudging him with his elbow. “I have placed an additional toothbrush and nightwear for you in the bathroom.”

Tony nods silently and gets up, disappearing into the bathroom. Loki uses the privacy to lay down, trying to quell his racing thoughts and pounding heart. There is something charged and vulnerable between them; it feels like he is balancing precariously on a fraying line. What may happen if it snaps, he’s unsure.

When Tony exits the bathroom a few minutes later, he pauses at the side of the bed for a moment before he pulls back the covers. He doesn’t lay down, however, just says quietly, “You don’t seem as bothered anymore to be serving part of your sentence on the Avengers.”

“Is that a question?” Loki asks, never one to make things easy when he can help it.

“An observation, I think. Am I wrong?”

“No, you are not wrong,” Loki says. He takes a shuddering breath and admits, “I hated this team in the beginning. I was no more than a collection of broken pieces being held together by pure spite, and being placed on this team felt like a death sentence. I expected to hate every moment of my time here, for an abundance of reasons.” He swallows hard, suddenly certain he should not keep going, not when he has already stripped himself bare.

“But?”

As always with Tony, he is the exception to the expectations and restrictions Loki sets for himself. He finds himself staring up at the ceiling and admitting, “But I made a friend, someone who cares about me genuinely for all that I am. It took the work of months before I realized that all the reasons I expected to hate being on this team were insignificant in comparison to the friendship I had found. These last several months, I have found myself slowly recovering from the damage The Other inflicted on me- I am trying to at least- I am trying not to be the monster I was destined to be, and I somehow even find myself happy on occasion, something I thought I was only capable of when creating chaos.”

His bedroom is quiet for a moment. “Sounds like your friend is pretty special,” Tony quips.

“Special is not the most accurate term; short, on the other hand, or perhaps, talkative, or even-”

“You're an ass,” Tony interrupts him, laughing. His expression is pensive, however, as he lays down on his side and looks over at him. “Is that all we are though, just friends?”

Loki freezes. It takes a moment for him to remember to breathe, and then he exhales slowly, rolling over on his side to face Tony as well. “I’m not sure,” he admits, “Are we just friends, in your mind?”

“I asked you first,” Tony points out, smirking a little.

“I gave you a response, however vague, and then asked your thoughts. It’s your turn.”

“Uh huh, you want my thoughts on what exactly? You haven’t really specified what we’re discussing.”

Loki refrains from rolling his eyes despite the way his heart is threatening to pound out of his chest. “What are your thoughts on us,” he emphasizes. “That is what I wish to know.”

Tony’s eyes search him for a moment, perhaps trying to assess if this is part of a joke or if he is being genuine. “I think that you’re a royal pain in the ass a lot of the time, as well as dramatic and passionate, but I like that about you. You’re also mischievous and clever; you're a genius that speaks the same language as me. I also think you have feelings for me, just like I do for you. And I want to see if there can be an us...but maybe after I kiss you?”

“Is that a promise?”

“The romantic speech or the kissing part?”

“The part where you mentioned wanting to see if there can be an us, do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it." Tony pouts at him.

It suddenly is so easy now to see what has been in front of him for months: their close proximity to each other, the way they are drawn to each other's side, their flirting; it has all been leading to this.

Loki leans over and kisses him. Tony gives a quiet sound of surprise and then relaxes, easing into the kiss with an approach that somehow already feels familiar.

“We need to do this more often,” Tony murmurs when they pull back. He's grinning.

Loki laughs, happy. “That is a promise I can easily keep,” he vows, and kisses him again to prove his point.

End.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: It’s a new day and Loki meets the rest of your family. He begins to formulate a plan, but it’s derailed by your hospitality before it can even begin. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Alright, here we go. Chapter 2! Let me know what you think, and if anyone has any predictions they’d like to share, I would love to hear! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :) P.S. It’s spooky season! That has absolutely nothing to do with this fic, but it’s one of my favorite times of year

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki woke up feeling a lot more alert than he had the previous day. After convincing you that he had amnesia, he spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of slumber, assisting his rapidly healing body get better even faster. He got out of the bed and stretched his aching muscles before scanning the room with fresh eyes. It was even more bare than he had originally realized, but he could tell from patches of less faded paint and wood that there was a time when it wasn’t so sparsely decorated. He flipped a switch by the entrance and the lights came on, sending a surge of panic through him that had him running over to the TV. He let out a sigh of relief when it still did’t work. Though, perhaps that was just because he was so terrible at using Midgardian technology. He stilled for a second and heard a faint mechanical hum easily identified as a generator. The cable would be back sooner rather than later, he was sure, but from looking out the bedroom’s single window, Loki knew he was in the middle of nowhere and that the internet connection was probably spotty at best. With any luck, he would be fully healed in the next few hours and could take his leave.

As he worked on massaging out the remaining dull ache in his body, Loki’s eyes finally landed on a bright pink piece of paper left atop a pile of clothes. His eyes skipped to the bottom where the signature was and, seeing that it bore your name, he went back up to the top to read it. He tugged off his sweaty, bloody clothes and pulled on the ones you’d written were left for him. The material of the shirt was soft enough, but the sweatpants were dreadfully baggy for someone who preferred form-fitting clothes that displayed his physique. Certainly, though, you’d been thinking of the comfort level of what you believed to be a very injured mortal, so he tried to remain thankful. Loki folded up his old clothes and left them in the spot where his new ones had been moments ago.

Back at the window, Loki was once again trying to determine precisely where he was. Besides the landscape, your voice and that of your father’s provided some clues to the most likely locations. He still had to be in North America, he was sure, and though he suspected it was the United States, there wasn’t anything confirming it at the moment. Your father did have a slight twang to his voice, though, so it supported his theory that he was probably in one of the southern states. Other than that, all Loki could determine was that this was a farm; a nice remote farm where he could hide from his oaf of a brother and his new overly heroic friends.

Loki called out to the Tesseract, and it appeared in his hands. Such power for such a tiny object, he thought as he turned it over in his hand. The last time it rested in his palm, he’d not fully been himself. Even so much as looking at it made him feel a little queasy now as he thought of all the crimes he’d committed with it. For it. But when his life is on the line, Loki had learned, there is very little he’d not do to save himself. It was one similarity he shared with mortals that he’d rather not. It was also one of the few he’d actually admit were there. But, no, some mortals were righteous beings. He knew that, but had trouble separating those of a higher caliber from the rest of the species. He wondered what kind of mortal you were, before being pulled out of his musings by a delicious aroma. He debated for a minute before once again tucking the Tesseract away in its dimensional pocket and heading out of the room, down the stairs, towards the amazing scent coming from a lower floor.

“Not a thing,” he heard your voice ring out as he got closer.

“Or so he says,” responded an unfamiliar female voice.

When he rounded the corner he saw it belonged to a woman that must be your mother, or else your older doppelgänger because of how alike the two of you looked. Your dispositions, though, could not have been more different. The first person to notice him lurking half-in, half-out of the room was a small boy who pointed at him.

“New friend!” he cheered. “New friend!”

Such innocence as Loki had never known continuously amazed him. He feared he could be dangerous for this child, but he would be gone so soon that he wouldn’t even be a blip in the boy’s memory.

“I would very much like to be your friend, indeed,” Loki said, crouching down to the boy’s height as he toddled over. The adults in the room all shot each other glances, but no one moved to do anything. “And what might your name be?”

“I’m Matt. And I’m this many,” the child responded, proudly holding up four fingers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Matt. My name is Loki.”

“How many are you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, far too many to count on fingers, little one. In fact, I am 1,047 years old,” he said, realizing that it would probably just be seen as a joke to amuse the boy, rather than a fact.

He laughed at Loki’s statement, but before he could reply, a woman that was presumably his mom called him over. “Don’t bother our guest right now, Matt. He’s still recovering,” she scolded.

“I assure you, it is completely fine, Mrs...?”

“Johnson. But, please, feel free to call me Ana. And this is my husband, John.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Loki charismatically said, though on the inside he was laughing at the name “John Johnson.” These mortals and their foolish names. “And I do believe we already met,” he added, turning to you.

“Yes, we did. You were so out of it I wasn’t quite sure you remembered. This is Mama,” you said, gesturing to the woman who Loki had correctly identified as your mother.

“Hello,” she drawled, fixing the god with an icy stare.

“Papa, did you hear? Loki’s awake,” you told the man walking out of the kitchen with a plate of light brown disks stacked high.

“Glad you’re up, son. Just in time for pancakes, too,” he said, immediately diffusing the tension brewing between Loki and Mama. “Come on, plop yourself down on a seat over here. You must be pooped, and I promise we don’t bite.”

Loki sauntered over to the chair Papa had gestured to and sat down. Feeling a fuzzy mass moving between his sprawled legs, he peered down and saw a grey-brown cat under the table. He’d never been one for pets, but the soft fur was comforting to his weary soul.

“Taffy,” you tsked at the feline before looking back up at Loki with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope you’re not allergic.”

“Do not worry, I am not. At least,” he added, remembering his lie from the day prior, “I do not remember that I am.”

Loki appraised your charming family in your quaint farmhouse, almost feeling bad to intrude. Though, he reminded himself, he’d be out of your hair before you knew it. Papa was the only one happily chattering on about this year’s harvest, oblivious to the tension at the table, or else ignoring it. The God of Mischief refocused on the plan he’d created this morning; he needed answers. You were seated beside him and, besides your father and nephew, the only one who didn’t seem wary of him. And you were really the only viable option as Loki didn’t want to get sucked into a conversation about the wheat crop with your father, and Matt was at the age where he was only vaguely aware he was on planet Earth.

“If you do not mind,” he started, turning to you, “I have a few questions.”

“Of course you do. Sorry, I’m such an idiot,” you said smacking your forehead. “Please, ask away.”

The way you immediately seemed to blame and degrade yourself reminded Loki of himself. The difference, however, was that you did it aloud while Loki kept it bottled up. Whose way was better, he didn’t know. Perhaps neither was really good.

“It is quite alright,” he reassured you. “To begin, where exactly are we?”

Apparently it was some hole in the wall in Oklahoma, so Loki had been fairly correct in his middle of nowhere assessment. Apparently, you weren’t outrageously far from Oklahoma City, though Loki felt it best he avoid cities for a little bit. The nearby town that your farm was technically a part of was a very close knit community, so you knew that wasn’t where he was from.

“I see,” he said, planning his next move. “And that is how far from New York?”

“Far. Why? Is that where you’re from?” you asked, getting excited for Loki that he might already be getting his memory back.

“I am not sure,” Loki lied. “I just seem to think that is where I was headed. Or coming from.”

“Maybe you were at some kind of convention,” John offered, tuning in to the conversation. “Aren’t those a big thing in New York City?”

“It would sure explain the clothes!” Papa added.

“Great. Let’s send him back there,” Mama said, already standing up like she intended to drive him there right at the moment.

“Mama,” you harshly whispered, hating how unwelcoming she was being.

“Maybe he was on vacation from England. He does have an accent,” Ana chimed in, hoping to prevent a fight.

“I am afraid that I do not remember,” Loki muttered.

He was thankful no one was even concerned about how he arrived here. There was something else, too. He was feeling uncharacteristically ashamed because of how helpful you all were being. Well, most of you were being, anyway. He reminded himself again that he would be gone within the hour.

“It’s ok,” you soothed. “Like I said yesterday, you can stay here for as long as you need. In fact, I insist that you do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Loki still planned to leave rather quickly, but the kind look in your eyes compelled him to stay for a little while longer. After all, it couldn’t hurt to think about his next move a bit more. If he were to use the Tesseract again, Heimdall would surely notice. So, he’d lie low for a while and then get off this accursed planet.

“Well if he’s going to be staying here, he better help out some,” Mama grumbled. “I won’t have any freeloaders on my farm.”

“Now now, honey,” Papa said, patting her hand. “He’s still injured, after all.”

“On the contrary, I would happy to help,” Loki interjected, shooting a charming smile at Mama. “I am feeling much better now.”

“See, Earl,” Mama said triumphantly. “He’s fine.”

Everyone else tried to fight on Loki’s behalf but, between him and Mama, it was a losing battle. Eventually, it was time to clean up from breakfast, and you took him away from the clattering of empty dishes to find him so work clothes. The trickster god got a much better look at the rest of the house while you led him higher and higher until you reached the attic. You hesitated a second before opening a box labeled “James’s Clothes.” As you gently picked up the shirt on top, Loki peered over your shoulder wondering who this stuff belonged to.

“My brother’s,” you began before he could ask, sensing the question on his tongue. “We were going to donate them anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t really matter. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mama before she sees you. I’d give you some of John’s things, or Papa’s even, but you know.”

Indeed, Loki did know. Though he was roughly the same height as both the men, he was much leaner than they were. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing he understood. Your little distracted speech left him with even more questions than before, but something in him was screaming not to push you, to think of someone else for once. So, all he said was thank you. After a quick pit stop in the room from the night before to change into the bundle of clothes you’d given him, Loki made his way back downstairs where yet another argument was taking place. He was certain that his arrival was causing more tension than normal. His mind briefly flitted to his own family. It all seemed so picturesque, once, but that time was long gone. His mother—or Queen Frigga, as he supposed he should start calling her—never changed. She was as kind and gentle as ever, yet still possessed this refined regality and power. In other words, she was the complete opposite of Mama, who turned on her heel and made a disgruntled sigh as she exited when Loki appeared.

“There ya are, son,” Papa greeted once she was gone. “We had an idea while you were up there. We should make you up a missing person ad. I’m sure someone’s bound to know who you are.”

There was that sickeningly Thor-esque optimism in Papa’s voice. Not to mention the nickname “son” which, for someone like Loki at least, was one of the worst thing he could be called. He did his best not to grimace.  

“No thank you,” he replied, before continuing at the behest of your confused looks. “I certainly would not want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Nonsense. We just gotta find the camera,” Papa said, already moving past him.

Loki just sighed, deciding he’d find a way to stall later. When he finally looked back at you, your hands were clasped behind your back and you were nervously shifting your weight.

“In the meantime,” Loki began, picking up where he left off with your father, “why not show me what I may help with?”

You took him out to the chicken coop and taught him how to collect eggs. He supposed it made sense this was the task left for him considering you all still thought he was a fragile human. As you taught him, you prattled on about your life and your family. You mentioned how Mama met Papa, and how your sister met John, but nothing about your brother. Loki was on the verge of asking, but he didn’t want to make his time with you awkward. Even more than that, he didn’t want it to seem like he cared. No need to cause any extra pain when he inevitably left, right? Though your glittering eyes and stunning smile were working overtime to convince him otherwise.

“That’s all there is to it,” you said, finishing up your tutorial. “Any questions?”

“None at all. You are an excellent teacher.”

You two shared a laugh, and Loki was shocked by how easily conversation was flowing. Though, he let you do most of the talking, lest he reveal something that does not align with the rest of his story. All too soon, you had to leave to take care of your other chores. For a second, Loki felt as if he missed you already, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Just a week, he repeated in his mind as he gently placed eggs in the basket you’d given him. Just a week.

As he approached the farmhouse, he noticed a thick newspaper on the long driveway. He went over to examine it and, sure enough, he’d made the headlines. No clear photos of him attached, luckily, but the clothes were distinctive enough that you would recognize him for sure. Loki looked side to side before performing a quick spell to get rid of the paper. He headed back over to the house before anyone could notice him, ignoring the annoyingly persistent guilt bubbling within him.

“Just a week,” he muttered to himself again as he neared where you were on the front porch. “Just a week.”

But deep down, he already knew it would be much longer than that.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Five: The Something In His Eyes

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,963

MASTERLIST

~

Over the next few days, you fell into a rhythm. You’d work on schoolwork remotely from your room. It was pretty easy to keep up with all the free time you had. 

So, obviously, the remaining time off was spent getting to know the enigma of a man 

that was Spencer Reid. You formed a rather strange acquaintanceship with him, not quite friends but more than a protector and protectee. The real question was who was protecting who?

You discovered many things about him, some quite apparent, others not. For example, you assumed he was very into technology as most nerdy types were. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He despised all things electronic, from e-books to computers themselves.

“Do you even own a cell phone?”

“Yes!” he insisted, driving you to work for the third day in a row. “Sure, it’s not a fancy smartphone, but I can dial numbers so much easier, anyway.” He handed you his old-school flip-phone.

“How do you text people on this thing?”

He laughed politely.

“I don’t.”

You took the time to interrogate him on the nuances of text language, something he lovingly referred to as ‘dreadfully impractical’.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Being constantly watched wasn’t as disconcerting as you’d expected. Well, being watched by Spencer wasn’t. You pretended you didn’t notice the dark blue honda with the tinted windows following you all the way to work and parking nearby. Strange that the FBI seems to need lessons in being covert.

Fortunately, rude customers and the smell of books managed to take your mind off your current situation.

What didn’t help was having to constantly stop Spencer from rearranging all the books in the shop.

“They’re categorized by the Dewey Decimal System,” he said, disgust in his tone making you stifle a giggle. “What? Everyone knows that the Library of Congress Classification System is far superior.”

“Maybe, but my workers have memorized the Dewey Decimal System. It’s easier.”

“But it’s too vague! When you’re categorizing books you need to work from all sorts of classifications. For example . . .”

It was amazing to see how passionate he was about sorting books. You’d never met a man that didn’t just throw a novel (or, more realistically, a comic book) back anywhere on the shelf when he’d finished it. Spencer treated each book like a separate piece of artwork, carefully placing them back in the correct spot without fail. He’d run his hands over the leather bound covers, caressing them as delicately as possible. You couldn’t help but notice the swiftness and gracefulness at which his hands moved.

“You okay?” you snapped out of your stupor and found him standing much closer, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Yes, ahem, sorry. I need to get back to work.”

Quickly, you walked back over to the front desk, starting to update the book index.

Maybe I should have requested Emily as my protector, you thought to yourself, dusting off a returned copy of Fahrenheit 451. Spencer was super nice and a huge dork. Maybe that was the problem. It was easy to start to think of him as a friend rather than someone just doing his job. Maybe if you’d met under different circumstances you might have been . . . friends. 

But that wasn’t the case. Spencer was there to protect you. Any teasing or joking around was just a formality. But why did he have to be so damn enticing?

Around nine o’clock, customers started to peter out. Soon, the only people left in the shop were you, Caleb, your co-worker, and Spencer, who’d been sitting on the window sill reading book after book.

“Hey, I’m gonna clock out,” Caleb said, stripping out of his work shirt. God, that man took any excuse to take his shirt off. You didn’t blame him all that much. D.C, even in the dead of winter, was hot as hell. And when you had a chest like that, one couldn’t be blamed for showing it off.

“Okay, be in tomorrow at ten. I don’t trust Claire to come in on time.”

“No prob,” he waltzed out the front door into the illuminated street, the bell tinkling lightly.

You stood and stretched, glancing over to the windowsill Spencer had been sitting in.

Shocked, you saw Spencer exactly where he’d been about an hour ago, slumped up on the windowsill, fast asleep, using a book as a pillow.

Strange, though it was, that this man was an FBI agent, you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of him sacked out like a toddler.

“Spencer?” you hated to disturb him but you knew that he’d want you to wake him up. “Spencer, wake up.”

He moaned uncomfortably and stretched, jumper lifting up slightly to expose his lean stomach. It took all the self control you had not to stare.

“Whasitgonon?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“You fell asleep,” you walked over to the loveseat in the center of the store and plopped down, sighing.

“Oh god. Sorry,” he stood, shaking himself awake and walking over to you, staring at the pile of books he’d devoured. “I guess I over-exerted myself.”

You scoffed. 

“Oh, come on. I thought you were a genius,” you teased, tossing a pillow at him.

With a little fumble, he caught it and sat down next to you, smiling.

“Yeah, but after a night of restlessness, anyone’s an idiot.” 

He said it with a sad smile, looking straight ahead. You decided not to ask about the restlessness.

“‘Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, and where care lodges—“

“—sleep will never lie,’” Spencer finished the quote for you. “Shakespeare.”

Without thinking, you looked at him, shocked to find he was already looking at you. There was something behind his eyes that made you freeze. Something curious. 

And suddenly, in that moment, that split second, something shifted. You knew it and Spencer did too. You could tell by the sudden dilation of his eyes and the sharp intake of breath he let slip.

He recognized his mistake and broke eye contact, glancing away and clearing his throat.

“What, uh, what time is it?” he said, looking for a clock while nonchalantly moving farther away on the loveseat.

“Nearly eleven,” you said, glancing at the grandfather clock, smiling at the fact he didn’t wear a watch. Why is that so endearing? “We can leave now if you like?” You grabbed your purse and started locking up.

“Isn’t it closing time?” 

“Well, usually customers stop coming in at around ten, but we close officially at eleven.”

“Then why stay? Why not just leave at ten?”

“I guess I like to think that if someone has a book emergency, it’s comforting to know that I’m here.”

You blushed. You’d never really told anyone that. Claire and Caleb probably had no idea that you stayed as late as you did. What was it that made you tell Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything so you looked at him.

The darkness of the shop made it so you could only see his silhouette. A tall figure against the light of the street lamps, he was poised and solid, staring out into the empty street. 

“Spencer?”

“Get behind me,” his tone scared you. He spoke with urgency and you could see his hand on his hip where he’d concealed his gun.

Without hesitation, you stepped behind a bookshelf, slightly peeking around it so you could see what he was doing.

He moved like a shadow, slipping out of the shop and moving onto the street, towards the dark blue honda down the road.

Why is he sneaking up on the undercover car?

There was a screech and the car zoomed off and Spencer leaped into a sprint, running after it.

It finally clicked in your brain and you scolded yourself for not realizing it earlier.

That wasn’t an FBI car.

Becoming quickly aware of the danger you were in, you moved from behind the bookshelf to behind the loveseat, crouching as low as you could and trying to slow your breathing.

Your breath froze in your lungs as the soft sound of the bell by the door tinkled, alerting you that someone had entered the store. You snapped your hand over your mouth.

Praying it was Spencer but not actively believing it was, you stayed silent, waiting for the person to make themselves known.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you here?”

It was Spencer.

You stood up from behind the sofa and ran to him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight and finally letting the tears fall from your eyes.

Feeling Spencer tense against you wasn’t the best feeling, but it was worth it for the way he melted into you after a moment, sliding his hands around your waist.

Breathing in deeply against his chest, you started to relax. His chest was harder than you’d thought. There were definitely some muscles he was keeping hidden.

Before you could enjoy the embrace too much, Spencer pulled back and looked at you.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes when you separated, but it was gone before you could analyze it, turning back to his professional demeanor.

“M-nine-L-D-G-seven,” he said robotically.

“What?” you said, removing your arms from around his neck and wiped the tears from your eyes, worrying that your brain had just short circuited.

“I got the plate but i’m sure he’ll replace it. It’s unlikely he’ll use that car again but I still need to report it.”

“I should have said something,” you murmured to yourself.

“What do you mean?” he said, whipping out his phone and typing rapidly.

“I saw the car following us earlier today. I assumed it was the protective detail.” Then, upon seeing the shocked look on his face: “I’m sorry, Spencer, I should have—“

His phone started to buzz and he answered it.

“Hotch? . . . Yeah just now. . . . Okay, I'll bring her in. . . . Yep, see you soon.”

He hung up and looked at you, a guilty expression on his face.

“I have to take you back to Quantico — uh — headquarters.”

“Okay.”

You stayed quiet the whole car ride. Spencer kept looking over at you, trying to be casual. Nothing felt casual. The way he held you in the bookstore wasn’t casual. The way he ran after a speeding car to protect you wasn’t casual. The way he’d stared into your eyes not long ago was . . . well, something, but not casual. You weren’t quite ready to explore that something yet. 

The ride up in the elevator to the BAU was dead silent. Another instance where elevator music would come in handy. 

Your reflection in the elevator doors was strange. Alien. It wasn’t you. It was as though a ghost was in your body, keeping you upright as you watched from behind your eyes, unable to do anything. It was terrifying.

Then, warmth flooded your hand, Spencer’s fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing gently.

Without turning your head, you glanced at his reflection. He was staring straight ahead, no expression, but his thumb was drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Before the doors opened and Spencer’s hand slipped out of yours, you caught a glimpse of yourself again in the reflection, only for a split second. It was still not a you that you’d ever seen before, but for an entirely different reason. There wasn’t fear or worry in your eyes, but something more. The same something you’d seen earlier in the bookstore in Spencer’s. 

Stepping out of the elevator and into the bullpen, you found yourself wondering when this would all be over with.

And definitely, totally, not wishing it might never end.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Eleven (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.2k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You run your fingers over the white cotton sheet, trying to ignore the fact that you’re currently inside of the training center. You’d be able to recognize this place with your eyes closed. It’s made out of concrete with all the newest technologies. The people that are walking around here--especially the avoxes--have the same clothes and designs as the people inside of the training center.

Of course, the avoxes change clothes, but the things they wear are still outstanding and degrading to differentiate them from everyone else. They still look as best as they possibly can while also looking like a servant. That doesn’t mean that they can’t re-wear clothes though, which is exactly what’s happened.

The avox that stands in the corner of your room wears the same black and white plaid outfit that they wore during the night of the interviews. It’s a terrifying outfit, really. You absolutely hate it, which is another reason why you’re avoiding eye contact. You’d ask them to turn around if it weren’t for the fact that she has to keep an eye on you.

The doors to your “hospital room” are glass, you can see right through them. Which also means that you’re able to watch the doctors that come in and out of rooms. Some push carts, others don’t. It doesn’t really matter, all that does is that there’s brief moments where someone isn’t in the hallway.

They all look so rushed, as if they’re working on some sort of deadline. How fast they’ll move…

It’s almost as if there’s something going on out there. Or they don’t want you catching on to what’s happening.

“Huh.” you push yourself up from the bed, impatient at the lack of attention that you’re getting, compared to whatever is going on out there.

As soon as you get too close to the glass, the avox jerks forward and grabs a hold of your arm. It’s not a tight grasp, she just pulls you back a little, and then lets go. Hell, from what you can see, she’s fearful. Like you’ll blow up on her or something.

“Is someone coming, then? Soon?” you ask, and she nods.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat on the bed again. This time, you find something to occupy yourself. Firstly, there’s no cut on the back of your head anymore, it feels like. No bump, no dip, it might be completely healed. It really just means that you’ve been here for a couple of days.

As for everything else that has happened to you--it’s gone. No more scabs from the man-eating spiders. Your skin is smooth, but that doesn’t excuse every single little scar that it’s left behind. 

Your heart twists, you hold your arms out in front of you, seeing the fresh scars. Next are your legs, which are even fresher. They’ve still got that bright color to them, not yet blending into your skin tone. And it’s probably because you didn’t pay as much attention to your legs as you did your upper body.

Which was because your upper body was being televised. For the rest of that day, you were only in a sports bra. There really wasn’t a point in your eyes to just strip down the bottom half of the suit to apply ointment that wouldn’t even stay put. No one would be seeing it anyway.

The scars are fixable, you think. It’ll cost money, but you can get clear skin again--’polished’ as they say. It would have to come before the rest of the tattoos, though… and the old tattoos would also have to be fixed in that case. A lot of money, and you’re not too fond of fixing those tattoos. They’re memories, keepsakes.

You could always just get the rest of your body fixed, and leave your arms alone to avoid all the fixing stuff. It’s your best bet.

You look to your left wrist to see the soulmate words. You rub your thumb over them for a moment, and then scowl.

They left you behind. They left you with Johanna and Peeta, which was the worst thing that they could have done.

They didn’t even wait. Or even try with you standing there--it’s not like they couldn’t have seen you! You were standing right fucking there beneath their noses. And with how everything had gone down, you’re sure they could have afforded one more drop. There was more than enough time.

The glass doors slide open, making you look up.

You can’t help the amount of rage that shoots through your veins instantly.

“And so we meet again,” the words are bitter out of your mouth, you press your lips together in a thin line.

President Snow.

He motions the avox out of the room, and she listens without hesitance. With that, Snow sits in the chair--that you hadn’t even noticed was there--and crosses his legs.

“Yes we do.” he says.

You clench and unclench your teeth while you stare at him, trying not to have an attitude, since this man can kill you with the snap of his fingers and not even feel remorse for it. However, it all goes out the window because he’s sitting right in front of you with a smug look.

This motherfucker has ruined your life over and over and over.

Before your first games, you had it good. You had a big, loving family. You had two sisters and three brothers, and a pair of parents that would do anything to protect you all. Your grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and cousins were all alive. You had big gatherings during the summers, and cried when they had to go home.

And then you volunteered for the games, as you were instructed to do. You won your games, and at the end of your so-very-rich victory tour, he presents you with the worst fucking offer you’ve ever heard. Sell yourself for more money. Money, jewels, riches, clothes, love--adoration. 

Except, it wasn’t an offer, he was telling you. But what he wasn’t telling you, was that he was picking off those cousins, those aunts, uncles and grandparents. Next were those siblings of yours, and when you said no for the final time, your parents. You came home to a fucking massacre in your childhood home.

Everyone looked like they were frozen in place. They were shot, beaten, bruised and bloody, but they were right where they had been when it had happened. Your father was still in his armchair, your mother face-down in dirty sink water, your siblings playing in their rooms, reading books, sleeping. 

It was all the same for the rest of your family too.

And when the first fucking check with your victory money came through, you used it all to put them in the ground. You basically had your own fucking cemetary. 

The worst part is that you agreed after all that. He had killed everyone, and yet you still went through with it, as if you had anything else to lose. Your family was the only thing that you had left. It wouldn’t be the same if he killed friends, because it’s not you who would be grieving anymore, it would be their family.

While you were touring the Capitol on President Snow’s order, you got the tattoos done. You had the flowers done first for your family, every name had a flower that reminded you of them, and at your wrist would be the soulmate tattoo. You had your left arm done first so that the Capitol people would think that you were being sweet.

Then you had the graveyard done. And along came the graveyard, came the nastiest fucking attitude any of them had seen. It only took a week before Snow basically packaged you up and sent you back to District Two. He has to admit that it was smart of you to do that. And for fucksake, you’d do it again.

The attitude is a defense mechanism to keep the people who are too weak-hearted and manipulative-looking away. Only the ones who don’t care, stick through it. And they tend to be the more understanding type on top of that.

The last time that you saw President Snow--other than on tv or in person as the tribute parade--was when he tried to convince you to allow Tanith to be sold around the same way you were.

You felt so fucking smart then, for picking her out specifically. You basically told Snow ‘good luck’ with trying to find anyone she cared about to kill off. She’s a fucking orphan, and back then she didn’t really like you very much. So, he couldn’t get to her by attacking you.

With Zavian, he just wasn’t desirable.

“Stop staring and get to it already.” you snap, lowering your chin a bit as you bite your cheek.

Snow laughs, “Never was one for small talk.” he pauses for a moment, his face becoming more serious, “What do you know about Katniss Everdeen and her plan?”

Well, this can be a very easy answer, or a very hard one. 

Technically, you don’t know anything. You don’t know any part of the plan that they had going on, except for the fact that they had to keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta the entire time. Just to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt, killed or ran off. The only thing you had the slightest clue on, was the fucking time on when you guys would get out. And even then, it seemed like that was unplanned.

But at the same time, you know a lot more than you’re supposed to, thanks to that talk with Finnick before the interviews. His question of whether or not you were a loyalist was an immediate click. You knew in that exact moment that he was planning something with the others.

You look over Snow’s face, he’s studying you, waiting patiently. It’s only been a couple of seconds. 

You can’t play dumb, you can’t say anything stupid or he will know and be on your ass almost as quickly as you knew of the plan.

“You want the truth?” you ask him, he motions for you to get started, “I didn’t know anything, I wasn’t told a single thing--I put the pieces together myself, and it wasn’t very easy to do. Which means, I could be completely wrong.”

“Tell me what you think you know, then.” 

“I thought that Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, and Johanna were in an alliance, and that they were all getting along.” you lean forward, “I was wrong. Katniss wanted to kill Finnick in the cornucopia until he showed her some dumb bracelet that belonged to Haymitch.

“I only stuck around them inside of the arena cause Finnick and I are soulmates.” you hold up your wrist for Snow to see, “I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it otherwise.”

Snow squints at you, ignoring your arm, “What else?”

“Finnick and I had a conversation thirty minutes prior to the interviews.” you lift your chin a little now, trying to recall the entire conversation, “The basis was an alliance between him and I, at least. I chose to ask because of the scores that they had all gotten, thinking that it would be better to be on their good side. I didn’t want to be hunted.”

Snow watches you hesitate, and you know that there’s no way you can avoid this now.

The thing is, you’re trying to not get anyone in trouble, while also saving your own ass, and it’s hard to do. Because you don’t owe any of them a single thing, but there’s something in your chest telling you to do it anyway. 

You feel… anxious. And it’s your own emotion.

Your voice is quieter, “Finnick had asked me a peculiar question just before the conversation was over, and I still don’t know what it means.” Snow won’t be able to tell if you’re being truthful or not, “He asked me if I was a loyalist.”

Snow hums, rubbing his white beard, “That’s not it.”

You shake your head, “That’s it. Finnick knew that I had wanted to be in their alliance to be able to kill him and the others. He said that he wouldn’t let me in because of that, and then he asked me if I was a loyalist. I told him I didn’t know what he’s getting at.” you draw your eyebrows together, “That’s when Haymitch came around the corner, must’ve heard us talking or something. He said that the interviews had started, and the conversation ended after that.”

“Which hallway?”

“The uh--first hallway to the left if you’re standing in the main corridor. In the direction of leaving the backstage area.” 

Snow nods now, standing to leave.

“When do I get to go home?” you ask, sliding off the bed to get to your feet too. He’s not going to leave the room until he gives you an answer.

“Soon. I want to show you something first.” Snow says, “Get dressed.”

He takes a step out, leaving around the corner. The avox comes in with some clothes, nicely folded in her arms. The doors don’t offer much coverage, but it’s not really anything they haven’t seen before.

You strip, pulling on the new clothing carefully, afraid of hurting your newly healed skin. It’s a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pink shirt with a breast pocket. The avox then holds out a pair of black tennis shoes for you to slip on after that. And when you’re done, she leads the way out of the room.

You follow her down the hall, passing by everyone who’s moving so quickly. When you get a glance through the windows into the courtyard, you can see that you’re on the base floor, and the building towers over you.

The hallways wind confusingly, but the avox manages. She has this place memorized as if there’s a map in her mind. For a while, you’re confident and unaware of your surroundings, until you pass through a hallway with cages. Only then do you get apprehensive.

Snow is in the next room, which is a corridor of white. The avox backs off, standing in the corner, and you take it upon yourself to approach Snow by yourself. He’s in front of a particular door, staring through the window in the door.

“Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier have been taken to District Thirteen, did you know that?” Snow asks, he looks at you briefly, before back through the door.

There’s a sick feeling in your stomach.

“No, I didn’t.” You don’t want to see what’s through that window.

“But you knew that they were taken out of the arena.”

Just thinking about that night gives you a goddamn headache, especially with all that happened afterwards.

After the hovercraft had left, you stared for what felt like forever. Feeling dejected and betrayed, especially with all the time that had been left over. No one came for you, so it was up to you to decide what would happen next.

When you had finally gotten over your feelings, you went ahead and found Johanna, who was right next to a panicked Peeta. Screaming in her face about how all of that was her fault. Johanna took it like a champ, with her mouth sealed shut and everything. But the second that you were there, Peeta turned on you like a rabid dog.

You tried to take a page from Johanna’s book as you calmly explained to him that Katniss, Finnick and Beetee were taken by a hovercraft. 

Peeta didn’t like that, and with him getting in your face, an anger was rising from your stomach to your throat. Like simmering grease, only you’re not supposed to let grease simmer. Because it gets dangerous, begins to pop and burn the skin, and that was exactly what had happened.

You tried to get Peeta to back off, because you didn’t want to make a huge mistake with Johanna standing two feet away. But he kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing so you swung. He fell, and when he tried to get back up, still running his fucking mouth, you lost it.

You hadn’t felt that angry since you found out that your entire family was dead. You did everything you could possibly imagine to harm Peeta in that moment. The first kick to his ribs was the weakest, but the second definitely left some sort of damage. Then Johanna tried to come over, and you knocked her out without a second swing.

Peeta would have gotten the absolute shit beaten out of him if it weren’t for the second hovercraft that had shown up. Only, this one dropped peacekeepers, and you knew instantly that you were in huge trouble. With the arena falling apart, the fire eating at the forest around you, the lack of Katniss, Beetee and Finnick due to an earlier hovercraft, and the fact that you were clearly grouped up with the two morons.

Johanna was an easy grab, Peeta fought relatively hard, and there was no struggle from you. The only thing you actually remember is getting a sedative inside of the hovercraft, and that was it.

“Yes, I knew that they were taken out of the arena.” you answer Snow, blinking a bit to refocus your eyes, “And that means that Peeta and Johanna are here.”

Snow moves aside for you to see inside, and with the pucker of your lips, you move over to see inside. You clench your teeth, expecting the worst, and when you do finally look in, it’s… you can’t put it into words.

Peeta is strapped to a chair, malnourished, purple eye bags that are see able even from this distance. He looks nothing like he did before, he looks gross. Like a…

Like a boy that would have to file for tesserae to eat for the next year. A kid from the Seam.

You swallow thickly, “What the fuck?”

“If I find out that you aren’t telling the truth--” His voice is measured, but there’s an underlying tone, anger, you think, “--then I will bring you back from District Two. And I will be getting the real answers.”

If this is what they’ve done to Peeta--sack of flour, absolutely harmless--you can’t imagine what loudmouth Johanna looks like.

“I’m telling the truth.” you tell him, your eyes flickering back to Peeta.

He’s spotted you now, and the two of you stare at each other, eyes locked and neither of you move. With the look of you, he relaxes. It’s strange that the sight of you gives him so much peace, even though you would have killed him if the peacekeepers hadn’t come. But he must see something in your face, because he draws his eyebrows together, like he’s asking a question.

“How long have I been here?” you ask Snow.

“A couple of weeks.”

You look at him now, “I’ve been in a coma?”

“Medically induced. Those spiders weren’t just flesh-eating, they were venomous too.”

Not to mention your head injury, and everything else that had occurred inside of there. You might as well be lucky to be alive.

“I want you to do something for me, when you do get back to District Two.” Snow says, you look at Peeta again to see that the glass is blocked.

“Which is?”

“Show them that you are a loyalist, and get the rebels to calm down.”

One word spirals up in your mind, strong and stubborn that you struggle to hold down; No.

They have Peeta strapped to that chair like he’s an animal. They’re starving him, they’re depriving him of sleep, and that window is blocked because they’re doing something to him. 

“I’m not agreeing to that until I get to see Johanna and anyone else you have here.” you tell him, “Only then I will try to get two to settle down.”

Snow smiles a little, “You’ll have two weeks.”

You nearly laugh in his face right then, but manage to hold it back, “I don’t have much of a choice, I’ve already agreed, haven’t I?”

Snow nods approvingly, before leading you right next door. In this chair is Johanna. Her hair is shaved, she’s soaking wet, and she’s thrashing against the restraints without control. You take back what you said about Peeta, this is an animal. Doing this to Johanna is like putting an angry lion inside of a small cage. It’s only a matter of time before she gets out and explodes.

She looks just as hungry and tired as Peeta does. But Peeta isn’t getting nearly as bad as tortured as she is. She looks like she’s been through hell and back, as if she’s seen the devil himself and laughed in his face. 

In this case, Snow would be the devil, and she would be the exact fool to do something like that. 

Johanna spots you the same way that Peeta did, by the off chance that her eyes glance over the glass. The second that she has, she relaxes for a moment, and the window is covered almost immediately after.

The both of them had the same reaction upon seeing you. You can’t think of a reason why, until it hits you. They have to be thinking that you’re here to save them. You’re seeing the state that they’re in, and they’re hoping that you’ll relay the message to tell someone of their condition, you’re sure of it.

Snow grabs your arm, yanking you along to the door across from Johanna’s. When you look into this one, you’re a little more confused.

“Annie Cresta wasn’t inside of the hunger games.” you place your hand against the glass, “Why--”

“Leverage.” Snow says simply, “Who would she belong to, Miss Rosecelli? Who would tear the world apart to get to her?”

It dawns on you then, and you nod a little bit. Finnick, obviously. This is Finnick’s girlfriend, the one that you told him to keep. 

“What’s the point of having her if you’re not starving her like the rest?” you ask.

“I do have morals.”

‘Not very high ones’, you think.

“I’m surprised,” you look at Snow, “Considering all the other shit you’ve done, you still have a heart.”

Annie is healthy, that’s all you have to say about her. She’s got rope to twirl and knot, she’s got books to read, food to eat and a nice bed. She’s not strapped to anything, it looks like she has medication, and she’s content. You can’t help but to wonder if she’s secretly going insane or plotting her escape, though.

“One more room.” Snow ignores your comment, ushering you to the door to the right of Annie’s.

You shuffle over, thinking that Snow couldn't have possibly taken anyone else that would matter. Beetee’s girlfriend--or whatever Wiress was to him--is long gone. There’s no leverage to have against her.

“Take a look inside.” he’s smug.

You stare for a moment, before following his directions.

Tanith.

Your hand flies up, going to grab the doorknob, but Snow stops you, a tight hand on your wrist, “Just in case you thought that it’s only your life on the line.”

He’s threatening to kill her.

You clench your teeth together, not removing your eyes from Tanith. She looks almost as bad as the other two do. Except, Tanith is a few days behind. Snow didn’t start the process on her until recently. It won’t take long until she catches up, because he could make that happen at the snap of his wrinkly fucking fingers.

“I understand.” you grind your teeth.

She’s not awake to see you, Snow was anticipating this visit. He had her knocked out so that she wouldn’t try and fight against the restraints. She’s smart enough to slip out of them, it makes you curious if Snow knows that too, or he just wanted to see your reaction to having her unconscious. Like he’s trying to trick you into thinking she’s dead.

“The avox will take you to the hovercraft.” he lets you go, “Two weeks.”

Snow has just made the biggest mistake in his life.

[iworshipkeanureeves]

There Are No Rules (3/3)

Keanu Reeves x Reader (The Devil Wears Prada AU)

A/N: The series has come to an end and I’m a little sad about it because I had too much fun exploring this universe, but I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I did. Thanks @toomanystoriessolittletime​ for this opportunity to participate in your writing challenge, and I can’t wait to wish you a happy birthday!

Summary: Reader applies for a job in a fashion magazine where Keanu is editor-in-chief.

Warnings: none

Words: 3.5K

-Part 2-

The morning they had to leave, Keanu sent a car to Y/N’s home. Opening the  door, she was relieved to find out he wasn’t sitting inside, and she was informed that he would be meeting her at the airport. Y/N was still a little embarrassed from the previous night, thinking it would have been wiser not staying for that drink, and it was easing to know they wouldn’t be sharing an awkward car ride.

Y/N had no idea what to expect but she was definitely amazed to learn that Vogue owned a private jet. Sadly, it was only reminding her how much out of place she felt. Y/N had never been on one before, and no matter how excited she was, there was a feeling of anxiety accumulating in her core. This lifestyle wasn’t hers, she did not know how to behave, especially at all the shows she was going to attend with Reeves. She was afraid to be a disappointment.

Y/N was greeted by Nigel rushing her to get on board, while the driver was taking care of her luggage. Stepping inside, Y/N acted like she was looking around for a place to sit but her eyes were actually scanning the place and searching for Reeves.

He was already asleep with his ears plugged and a black satiny sleeping mask covering his eyes. It didn’t come as a surprise after the sleepless night that Keanu and Y/N had shared, still unsettling thoughts were running in her head, thinking that maybe Keanu was pretending, just to avoid interacting with her.

Y/N, on the other hand, was unable to rest. She was nauseous, worried that things were going to be weird between Keanu and her, and to make the matters worse, they would be stuck together for a whole week. Y/N was also disgusted by her own actions, knowing it was Emily, who should have been on this jet, flying to Fashion Week she had been dreaming about for so long. Instead, Y/N selfishly took her place, and she hadn’t even had the guts to apologize yet.

Nigel seemed like he had a sleepless night too. He had probably spent the bigger part of it making a wardrobe switch, throwing away outfits he had spent a lot of time putting together. Not only Y/N’s and Emily’s sizes differed, but their styles too, so Nigel had only a few hours to come up with something completely new. It was another reason for him to hate the fact that Y/N was coming instead of Emily, and he wasn’t afraid to openly express it with his sulking look.

Spending long hours on that jet, Y/N couldn’t help but think, how a simple refusal could have solved most of these problems, and how she would be enjoying a calm day at the office now.

---

Surprisingly, the Fashion Week was going way better than Y/N thought it would. It opened up a whole new world for her, and Keanu was there to guide her. Indeed, he was being very nice and patient with her, Y/N really enjoyed having her boss this way. Sometimes Y/N even felt like he was the one assisting her, as Keanu would help with where to go, what to do, what to say, and she was thankful, because otherwise she would have been completely lost.

Keanu was also good with dissipating any remaining awkwardness between them, and a couple of days in, Y/N had almost forgotten that uncomfortable exchange at his place. They were back at ‘friendly professional‘, and even if Y/N had been craving the kiss, she liked having their relationship this way. It was less stressful, and she could properly enjoy the events of the Fashion Week.

Y/N didn't feel excluded at all, Reeves was taking her everywhere, and he was even encouraging Y/N to converse with people. Not that she often dared to, but still, it was nice to know that she wasn't just someone far in the background.

And the outfits were fantastic of course, even if Nigel didn't like Y/N too much, he did a perfect job. He was even considerate enough to search for comfortable shoes and Y/N appreciated that. Keanu seemed like he enjoyed her outfits as well, since Y/N would catch him occasionally checking her out. She was certain that Keanu was more interested in her fashion rather than Y/N herself, but she savored his attention.

Keanu was definitely leading socially but it was Y/N, who kept everything in order, and Keanu knew he could trust her. “Can you check if our car is close? I don’t want to be late for Saint Laurent,” he asked, ready to leave Dior.

Praising technology, Y/N opened a GPS app connected to their car, hoping it was not too far away. “It’s just around the corner, our driver is probably waiting for us already,” she turned her phone around showing Keanu the screen. In that second, Y/N felt her phone vibrating, unknown number popping up on the screen.

Y/N knew she was still technically working, and maybe it was not the right time to answer calls from her personal phone. She was about to stick her mobile back into her purse, when Keanu interrupted. “You’re not going to take this?” He asked.

“May I?” She was a little surprised, thinking how this would never happen back in the office. Keanu would often remind her that working hours were not for personal matters, but she guessed the rules didn’t apply in Paris.

“Sure, I’ll meet you outside,” Keanu let her go with a little wink, and she found her way outside to return the call. It was really hard to find a quiet corner. Luckily, Y/N wasn’t famous and people were completely ignoring her when Keanu wasn’t by her side.

“Good morning, Y/N, I’m calling from The Bronx Daily, I’m happy to inform…” it was all Y/N heard before her brain went clouded. Words were mixing up inside her head, and her brain could only put together little snippets coming from the other end of the line.

“… we would like you to start as soon as possible…” Y/N immediately remembered having that interview, but they hadn’t responded in so long that Y/N thought it was over. She didn’t even know what to say. Of course, she was happy, but everything seemed so quick and unexpected that she was having hard time gathering her thoughts.

“Thank you so much, could you email me all the information?” She had only managed to say, before she saw Keanu waving at the driver. Once the call was over, she ran closer joining him for the ride.

“All good?” He handed Y/N a snickers, something to keep her through another show.

“What? Oh, yes yes, I’m good.”

“You’re sure? You seem a little off.” He was watching Y/N playing with her chocolate bar, nervously twirling the wrapper in her hands.

“I’m fine, it was just my friend, she got engaged” Y/N lied, she wanted to think more before announcing her decision.

Truthfully, there wasn’t much to think about, she had just been offered a job as a journalist, which meant she would finally be writing. It was something she had been dreaming of for so long, and it didn’t matter that it wouldn’t be as glamorous as Vogue, she had to start somewhere.

It was a pity they called her in the midst of the Fashion Week, when Y/N was enjoying her job like never before. She had to constantly remind herself that her fairytale was going to end next week, and she would be back to her horrid office job fulfilling absurd Reeves’ wishes.

Speaking about Reeves, it made everything much harder, since Y/N felt herself slowly falling for him. Y/N was sure as ever, she wasn’t going to waste a great opportunity for another man, especially the one completely out of her league, who also didn’t even seem to be interested in her any longer.

Y/N felt that if Keanu truly wanted to kiss her, he would have done it back at his place before leaving to Paris. But he didn’t, and maybe Y/N was overestimating how much he actually liked her. Still, it broke her heart knowing she might not be seeing him again.

Their car was slowing down next to a venue, and Y/N kept on staring through the window with a slight concern. She still couldn’t get used to those huge crowds surrounding the entrance, people shouting and press cameras flashing in front of her eyes. “Do you enjoy this chaos?” She inquired, keeping her eyes set on the pavement.

“No, of course not,” Keanu chuckled. “But I love my job and I love fashion, it’s something I have never doubted. So I guess, when you’re determined about the things you love, it’s easier to turn a blind eye sometimes, and I’m pretty sure you’re aware there are much worse things in the industry than that.”

“Yeah…” Y/N sighed and gave him a shy smile.

“This chaos will be over soon, and no matter how much you hate it now, I guarantee, you’re going to miss it someday.”

---

It was Y/N’s final night in Paris, she was hanging out in her hotel room, getting ready for the gala event as Reeves’ plus one. He had sent a professional glam team to her room for her hair and make up, and Nigel had stopped by earlier leaving a beautiful evening gown for Y/N to wear.

It was a dark burgundy chiffon dress having a corset embedded with bright tiny jewels. Y/N could only wonder how much it was worth, but in the same time, she had other things to worry about too. That tight corset being one of them.

It had too many little clasps in the back, and Y/N was sweating, desperately trying to work behind her. Her arms were burning and her neck was doing almost a 180 degree turn to the mirror, trying to keep track of every little metal piece sliding between her fingers. It was impossible, and she had been aware from the very beginning that in no way she was going to do it herself.

Y/N knew she should have asked her make up team to help her, if only she had thought about it earlier… But it was too late now. Time was not on her side, and Y/N had to think fast. It was either Nigel or Keanu to help her, and the choice was obvious here.

Y/N dialed Nigel as quickly as she could praying for him to answer. It took a few calls for her to realize that Nigel was not available to help. Her only hope was Keanu now, and Y/N didn’t think much before dialing his number. Gladly, he was quick to pick up.

“Can you come help me?” She asked, breathing her frustration to the phone.

“What did you do?” He was always quick to think that Y/N had messed something up.

“What? Nothing, it’s about the dress” She had neither time nor energy to argue, so she just waited for Keanu to confirm that he could come.

In a minute, Y/N heard a knock on her door and rushed to let Keanu in. He was already wearing his white dress shirt with a black tie, but the suit jacket was probably still in his room. For a second, Y/N lost herself admiring his built, his shirt nicely tucked in, accentuating his hefty core. Her hands even shook a little willing to wrap around his sturdy waist.

“If you don’t like it, I’m sorry, but trust me, Nigel knows better,” Keanu spoke closing the door behind him and coming closer into the room.

“It’s not that, I love it. I just can’t deal with the corset, and Nigel won’t answer.”

“Fine, show me.” He crossed his arms waiting for Y/N to bring the dress.

She slowly handed him the gown, and they both stood confused. “Do you want to wear this on top of your robe?” Keanu asked with a cheeky smile, making Y/N blush and shift her eyes to the ground. She was wearing nothing but her panties underneath, and she only had stickers covering her nipples, so naturally, Y/N didn’t feel easy taking the robe off in front of Reeves.

“What? Oh no, I-I’m,” she was stuttering, feeling the burn in her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I won’t look,” Keanu giggled turning around. He was so used to working around unabashed models, that he didn’t even realize at first this could be making Y/N feel uncomfortable.

She looked beautiful as ever, making it hard for Keanu to focus on her corset. In fact, he was stalling, slowly working his way up her spine, wishing this moment lasted forever. With every clasp done, Keanu could see her breasts lifting higher, every little push up was making his breathing increasingly erratic. He tried to look away, but his eyes would wander back to Y/N’s décolleté, perfectly framed by luxurious fabric.

More than anything, Keanu wanted to undo the corset ripping it apart, he was barely holding himself together. But he had to. Y/N was his assistant, a good one in fact, and he had almost ruined it once, so he knew better to stay away this time.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sensing Keanu close, his breath against her radiating skin. She was imagining him kissing her exposed neck, trailing sultry kisses down her bare back. Y/N could feel his fingertips occasionally brushing against her soft skin, waking up little tingles in various places all over her body. She got carried away by various scenarios playing in her head, all of which involved Keanu tearing the dress away.

“You’re all done.” His words snapped Y/N back into reality, and they both shared longing looks reflecting in the mirror. Both of them felt it, neither one dared to do something. “No wait, not yet.” He stepped aside to take a white gold diamond necklace out of the velvet box and came back closer brushing Y/N’s hair over her shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he said, admiring Y/N through the mirror, his eyes following the necklace as it sank down closer to the valley of her breasts.

In that minute, sadness washed over Y/N’s eyes, as she remembered it was her final day in Paris. Her Cinderella story was coming to an end, and Y/N felt like she would never even see Keanu again after telling him she wanted to leave Vogue.

“I’ll meet you at the lobby,” he nodded stepping through the door. “We’re leaving through the front door, so don’t get too overwhelmed.”

She knew she had to tell him. Eventually.

---

The gala was overwhelming to say the least. Y/N felt like every event she had participated in during the week was to prepare her for this. Some of the people she could remember from the fashion shows she had seen, and surprisingly, some of them remembered her too.

Of course, she didn’t magically turn into a social butterfly, but her time spent in Paris definitely helped to open up her shell. Y/N was amazed how she only needed one person to believe in her in order to become a confident woman, or at least she was getting closer to it. Unfortunately, the realization only made it harder to leave Vogue.

Y/N kept calling it Vogue in her head, but truly, it was Keanu she didn’t want to part with.

“Y/N?!” She heard him whispering in a strict tone. “What is wrong with you today? You’re all in your head.” He complained, but he also seemed a little concerned for Y/N.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing. You wanted something?” She smiled, persuading him there was nothing to worry about.

“You have to choose from the menu, I’ve asked you like three times already.” Y/N only gave him an apologetic look, taking the menu from his hands.

During the dinner Y/N tried to constantly be aware, she was afraid to look like a fool drifting away in her mind again. She kept observing the environment, noticing how most of the girls were barely touching their food, and it made her wonder whether she should follow this social protocol too.

It took Y/N two minutes of playing with her food to realize how actually hungry she was. She wasn’t even going to be a part of this world soon, so why bother, she thought. The steak was so juicy, Y/N could almost hear it calling her name, inviting her to indulge.  Ant it was definitely worth it.

As they were waiting for the dessert, the chatty crowd around the table was becoming too much for Y/N, so she excused herself to get some fresh air. Also, she wanted to prepare her words for telling Keanu she was out, something quick and painless.

Keanu was expecting for Y/N to come back soon, but as he noticed she was gone for a great matter of time, he decided to go look for her.

He found Y/N in the balcony, admiring the sun setting over the Parisian rooftops. Her dress was flowing in the wind as she was leaning over the balcony railing, looking stunning from behind. Keanu even had to stop for a moment to marvel the view.

“You’re okay?” He inquired coming nearer to Y/N and resting his hands on the rail, close to where hers was.

“Yes, just needed some air,” her eyes were set on the Eifel Tower; she had never been to Paris before.

“Did something happen? Because I feel like something’s wrong.” He turned his core towards Y/N, trying to read her face. The only thing he saw was how pretty she was.

“The Bronx Daily reached out, they want me to write for them.” Y/N bit her lip trying to swallow her tears.

“Are you going to?” Keanu was soft, almost compassionate.

“Well yes, I know it’s not Vogue, but at least I’d be writing.”

“So, that’s great news, right?” He raised his palms up, almost ready to hug Y/N. Keanu saw it wasn’t easy for her, so he tried to lighten the atmosphere with his smile. He was genuinely happy for her.

“Yeah, but… You don’t seem too upset,” she smirked, finally finding the courage to look Keanu in the eye. “Was I really that bad?”

“Oh come on, I think we both knew Vogue was only temporary for you.” Y/N raised her brow, thinking what the hell Keanu meant with his words. “You’ve always wanted to write, it’s your chance.”

“Then why did you even bother to take me in?”

“I saw a beautiful girl with so much potential just not enough vigor that I… I don’t know, I guess… I just wanted to show her what she’s capable of, to give her wings, you know.” For the first time Y/N saw Keanu like that. He was timid, even blushing, it was him now unable to keep his eyes up.  

“You know you turned me into a terrible person, right?” Y/N sighed. “I stabbed Emily in the back, I stole this opportunity from her, and I don’t think I deserved this at all. Is that what you’re calling giving me wings?”

“Well, Harpies have wings too,” Keanu smirked making her giggle.  

“And look at the bright side.” He raised his hand up to her shoulder coming to stand behind her. Y/N could feel his touch still being a little uncertain, so she sank backwards slightly, molding herself into his grip. “You won’t have to deal with Emily anymore, who I’m sure is mad as hell.” Keanu continued making them both chuckle, his hands were squeezing Y/N’s shoulders form behind, warming up her skin. The weather was getting chilly, but Y/N was feeling warmth from within, she wanted to be held like this forever.

“Besides, since you won’t be working for me anymore…” Keanu brushed his fingers through Y/N’s hair, fixing a couple of strands messed up by the wind. He slowly pushed one of her shoulders forward turning her around, then carefully drew his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb running just below her lower lip. Y/N’s eyes were glimmering with anticipation, and before she could do or say anything, Keanu’s lips came to join hers.

He was tender at first, slowly deepening the kiss, trying to test the waters before he was sure Y/N was in for this. He even pulled back a little, opening his eyes to check hers. “Is this..?” Y/N didn’t let Keanu finish, wrapping her hand around his nape, pulling him closer again. She felt the kiss with her whole body, excitement and arousal reaching every single cell of hers. It seemed like their hands had only one goal, which was to pull each other close, making them eager for even more. It was impossible to hold back with their lips fusing, dancing around one another, exploring the taste they had been craving for so long. It felt like the kissing was never going to end, but for the sake of their swollen lips, they had to slow down at least for now.

“Do you want to go back for dessert?” Keanu asked, pressing her gently to his chest.  

“I’ve already had mine,” they both chuckled, bringing their lips back closer for another little peck.

“Want me to show you around Paris then?” Keanu grinned, offering Y/N to take his hand. Nodding with enthusiasm, she left another kiss lingering on Keanu’s lips and locked their fingers together getting excited for what else this night had to offer.

-THE END-

Tag-list: @keandrews @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @greenmanalishi​ @lilywoood​

>Masterlist<

[deliriousgeek]

She’s the Alpha (Owen Grady x Reader) .3

Masterlist:

Chapter 3:

Trying to Let Go

(Y/n) furiously scrubbed the plate. The suds were flying onto her clothes. (Y/n)'s hands started to become wrinkly as she continuously scrubbed away the nonexistent food crumbs. Her brows were knit together and a huff was kept on her lips.

"You'll scrub the plate away if you keep washing it like that."

(Y/n) stopped for a second and looked behind her shoulder. "Maybe if I scrub hard enough I can wash away dad's doubt of me being a intelligent adult."

Ian let a out snicker and made a sort of smirk of a smile. "Sure kid, that'll work." He stood with his arms folded.

Ian was the nearly the only person (Y/n) would rant to without a second thought. Not that she didn't trust anyone else to rant  to, but with Ian it was just entirely different.

"It's so irritating! I'm twenty-six." She slowly let the plate dip into the sudsy water. "He should trust me by now." (Y/n)'s entire form sank as she muttered the last sentence. Feelings were building up in her. Frustration, sadness, and anger.

"Hey, hey. C'mon. Don't think like that." Ian was instantly by (Y/n)'s side. He wrapped on of his arms around her now shaking frame.

"(N/n) I know you. You aren't one to let people in on emotions, but sweetie you have to do that now or else something bad is going to happen to you."

She let her head partly hang. "I know.."

"So what's getting to ya?" Ian stepped away and let (Y/n) have her space.

"Well first off, my dad. I know that he still has PTSD and he gets worried, but he has to understand that I make my own choices. Even if those choices are scary. Second, doesn't he know that I understand the importance of safety? I could honestly walk outside and get hit by a car. Crossing the street is just as dangerous as working with the living version of the fossils  that I work with every day." (Y/n) shook her head and brought her hands to her temple to rub it. "Uncle Ian, I just want to work. I just want this experience." She let out a sigh.

Ian nodded and put his hand on (Y/n)'s forearm. "I know you do. You're head strong in anything you put your mind to," He sighed. "Okay. Here's what your going to do. Later, when everyone leaves and it's just you and your dad, because we both know he'll stay a little later than us, talk to him. Work this out with each other because you both need to."

(Y/n) looked at Ian with understanding in her eyes. She knew she had to talk to her dad. "Okay."

Ian gave her a tight squeeze. "Okay, I'm gonna bring out the dessert." He said as he headed towards the refrigerator.

The last of the guests that trickled out said their Good night's and Good bye's, which left (Y/n) and her father sitting on the couches of the living room. Alan was the last to leave as he still needed to clear the air with his daughter. (Y/n) sat in the love seat diagonal to the couch, her legs tucked under each other making her sit at an angle with her right arm draped over her folded legs. Alan sat on the couch diagonal to the love seat; his arms rest in his legs; his hands folded and his face resting atop. Both of the Grant's were silent, contemplating what to say to fill the silence and end the argument air.

"Dad." "(Y/n)." They spoke at the same time.

"You go first." They said in unison, cautiously glancing at each other. Smiles broke onto both of their faces at the impish replies. They chuckled.

"You go first dad." (Y/n) gave a content smile. At least they could laugh together.

"Okay uh," Alan straightened up and rubbed the back his neck. He raised his head and looked at (Y/n). "Sunshine you know I want what's best for you. You're, you're my little girl. You know I can't help it. I've been on those islands before. Those islands are true to their Spanish names. (Y/n) if something happens to you on those islands I," He looked down and leaned on his knees again. "I'd blame myself for everything."

(Y/n) let out a sigh. This is going to hurt more than I thought. "Listen dad. I know I'm your Sunshine, I'm always going to be your Sunshine; but this is something I need to do. You went to those islands to better your knowledge of these magnificent creatures that once walked the earth. Now it's my turn. I mean, they're alive and well! They're behind cages," She hated to use that word. "built by the best technologically advanced companies. There's slim chances that something will go wrong."

Alan looked his daughter dead in the eyes. He was proud. He was distraught. He was going to let her go. "(N/n), I can't believe I'm saying this. I want you to go-"

"Really?" (Y/n) exclaimed.

"-I'm not finished." Alan cut her off.

(Y/n) nodded.

"I want you to go because you need this. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I know that you will be persistent. Go. Go do your job." He smiled.

"Thank you." (Y/n) stood up and hugged her father.

"I'm gonna head home, it's getting late."

(Y/n) nodded and escorted her dad to the door.

"Good night Sunshine," Alan gave (Y/n) a peck on the forehead. "Get some rest."

(Y/n) timidly smiled. "You too dad, good night." She slowly shut the door. With light steps (Y/n) padded to the window next to the door and slightly moved the curtain with her pointer finger to ensure her dad got into his car safely and headed home. When the car started and he backed out of the drive way (Y/n) sighed and moved from the window.

She placed a hand on her forehead, and the other on her hip. A sigh escaped her lips as the hand that rested on her forehead slid down her face. Determination settled into her eyes and she set her course to the office. Opening the door she flicked on the light. With a plop onto the chair (Y/n) opened her journal and took a glance at the letter before  setting it aside; immediately typing a letter of reply to the Masrani Corporation.

The next morning (Y/n) woke with a stretch. The sun brightly spewed into her room through the white chiffon curtains of her bay window on to her and her bed covers. It gave the room a majestic glow. Lying on her side with an arm stretched out above her head and one arm tucked away at her side, (Y/n) was startled to hear a chime from her phone. (Y/n) rolled over and reached to unplug her phone from its charger. Unlocking the piece of technology she was alerted that she received an email.

The email read:

Dear Miss (Y/n) Grant,

We thank you very much for your cooperation and immediate response to the previous email. In the next five business days you will receive a boat ticket from InGen to exclusively travel on one of the first voyages of the Jurassic World Isla Nublar Ferry. Once  you have received your ticket further instructions will be within the envelope. Your traveling duration will be three days once you arrive in Costa Rica. All together your travel time will be seventy-six hours including your flight time. Thank you for your consideration in endorsing our park.

Many Thanks,

Simon Masrani

CEO, Masrani Global Corporation

(Y/n) looked out the window and grimaced at the bright sunlight. Here goes nothing.

[raendown]

A commission for my wonderful wife @berry-doodles​ based on art by her good friend and talented artist Moz! 

Pairing: HashiramaMadara Word count: 3435 Rated: M Summary: No matter what the people around them said Hashirama had never minded the mirror image of himself on Madara's chest. He just wished there were a way he could get that across.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Bosom Buddies

“It’s fine.” The growl in Madara’s voice probably wouldn’t sound much different to anyone else but Hashirama knew his partner better than anyone else in the world. He knew that tone. It very much was not fine. 

“Please don’t be mad,” he begged. “You know it’s never bothered me so why-”

“I said it’s fine!” 

Madara huffed in the sharp silence following his outburst, turning his head away to look out the window. Reanimation hadn’t changed him very much, hadn’t really changed any of the people who found themselves with a second chance at life in this new and confusing future, but the handful of years that had passed since the war ended and the therapy enforced on them all by the sixth Hokage had mellowed his paranoia to a point that at times he almost seemed back to his true self. More and more often Hashirama looked at him and saw nothing but the man he had fallen in love with long before the loss of his sibling had broken him.

Unfortunately that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have bad days and it seemed like today was one of them. Hashirama had never really minded the strange effigy of his own face that hung on his lover’s chest, he did understand it was something Madara had been manipulated in to. Whether that manipulation was ultimately by Zetsu or that young Kabuto or even someone else was still unclear, though that was mostly due to Madara’s own tangled memories of death and rebirth, but the one fact that remained very clear was that he’d never intended to grow a second face on his own chest. It was very strange indeed to Hashirama that no one else seemed able to understand that. Citizens of the very village that Madara himself had dreamed of as a child now crossed the street to avoid him with their eyes drifting inevitably down to the spot where they knew a replica of their first Hokage hid under his clothing. On a good day Madara could ignore such unwanted attention. Not every day was a good day. 

“Why don’t I make us a nice hot cup of tea?” Hashirama suggested in a vain effort to bring his partner away from the front door. The fights when he stormed out always took the longest to untangle. Madara gave him such a venomous look that Hashirama wilted immediately, despondent already at the thought of how long it would be until he could give the man a nice comforting hug. 

“Tea? Tea!? I don’t want your fucking hot leaf juice! Just leave me alone! Every damn person in this village seems to want me to drop dead again and you’re offering tea!?” Pulling at the hair spilling over both shoulders, Madara turned to storm his way towards the front door, growling under his breath as he went. “Not everyone’s head is so empty they can solve their problems with a cup of god damn genmaicha!”

The slam of the door behind him rattled several frames on the walls, photographs that still made them both wonder at just how far technology had advanced over the years. Hashirama stared at one of the frames where it hung just a little off center now and did what he could to breathe through the heavy weight in his chest. Living twice had been hard for them all at times. It was difficult to imagine just how much harder it must be for Madara, his poor beloved Madara, who had gone through so much in his first life and so much more since being reanimated, revived, reintroduced to the pains of a world that never seemed to have any mercy for him. 

But, Hashirama told himself with a touch of determination, there was one mercy that life had granted them both and that was the love they shared. The fact that they had only been able to explore that love now in this strange second chance only made it all the more precious and times like this when the rest of the world seemed so unwilling to understand made it more important than ever to remind his partner that their love would never change. 

He knew just how to do that.

Well, he had an idea of how to do that. Whether or not it was a good idea he would just have to wait and see. 

Much more easily said than done. Hashirama would freely admit that he had never been the most patient person in the entire world. It would probably be a good idea for him to get a second opinion and who better to ask than the smartest person he knew? Feeling slightly more confident in himself, he finally convinced his feet to move by turning towards the kitchen and heading straight for the plastic device hanging on the wall next to their fridge. Honestly there truly was no end to the technological wonders of the future. His brother picked up the call after several rings. 

“What do you want, Anija?” 

“How did you know it was me?”

“No one else calls here,” Tobirama growled. “Neither Kakashi nor I have many friends and of those only you ever bother to call instead of crashing through our front door without permission.”

Hashirama nodded in sympathy. “Has Gai-san been intruding again?”

“I will ask ‘what do you want’ one more time and if you don’t answer I’m hanging up on you.” 

Obviously he must have interrupted something so Hashirama hurried to ask his questions. He knew only too well the kinds of things his brother might be getting up to and the disastrous results that could come from distracting him. Reanimation had done very little to quell his thirst for knowledge. If anything the experiments he proposed had only gotten wilder in recent years. 

“Maddy’s having a bad day today and I want to show him that everything will be alright, that I’ll always be there for him, you know? And I was trying to think of a good way to-”

“Sex,” his brother cut him off bluntly before he could even finish his sentence. Hashirama spluttered violently. 

“Tobirama!” he exclaimed. “That’s so inappropriate!” 

“He’s a simple man who understands simple gestures. Take him to bed.”

“You-! I-! To say such things to your own brother-!” 

On the other end of the line he could hear a deep sigh. When Tobirama spoke again it was in the same heavy tone he’d used since as far back as their childhood, full of the exasperation that came with believing he was the only sane person left in the entire world. “You want to show him that you care, fine. Make it gentle sex then - if a beast like him is capable of anything gentle. I really don’t want to know. Just wait for him to scream himself out then take your clothes off. He’ll get the hint, trust me. Are we done now? I really was in the middle of something and we did have plans for tonight.”

“Say hello to Kakashi for me,” Hashirama murmured. He listened to his sibling grumbling in the affirmative and then the line went dead without so much as a goodbye. Rather typical. He considered himself lucky Tobirama had even picked up the phone in the first place if he was so busy. 

After hanging up himself he continued to stand there for several moments, staring aimlessly around the kitchen as he turned his initial idea over and over from a new viewpoint. Much as he hated to admit it his brother did have a point. Subtlety had a way of going straight over Madara’s head and hidden messages always had a way of getting misinterpreted. They’d had a lot of fights over simple miscommunications. Of course, considering who he had fallen in love with, he’d known from the beginning that such things were bound to happen with alarming frequency. That didn’t mean he was going to stop putting in whatever efforts he could to prevent them. 

When the right idea crossed his mind it was like a lamp coming on and his entire face lit up accordingly. It was perfect. There was no way this could go anything but perfectly, he just knew it! Knowing that most of his brilliant ideas over two lifetimes had gone straight down the toilet did nothing to deter him because he knew for absolute sure that this was, to date, the best idea he’d ever had.

First things first, he needed to find just the right shirt. With a beaming smile he turned and floated down the hall in to the bedroom he shared with the man of his dreams. There were several options already in his mind, certain pieces of clothing he’d noticed always inspired a particularly hungry look from Madara. One of them had only just come out of the laundry and had yet to be folded which left it right there in the corner of the bedroom where he’d left the basket of clean clothing. Hashirama skipped over to the scene of a half done chore and rooted through the mountain until he was able to pull out a particularly short yukata. Initially it had been an accidental purchase, several sizes down from the one he’d meant to buy, but the way Madara had looked at his legs ensured he would never take it back. Slipping it over his shoulders, Hashirama turned to the mirror on the opposite wall for a first inspection. 

No good. A frown touched his brow as he turned side to side in the mirror. His legs looked as good as ever, that was true, but that was far from the part of his body he would have wanted his partner to focus on. With great reluctance Hashirama slid the garment off and tossed it back on to the heap of clean, unfolded laundry. On with the hunt. 

Half an hour later he must have gone through almost every item of clothing he owned trying to find the perfect one with very little success. So many of them highlighted different parts of himself and yet as he rejected one after another he slowly began to realise that what he was looking for might not be possible with his current options. Now that was a quandary. His plan for showing Madara how loved and wanted he was wouldn’t work at all if none of the clothes they owned would show off the right bits in the right way! 

In a fit of petulance Hashirama pouted and struck his hand out at whatever was closest, not so much in an attempt to cause destruction but more out of some childish need to punish their wardrobe for not going along with his needs. He squawked with immediate regret when a box hidden in the back of their closet came dislodged and tumbled down on to his head as though in retaliation for such violence. Several haphazardly folded shirts all spilled out over him like a rain of cloth until there was little for him to do but stand there and laugh at himself for acting so silly. With a smile Hashirama put both hands on his hips and grinned at whatever had draped itself over his eyes, unable to see anything but suddenly finding himself in a much calmer state. 

Then he reached up to pull the item off his face and froze. It was perfect. Of course! Now that it had quite literally hit him in the face the memories were coming back; this shirt had been the first Christmas gift Tobirama bought for Madara a few years after they had all been released to live their second lives. Hashirama was sure his brother thought he was being subtle with this kind of malicious compliance, buying a gift for someone just because he’d been asked to, but from the look on his face after the wrapping was torn off it had been easy to tell this gift was meant to be hated. To be perfectly honest Hashirama was a little surprised the garment had even survived to be shoved in to a closet rather than shredded at the first opportunity. A most fortuitous anomaly. 

Not wanting to waste a moment of time, he clutched the sweater a little closer and turned to dash out of the room - only to promptly trip on all the clothing he’d strewn about their bedroom floor. Perhaps he should clean up this mess before fetching the scissors. Repairing his beloved Madara’s bad mood would be for nothing if the man saw this mess and flew in to a rage all over again.

Barely more than an hour later Hashirama had only just put the finishing touches on his surprise when he heard the front door open. It took all of his meager restraint not to go thundering down the hall to drown his partner in love and apologies; he knew from experience how much better it was to simply let Madara return home at his own pace, temper as whimsical as the cats he was so fond of. Trying to smother him the moment he stepped in the door was always tempting but never ended very well. Instead Hashirama fiddled with the hem of his shirt to make sure it was perfectly in place and looked around the bedroom one last time to make sure he’d put everything away. Of course, because his luck was just like that, he spotted several things still littering the floor that he must have looked over in the initial rush to clean up. 

A tiny squeak escaped him when Madara’s footsteps came thumping down the hall. There was no time! He needed more time! Like a man possessed he lunged across the room to toss what he could in to the hamper and promised himself that he would do the laundry tomorrow so no one ever had to know there was anything hidden in there. Just as he heard the footsteps pause on the other side of the bedroom door he realized he was out of time and strove to find a natural position to stand in with whatever happened to be left in his hand - a cup, apparently. What a clean empty cup might be doing in their bedroom was beyond him but he was grateful it wasn’t something more strange. The door opened and without any better ideas Hashirama simply stood up as straight as he could and schooled his features in to a calm, welcoming smile, hoping against hope that the panic crashing around in his chest wasn’t showing. 

Keeping still as the door slowly opened inwards was among the most difficult things he’d ever had to do in his life. The look on Madara’s face when his lover spotted him made the effort very worth it. 

“What. Just. What is that?”

“It’s technically your shirt,” Hashirama confessed. “I didn’t think you’d mind me making some alterations.”

“No I don’t give a fuck about the shirt. It’s horrendous. Your brother knows damn well how much I hate this ‘ugly christmas sweater’ bullshit. I meant what the hell is that on your tit!?”

Smiling brightly, Hashirama couldn’t help looking down to admire his own handiwork. The kitchen scissors almost hadn’t been enough to cut through the thick wool of the shirt but with a little patience he’d managed to cut out a large enough hole to display the entire right side of his torso while keeping the rest of him covered. Sheer luck took most of the credit for his discovery of Madara’s kink, how quickly he could be riled up by the sight of Hashirama flashing just a hint of the goods while keeping the rest of him mostly covered, but playing to his partner’s tastes was only half the plan. 

The other half he’d drawn on with a marker. Or rather he’d made a clone to do it for him so he wouldn’t mess anything up drawing on himself at such an awkward angle. Perfectly round and a lovely dusky brown, his right nipple was just the perfect shape to draw a little frown and one narrow eye. Surround the whole thing with spikes of messy hair and it was a perfect image of his partner if he did say so himself. 

“Oh this?” Hashirama shifted in his weight and hoped it looked casual. “Well sometimes I get lonely when you’re not here so I thought it might be nice if you were with me all the time. Actually I was thinking of making it permanent. You don’t mind, right?” Under the emotions he’d never put much effort in to controlling Hashirama did, in fact, have a working brain. No matter what his brother thought. He knew exactly the weight his gentle smile carried, knew exactly why Madara looked as though he’d just been brought up short like a runaway horse. 

“Mi-? N-no I don’t...mind…” His partner looked away with a frown and a splash of red growing across both cheeks. 

“Excellent!” 

If only there were something in the cup for him to oh so casually sip at. Hashirama waited patiently for those beautiful dark eyes to finally make their way back to him. Then he watched with very little surprise as they trailed their way slowly down the length of his body, staring either at the gesture he’d drawn on to his own chest or at the hem of his shirt where an inch or so of skin was peeking out, a hint at the naughty things hidden just above. 

“I hate you,” Madara told him in a weak voice and that was exactly what Hashirama had been waiting for. After setting the cup aside he moved across the room to frame the other man’s face. 

“No you don’t.”

“Hng. Do too. I hate you so much. You’re...awful. And terrible.”

Leaning in slowly was enough to prove to them both that Madara had no intentions of pulling away even given the opportunity to do so; it made the victory of a slow deep kiss that much more delicious. When Hashirama pulled away he bent his neck to press their foreheads together instead and allowed himself a moment to simply breathe in everything that was Madara. 

“I love you too,” he murmured because he knew what his partner was trying to say. Words were nice, he would of course adore being buried under waves of flowery words every day, but he’d never really needed them to know how his partner felt. 

For a long moment he got no response. The two of them stood in the doorway of their bedroom with their eyes closed and swayed to the beat of their own hearts. 

“Thank you,” Madara broke the silence eventually in a voice so quiet it was barely there. With tears in his eyes Hashirama bent for another deep kiss. 

“Don’t you want to unwrap your present now?” he hinted. 

The gratitude in Madara’s eyes was as obvious as the relief but Hashirama knew better than to comment on either. Instead he opened his arms and smiled happily when his partner stepped in to them as easily as a puzzle piece sliding in to place. When they undressed together neither man so much as glanced down at the immoving effigy attached to Madara’s chest, all of their attention reserved for naught but the task of chasing pleasure together, savouring the happiness it had taken them more than a lifetime to find. 

Others, Hashirama knew, would always say what they wanted to about the choices his partner had made so many years ago, and although the man preferred not to show it he knew those words would often cause pain. But there was nothing he would like more than to spend the rest of his years on this earth  soothing the wounds that others made and proving to Madara that his opinion mattered the most - and that his heart would always be filled with nothing but love. Whatever mistakes they had both made in the past could stay there as far as he was concerned. He would stand by Madara’s side through it all no matter what the people of this village thought about it and he would proclaim his love to whoever would listen as many times as it took for that to be clear. 

Later as they lay blanketed in evening shadows, Hashirama pretended sleep just to feel the caress of rough fingers tracing the ink upon his chest and knew that when this life was done he would die with no regrets. 

[dontmindthefangirling]

Save Me {p.p.}

part 2

Summary: Peter Parker has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, so you were able to tell when he started acting very distant from you; not answering your texts, blowing off plans, not inviting you to hang outs with Ned. You planned to confront him - but then something horrible happened.

Warnings: Kidnapping, swears, angst

part 1

-

“W-What do you want with me?” you choked out as a large and gruff man tightly tied your ankles to the chair you were seated on. 

The rope burned your skin as he pulled it tightly, probably enough to break the skin. You hissed, biting back the tears as he moved to your other foot.

“Your boyfriend,” the large man responded. His voice was deep and rough and it sent chills down your spine.

You almost laughed at his response.

“You must have the wrong person then because I don’t have a boyfriend,” you retorted. The man chuckled darkly, standing to his feet once you were completely tied to the chair. A thick rope was pulled tightly against your chest, keeping you stuck to it and making it difficult to breathe. 

“The Spider-Boy,” the man said, walking away from you towards a dark black case that was perched against the wall. You glanced around your surroundings for any way to escape. You seemed to be in an old abandoned warehouse, and the light from the moon was shining in through the broken windows. 

“What?” you asked. You were confused before, but now so even more. “You mean Spider-Man?”

“Yes, he is your boyfriend, no?” the man laughed, pulling a large black gun out of the case that made your stomach drop. There was a purple glow coming from it and your heart sank, recognizing it as the purple alien technology that had been used to raid New York in 2012.

“No!” you cried. “I don’t even know who he is! Let me go!”

The man shrugged, inspecting his alien gun. “Well he cares for you deeply.”

“What-”

As if on cue, Spider-Man himself came swinging through the broken windows, landing in front of you. You stared at him, eyes wide as he stalked towards your kidnapper.

“Seriously man, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Spider-Man yelled, his arms out with an exasperated sigh. The man with dark hair and a crooked smile grinned as Spider-Man approached him.

“I knew you would come,” he laughed deeply. 

Your mind was racing a mile a minute as you tried to put the pieces together. First of all, who was this asshole? Second of all, why did Spider-Man show up because you were here? How did he know?

“Watch out!” you cried as the man lifted the purple-glowing gun, aiming it directly at Spider-Man. Spider-Man jumped out of the way, dodging the purple blast as it tore a hole through the wall of the building. You yelped, watching the smoke rise from the rubble. 

“Where did you get that gun?” Spider-Man yelled, dodging another blast as he swung across the room. “I caught the Vulture!”

“You didn’t catch his clients,” the man chuckled, shooting another purple blast at the hero. Spider-Man groaned, shooting a web at the criminal, catching his foot. Electric sparks ran from Spider-Man’s wrist to your attacker’s foot, sending shocks throughout his body. 

You gasped, watching his body convulse as he dropped the gun. Spider-Man jumped to the ground, shooting his webs at the gun until it was pinned to the ground. The purple glow was still shining through, and Spider-Man quickly webbed up the criminal’s hands behind his back. 

“Spidey!” you gasped. “It’s gonna explode!”

Spider-Man turned around to see the gun shaking under his webs, the purple glow getting bright. He ran over to you, undoing the ropes around you as quickly as possible. Just as the purple alien whatever it was began to rip through the webs, projecting a large purple plume of energy, Spider-Man gathered you in his arms and swung you both out of the warehouse.

You cried out as the warehouse exploded behind you with a large burst of energy and smoke and fire coming from almost every direction. You hid your face in Spider-Man’s neck, feeling the wind against your skin as he swung you away to safety.

You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt the hero land on the ground. You slowly opened one eye, then the other to see that you were in a park near your high school. The park was empty, as it was probably almost ten at night now. The moon was shining brightly as you heard sirens in the distance.

Spider-Man slowly placed you on your feet, allowing you to hold onto him to get your bearings. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and suddenly everything that just happened seem to catch up to you.

“No I’m not okay!” you shouted, throwing your hands to your sides. “I was just kidnapped and almost killed because that-that guy said you were my boyfriend!”

Spider-Man watched you with widened eyes on his mask as you ranted.

“And then he had some crazy alien technology and we almost died in an alien explosion! And I’m still in my fucking homecoming dress!” you cried, running your hand through your hair, definitely messing up the way you had curled it for the dance. 

“(Y/N)-”

“Like what the fuck! How does that even happen?! How did you know where we were, like what?”

“(Y/N)-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that stupid dance! I knew it, you know I told my best friend that I shouldn’t go because this stupid guy who I have feelings for was going to be there and he’s been a complete idiot and now this happens and my dress is fucking ruined and-”

“(Y/N)!” 

“What?!” you snapped looking at Spider-Man only to see he had removed his mask. 

Your words got caught in your throat as you came face-to-face with your ex-best friend Peter Parker. You were silent as your heart thumped against your chest, not even realizing that Spider-Man had been calling you by your first name the whole time and you didn’t even pick up on how he knew it until now. 

Peter was staring at you with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, as he waited for you to say something. But all you could do was just stare because what in the world was Peter Parker doing in a Spider-Man suit?

The pieces slowly, very slowly, fell into place in your mind as you started to overcome your shock. How he knew where you were, why your kidnapper thought you were Spider-Man’s girlfriend, why Peter had been so distant. It all fell together. 

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him with a hard slap to his cheek. 

“Ow!” he hissed, clutching his face that had come in contact with your hand.

“What the fuck, Parker!” you yelled. 

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” Peter winced, rubbing his cheek. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a little bad about slapping him when you saw the redness on his cheek. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Peter said sheepishly. “I was just trying to protect you.”

“So you acted like a complete dick to me?” you scoffed, remembering his words when he said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. They still stung in your heart. Peter sighed, looking down at his feet. 

“I didn’t want to do that. I just figured if you hated me you wouldn’t want to be seen with me,” he said. 

“Is that why this guy kidnapped me?” you asked, your voice softer now. “Because he thought I was important to you?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

It was silent for a while as you shifted your weight, not knowing what to say or where to go from here.

“You are important to me, you know,” Peter added. “Which is why I tried to push you away. I mean, you saw what happened when my enemies find out who’s close to me. They’ll use you to get to me.”

You couldn’t argue with him because you were living proof of it. The only reason you were put in danger was because Peter was Spider-Man.

“I don’t care,” you spoke up, looking at him. “God, Pete my life has been horrible without you.” 

Peter looked up at you in shock as tears welled in your eyes.

“I can’t live like this, not being in your life,” you continued, your voice cracking halfway through your sentence. “You’re too important to me.”

Peter’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d rather be in danger and be with you than not be in your life at all.”

Peter chuckled, his eyes shining as he looked at you. He took in your appearance under the moonlight and although your hair was a mess from the whole ordeal, you looked beautiful. Your dress was your favorite color, which he knew of course, and it hugged your body perfectly, in all the right places. 

“I want you in my life too,” Peter said, reaching out to you, but you stepped away, causing him to frown in confusion.

“How come you kept all of our other friends in your life?” you croaked, looking at him like he had just run over your puppy. 

Peter’s mouth went dry. How was he supposed to explain that it was because he was utterly in love with you and that put you at more risk than your other friends like Ned and MJ. 

“I-”

You stared at him, waiting for a response when you remembered the man’s taunts. There was no way Peter Parker could have feelings for you, right?

“(Y/N),” Peter sighed. “I...it’s different with you.”

“Why?” you whispered, not noticing how you inched closer to him. 

Peter swallowed thickly, looking at you with the moon highlighting your eyes. He was close enough now to take his gloved hand and gently caress your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, and he could hear your heart speed up with his spidey sense. 

“Because I love you,” he felt himself finally whisper, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Your eyes flew open, as all sorts of emotions started running through your mind. Of course you loved him, too. You knew you did, you always did. 

“You do?” you whimpered.

Peter could only nod. He was so terrified of losing you that he thought if he made you hate him, it would protect you from his enemies. Clearly that wasn’t the case. 

But what if he had pushed you too far away?

Much to his surprise, your hands came up to rest around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, feeling you against him as your noses bumped together. Ever so gently, you connected your lips to his, and Peter had never felt such bliss in his life as when he kissed you for the first time. 

The kiss was short, and when you both pulled away, you didn’t pull too far away.

“I love you too, you idiot,” you giggled. Peter smiled, hugging you close to him and remembering how you said you would rather be in danger and in his life than not at all. 

“I was just trying to protect you,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he hugged you.

“Yeah, that clearly didn’t work,” you laughed, pulling back so you could look at him. “But you did save me.”

“I’ll always save you.”

You sighed in content looking up at him with an adorning smile on your face. Peter grinned at you, going in to kiss you again when he felt you slap him again.

“Ow! (Y/N) what the hell!” 

“Don’t you ever try to make me hate you again!” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. Peter wanted to be annoyed with you for slapping him again, but he couldn’t bring it in him as he hugged you tightly. 

“Fine, I won’t ever push you away again,” he said with a smile as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Good,” you retorted. “We do this together, Spidey.”

Peter smiled. “Do you want to go back to the dance?”

“Not particularly. Have you seen my hair?” you laughed, pointing to the mess on your head.

“I think you look great.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around Peter’s waist as his arm went to your shoulders and you began walking towards your apartment building. 

“So are you going to tell me how you became Spider-Man or what?”

“Yeah, how did you not figure it out? Even Ned knew,” Peter laughed.

“Ned knew?!”

-

taglist: @gmzparkr // @ mrscutiefandobhaz // @mktravelbuggie // @love-me-some-bucky // @zabdisamor // @ obssessedweirdo //  

[like-rain-or-confetti]

To Be Human (A.I.!Reader x Mass Effect)

“Where shall I put my things? I’d prefer somewhere dry, if anything is available.” Thane asked, his hands behind his back. You rocked on your heels for a moment, a habit you knew you did as a human, you did so now not as a habit but as a quirk of your personality. EDI roared to life. “The area near the life support plant on the deck tends to be slightly more arid than the rest of the ship.” You nodded in confirmation though you had no doubt that the crew took this nod as agreement. They didn’t know you were an AI- only Shepard, Jacob and Miranda although none knew you were previously human only EDI knew that. On the other hand, it wasn’t common for AI’s to have physical bodies. To have one and look human, it could easily be considered rare.  “Ah, an AI? My thanks.” Thane cast a parting glance to Shepard before turning and leaving.   “He seems civil.” EDI said.  “Lonely.” You added.  “You don’t know what that means.” Jacob said quickly.  “I do, I understand the concept very well.” You responded. “I remember feeling it once.”  “What?” Jacob asked but you shook your head.  “Another time. I better get back to work.” 

As you walked away, EDI’s voice came to your head. “Do you intend to tell them? Or are you lying?”  “Of course, I will EDI. Now is just not the time.”  “How do you know?”  “He taught me that.”  EDI’s voice never issued you a response. 

There were small differences between both you and EDI. Both of you were blunt, matter of fact, straight to the point. Though you spent a lot of time learning social queues - what’s insensitive and inappropriate. It was difficult, but you kept yourself in check. Even if you couldn’t be human anymore, you could do your best to replicate it. Many wouldn’t know any different that you weren’t human and that was good enough for you. You could feel emotions in the most basic form. You had learned them too. EDI wasn’t as good at it but was doing significantly better. All AI’s were getting better at learning through observation. Though you couldn’t pin point when you stopped replicating emotions and actually began to feel them ever so slightly. EDI could see everything in the ship like it was a body part - complete control and objectivity. You couldn’t do that. You knew how the ship worked but never the very framework and design of the ship. EDI saw the ship as a skeleton and everything inside like an X-Ray as though bonded to the ship, and perhaps EDI was the heart of the Normandy with such an established connection but you were never designed to be so sophisticated. Perhaps that made you that little bit more human than EDI. Not to mention that EDI was always online whilst you had to shut down for a couple of hours every couple of days, like sleeping. 

You decided to check on Thane. He sat on a chair, looking out the opposite window, hands clasped on the table in front of him.  “Hi Thane, is this room alright for you?” Thane turned his head, eyes following you as you entered. “Yes, it is satisfactory. You have my thanks.” You smiled. “Glad to hear it. My name is (Y/N), I’m one of the technicians here.”  “I see.” You couldn’t hide your smile and Thane seemed to notice, tilting his head silently questioning.  “I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I’ve never met a Drell before and I always wanted to when I heard of your kind.”  “Ah.” Thane nodded.  “I heard Drell have really good memory, like photographic memory.” You stepped closer.  “We, Drell, have excellent memories. Though we don’t simply remember them, we relive them to the tiniest detail.”  “Really? That’s cool.” You seemed pleased and Thane appeared to be slightly amused. He seemed to have a burning question in his mind as he was quiet for a moment before speaking up.  “If you don’t mind my asking, you seem awfully young to be here, especially on such a dangerous mission.” You smiled. “Yeah, I am but i have my uses and besides, saving the world can’t wait for me to get a little older.” You meant it more literally than intended. You couldn’t grow older anymore. “I won’t bother you anymore though, i better get back to work. Despite what Joker or anyone else on this ship tells you- it can’t run without me.” You grinned. “Besides, i’m sure Commander Shepard will be coming to check on you soon.” You both bid your farewells before you headed to the engine 

There were a few nights a week that the Normandy was off duty and could relax. The professional justification was to boost morale, ensure the crew would be a team over anything else but the real, more personal, reason was to stop everyone going mad. This particular night was no different other than Jacob pestering you for answer. “Tell us, what did you mean earlier? About being lonely?”  “Hey now! Everyone gets lonely, humans included.” Garrus jumped to your defense.  “(Y/N) isn’t human, they’re an AI. AI’s don’t feel emotions. Experts are only beginning research to allow such a thing. It’s controversial.” Jacob fired back. There was a rumble of excitement to the news, Shepard sending a disapproving look to Jacob for telling everyone in such a way.  “Emotions aren’t difficult.” You said smoothly, making everyone grow quiet with attention on you. “I understand the concept.” “Yeah, but you also said you felt it.” “A long time ago, or at least I think I have. I don’t personally have the memory but I know for sure I have felt it.” “That doesn’t make sense.” Jacob frowned. “I believe (Y/N) is referring to when they were human.” EDI’s voice rang through the room. “I think so too EDI…” You murmured.  “What?” Shepard seemed just as shocked as everyone else.  “I died young, and was a civilian impacted by the war with the reapers. I was found by a Salarian and he fixed me.” You trailed off, was that the right word for it?  “Wait, so, what does that mean?” Jacob shook his head.  “It means I won’t age.”  “As well as (Y/N) was born human and continues to have a human physique, on the inside, they have complex technology that is more advanced than most AI’s.” EDI explained. 

It was incredibly difficult to describe yourself when there were no real memories of you when you were human. You only knew what you were told. Having to explain this didn’t trigger an emotional response yet you knew it should have and in turn that bubbled minor responses, the best you could get. Though you wanted to learn, more than anything. 

You had spent many times with Thane before he died. When he did, you watched the Normandy grieve. However you couldn’t feel the sadness or pain of his death. You really liked Thane and seeing Shepard’s relationship blossom with Thane was truly a gift. To see him gone would have been gut-wrenching, purely saddening…but you could only feel a haze of it. This only reminded you that imitating didn’t mean you really had emotions. “Shepard, how are you holding up?” You asked as the commander passed. Thane’s funeral had just ended. “I’m holding.” Was your received response. “Barely, but I’m holding. What about you? You were close with Thane.” You blankly stated up at Shepard. “I think you know the answer to that.” Shepard hummed in amusement. “I wish I had such a luxury. Now more than ever.” “No, you don’t.” You said immediately. “I want to shed even the smallest tear. I know that this is sad but I can’t feel it yet I want to. Though, I do wonder if not feeling it makes me realise the beauty of it.” “There is nothing beautiful about losing a loved one, watching the body of your loved ones because nothing but an empty shell that will deteriorate. It’s insulting to ever deem such a thing beautiful.” Shepard replied. “Maybe, but there is a beauty to Thane. A beauty in the legacy he has left behind by the name of Kolyat. A piece of Thane lives in him and will continue with Kolyat’s children. Thane recognised he made mistakes and spent his final days attempting to right his wrongs. He died for you, who he loved, and lived for you. He cried, he laughed, he loved and he hated. He stood for what he believed in. He lived and that Shepard is beautiful. Thane believed that death was only another journey and that only adds to the beauty. He’s not gone, Commander and from what I’ve learned from this crew. He’ll always be in here.” You stood up and tapped Shepard’s heart. “As for myself, I can never forget him. Maybe one day, I’ll feel sadness -if I ever learn- and really do Thane justice.” You stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me commander. Kolyat wanted to see me after the funeral.” Shepard couldn’t stop thinking about your words. Sometimes it was a distraction from the pain of losing Thane but mostly it helped to grieve. Shepard allowed the tears to fall when alone even whilst listening to the messages Thane sent but Shepard never received. Kolyat had given them to Shepard which was greatly appreciated by the commander. It felt like the end was coming with the Reapers and Shepard had to pull at every scrap of energy to fight back. Shepard had to prepare, but there were a few things to do left.  Rising to a stand, Shepard was quick to make a video call.  “Commander Shepard?”  “Kolyat…” 

You were told to make a delivery of a drive to Kolyat which you agreed to. It had been some time since you last saw him, that last time being the week after the funeral. You developed a form of friendship with him, often telling him stories of his father during his time on the Normandy. He even seemed intrigued that you were an AI. 

When you arrived, he welcomed you, urging you to come in. “Commander Shepard told me to give this to you. I can’t say I know what it is.” You handed him the drive. Kolyat looked down for a moment, brushing his fingertips across it before looking back up at you. “This isn’t for me.” “I don’t understand…” “It’s for you, (Y/N).” Kolyat sat you down and set up the drive. Inside was many emails between Shepard and Kolyat as well as a video message. “Shepard, you are receiving a call.” EDI’s voice rang out. Right in the middle of debriefing the crew. Damn. Shepard accepted the call. “Commander? I don’t understand.” Your voice came through, clear and precise. “I explained my intentions in the video message.” Shepard said. “Trust me, (Y/N). I know what I’m doing.” “Did I do something wrong? AI’s are commonly given away or abandoned because they are not fit for purpose-” “(Y/N), listen to me.” Shepard ordered. “I am not abandoning you. You did nothing wrong. I am entrusting you to Kolyat because you need him as much as he needs you.” “Commander, the fight with the Reapers-” “i don’t want you fighting them. You… you’re too young. You’ve got so much more to learn. I want you to have that chance.” “Want?” You repeated Shepard’s word choice. Shepard continued. “Keep Kolyat safe. Enjoy this second chance at life. You were a brilliant asset to this crew. You won’t be forgotten.” “Have you left me here?” Shepard was quiet for a moment. “Yes.” “I understand.” Your response finally came. 

Kolyat showed you the messages. This had been planned. As Shepard had said Kolyat was willing to take you with him and was filled in about your want to learn about emotions. “Is it just us now?” You asked. “For now.” Kolyat nodded. 

Six hundred years had passed since the war with the Reapers. The Tempest crew was complete and the Nexus was beginning to thrive. Jaal loved hearing the history of the Nexus and the names of who made everything possible. Commander Shepard was beyond expectations. A true leader. Jaal couldn’t help but wonder if Ryder would one day be considered the same. He nearly jumped when you came up beside him. “I knew Commander Shepard, you know.” You said as you idly stared at the hologram of commander Shepard. “You did? But you’re very young looking, and this was six hundred years ago.” “I’m a few years older than I look.” You smiled. “If I’m honest- i lost count. I’m (Y/N). A human-looking A.I. which I’m assuming you’ll appreciate my saying so later. Lots of people get confused if I don’t.” “I see.” Jaal looked you over, looking for any indication your were actually an A.I. but he couldn’t see anything. “Are you with the new human Pathfinder?” You asked. “Indeed.” Jaal replied. “That must be exciting. There was never a dull day when I was in the Normandy.” “The crew make it exciting.” 

Somehow the conversation led to you meeting the Tempest crew- including the Pathfinder who was eager to find out who Jaal’s new friend was. “Woah! High-tech! Didn’t think the Nexus has it in them.” Liam looked you over. “Not quite. I am not from the Nexus. I arrived here not long after it was set up. I believe the only A.I. here is the Asari hologram one. I don’t believe I’ve heard the name yet. It’s not one for conversation.” Ryder could help but chuckle at the last part. “We’ve got an A.I. on our ship called SAM.” “Is it also an Asari hologram?” “No… actually let’s take you aboard to meet him.” You couldn’t help but notice the male pronouns. 

“SAM, we’ve found you a friend!” Liam called out. “SAM meet (Y/N). (Y/N) meet SAM.” A male voice boomed out. “Hello, (Y/N).” “Hello, SAM.” You responded. “Have you scanned me to make sure I’m not a threat?” “Affirmative. You are of no threat.” “Pleased to hear it.” “Likewise.” “My dad was teaching SAM humour and sarcasm.” Ryder smiled. “He still needs some work.” “I see. I’ve been working on those too- more towards emotions but I was taught the basics of humour and facial expressions early. It was important considering I look human.” “Which is wild!” Liam yelled out from behind you. 

After hearing about your experience on the Normandy, Ryder advocated to have you in the Tempest crew. It didn’t take long for Jaal wanting to teach you about emotions. His species were very driven and open with their emotions, for you to struggle as well as want to learn, he had to.  “You’re going about it all wrong.” Jaal explained. “You’re trying to feel emotions for something you can’t remember.” You tilted your head.  “Remember the times you have now.” 

Slowly, you began to really grow attached to the Tempest crew, just as you had with the Normandy crew all those years ago.  “Is this show for my benefit? Because i’m benefiting.” You heard Ryder in the other room and went to find out what was going on. The scene in front of you had you surprised, you couldn’t help but genuiely laugh. Liam was shirtless and Jaal was completely naked. A sight you hadn’t expected to see. The two turned, smiling at you as Ryder cast you a bewildered glance though was also amused.  “I’m sorry, was this not sanctioned?” Jaal asked. You barely caught his goodbye as you continued to chuckle. It wasn’t until you had a few laughs that you realised you hadn’t laughed because it was necessary. You laughed because you found humour in it. Eventually your mind was brought back through all the times you laughed because you were supposed to, not because you actually found it funny. You remembered Shepard’s terrible dancing, and giggled. Then there was the banter with Garrus. The secrets EDI knew about Joker who never realised she was always watching. The many times the crew got drunk. There was the happy times too, the time Liara reunited with her father. When Thane and Shepard successfully rescued Kolyat from himself. So many good things always made the bad times worth it. Kolyat, Thane, Shepard, Mordin...they’re all gone. Suddenly something hit your hard.  “SAM!? Can you- Can you do a scan on me!? I-I think somethings wrong.” “ I will alert the ship. Initiating scan.” You leaned against the wall. “I think there’s something going on with my wiring, or something, I can’t be certain. It’s not in my programming to initiate such tests on myself.” You put a hand to your chest.  “(Y/N), are you alright?” Ryder marched up to you, Jaal and Liam following behind.  “I can’t be sure. I think somethings wrong with my wiring or something.” You said quickly.  “Scanning complete. No faults or abnormalities.” SAM’s voice rang out.  “But-”  “Explain the... feeling? Sensation? What’s going on? What happened?” Liam asked.  “It’s in my chest. It’s heavy, like something is weighing me down. I was thinking about my time in the Normandy. Then i remembered they’re deaths and now there’s a sinking sensation in my chest.”  “Don’t worry.” Ryder said calmly with a knowing look.  “(Y/N), you’re sad. That’s sadness.” Jaal explained.  “I ...I am?”  “They meant a lot to you, you must be missing them, you’re feeling sadness. It’s normal, it’s an emotion.” You inhaled , eyes widening a fraction. “They were the only family i had.” 

You received an unexpected visit from Jaal a week later.  “I have been speaking about you to my true mother. She would very much like to meet you.” “To meet me?” You repeated. Jaal nodded. 

Jaal’s mother immediately met you with a hug, you quickly gathered her to be the motherly type, very fitting to her role. “It is a pleasure to meet you! Jaal has told me very much about you!” Sahuna was eager to welcome you. “Pleased to meet you.” You said, returning the hug lightly. You ended up meeting Jaal’s brothers, sisters cousins and even more of his mothers. It was a large family and you quickly soaked in how free they were with their emotions.

You weren’t certain if it was planned that for spent so much time in contact with Jaal’s family. Nevertheless, his family were wonderful people. The Angara weren’t anything like any other species you had met before. Never had a day come that had been a bore. 

“Mother, are you certain? This will be sudden for them. It’s sudden for us.” “Jaal…they’re so young and alone. I can’t stand by and watch.” “I am uncertain of what they would say.” “I know. They’ve been alone for so long. I want to give them the opportunity to change that. Ask them, Jaal. When this is all over, they can decide.” 

Sahuna Ama Darav couldn’t get you out of her mind. Not since she heard your story, not just what you have accomplished or experience but you as an individual. “Jaal tells me you’re learning about emotions.” “Yes. It is challenging at times but I believe I have improved.” You said. “I can tell you have.” “You can?” You cast a glance to Sahuna. “Your language. You believe, that’s not a fact or an analysis. You think. Your sentient. That’s much more than a machine.” The corner of your mouth lifted slightly. “Tell me, do you remember being human?” “No. Someone a long time ago told me I didn’t have the capacity to understand emotions. I think I surprised him with my answer. I told him that I understood the concept and was certain I felt it as a human but my human life is like remembering a dream.” Sahuna listened intently and you continued. “I’ve always had the idea that I am not the person I was when I was human. I lack the drive of emotion to do things. I do things because morally I know they’re right, or must be done but never because I felt strongly about it. Although I must admit, I’m not the same person I was when I first woke up not am I the same person as I was when on the Normandy. I’m content with that. I’m content not being who I was when I was human or in my early stages of development. If my memory functions well, I was referred to as a ghost of what the human (Y/N) was. I’m content with that. Besides, I have a similarity that some would argue is the most human.” “And what would that be?” Sahuna asked. “I learn from those around me. It’s gotten easier over the years but the challenge was there. May I tell you something personal?” “Of course.” Sahuna was enthralled, unable to really comprehend that this was an A.I beside her yet it was as though talking to anyone else. “I had a friend after the Normandy. His name was Kolyat. His father worked on the Normandy. Kolyat helped me with civilian life. I’d never endured it and it was confusing. He was patient and a true friend from my understanding. I cared for him deeply, but I’m not…” You paused, as though trying to find the correct word. “I don’t have enough experience with love or anything like that.” “Did you tell him? What happened to him?” “No, I didn’t. I used to want to hope that he knew but my logic told me it didn’t matter. He aged and died. I missed him. I miss him.” “I’m sorry…” “No need, it’s natural. People die. It made me wonder if I would die.” Sahuna looked startled and confused for a moment. “I can’t get older, so I question if one day I’ll just stop working or if I can die. I’ve outlived so many people -friends-. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a point to a constant existence?” “Do you feel sad? Or lonely?” “I’ve only recently felt sadness with Ryder’s crew. They remind me of the Normandy crew and I I find it difficult to not feel sadness at the thought that one day I may outlive them too. I’ll be alone again. That’s sad.” 

You thought about your talk with Sahuna that night. You had given your existence so much thought. Were these moments what it means to be human? You thought back to the Normandy crew. You outlived all of them but only made it to Shepard’s funeral. Kolyat took you, assuring you it was important. You never did quite understand why but now maybe you had an idea as to why. They were your friends and for all you knew you’d never see them again. When Kolyat died, it was a solemn time. Thinking back made you realise how many friends you had lost and that number would only increase with the Tempest crew. You felt a wave on sadness wash over you, the heaviness in your chest returning, all the more stronger than it had been. “(Y/N)?” You looked up hearing SAM’s voice ring out in the dark room. “Are you alright?” You pursed your lips, a new sensation building in your eyes. “I’m sad.” You responded and as though to confirm it, a small tear fell from your eye and slowly began to run down your cheek. SAM must have sent Ryder to check on you, Jaal and Lexi behind the Pathfinder. Ryder said nothing, walking forward to sit beside you. You were surprised that Ryder immediately pulled you into a hug. Lexi bent down slightly. “What’s on your mind?” All were silent as you spoke, as you explained your odd behavior yet everyone seemed to understand. 

Jaal eventually spoke up. “I heard you got on well with my mother.” You nodded as Ryder wiped away the stray tear on your cheek. “She’s a very kind woman.” “Yes, she is.” Jaal agreed. “She contacted me about you.” “She did? Did I do something wrong?” “No.” Jaal cracked a smile. “She wanted me to ask you something.” You looked at him waiting for him to continue. “My mother would like you to consider after our fight with the kett, coming back to Aya more permanently. She’d love for you to join our family.” Your eyes widened ever so slightly. “Why?” “My mother was born to be a mother. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. You’re young, to endure all of this alone…it’s cruel. My mother wants to encourage you to learn further and would like you to join our family.” “But…I don’t grow up.” “Angaran families are huge.” Ryder spoke up. “Actually they’re massive.” “You’d be family, even if you outlived us, (Y/N), you’d still be a part of the family. You’d be with our descendants and so on. Family means a lot to us. No one is ever left alone.” Jaal explained. “I couldn’t intrude… I’m not supposed to have a family. A.I.’s don’t have that.” “I’m very sorry to tell you (Y/N),” Ryder began. “but your probably the worst at being a robot.” You cracked a smile. “You are so advanced that there isn’t even a category for you. Just being an A.I. isn’t enough and neither is considering you to be human. You’re brilliant and you deserve everything you work for. If you want my opinion, you’ve been alone long enough.” Ryder smiled at you. “Hell yeah! I second that!“ Liam entered. "I bet you’ll love it. Besides, we’re fighting along side one another. That makes us family! So really, you’re gaining two families. No! Three! You were on the Normandy too! They were also your family!” It took you a long time to really understand that Shepard leaving you behind wasn’t out of cruelty- it was to be kind. “Listen, you’re pretty badass so you’re definitely stuck with me.” “And me!” You heard PeeBee yell out. “As much as it hurts me to say!” Ryder chuckled as you bit back your own laugh. “I’m not good with civilian life, I’m still not sure what to do.” “Oh that’s easy! We’ve got you covered on that! No doubt Jaal will be on your ass about education and good grades.” Liam grinned and Jaal cracked a smile. “We’ll help you figure out what you like and what you don’t like.” Ryder smiled. “Even if it takes fifty years- we’re doing it and that includes PeeBee because she’ll be alive for longer than us!” “Damnit Ryder! Don’t commit me to this stuff!” PeeBee’s voice rang out again. “You bet! Then you’ll make a whole lot more friends, maybe even get an Angaran boyfriend.” Liam wiggled his eyes. “Get married, have a few kids. Or maybe it won’t even be an Angarian-” Ryder quickly jumped in with an alarmed expression. “Maybe in the far far away future! But Liam-” “and we probably won’t like the guy because he won’t be good enough for you-” "Liam-” Ryder attempted to interrupt Liam but to no avail. Suddenly PeeBee bounded in. “Hoi, Costa! Why are you so certain it’s a boyfriend they want? What if they want a girlfriend? Or anything else? You’re making assumptions!” “Thanks PeeBee.” Ryder said quickly. Liam paused. “She’s got a point…but that’s not what I meant! I meant no matter what, we’re gonna be here to help!” Everyone looked at you and slowly you turned to look at Jaal. You cracked a smile, slowly nodding.