#he is getting pretty old maybe his eyesight is going and he thinks it's another birb

[thedawningofthehour]

Angel is running in circles around the soap dispenser and serenading it? I will never understand you.

[hbyrde36]

Steddie | R: Explicit (for eventual smut) | WC:4541 | Ch 1/8 | AO3

Chapter 1: Ghost of Yesterday

Two days after they failed to defeat Vecna, after Max died and came back, after Eddie died—and didn’t. Two days after they were forced to leave his body behind in the Upside Down because everything had gone to shit, a bright yellow pizza delivery van that looked like it’d been through its own apocalypse pulled into the Wheeler's driveway.

Jonathan, Mike, Will, and El finally made it home to Hawkins with the help of a friend.

On day three, Max woke up. 

She’d have a long road to recovery, but the doctors seemed fairly confident she’d walk again. Though, no one could be sure how much of her eyesight would return, if any. The same day, in a twist no one saw coming, Joyce showed up, fresh off a plane from Alaska after escaping Russia—yes, Russia—with a miraculously alive and mostly well Jim Hopper. 

And four days after the world both did and then didn’t end, the ghost of Eddie Munson appeared in Steve’s living room.

The kids and older teens, including the newest member of the doomsday squad, Argyle, were having an off-the-books meeting. After everything they’d done and been through, the so-called ‘adults’ were attempting to pull their same old shit, trying to sideline the younger set for their own, supposed, safety. 

Steve sort-of agreed about Dustin and the others, they were still too young and had already lost so much, but if Hopper, Joyce, and whoever the hell else thought they were going to bench him? They had another think coming, and he was pretty sure Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan felt the same way too.

But, whether he agreed or not, what he wouldn’t do was stop the kids from helping to come up with a plan. Because damned if he knew what the hell they should do next. 

Dustin leaned forward from his spot on the couch wedged between Erica and Will, steepling his fingers together in front of him. “So let me test my understanding. You set him on fire, and shot him—multiple times. He fell out of a third story window, and he just went… poof? Vanished without a trace?”

There was a collective groan from the room, everyone except for Lucas and El who were at the hospital sitting with Max, and of course Dustin himself. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, yes, Dustin. How many times do we have to go over this?”

 “I’m just laying out the facts!” Dustin snapped back. “Clearly we got something wrong here. We underestimated Vecna, and by a lot.”

 “And how is repeating our obvious failure helpful?” Nancy asked, a little defensively. 

Steve understood the attitude, he'd also been wresting with his guilt since that fateful night.

“The scientific method!” Dustin answered with a bit of the same slightly forced cheerfulness he'd been displaying ever since Max woke up. He held up a hand, ticking each step off on his fingers as he spoke. “Question, research, hypothesis, experiment, data analysis, conclusion.” 

“I got a question—“ Erica pursed her lips, giving Dustin such intense side-eye Steve wondered if it was actually painful. “Why are you such a nerd?”

Dustin sighed, as though it were everyone else annoying him instead of the other way around. “The question is—if Vecna is just a guy with powers like El, how could he have survived this long in the Upside Down? What’s keeping him alive?”

Okay, fine. Attitude or not, Steve hadn’t really thought about it but maybe the kid had a point. 

“The hive mind!” Robin offered up.

“Possibly.” Dustin nodded to her. ”Probably. So, what does that tell us?”

Erica crossed her arms, leaning back heavily into the couch. “I don’t know Mr. Clarke, you wanna share your thoughts with the class?”

“I didn’t say I had all the answers.”

“That’s a first,” Robin mumbled. 

“I’m just trying to get us brainstorming here!”

A flutter of movement pulled Steve’s admittedly already drifting attention away from discussion at hand. Something in the corner, the air there shifting and bending strangely, a little like the way heat shimmers off a sun drenched black top. He watched through his periphery, not daring to actually turn his head to look as a familiar figure materialized there. 

Fuck.

Though he looked confused and disoriented at first, it wasn’t long before the long-haired apparition tried approaching one of them.

Steve swallowed hard, his throat growing painfully tight. He fought to keep his face neutral as the ghost raised a hand in front of Dustin's face, calling the boy's name loudly before moving on to Erica, then Nancy—and Steve panicked, knowing he had to do something before the figure tried the same with him. 

“Water,” he muttered, mainly to Robin as he rose and bumped her shoulder. She was the only one really paying attention to him anyway, while the others still argued the physics and limitations of the alternate dimension. 

Steve fled for the relative quiet and safety of his kitchen. He just needed a minute alone to get his shit together, but he should have expected the phantom footfalls that followed him across the tile floor to the cabinet. 

As he took out a tall glass with shaking hands, the ghost hopped up to sit on the counter just beside him and started talking to himself.

“What the hell does a guy gotta do to get a little attention, huh?” The figure held up his slightly transparent hands in front of his own face, turning them over and back again. “I-I’m kinda freaking out here.”

Under the show of irritation he sounded sad, and a little terrified.

“They can’t see you,” Steve muttered softly, regretting it the second the words passed his lips. 

He knew better than to engage with ghosts. 

Since the moment he’d first shown signs of the gift, he’d been taught by his late grandfather to leave the spirit world be, and mind his own goddamn business.

He’d only broken the rules one other time, about a month or so after they learned the full truth of what happened to Barb and he’d seen her essence lurking around his pool at night. That experience had only served to further prove the old man’s point. 

Nothing good ever came from acknowledging the dead. 

But this was Eddie. 

They’d fought together, bled together. Eddie was his–his ally, his compatriot, his friend. 

And towards the end there Steve was even starting to think that maybe… maybe one day they could be more, if he ever got up the courage to flirt back.

Not that it mattered now.

“No shit, Harrington!” Eddie spat. “I’ve been waving my hands in front of their faces, screaming Dustin's name at the top of my lungs and getting jack squat back in return. I mean what the fu—”

With a sad little smile Steve turned, finally looking straight at the other boy just in time to see his eyes go impossibly wide. 

“Wait—holy shit! Harrington, does this mean you can see me?!”

Steve winced, grimacing at the sheer volume of Eddie's voice. “And hear you, unfortunately.”

Who knew the loudest guy he’d ever met would be even louder in death. 

Actually, that tracked. 

“Steve?” Robin’s voice filtered in as she called out to him from the other room.

Steve took a deep breath, locking eyes with the adorably confused looking ghost haunting his kitchen as he shouted back to her. “Yeah?” He raised a hand to his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose just as Robin appeared in the doorway. 

“What are you up to in here?” She asked.

“Oh, just…” Steve trailed off, trying and failing not to track Eddie’s movements as he hopped down off the counter and began to stalk towards Robin, a determined, mischievous glint in his eye. 

“ …talking to myself.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Are you okay she asks,” Eddie grumbled, tipping his head mockingly from side to side. “Pfft—I’m the one who’s invisible. Why isn’t anyone asking if I’m okay?”

“Um,” Steve fought to keep a level expression and not laugh, even as Eddie blew wet raspberries and made increasingly silly faces inches from an oblivious Robin’s nose. “No, actually. I think I might have a migraine coming on,” he lied.

“You want me to get everyone to leave?” She asked.

Yes, good plan! 

In fairness he wasn’t exactly feeling his best. He was exhausted. It had been a long few days.

A long… week and a half? 

Years. 

It had been a long few years.

And he needed some time alone with Eddie, to talk.

“That'd be great, yeah. Thanks, Rob.”

“Sure thing. Why don't you go get in bed with your eye mask on, and I'll bring water and painkillers up?”

“Oooh,” Eddie crooned. “His majesty sleeps with an eye mask? Fancy.”

Ugh, why were all of Steve’s favorite people such fucking smartasses? He glared at Eddie before he could stop himself. Which meant he was staring daggers at a blank wall right now, right in front of Robin, leaving her looking more concerned than ever. 

Shit. 

He should have known she’d wanna stay behind and take care of him. 

“I—um, t-that’s okay,” Steve stuttered out. “M-maybe you should just go on home too.”

Her face fell.

Hacking and wheezing, he forced a fake coughing fit in her direction, only barely covering his mouth with his hand.

“Very convincing,” Eddie commented with clear sarcasm.

Robin wrinkled her nose, recoiling like the germaphobe Steve knew and loved.

“Sorry, I think I'm coming down with a cold or something actually. You should get out while you still can.”

Robin bit at her lip, looking mildly dubious, but eventually she nodded. “Fine. Just promise you’ll call me if it gets any worse, or if you need anything?”

“I promise.”

While everyone cleared out, Steve hid in the kitchen, finally getting that drink of water he so desperately needed—his throat was on fire now that he thought about it—and splashed some more cold water from the sink on his face for good measure.

“You sure you’re not actually coming down with something?” Eddie asked, sitting back up on his perch on the counter. “You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine,” Steve said with practiced ease, though his head was beginning to throb a bit. Maybe that migraine thing wasn’t as much of a lie as he’d thought.

With the house now safely empty of prying eyes and ears, he ventured back out into the living room, with Eddie hovering along behind, and locked the deadbolt on the front door before plopping down hard on the couch, letting his head rest against the back of it.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Eddie asked, pacing back and forth along the floor in front of him.

Steve let his head loll to one side. “Plan?”

Eddie groaned, stopping in his tracks to throw his head up to the ceiling. “Why couldn’t it be Henderson who can see me.”

Okay, rude.

“A plan, y'know?” Eddie went on. “To get me back? To get me out of the Upside Down or whatever purgatory I'm currently languishing in?”

Steve could only stare at him blankly for a moment as the words sank in. “Eddie—” he began hesitantly, sitting up straight.

“What? Don't tell me you’ve all given up on me already?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Steve had heard about this, how sometimes spirits don’t realize they’ve passed on, but surely Eddie had to know. What other possible explanation could he have for suddenly becoming invisible and incorporeal? 

“Eddie, what is it you think is happening here, exactly?” He asked, praying he was wrong but bracing himself for the worst. How on earth do you go about telling someone you care about that they’re dead?

“Well, clearly I–I'm…” Eddie sputtered haughtily for a moment before looking away. “I'm not sure. I’ve been separated from my body somehow, obviously. S-so It’s gotta be some weird Vecna shit, right? And uh, you can hear me and see me b-because… because we both got bit by the bats and it gave us, like, our own little freaky hive-mind type… thing?” 

He sounded less and less sure as he went on, and Steve’s heart ached for him. He remembered the bats attacking him part, but not the dying part. That just seemed cruel.

“Eddie, um,” Steve cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together nervously. “I don’t know how to tell you this but you… you died.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie snorted.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. We came back from the Creel house and you…” Steve paused, struggling for a second to force his words past the sudden lump in his throat. “Dustin was sitting there with your—”.

“No.” Eddie shook his head roughly. “No–no, because, if I'm dead… then how is it you can see me? Huh?! Explain that!” 

“It runs in my family. My dad doesn't have the gift but my grandfather was able to see ghosts, and his father before that.”

“Suuure, Harrington,” Eddie’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “So—not only am I supposed to believe that I'm dead, but also that you’re descended from some long line of ghost whisperers? Is this a joke to you?! I’m in dire need of–of fucking rescue, and you’re over here trying to fuck with me? Not cool, man. Not cool.”

Steve stood, almost reaching out as he itched to comfort the other boy in some way, but he knew well that it was pointless. “I’m not, I swear I'm not messing with you. I know it’s not what you want to hear, and I'm so sorry but I'm telling you the truth. Dustin, he—” Steve’s voice cracked. “You didn’t have a pulse, Eddie.”

“Stop it!” Eddie snapped.

“I’m sorry, really. I–”

“I said stop!” 

With a choked off sob Eddie moved to shove him away, only to stumble when his hands found nothing solid, or rather, as Eddie’s ghostly and very not solid form passed right through Steve’s body.

Steve held his breath as he waited for it, the sensation of being doused in a bucket of ice water, the spine tingling, creepy crawly thing he’d felt the only other time he’d let a ghost near enough to touch.

But this was nothing like that. 

Eddie felt… warm. And while Steve still shivered it wasn’t because the failed touch had been bad or painful. Quite the opposite, actually. He was left with a pleasant buzzing in his core, the initial warmth lingering, wrapping around him like an embrace before fading slowly.

Maybe all spirits were different. Maybe Barb had felt cold because she’d hated him, because it was his pool she died in—his fault she was out there in the first place.

But Eddie was…

Oh shit—Eddie. 

Steve spun to find him on the floor with his knees pulled up, hugging them to his chest, his huge brown eyes shining with unshed tears. 

Could ghosts cry?

Steve knelt down next to him, biting back a wince as the movement pulled at the bandages hiding beneath his shirt. He’d need to change those again tonight, they felt tacky with dried blood.

Eddie's voice shook when he finally spoke again. “I’m—dead?’

Steve bowed his head in a solemn nod. He would have given anything in that moment to be able to wrap his arms around Eddie.

“T-the bats?”

“There were just too many of them,” Steve explained. “It looked like you put up a hell of a fight, but I think you bled out.”

“My uncle, Wayne, do you know if he—” Eddie trailed off, worrying his bottom lip.

“Dustin talked to him. He couldn't risk telling him everything, but he gave him your guitar pick, and told him you were a hero. That you died a hero.”

Eddie barked a wet laugh, shaking his head.

“It’s the truth," Steve said, hoping his tone left no room for doubt. "If you hadn't distracted them we never would have made it into that attic. And If you hadn’t led them away when you did…” He didn’t need to say it, they both knew Dustin could—and likely would—have been hurt or worse, and those things would have gone through the gate and into the right side up.

It was exactly what Steve would have done too, had their roles been reversed.

“How long has it been?” Eddie asked, quietly.

“Three? No–no, four days.”

“And Vecna?”

“Down, but not out. We wounded him for sure but he got away. That's why everyone was here tonight.”

“Okay,” Eddie blew out a long breath, rubbing hard at his eyes. “What happens now? Do you like, help me find the light or something?” His eyes darted around as though some doorway or portal might appear right there in the living room. “Or maybe I'm going the other way. I can think of a few reasons the big guy might not let me upstairs, but what do I know, maybe self-sacrifice gets you a free pass?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t this your legacy or whatever?”

“I’ve never done,” Steve waved a hand, gesturing between the two of them. “This before. I was taught to ignore the dead. Pretend I can't see them just like everyone else and let them go about their business.”

“How come?”

“Grandfather said if you get too involved, if the dead find out you can see them they’ll never leave you alone. That it’s dangerous. The dead linger for a lot of reasons, but the most common are unfinished business and revenge. Lots of angry spirits out there according to the Harrington journals.”

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully. “Am I really the first ghost you’ve ever talked to?”

Steve thought of Barb again, the way her face had morphed into a rage-filled mask when he revealed he’d been able to see her all along, but he pushed it forcefully out of his mind.

And lied.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I just told you, my grandfather—”

“No,” Eddie cut in. “I mean why, after a lifetime of ignoring ghosts, did you choose to acknowledge me?”

“B-because, you’re—“ Steve faltered, not knowing quite how to put it into words. He wasn’t sure even he totally understood. Yes he’d started developing a crush on the guy, but it was more than that. They had a connection, Steve felt it, even if Eddie didn’t. And maybe it was normal—inevitable even, when you get thrown into this shit together. But whether it was all just trauma bonding or something more, Steve couldn’t deny the pull.

“You’re—” he tried to say again as he pushed himself to his feet, only to double over, sucking air through his teeth as the dull pain in his sides turned searing and sharp.

“Steve?” Eddie shot up as he spoke, sounding worried.

“‘M fine,” Steve grit out, managing to straighten his posture without another outburst. “Jus' tired.”

Eddie raised a single eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t argue, silently following Steve as he headed for the staircase and began to climb.

Of course, this was Eddie, so he was only capable of being silent for so long.

“Hey, how come I can’t touch you, but I can walk up the stairs?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve huffed out, breath stuttering as he neared the top landing. 

Just a few more steps.

“Do you think I could, like, sit on a couch, or—or lay in a bed?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve repeated, trying not to sound as annoyed and in pain as he felt. He just had to make it to his room, get these stupid wounds cleaned and then he could pass out for a few hours. Maybe then he’d be able to answer questions and figure out what to do about all this. 

“What if I—”

“Eddie!” Steve barked from the top step, whirling to face him. He nearly lost his balance before catching himself with a hand on the wall. His sides were screaming at him and the throbbing in his head was getting worse too. “I really don’t know any more than you do. I don’t know all the ins and outs, or why things work the way they work.  Can you please just give it a rest for a minute?”

Eddie wilted, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Sorry.”

Fuck.

“No,” Steve sighed. ”No, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t be… y’know, when you’re—”

“Dead?!” Eddie snapped, raising his head again. He looked hurt.

“Sorry.” Steve sucked his lip between his teeth.

“Whatever.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie stomped past him and into the upstairs hallway. “Spare me the pity party. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m telling you, if I was dead, I'd know it.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut again without another word. He didn’t have the energy, and If that was what Eddie needed to believe for now to get through this, then who was he to tell him what to think? It wouldn’t change the facts but if it made him feel better, what was the harm?

Somehow Eddie had guessed the right door. He waited, leaning up against the opposite wall and very deliberately didn’t look at Steve as he walked over, and pushed into his bedroom. 

Steve went right through to the bathroom to get this over with, not bothering to close the door behind him, assuming Eddie would be able to walk right through anyway if he wanted to.

Eddie did follow, still silently brooding as he found another piece of wall to hold up.

Steve ignored him for now, he felt awful but he’d try to apologize again later once the other boy had calmed down, and carefully peeled his shirt off as he stood in front of the mirror. 

The bandages at his sides looked gnarly and gross. He’d bled again, and it looked like there was something yellow seeping into the huge squares of gauze too. He turned his body to the side, looking over his shoulder to see how the road rash on his back was doing. It looked better than the front, but that wasn’t saying much. The skin around the wide scrapes was red and inflamed. He couldn’t cover those on his own and could really only clean them in the shower, but they were shallow at least and would eventually heal on their own, he figured. 

A quiet gasp reminded him of his audience, and a quick glance over through the mirror showed Eddie staring at his torso with wide eyes.

“It looks worse than it is,” Steve said quietly, quickly looking away. Which wasn’t exactly true but the last thing he needed right now was another person trying to force him to go to the hospital. 

He knew some first aid. 

It was fine.

Turning back to face the sink, Steve ran water over a washcloth and held it to each of his dressings to soak them off. The air stung when it finally hit the wounds, as though they'd been freshly opened, and, sure enough, there was definitely some pus seeping from the edges.

No problem. He’d just have to clean them extra thoroughly.

Gritting his teeth, Steve poured a hefty amount of peroxide on a new clean washcloth and began to gently pat his right side. 

The pain was instant and excruciating. 

Bile rose in his throat, a cold sweat breaking out across his body as the world around him swam. Steve swayed on his feet, dropping the cloth to the ground as he himself began to fall. 

A sudden warmth at his back, and strong hands wrapping around his chest were the only thing that kept him on his feet. Carefully avoiding the worst of his wounds, Eddie had caught him, holding the bulk of his weight until the spinning in his head stopped.

The moment Steve could stand on his own again Eddie jumped back as though he’d been burned.

Steve’s eyes snapped up, locking with Eddie’s in their reflections as he realized with a start what had just happened.

“How?” He whispered. He could still feel the imprint of Eddie’s hands where they had cradled him to his chest. He’d felt so… real, so solid, so—alive for that handful of seconds. 

“I-I don't know!” Eddie said, a little too loud in the small space. “I didn’t even think, or-or like, I forgot that I couldn't. I saw you about to go down and I didn't want you to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t think it was possible." Steve took a step towards him. "You should try to do that again.”

Eddie tucked his hands behind his back, moving as far away as he could without actually leaving the room. “Don't we have more important things to worry about? Like maybe getting you to a hospital?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I told you, it looks worse than it is.”

It was abundantly clear that Eddie didn’t believe him, but something about the accidental touch had freaked him out enough that he let it go.

As quickly as he could, Steve finished cleaning the ruined expanse of his stomach and got both sides wrapped in fresh bandages, managing to do so without nearly fainting this time, and threw a clean t-shirt on to hide the evidence. Hopefully that would stop Eddie looking at him with those big brown fucking sad worried eyes of his. 

Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. 

As much as he liked Eddie’s attention on him, these weren’t exactly the circumstances he would have hoped for.

Steve shut the lights off, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“We should try it again,” Steve mumbled through a long drawn-out yawn.

Eddie laughed softly from his corner hiding spot. “What was that, big boy?”

Steve wished he’d try to join him on the bed, but didn’t know how to ask. He untangled one of his arms from the sheets, reaching a hand out in Eddie’s direction. “Touch me?” 

The room was dark, and it could have been that Steve was a little delirious but he was pretty sure a light blush crept over Eddie's cheeks as he took a step closer, his own ringed hand outstretched.

The sight set off butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Steve waited to feel the tips of their fingers brush, was desperate to feel Eddie’s touch again if he was honest, but it was no use, Eddie’s long digits passed right through.

“Maybe we have to–” Steve interrupted himself with another deep yawn. His body still ached but now that he was tucked in and warm in his bed, it was getting hard to fight the inevitable. 

“Just go to sleep, man,” Eddie said, his lips quirking into a small crooked smile. “It's not like I'm going anywhere.”

It should have been awkward, or weird to know someone would be there all night, lurking around while he slept, but as Steve drifted off he felt safer than he had in a long time, oddly comforted by the fact that Eddie would be there watching over him, even if he was just a ghost.

Thanks as always to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta and an absolutely amazing cheerleader!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

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Fic taglist (open): @sidekick-hero

[guilty-pleasures21]

The health checkup

Patient!Miguel x Doctor!Reader ?! I'm just crazy for shy Miguel, okay?! 😍

Warnings: manipulation for sex and explicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

_______________________________________________

     “Dr O’Hara?” Miguel looked up at the sound of his name and the nurse gestured for him to head to the examination room. “The doctor is ready to see you now.” Miguel strode over to the door and knocked on it before entering. It was just his yearly checkup with his usual doctor - the older man he’d been seeing for years. But the doctor sitting in the chair when he walked in was neither old nor a man. 

     “Doctor O’Hara?” the unfamiliar doctor inquired, looking up from her computer to flash him a warm smile as she did so. She was really pretty: tumbling curls, almond-shaped eyes, rosy lips. Miguel cleared his throat suddenly, realising he’d been staring. 

     “Uh, it’s academic,” he elaborated, lowering his gaze as he took the empty seat beside her desk. “But … you’re not Dr Jefferson.” 

     “Good observation, Dr O’Hara,” the young doctor teased him. “Looks like your eyesight is all on point. Now let’s check your blood pressure.” He held his arm out so she could strap the monitor around it. Then she pressed the ‘start’ button before turning her attention back to him. 

     “I’m X, by the way,” she introduced herself finally. “I don’t know if Dr Jefferson told you before, but he’ll be retiring soon, so we’re starting to transfer his patients to other doctors.” 

     Right. Dr Jefferson had told him that, when Miguel had come in for a nasty cough a while back. But did that mean that this new, unnecessarily cute little doctor was going to be his regular from now on? “Oh, yeah. I’m Miguel.” 

     “Nice to meet you, Miguel.” She flashed him that pretty little smile again, then removed the monitor before pulling out her penlight. “So, Miguel, what are you a doctor in?” 

     He flinched a little as she shone the pen into his eyes, but she finished rather quickly before moving on to his ears. “Uh, genetics.” 

     “Ooh, fancy!” She sat back down in front of him and took hold of his chin and he opened his jaw to allow her a glimpse of the back of his throat. “I was thinking of specialising in that at one point.” She placed her penlight back into her pocket, then turned around to prepare the syringe and tube for taking a sample of his blood. 

     “But?” Miguel asked, the nervous fluttering of his stomach getting drowned out by his curiosity now. She shrugged, then turned back to him to clean the inside of his elbow.

     “I dunno. I quite liked looking after patients.” She tied a band around his upper arm, then tapped on his skin to find the vessel. “So I thought I’d stick to it.” Miguel felt a slight pinch as she stuck the needle in, but he kept his gaze fixed on her as she drew his blood. 

     “How old are you?” he inquired, his eyes narrowing in thought. She seemed pretty young to be working on her own already. Not that it made him doubt her abilities in any way! It just made him think that maybe she was really smart - another one of the boxes on his checklist ticked off. Not that he’d been counting or anything. Then, realising that the question might come across as offensive, he quickly added “if you don’t mind me asking!” 

     X removed the syringe and set the tube of blood down on the sampling tray. “Twenty-seven.” 

     His eyes widened in surprise: she was four years younger than him! He didn’t think doctors could start practising on their own until they were at least thirty or something. “Wow, that’s … pretty impressive.”

     X turned back around to face him and shot him a little wink that had his stomach flipping over. 

     “I’m a fast learner,” she joked. She reached into a drawer and took out a small tube, then she stood up and started pulling on some gloves. “Could you get on the bed, Miguel? I’ll be conducting your prostate exam now. It should only take a minute or two.” 

     Miguel felt his entire body heat up at her request - he’d completely forgotten about that part of the checkup! But how the hell was he supposed to let this pretty little doctor stick her fingers up his ass?! “Uh, right.” 

     Miguel walked over to the bed and started undoing his belt and zip, making sure to keep himself turned away from her. Dios, this was so awkward! Or maybe he was just making it awkward? She was a doctor, after all: she’d probably done this a hundred other times, with a hundred other men. He dropped his pants and underwear and climbed up onto the bed, waiting as she coated her fingers with the lube she’d taken out. 

     “I love it when a man knows how to listen,” X joked, placing her hands on his cheeks. Joder. How could she say that? How could she tease him like that when her slender fingers were gliding all over his skin and gently prodding around in his ass? F*ck. “Are you sexually active?” 

     “Uh, yes. But not recently!” Coño, why did he say that? And so quickly too, like he wanted her to know he was available or something? Available for what?! “I’ve just … been a little busy with work lately.” 

     “Hmm.” He was really cute, the way he kept shifting around and clearing his throat and sneaking nervous glances at her. And so hot too, with his dark hair and his sculpted features and his perfectly crafted physique. Shit. She was so glad Dr Jefferson had decided to retire. “What kind of work do you do?” 

     “Just research,” Miguel responded vaguely, too distracted by the feeling of her long fingers brushing against him to focus on anything else. Finally, she pulled away from him and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Bien, it was over. Now he could leave and request to be transferred to a different doctor - someone older and meaner who wouldn’t make him start getting hard every time they so much as smiled at him. Mierda, he was such an idiot. 

     “Feels good!” X informed him, taking a step back so he could push himself up off the bed. “Should we do a fertility check now?” 

     A what? Dr Jefferson had never suggested such a thing before. Miguel twisted his head back to look at her before posing the question. “A what?” 

     “A fertility check,” she repeated, already feeling her underwear starting to get damp at the thought of his cock. “Don’t tell me Dr Jefferson never did one for you.” 

     She said it so casually, like it was a normal part of the examination that he’d maybe missed out on. So maybe Dr Jefferson had just forgotten about it? 

     “Um, no.” He pulled his underwear back up over his waist and then turned around to face her. “What does it involve?” He glanced up at her briefly and felt the blood begin to redirect itself to his cock at the mischievous glint in her eyes. But it was a ‘fertility’ check - what else was he supposed to think it would involve?

     “Well, first,” X began, taking a slow step towards him. “I’m going to want to make sure that your testicles are all in order: no abnormal lumps or anything like that. Then I’m going to need a sample of your sperm.”

     She placed her hands on the bed - in the space between his legs, right in front of his rapidly hardening cock - and tilted her head as she gave him a challenging smirk. “Are you up for that, Dr O’Hara?” 

     He swallowed hard and shifted in position as he thought about it - as he tried to think about it, all his thoughts currently focused on if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. But coño, she was his p*nche doctor, for f*ck’s sake! How disrespectful of him to be having such thoughts about her! “Uh, if … if you think it’s necessary.”

     Shit, he was so cute! How could someone so hot be so nervous?! She straightened and tried not to let her lips stretch too wide as she lowered her gaze to his crotch. “Pants off, please.” 

     Miguel glanced away from her and cleared his throat as he slid his underwear back down. His eyes flickered back up to her when she didn’t do anything, and he felt his cock twitch when he saw the way she bit her lip at the sight of him. F*ck. 

     Wow. He was hard? Already? For her? X looked up to find him already looking at her, and he dropped his gaze quickly when their eyes met. She grinned and got down on her knees to pull his pants off entirely. 

     She was … a little enthusiastic in the way she ripped his pants off. But maybe she just wanted to get it over with? She was probably busy, after all, with a whole list of patients to get through today. And that was the last rational thought he could remember having, because then her hands were on his balls, her fingers stroking and kneading him so carefully, so gently. Miguel sucked in a breath and gripped onto the edges of the bed at the sensation and she looked up at him in question. 

     “Everything all right, doctor?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice as she said it. F*ck, this was so embarrassing! How could he be getting hard for his doctor while she was just trying to conduct a routine exam? Miguel didn’t trust himself to keep his voice steady if he spoke, so he settled for just nodding instead. X grinned and turned her attention back to his cock, the tip already red and swollen for her. 

     “Miguel …” she began slowly, licking her lips at the sight of his engorged cock - he was so big, she couldn’t even wrap her fingers all the way around him! Shit, he was hot! “Do you think I could … use my hands? Without the gloves, I mean. I could … get a better feel of things …” 

     She fluttered her eyelashes up at him pleadingly and f*ck, how could he resist her when she was looking up at him like that, her dark eyes all wide and pretty? He nodded again and she took off her gloves before returning her hands back to his cock. 

     Coño, it felt even better; having her smooth skin running over his cock and brushing along his length so delicately. She circled his slit with her thumb while she moved her other hand back to his balls and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop a groan from escaping his throat. 

     She wished he wasn’t so shy - she wanted to hear the satisfied groans and moans fall from his lips as she played with him. He just had such a nice voice, so deep and so gentle, and she’d have loved to hear him vocalise the pleasure he was deriving from having her hands all over him. Maybe she should try something else? 

     “Miguel,” X called to him, her gaze fixed on his cock as she stroked and squeezed him gently. “I’m … running out of lubricant. Do you mind if I …” 

     She looked up at him and licked her lips and he felt his heart start thudding in his chest at the hungry look in her eyes. ¡P*ta madre! How was it even possible for her to get any prettier?! Sitting there in between his legs, her delicate hands pumping his cock slowly, the tip just inches from her mouth. He knew exactly what she was asking him without her even having to finish the sentence. Miguel found himself nodding in agreement and X’s features lit up with delight. 

     She leaned forward and gave his tip a kitten lick - so light he barely felt it. Then she dragged her tongue harder against his slit and his entire body shuddered at the feeling. She snickered at his response, then swirled her tongue around his length, her head moving forward slowly so she could pull him into her mouth. And then he was inside of her, her mouth warm and wet around his cock, her tongue trailing along his length as she bobbed her head up and down. 

     “F*ck!” Miguel exclaimed, digging his fingers into the bed. X chuckled at his response, then pulled him deep into her mouth before giving a satisfied moan. Miguel shivered again as the vibrations of her voice danced along his length and then he let out a low groan. Coño, he wished he could reach out and grab her head, hold her in position while he f*cked that pretty little mouth of hers. Mierda, she felt good. 

     Holy shit! Holy shit, he sounded so good! And he felt amazing too, sitting there so obediently while she licked and sucked on his dick. She dragged her fingernails along his thighs and let out another moan before pushing her head forward, taking him all the way into her mouth and then swallowing around him. 

     “F**********ck!” Miguel’s head fell back in pleasure and he bit his lip as his cock began throbbing inside her mouth. Then she pulled her head back, dragging him out of her mouth before she sat back to look up at him. 

     “Miguel.” She swallowed hard at the sight of him, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, his eyes glazed over with lust, and her stomach flipped. “I don’t … want to get anything on my clothes. Are you all right if I take them off? Just until I get the sample!” 

     She gave him an innocent look, blinking her curly lashes up at him as she waited for his response. But f*ck, he could see the mischief hovering on the edges of her expression, her rosy lips curling at the ends as she let her fingers go back to stroking and fisting his cock. Did he really feel that good? So good that she refused to let any part of her body lose contact with his? Or was she just trying to be a good doctor and get him to come so she could get a sample of his sperm? She ran her tongue across her lips, licking up the prec*m smeared all over them, and he felt his cock give another twitch at the sight. X grinned, delighted, and Miguel guessed that he must have nodded his head without even realising it. Because then she was standing in front of him, her pretty little body completely bare before him so that he could trail his eyes over her tanned skin and her perky tits and her perfectly curved waist. “Mierda.” 

     His cock jerked at the sight of her naked and X giggled before climbing up onto the bed and straddling him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward, bringing her mouth close to his. 

     “I’m still going to need that sample, Dr O’Hara,” she informed him, her voice low and seductive as she spoke. She tilted her head and he followed the movement, his lips chasing hers instinctively. She grinned at the dazed look on his face and pressed her lips to his gently, brushing them against his as she spoke. “Are you going to give it to me? Are you gonna … Are you gonna come for me, Miguel? Or am I gonna have to make you?” 

     He slid his hands along her sides as they kissed, groaning at the feeling of her tongue tangling with his - mierda, she tasted sweet - then he lowered his hands to her ass and dug his fingers into her soft flesh before tugging her even closer to him. “F*ck, you’re so soft. And so f*cking pretty.” 

     X chuckled against his lips as she continued to move her mouth against his, her hands sliding into his hair to tangle in the strands. “Prettier than Dr Jefferson?” 

     Miguel didn’t respond, choosing instead to move his hands around to her breasts as he continued to lick into her mouth. X gasped as he began to knead her breasts gently, then she felt her p*ssy start to leak again as he circled her nipples with his thumbs. 

     “Mmm, Miguel,” she squeaked into his mouth, her body beginning to contract as he stimulated her. She sank against his chest and he nipped at her lower lip before wrapping his arms around her waist and moving his lips to her neck. Her head fell back as he grazed his teeth along her throat, and she let out a whimper when he nibbled on her collarbone before kissing and licking his way back up to her jaw. “Miguel, do you … Do you want to take your shirt off? You seem … You seem to be running a little hot, Dr O’Hara.”  

     “Mmm,” Miguel moaned against her skin as he glided his hands up her back. He was too focused on how soft she felt in his arms to pay attention to what she was saying. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever.” 

     X let her hands drift down to the hem of his shirt as he continued to press open-mouth kisses to her neck and shoulder, then she pulled his shirt off. 

     “Shit,” she groaned, licking her lips at the sight of his broad chest and hard abdomen. She ran her hands along his glistening skin, appreciating the defined ridges of his muscles, then wrapped herself around him so that her breasts were pressing into his chest. “Mmm, Miguel.” 

     She started kissing him again, rolling her hips against his and delighting in how warm he felt against her, his bare skin sliding against her own. He gripped onto her ass and she giggled as he started moving her harder against him, her soaked p*ssy rubbing against his stiff cock. 

     “Miguel,” X began again, moving her lips to his neck so she could lick the sweat off of his skin. Shit, he tasted good. “Aren’t you gonna come for me, doctor? Aren’t you …” She let out another soft moan and Miguel squeezed her ass again in response. 

     “You want me to come for you?” he asked, slipping his hand in between their bodies to try to find his cock. “You want me to come for you, princesa? I’ll come for you, just … just let me …” He fumbled with his cock, trying to guide it into her hole as she continued to lick and nibble on his neck. Mierda, how was she so wet already? How could she be so aroused by him when he hadn’t even done anything - just sat there and listened to what she’d said? Was she just that attracted to him? Joder, that was hot. 

     “Mmm, you need some help, Miguel?” X asked, grinning when she felt him trying to slide himself into her. “You need to feel my p*ssy squeezing around this deliciously huge cock of yours before you let me get a taste of your c*m?” 

     “F************ck!” Miguel groaned, his head falling back in pleasure at her dirty words. How could she say that? How could his pretty little doctor just sit there and suck on his dick? And then climb up on top of him and tease him with her tight little body? F*ck, she was hot. X leaned forward and nipped at his jaw and he sighed at the feeling before returning his gaze to hers. She continued to fix him with that naughty grin as she curled her fingers around his cock and started sliding him into her.

He dug his fingers into her waist and kept his eyes locked on her face as she wriggled her hips, taking him deeper and deeper into her body. And then he was balls deep inside of her, her warm and wet p*ssy throbbing around his cock pleadingly, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt so good in his life. She reached up to brush her fingers along his cheek, and he clenched his jaw as her body contracted around him. 

     “Miguel!” she whimpered, her lips twisting into a sweet little pout that had him growling and thrusting himself into her insistently. 

     “Yes?” he asked her, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he kept them trained on her face. “Yes, doctor?” Carajo, she felt good, so soft and so f*cking tight around his dick. She gripped onto his shoulders as her body contorted with another contraction and he bit down on her shoulder as his abdomen began to tighten. X slid her fingers into his hair and continued whining and moaning as he kept pumping his cock in and out of her p*ssy. It drove him crazy, the little sounds she kept making, and it wasn’t long until he was coming inside of her, his warm and sticky c*m shooting into her cervix and painting her walls white. She shuddered at the feeling of him filling her up, and then she was coming too, her tight little p*ssy squeezing around his dick and milking him for all he was worth. He kept his arms around her and held her against him until she was done, then she straightened. 

     “Mmm, your flow rate seems good, Dr O’Hara,” she told him, smiling against his mouth as he pressed soft kisses to her lips. She slid her tongue into his mouth and swirled it around before pulling back and getting up off of him. Miguel shifted in position as she began picking her clothes off the floor, his body heating up in embarrassment at the sight of the c*m soaking his thighs. 

     “Uh, don’t you … don’t you need to take a sample?” he asked her, staunchly refusing to meet her gaze. X turned back to him and grinned when she saw him getting all shy again. She bent over and took hold of his cock, bringing her mouth centimetres away from it as she looked up at him. Then she parted her lips and dragged her tongue along his length before closing her mouth around him and licking him up. Miguel sucked in a breath and gripped onto the edge of the bed as she let out a satisfied moan. Finally, she released him with a wet ‘pop’ and stood up again, flashing him a naughty grin.

     “Tastes healthy,” she informed him, sliding her hand up his chest. She leaned forward to kiss him again, spreading the salty taste of him over to his mouth, then she nipped at his lower lip before pulling away from him. “That will be all for today, Dr O’Hara. Don’t forget to make a follow-up appointment with the nurse on the way out - we still have to discuss the results of your blood test.” 

     “Uh, right.” He swallowed hard at the thought of seeing her again; of having to come in and act like nothing had ever happened - like they hadn’t just had sex on her examination bed! But … he did want to see her again. Just … not like this. Miguel slipped his shirt and underwear back on, then fiddled with his belt before pulling his pants back up over his legs. “You know, I could … If you gave me your number, we could … we could always discuss my results over dinner … or something …” 

     He glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes and bit his lip as he waited for her response. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him nervous before her - at him asking her out! - then she turned back to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper to scrawl her number on it. She swivelled back around to pass him the paper, but pulled her hand away before he could take it. 

     “Or,” she suggested instead, her mind working quickly to come up with a retort, “how about we discuss your results at that follow-up appointment, and then talk about something else at dinner?”

     She held the piece of paper out to him and his lips curled at the corners as he took it from her. “I’d like that, X.” 

     X’s smile stretched even wider at his response and she adjusted her shirt before heading back to her desk. “I’ll see you soon, Miguel!” 

     Before the week was up, if he had anything to say about it. He grinned and gave her a little salute before making his way to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Dr X.”

[voidandabyssal]

Can I get add the swap and swapfell brothers to the Amalgam request? Maybe even Horrortale?

Of course you can! here's the link to the first amalgram post! I'll just do the Swap and SwapFell brothers for now though.

Blue:

when you go missing he's the first to notice. Both of you text pretty frequently when your not around each other (which is pretty rare in of itself). He visits your home, then your job, then any other areas your known to frequently vist. Getting more and more worried as you remain missing for longer and don't respond to his calls.

He calls Stretch out to help with looking for you, his brother knows a lot of people so they'd both find out pretty soon that you were last seen visiting Undyne.

Blue decides to sneak into Undyne's lab. Though he does think the best, "probably just some medical check up you forgot to tell him about. Nothing big!"

Immediately goes to comforting you when he does find you.

Keeps hugging you even when you try and push him away, apologising for melting over him.

He confronts Undyne he confesses to hiding both yourself and the rest of the amalgamites away.

Blue calls in Alphys to help deal with the situation and re-unite everyone. Then he and Stretch take you back home. He promises to help you in any way.

He tries to do what you want, if you want to find a cure, then he's recruiting Stretch, even a regretful Undyne to the cause. You just want to learn to live again? Yep and he's by your side every step of the way

Stretch:

Immediately suspicious when you just disappear. That's unusual for you. He asks around and finds that a few of his bar friends saw you and Undyne together. Weird, especially cause you don't really know her.

He shoots a text to Undyne asking her where you are. When she starts acting weird, changing subject, ignoring phone calls, asking dumb questions, he gets really suspicious

He goes down into the old lab his father used to work in. Guessing that Undyne still uses it.

Imagine his surprise (and horror) when he finds you, malformed, melting and in constant pain.

He carries you up and confronts Undyne. It's not a confrontation that goes well...

Of course Undyne is heartbroken and riddled with guilt. She had never thought that determination could do something like that.

Stretch keeps you in the lab. Hoping that with him and Undyne's intelligence, a cure could be found quickly.

He grabs things from your home that he knows would comfort you. Blankets, clothes, books, anything that keeps you stable and happy.

Somehow still manages to make time for cuddles.

Black (SF Sans)

boy if you even think you're leaving his eyesight!!!

seriously tho, I can only imagine Black would ever let someone like, euugh, Undyne, if you were in serious trouble.

Likely you had some serious health issues, or maybe you even fell down.

Whatever the case, he was desperate to help you and Undyne's kind of the only qualified doctor they have left. So off you go...

yeah, it doesn't go well. Black genuinely tries to murder Undyne. He takes this not only as a slight against you, but as action against him.

You're under HIS protection, meaning when someone fucks with you, they fuck with him.

Mutt steps in and manages to calm his brother down, pointing out that Undyne may actually be one of the only people to be able to help you.

Black keeps a VERY close eye on you. If you haven't already moved in with him, you are now!

Tasks his brother with keeping you safe when he has to leave.

Mutt (SF Papyrus):

probably the one to fuck up this time, ngl.

He was actually apart of the royal scientists before he left it. Like Black, he wouldn't want any science experiment stuff going on and he tries to keep you seperate from it.

We don't always get what we want though, from one reason to another, bad timing, thoughtless decisions, etc. You ended up overdosing from two much determination.

the guilt almost cracks his soul in two. He can't look you in the eye after what happened.

Keeps you hidden away in the true lab, occasionally popping in when he's either really drunk, high, or holding some new serum that's supposed to cure you.

Poor boy already struggled with substance abuse, this just makes it worse.

When he shortcuts in drunk; he just cries, holding your malformed body and crying apologies and begging for forgiveness.

Then he disappears in the morning when he wakes up hungover as hell and realises what he'd done.

[thesupreme316]

Is the Grass Green on the Other Side? Ep. 4

SO SORRY FOR THY DELAY

Summary: The pressure piles on Y/N as tensions continue to rise in her life (Mercedes and Trinity leaving, relationship falling apart, career being jeopardized). What happens when she takes matters into her own hands?

Word Count: 2.8K

Taglist: @hookerforhook @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @sheinthatfandom​ @zatarias-pandora @hooks-martin​

Links to Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

May 21, 2022 (Saturday)

“Do you think you can suplex me?” 


“Y/N, sweetheart, I can do a lot of things to you.” Hook said with a smirk and wink.

Immediately blushing, you got into position for another takedown. You and Hook have been practicing for three hours on different moves: suplexes, clotheslines, strikes, and submissions. You helped him in various moments; telling him what to emphasize, what he needs to pay attention to, how he should execute a move, etc. You were just hoping that he couldn’t see the stress underneath the surface.

Although this was a good exercise to destress, you couldn’t help but constantly think about how Mercedes and Trinity’s leave has affected your mentality. It was hard to keep your focus straight, but somehow you managed to do so to train Hook.

Even though he is in fact, a cold-hearted and handsome devil.

A very handsome devil indeed.

During the entire session, Hook (or Tyler as he wants you to call him) kept flirting with you, most likely to throw you off your game or to lighten the mood. He was a sweet guy tho, constantly making sure you were comfortable and that he was learning properly. He was definitely different from other guys you practiced and trained with, he was serious about his craft.

You found out more and more about him like his inspirations, favorite moves, favorite rappers, etc. After the takedown (which he finally won as you were distracted), you two decided to call it quits. Panting, Hook started up, “So…I make you blush?”

“You wish.”

“I think I do, which is why I won.” Hook chuckled. “Thanks for practicing with me, I really do appreciate it. Especially with the old man down my back.”

“Regal means well, even though his age gets in the way.” You laughed.

“I meant my dad, but yeah including him.” He laughed before continuing, “Well, if it’s alright, I would like to get your number.” He brought out his phone and passed it to you.

“Is it because you want advice and practice, or you just want my number?” You joked while typing in your number.

You handed back his phone as he said, “All the above. Your pretty face is just a bonus.” Chuckling, he waved goodbye before leaving your eyesight and revealing Paige with a big smile.

“Y/N, you did a great job.” You silently thanked her as she continued, “For someone who wasn’t in their best mindset.” You sighed. “Maybe you were able to fool Hook, but you can’t fool me.”

With Paige, she was always able to figure out when you’re uneasy, upset, or just off your game. No one has been able to do that with just one look. “I know this walkout is affecting you, especially with the rumors, but it shouldn’t affect you this bad.”

“She’s right Miss. Y/L/N.” William’s voice echoed. “Now, darling, you’re one of the best in the ring without a doubt and you did an excellent job training the young lad. However, you just look so down or out of it. Now, you can always talk to us.”

You looked between them as tears started to fill your eyes. You sighed and sat down in the middle of the ring, “I’m just so lost right now. I have everything that I want, I wished for, everything that I earned. But it seems like it’s slipping away from me. My friends are now gone and probably not coming back. The company wants me to job to a woman who hasn’t done half of what I do. I’m split between doing what I want and what’s right.”

A moment went by before William asked, “Well sweetheart, what do you want to do?”

“Honestly, I’m between leaving and just going off somewhere to not deal with this bullshit or staying and becoming a damn problem for everyone.”

“Well, do you want my advice?” Paige asked as you immediately nodded your head. “Sometimes doing what you want is the right thing. There are other companies and people to work with, incredible people. For example, and I think I can speak for both me and Mr. Regal, AEW is a great place to look at if you are thinking about your first option. Now, it’s going to be extremely different from WWE but it’s a fantastic place to consider.”

“We all know you will be a star anywhere you go, Miss. Y/L/N.” William started. “There is so much more to wrestling than WWE, you can accomplish so much more outside of the WWE. I just genuinely want you to be happy, and I know you are not going to be happy there if things do not change. And speaking from a person who has transitioned from WWE to AEW, it was a transition that was needed. Not only for my career but for my life.”

Paige sat beside you and rubbed your back, “Darling, we just want the best for you. I know at the end of the day, you’ll make the right decision about everything. Just take your time and breathe.” You nodded and thanked them for their words. “But now, does the Real Deal wanna go against AEW’s fastest-rising star?”

Chuckling and getting up, brushing your outfit, you said, “You are so on.”

June 10, 2022 (Smackdown after Hell in a Cell)

Despite everything in the past month, you were still champ, to everyone’s surprise (and you were just surprised as everyone else).

To be honest, you’re surprised that the tweet about you training with your friends from AEW didn’t get you into more hot water as more rumors of you leaving or being punished, started to spread.

All across Twitter, Instagram, and even in interviews, you’ve been receiving the same questions: What’s going on with you and WWE? Are you leaving? What happened to Sasha Banks and Naomi?

And all you could say was “No comment.”

People are still avoiding you and you haven’t talked to Mercedes and Trinity since they left as they just needed time to themselves.

Your short feud with Raquel ended with you beating her in a 6-minute match (the shortest on the card) and you are now going to be resuming a feud with Liv Morgan that you alluded to a few months ago. Your goal for this feud was to make Liv a star to set her up for bigger things in the future. So for that to work out, you would be working as an anti-hero/heel to build Liv as a baby face.

Along with that, you have been pulled into many meetings with Paul (Triple H) and John Laurinaitis about your storylines, your connections with AEW, and your contract as it was coming to an end in August. Still while praising your work, they still wanted you to drop the title to Ronda (more so John than Paul). Still refusing and not listening, you just allowed them to continue talking.

You eventually left the office and ran into the other woman in the conversation.

“Hey Y/L/N, keeping my championship warm?”

“MY championship is very comfortable, Ronda.” You said emphasizing the first word, squinting at her.

“Creative’s telling me that I’m gonna get my shot by Money in the Bank.  I honestly can’t wait to share the ring with the realest Y/N Y/L/N and take back what’s mine.” Ronda said before walking past you, bumping your shoulder.

“Over my dead body.” You whispered before gripping your title and walking to your locker room. You sat down and pulled out your phone, texting your friends. Since that day you helped train Tyler, you and he have gotten comfortable with each other and text a lot. And Paige has been just checking in on you every day, and Daniel…..is being himself.

Your eyebrows furrowed at Daniel’s text as you tried to decipher his tone. It was unlike Daniel to shut down a conversation unless there was something really bothering him. You didn’t see what was so wrong with you texting Tyler. As you were trying to conclude, there was a knock at the door. You got up to see it was your charming boyfriend. You hesitantly let him in.

“Haven’t seen you in like two weeks.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

“It’s been stressful for me,” Christian said sitting down on your couch. 

“And I’m not trying to downplay your work or anything, but I have been going through just as much stress.” You said, firmly leaning against the wall, with your arms crossed. You weren’t raising your voice, just trying to get your point across.

He sighed, looking up at you. “Y/N, it’s been a stressful week. I just became champion, which you never congratulated me on, and now people are giving me side-eyes because of your rumors going around.”

Your eyes widened as you pushed yourself off the wall. “So you’re saying the reason why you’re so stressed is because of me?”

“Co-workers are looking at me crazy due to your situation, to the point where they don’t even notice that I won the North American Championship-“

“Well, I’m sorry Carmelo that my stressful, messed up, and biased situation going on has taken your spotlight.” You walked up to him, almost three feet from where he was sitting. “And I did congratulate you, you were just so keen on avoiding me that you didn’t answer.”

Christian stood up from the couch, stepping towards you. “Yeah, we’ve been over this. I don’t want people tying me into your mess and then I become the next target.”

“I never once defied your wishes, I always accommodate you. I never allow my mess to become our mess. For once, have you thought about how I feel? About how I need a supportive boyfriend beside me? Why does everything have to be about you?” You said glaring up at him, fists at your side. As the tension grew thick between you, a knock on the door interrupted the intense staring contest.

A stagehand popped their head into the room, “Y/R/N, it’s time for your segment.”

You glanced at the stagehand with a small smile, you thanked them and grabbed your title. Before exiting, you looked back at your anger-filled boyfriend, “When I get back, you need to be gone”

You walked down the hallway to the gorilla as your phone buzzed, notifying you of a text message.

As your theme song played, you put the phone on a nearside table…wishing it was your boyfriend saying those words.

July 2, 2022 (Money in the Bank)

Tonight is the night.

In recent months, even compared to your Wrestlemania moment, this is probably the climax of all your drama.

You and Christian are talking less and less now, you and Daniel are talking at least every second of the day (even when he’s jealous of Tyler), and Paige and Tyler are checking up on you daily.

You’re facing Natalya as Liv was in the women’s Money in the Bank match. And just as planned, she won the match. You watched with glee and congratulated her once she came backstage. You proceeded to watch the rest of the pay-per-view in your locker room before walking to the gorilla a couple of minutes before your match.

As you were stretching, you were called over by Vince McMahon to confirm the plans for tonight. “Okay Y/R/N, so after your match with Nattie, you will squash Liv as she cashes in the briefcase. Then after that, you and Ronda will have a staredown-“ You started to tune Vince’s voice out, you already knew the plan. Did you agree with it? Hell no. But what the boss wants, the boss gets. You were pulled back into the conversation by his question, “Are you okay?”

You found it interesting that he would ask you that question, as he never seemed to care last month or anytime after Mercedes and Trinity left. “Uh, not really. A lot is on my mind, but I’m fine.”

Vince hummed as if he was trying to find a solution. “You know what? Ronda can wait a little later. After you beat Liv, grab the mic and let loose. After you’re done, then Ronda will come out and you will have the staredown.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot I gotta say.”

“I’m sure! Go for it, I’m sure you’ve been dying to say this stuff, so say or do anything you think is right.” Vince said before going back to his seat.

Now that you have permission, you’re about to air everything out.

—Time skip 13 minutes later—

The bell rang as you secretly thanked Natalya and the referee (along with the audience) counted to three. Your leg grew weak during the match and you were currently leaning against the ropes. Your theme song played throughout the arena as you held your championship high above your head and the audience cheered. 

Natalya rolled out the ring, and Liv’s music cut yours off, making the crowd erupt even louder. Liv rushed down the aisle and pushed the briefcase toward the referee’s chest. He brought it over to the ring announcer who stated with the crowd roaring, “Liv Morgan is cashing in her Money in the Bank!”

The bell rang and she leaped towards your body and you moved out the way while grasping your knee and leaning against the ropes again. Liv rushed over and performed her finisher, Oblivion.

1! 2! 3!

“Here’s your winner and the NEW WWE Smackdown Women’s Champion, Liv Morgan!”

It should be a bitter moment for you, now the former champion, but you couldn’t help but smile and look at the ground as Liv was celebrating around the ring. Before the match, you texted Liv about the “changes” in the match and she hesitantly got on board (after you reassured her). You got up and hugged her as she whispered, “Thank you so much.”

You raised her arm before buckling the title around her waist. After another moment, she left the ring as you grabbed the mic and sat down on the mat. The crowd chants your name but after what you’re gonna say, you don’t know how long they’ll chant, so you just try to enjoy the moment.

You raised the mic to your mouth and said, “Congratulations to Liv, hopefully, this company will treat you better and this division will become more meaningful with you as champion. I’m not gonna talk for long, but I just wanted to let everyone know something.” You paused as the crowd started to chant your ring name again.

“I am not interested in helping a charity case nor am I available to be someone’s stepping stone. I have been ridiculed time and time again for a woman who has been in my world for a few years with only two months of training, has been given a title that I worked my ass off, and has been given opportunities that only some can dream of having, and then dares to disrespect my business and my coworkers. I refuse to be embarrassed any further, I refuse to be silenced, and I refuse to sell my soul to the damn devil for this. The fact is this women’s division wouldn’t be what it is without me not her, and no matter how hard you try and no matter how hard you look, you will never be able to replace me.

No one comes close to me! Not on the mic and damn well not in this ring. They know it and you all know it. Whether I remain in this company or not, I, Y/N Y/L/N, am the greatest of all time. And there is not a damn thing you can do or say about it.”

You dropped the mic before getting up and looking around the crowd, emotion filling your eyes. To your surprise, the crowd was still cheering for you and even gave you a standing ovation. You limped out of the ring as the audience yelled “Thank you Y/N.” As you went through the curtains, you saw the angry faces of Vince, John, and other executive producers as Liv and Paul were sitting and looking like scolded puppies in the corner. 

Behind them was most of, if not the entire, locker room. You continued to walk past them as Vince was screaming at you about suspending and fining you for the whole ordeal and being unprofessional.

Was it unprofessional? Yeah.

Was there probably a better way to do this? Probably.

Was going into business for yourself a good call? Probably not.

Was it bold as hell? Yes.

But it felt damn good to speak your mind. And they weren’t gonna hear you out privately, they’ll damn sure hear you now.

And after what seemed like an eternity of Vince screaming at you…

You grabbed your keys and got in your car (ring gear and all)…

And you drove out of the parking garage…

With your future unknown.

[fearhims3lf]

TIMING: A few weeks ago

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @fearhims3lf

SUMMARY: Mateo invites Xóchitl over for some homemade pozole, and the two discover some scary truths.

WARNINGS: None

The stew simmered quietly, the meat sizzling in the neighboring pan as Mateo hummed to the music playing from his speakers. Angel, just a few feet away, lay in her bed, sleeping soundly. Wicked’s Rest had never felt more like home, but the ache and longing for Temple was still persistent. He took a deep breath and exhaled, moving on as quickly as he could to focus on making the red sauce for the stew.

He threw everything in, letting it all mix together with a press of a button to bring the blender to life. A knock at the door took Mateo’s attention for a moment, and he quickly called for his new pet. “Angel, c’mere.” Her tendrils writhed, moving toward him with care. Mateo smiled adoringly, taking a few extra moments with Angel before sending her to her room. He couldn’t exactly let Xóchitl see her, could he? Or anyone, really. Next best thing was giving her her own room so she could sleep soundly with plenty of enrichment to keep her busy.

“Okay…” He trailed off, wiping his hands on his apron before walking to the door and opening it with a grin. “About time you showed up.” A tease, really. Xóchitl was actually on time, but Mateo could never help himself when it came to things like that. “Pozole isn’t done yet, but you can make yourself at home. You know the drill.” Walking away to the stove, Mateo trusted Xóchitl to close the door and get settled in while he finished dinner. It’d become a sort of routine for them, one that made him question a few things, but he wasn’t the type to linger. 

She just wanted to go and get food, and so what if maybe she felt a little safer around Mateo? There wasn’t anything worth analyzing in that, other than the fact that he was fantastic to sleep with, and they’d developed something sort of routine, even, and Xóchitl certainly didn’t need that, but she also wasn’t complaining. Having someone else make her food, especially food that made her think of home, wasn’t bad in any way, shape, or form.

“Well, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll make it up to you later.” She wrapped her fingers around his shirt, pulling him close before giving him a small bop on the nose, before dropping her hand from his shirt. “I’ve got my shoes off, and I feel plenty comfortable. I could use a drink, though.” Xóchitl hummed, a smirk (that she probably hoped was alluring) crossing over her lips. 

She nodded. “I’m already in something cute,” Xóchitl pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. “How much longer until it’s ready, do you think? I can be patient, though, it’s well worth it, that much I know.”

“Yeah, you better be sorry, ma. But you’re right. You are already in something cute.” Mateo smirked, confident and playful, enjoying the tease Xóchitl had in return. It was enough to keep himself from recoiling at the intimacy of it all. Hiding behind stolen glances and good old fashioned bullying always made it easier to believe he wasn’t feeling a bit more than just friendship. 

“I’ll get started on that drink. The usual, right?” The mare began a dance he knew well, moving to his bar and pouring everything he needed to make Xóchitl her favorite drink. “We got about another twenty…thirty minutes or so. Plenty of time to just…” Trailing off with a semi-awkward smirk, Mateo looked toward the couch and then back to his bar, pouring himself a whiskey to sip on. “Whatever you want, really.”

“I’d say you’d need to get your eyesight checked if you didn’t already think I was in something cute. Which goes for pretty much whatever I wear…” So maybe she was being a bit too cocky about all of this, but it was easy to relax around Mateo, and Xóchitl wasn’t going to focus too much on that, or whatever that might have implied.

“The usual sounds perfect,” she cooed, just slightly, following his gaze to the couch. “I mean, I do like lying down on the couch…” Xóchitl bit her lip. “But we could do anything you’d like. You are the host, after all, I’m happy to go with the flow.” Which she was, usually, but perhaps, on some level, even more with him, and people like him, because she felt comfortable. “You know if you let me have my way at least some of that time will be spent with my lips on yours.” Flirting was easy and comfortable.

“Whatever.” Mateo rolled his eyes in jest, taking his drink and plopping himself on the sofa with a smile that faded slowly. By the time Xóchitl placed herself in her usual spot, the mare rotated the glass of whiskey in his hands, pondering. There was plenty of time to have a little fun, but for some reason, for the first time in what seemed like…ever, Mateo didn’t feel like moving to his home’s favorite spots. The bedroom, or the couch, or as Xóchitl had said it before, the walls. He, oddly, wanted to talk, but his voice wouldn’t comply. Instead, he sat there quietly, idly rotating his glass for a minute or two before snapping himself back into focus. 

“Sorry, ma.” He cleared his throat and grabbed the remote to flip on the television to keep himself from fully reacting to what Xóchitl had said. It automatically turned to a music channel that was pre-programmed. Much to his relief, the music was something lively and a bit distracting. Though it wasn’t enough to keep Mateo from awkwardly tensing up when he looked back at Xóchitl. She was his friend, and they’d already agreed that developing a crush wasn’t an option. Hooking up only. And the occasional night over with some cooked meals, too. But none of that meant anything to Xóchitl like it did to Mateo, did it? He didn’t think it was possible. It wasn’t. Not for a guy like him. Not when he hadn’t even told her exactly who he was. She only knew a certain version of Mateo. It was him, truly him, but if she knew the rest, would she stay? Not even as a girlfriend, but as a friend at all? He didn’t think so. But that didn’t really stop him from blurting out something stupid, with his voice bordering on soft. 

“I like it when your lips are on mine.”

“I – what?” Xóchitl shook her head, jumping just slightly when he turned on the television and some sort of music came on. It was a welcome distraction from where her thoughts kept wandering, kept her from having to rein them quite as frequently. Because maybe she had said something a step too far, being softer rather than the more usual forwardness. Talking about just lips was romantic, she figured, at least to an extent, and that wasn’t what they were. So the music was great, and she let her thoughts be partially carried off and away.

Except then he was responding, and the music was no longer any sort of a good distraction. “We seem to be in agreement on that.” 

She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was doing, but soon enough she found herself sitting on his lap, straddling him, but in a sort of gentle, soft, and wholly-unlike-the-two-of-them way. “This okay?” Xóchitl asked, suddenly shy, suddenly brushing her nose against his, her lips against his. Soft, in trepidation, at first, before more fully, yet still not with the usual urgency that came along with their meetings.

“Do we have to eat?” She pouted, wide-eyed. “I think I like where I’m sitting right now.” She also liked how soft his gaze was, how he smiled secretly as a new song came on. A smile that wasn’t for show or anything other than appreciation of the music. “But I also like everything you make, so I can be persuaded. Probably.”

“Yeah.” He whispered, “It’s okay. I like it.” I like you. Was what he wanted to say, but he thought better of it knowing his place. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Xóchitl to find herself on top. She was there so often because that was one of Mateo’s favorite views. But when he looked up like he had done many times before, her eyes were different, and so were his. Then, when she became playful and entirely way too soft for what they were supposed to be, Mateo smiled with a bit of apprehension, unsure whether he should continue to let himself live in the dream. After all, he was, and always would be, a nightmare.

“This is different.” Mateo muttered, ripping off the bandaid and forcing himself awake. “Um…I, uh…” A bewildered sigh escaped him, and it was all he could do to not back out of what needed to be done. “It’s been feeling different—to me. I don’t know. I’m fucking this all up, but if I don’t say nothing, it’s all gonna go to shit even worse so…” With his eyes tightened shut, Mateo leaned his head back onto the headrest of the couch and groaned. He didn’t know how to word it all, or whether or not he should just be blunt. It was the much simpler route, but it was faster, too. Which meant he thought he was on the brink of seeing Xóchitl walk out the door. 

“Sorry.”

“Glad you like it.” She looked down at him, her smile once again far more gentle than the usual sort of look that she gave him. His look almost seemed to match hers, though, which was as equally terrifying as it was charming. Xóchitl enjoyed the feeling that this particular position gave her, and as much as she loved ( – or rather enjoyed – loved seemed too strong of a word) looking up at Mateo, there was a certain feeling of satisfaction that came with sitting in a position of power.

And he had said that he liked women in positions of power, hadn’t he?

“It’s –” her words caught in her throat. “You’re – I – it’s. Yeah.” Xóchitl wasn’t sure what to say, or if Mateo even wanted her to respond, so instead she ran her hands up and under his shirt, pressed her lips against his. “Let me take care of you, alright?” Except that he was apologizing, and she pulled away, pulled up the shoulder of her top, and looked at him in intense confusion. “Why are you sorry?” She did her best to have it not sound overly harsh, or even slightly judgemental, but she wasn’t sure how well she did in succeeding at that. “Do you want me to stop?” Her lips remained centimeters away from his, and she could smell him so easily, and it was such a comforting smell that she nearly winced.

“You don’t have to take care of me.” He shook his head, getting a little distracted by the hands trailing over his skin, and the pressure on his lap. How was he supposed to think in those conditions? Mateo swallowed a groan down and looked to the ceiling to avoid Xóchitl’s gaze a little longer. There was no turning back anymore. He’d begun opening the can of worms, and they were creeping out before the lid was even fully removed. 

“It’s not that, Xó. It’s not…” Mateo absentmindedly traced patterns on Xóchitl’s skin, no real rhyme or reason to the movements. He just liked her warmth and wanted to soak up as much of it as he could before he ruined it all. Because villains didn’t get the girl, did they? Murderers weren’t meant to love without horrible consequences, and Xóchitl didn’t deserve that. Pain was inevitable, a crucial part of life, but Mateo didn’t want to be the cause. He much rather bring out her smile and laughter. That’s what he was after, all that time. He was going to miss seeing it. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore.

“I fucked up.” His entire body tensed, and he rubbed at this scalp a few times as he forced himself to keep going. “I, um…you’re not…” Come on, Mateo, just say it. “I know we weren’t supposed to do more than fuck, but I, uh, yeah. I fucked up.” That was clear, right?

“But I like taking care of people.” She didn’t like that her voice had turned whiny, but she also found herself wholly unable to do just about anything other than whine. His whole body was cold – it always was – but she didn’t mind. She’d never minded – or asked about it, but it wasn’t like his being cold (physically, at least) had any significant effect on their arrangement. 

Except then he was looking away from her and saying other things and those made Xóchitl only want to focus on the physical, because none of what he was saying made any sort of sense given what they were. What they’d explicitly agreed to. Besides, she’d seen how people looked at him in public, and though she was not even the slightest bit in doubt about her good looks (not to the point of self-centeredness, but just a healthy appreciation of reality), but the way people looked at Mateo had a certain sort of hunger to it, and she didn’t want to think that she’d switch him off of wanting to flirt with everyone.

Unless he was like her – though she still didn’t know this for certain, either – and could become infatuated with more than one person at once. It gave Xóchitl a headache, having suddenly gone from actively avoiding friends (to still end up with a few) to having multiple people she cared about, and people who’d gone past just –

Fucking. Yes, that was what they’d agreed to. It was an abrasive word in some ways, but fit. Energetic, thrilling, but then over. Except then she’d started staying over, and she liked his bed, and Xóchitl liked being in a bed with someone else, and … she needed to focus on what he was saying, though her hands hadn’t been able to stop themselves from running along his chest. “How – what – I’m a ditz right now, Mateo, I’m – you’re going to have to clarify, so I don’t run off with some assumption. Some assumption I might think, but it’s –” she pulled her own shirt over her head, and then sat there, frowning for a moment. “I - instinct.” Was all she said.

How much clearer could he get? Albeit, the statement was maybe, purposely, accidentally vague. After all, what was the concept of thinking anyway? “Ma…” He trailed off. Thinking was difficult, near impossible, when pretty, warm hands were dragging across his chest. And it was only going to get worse with Xóchitl sitting there with no shirt on and a pout on her face. Mateo was beginning to lose his nerve. If he had one at all in the first place.

“You ain’t a ditz. I’m just…not being as clear as I should be. I’ve never done this before and-and we agreed, ya know? We agreed to not…do this.” He covered his face with his hands and groaned, leaving a few moments of silence between the pair. When he finally broke it, Mateo returned his gaze to meet Xóchitl’s. He was memorizing her, scanning every feature he could to commit her to memory. Her presence had been a comfort on more than one occasion, and fun in every single one. Sometimes he’d watch her sleep when she talked during a dream, never daring to feed on them. In fact, when she stirred, many times, Mateo would lull her back to slumber with a careful touch. She always rose in the morning looking fully rested, much to his relief. He was going to miss that. 

Finding his nerve, Mateo swallowed thickly with his eyes shut. With a final deep breath, his brown eyes met hers, soft and anxious, and he leaned forward to give Xóchitl what he thought was a final kiss. It was thoughtful and slow, a tenderness Mateo thought impossible to produce. Pulling back, the mare sighed. “I caught those damn feelings. For you.” He confessed, adjusting his seat uncomfortably as the truth hung in the air. As he waited for Xóchitl to walk away from his mistake. “I like you. I’m sorry.”

Her distraction seemed to be doing its job, but then Mateo wasn’t even totally focusing on her and Xóchitl hated that she cared about that beyond her usual craving for attention (so maybe her parents dressing her up as Tinkerbell when she was three made some kind of sense), how she didn’t want him to look at her with anything but desire, but desire laced with care, and she couldn’t focus on that right now. Focusing on his body and how much she wanted to kiss it was much easier.

“We agreed.” Xóchitl echoed his words. His gaze on hers felt almost more intimate than them being completely naked in bed had been. Which was strange, because she would’ve expected that sex would have been the most vulnerable a person could have been – yet in the same train of thought, she had to acknowledge that sex wasn’t too vulnerable for her, because it was somewhere where she felt comfortable and incredibly at ease. This? Not so much. She slept easier around Mateo, and she couldn’t totally explain why. She liked waking up to his breakfasts, enjoyed talking with him until she drifted off to sleep, impressed by how he never seemed to get tired before she did.

“You don’t – don’t say sorry.” She kissed him back, blinking rapidly, trying to process what he’d said. Feelings. Which they weren’t supposed to do, full stop. Getting close meant bad things could happen, and she was already close enough just by staying over as often as she did. “Feelings are natural – it’s – it’s stupid to make rules like that, right? Lo siento, Mateo – I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Xóchitl steadied her breath, wondered if she should move, but instead brought her hand to his jaw, kissed him again. “I like you too. A lot. I feel safe with you, and you’re one of the first people I think of when I want to share something good that happened – I – but I’m not – I’ve never done relationships. It’s not – I don’t know if I’m girlfriend material.”

Mateo raised his brows slowly with surprise, an unsteady feeling circling his stomach and twisting it. He kept people at a distance, molded an image that held his most genuine traits while withholding the messier side of himself. Killing people as an undead creature of nightmares wasn’t something just anyone could accept. It was just easier to keep those things hidden, especially when there were hunters out there trying to kill people like the mare. But Xóchitl was no hunter, and whether Mateo wanted to admit it or not, she had become important to him. So few people could make him consider such a leap, but she was definitely one of them. He knew better than anyone that the truth couldn’t stay hidden forever. If Xóchitl liked Mateo back too, then there was only a matter of time before she discovered every part of him. 

That idea terrified him, but the possibility of never getting a chance at all scared him more. He didn’t know how that made him feel, and it didn’t really matter. Not anymore. Xóchitl had confirmed the impossible, and Mateo let himself take on a softer disposition. Like he always did around her. She just rarely had a chance to see it because he was always helping her back to sleep. “I’ve never done this shit either, Xó. I mean, you saw how long it took me to just say anything at all.” Mateo paused, looking at Xóchitl softly and taking her hand in comfort. If anyone didn’t have the capability to be any sort of worthy material, it was Mateo. At least, that was his opinion. What came out though, was a reply far more thoughtful and sincere. Maybe a little hopeful, too. “I think…I think we get to decide what that material is.” He shrugged, “Like, I decide what makes the material for my girlfriend, and you decide for your boyfriend. Everything else is just…” With another shrug, he locked eyes with Xóchitl, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. “Nerves. You know?” Mateo would like to think he did, but truthfully, he was completely lost and acting from the thing in his chest he reserved for his family.

She’d distinctly made an effort to not get too close to anybody. It had already failed with a few, but that had been all friendship-adjacent. This was something entirely different, wholly new, and completely strange. Xóchitl liked the way that he made her feel, even if he didn’t know everything about her. Even if, despite all the complicated feelings that arose whenever she thought about him – or them together – she didn’t know if she wanted him to know everything, because maybe knowing everything would shatter some sort of illusion that he had of her. She did figure that whatever his vision of who she was was better than she actually was. She didn’t want to shatter that view that he might’ve had of her, because maybe (or more than maybe), she liked the fact that he might have thought of her highly.

“Fair enough.” She giggled, “it did take you a while to say that. I thought you were just going to ask me to do something extra strange in the bedroom. Which, still not opposed, but I – I like this.” She nodded between them, “this is nicer. Softer, ‘teo.” Xóchitl let him take her hand and she rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand. “I – yeah.” She didn’t especially enjoy feeling at a loss for words, but she did, and she couldn’t help herself, now, and Mateo had been honest with her and wasn’t she supposed to show him some honesty in return? “That’s true. Yeah. We can decide. Because fuck the norms of whatever society expects boyfriends and girlfriends to be.” His thumb was on the back of her hand now and it was maddeningly distracting, so much so that she had to close her eyes for a moment. “Yeah – nerves. I – same. I’m – those are a thing.” She opened her eyes and kissed him again. “So – I – wait, is your food going to burn? Not that I’m even really thinking about that now, but I’d prefer to not be the cause of your house catching fire, or your hard work going to waste.” She sat back a moment. “That does mean I have to get off, and I don’t like the idea of that much at all.”

Relief washed over Mateo, and despite not needing air, he was greedy for it with a deep and calming inhale. He sighed, thankful that he wasn’t the only one stumbling over his words. It was nice to not be alone, and to have feelings returned. He’d never been proven wrong like that before, even found that it wasn’t so bad to not be right. “Yeah.” Mateo agreed with a nod and a smile, “Fuck norms. All of ‘em.” With a chuckle, he moved his hands up Xóchitl’s arms, trailing his way to her shoulders and down her back. He’d long forgotten about the pozole, but knowing himself, Mateo had already set the stove to an appropriate temperature in case the two got way too distracted. 

“Left that baby on simmer. You and I tend to…” He bobbed his head back and forth, making a playful face at Xóchitl. “You know. Time usually gets away from us. But I mean, who says you have to get off?” Bouncing his brows, Mateo placed his hands firmly on Xóchitl’s hips and rose from the sofa. She was secure in his arms, her face close enough for several more pecks to her lips and cheeks. He opted to focus on the walk to the kitchen instead, placing her on the counter next to the stove. “Hmm…” Mateo took a few sniffs from the pluming steam, humming with satisfaction at the smell. It was ready to eat, and he clapped his hands together before looking back to Xóchitl to give her his full attention once more. 

“With confessions outta the way, do you wanna pour some bowls and…” His smile faltered at the idea of discussion, knowing he’d likely have to delve into the subject of emotions, of which he avoided often. But, if Mateo was allowing himself to feel something more than lust for someone, didn’t that mean he could possibly be evolving in other places, too? He swallowed nervously, sighing. “Talk. We should probably talk…more. You know?”

His hands were trailing around her back and it, once again, distracted her from any other thoughts she might’ve had. It was a certain delightful distraction. “Fuck the norms.” She repeated, once again. Xóchitl didn’t like to consider herself someone easily at a loss for words, but right now she very much was.

“That’s true, we do tend to get distracted. I’m impressed we’re still talking given that I have my shirt off, but…” Xóchitl shook her head. She was deflecting again, and she knew that she was, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Except then he was picking her up and she didn’t even have time to fully comment on what was going on before it was already happening and she had to admit that it wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, there was a certain sort of delicate intimacy to it all, and that made her both completely calm and utterly unnerved. It was also endearing to watch Mateo move around the kitchen, and she loved how at home he looked, and how his smile looked, and how lovely his humming was.

Then he’d turned back to her and she did nearly a double take, trying to register all that was going on, trying to jolt herself out of whatever half-trance she’d been in. “What, you aren’t going to feed me while I’m shirtless on your kitchen counter?” Xóchitl grinned, another eyebrow raised. “But … yeah. We should do that. Bowls and stuff and also talking.”

Mateo laughed at Xóchitl’s remark, looking at the pot and then back to her. “You want me to feed you hot-ass caldo while you’re shirtless? Isn’t that, like, how you get burned?” Still, he grabbed the ladle and the dish towel hanging from the oven handle. Slowly, he filled the ladle’s bowl and planted it carefully onto the towel to eliminate the possibility of dripping or spilling onto Xóchitl’s skin. “Here, ya big baby.” There was a wink added to the end of the statement, accompanied by Mateo’s signature shit-eating grin. 

“Say ‘ah…’” He tilted the stew into her mouth and arched a playful brow before placing everything aside. “There. Happy?” She did, at least by Mateo’s observation, and he smiled even bigger in return with a soft tug to his lips. There was a terrifying nature to the entire encounter, but it didn’t seem so bad in the moment and it didn’t make his smile faster that time. Mateo could let himself enjoy what they had, if only for a little while. Ruining things was in his nature, but he’d take great care with the fall and accept whatever comes. 

“Come on.” He kissed Xóchitl one more time, lingering his lips above hers for a few seconds before helping her down from the counter to get to work on their bowls. “Go sit down. I’ll get the food and drinks together, and then join you.”

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

Due to overwhelming popular demand (literally one person), I will now elaborate! The screenshots made this really long, so it's going under the cut.

I know I said 'not all that nice' in the original post, but I think a better word for what I read in Klavier would be that he's 'unfeeling' or 'callous', and I believe that largely comes from my initial impression of him. Many people cite the "This is the first time I've ever felt this way with a man" line as one of his most impactful early scenes, but, honestly, it didn't do much for me. Instead, the first time I properly took notice of Klavier was when he says this in Wocky's trial:

The first time I read that, I went, "Oh. He's demented."

And maybe that's a bit harsh, right? We don't know much about Wocky, but he is part of the mafia and under suspicion of murder here. Maybe Klavier's malicious glee at his soon-to-be untimely demise is warranted or excusable (though I would argue that it still takes a certain kind of cruelty to laugh right in the person's face). But that's the thing. This moment isn't a one-off instance but, rather, indicative of Klavier's oddly flippant attitude regarding death and other people throughout the game.

His rant in Turnabout Serenade about his keys, guitar and the dead body is probably what comes to mind quickest in this regard, but I would argue that Klavier's entire approach to court is a pretty obvious tell on this front. I don't think it's controversial to say that Klavier sees his cases as just another performance — what with the "Let's rock!"s and talk about everyone else "sharing his stage" — but he seems to treat the people involved like they're performers, too. There's a certain callousness that comes with his rockstar gimmick, which extends to his treatment of witnesses and suspects. Wocky is one thing, but Vera?

Like, the girl collapsed in front of you and is now knocking on death's door, Klavier; could you drop the showman-speak for one minute?

Maybe it's because Machi is a child, but I feel like this coldness of his comes across most clearly in Serenade. See, Klavier has a reputation for being the most straightlaced and honourable of the prosecutors, and I agree with that assessment! (I think. I don't remember what Blackquill is like, but for now, I agree.) His willingness to work with the defence is respectable and his dedication to the truth undeniable... but I think that only extends to truths he can see himself.

An interesting thing about Klavier is that he's never really behind Apollo in comprehending the truth of their trials, and he pursues it doggedly whenever he scents it. However, in the time before he realises what's actually unfolded, he pursues the truth he's determined with that same unbending zeal. He needs to understand what's happening — to be in control of the narrative at all times — to function at his usual pace. At the end of Serenade's first day of investigation, Klavier implies that Machi has been arrested because the powers that be required a swift arrest, but by the time the trial starts, he's 100% committed to sending that 14-year-old to the gallows. And he's not above using somewhat underhanded tactics to do it either.

There's a sort of ruthless edge to Klavier's treatment of not just Machi, but almost everyone involved in this case. He insinuates that Apollo might be lying about his witness testimony, knows why Lamiroir "saw nothing" yet chose to keep silent and have her brought out onto the witness stand to discredit her,

implies that Ema is the least useful detective on the force then embarrasses her on the stand by having her take the fall for the misunderstanding over Machi's eyesight,

straight up lies about not speaking Borginian to keep Machi from testifying, although he was translating fluently for Lamiroir just minutes prior

and even has his own updated autopsy report moment:

And are these all technically above board tactics to get to the truth? Sure (unclear about the lying, which he also does in the Misham case). But they're still mean-spirited, and his entire demeanour speaks of him just... not caring whom he hurts in his crusade for the truth. The feelings and reputations he damages on the way don't matter because they don't aid him in his goal. Finding the truth isn't about justice for victims or protecting the people caught in the crossfire to him. He wants the truth because... it's the truth. In that sense, he's a lot like og trilogy Edgeworth.

Something else Serenade makes clear is that this brusqueness towards people isn't exclusive to acquaintances and strangers; Klavier treats his loved ones with equal impassiveness. When Daryan crops up as a suspect proper later in the trial and Klavier is prepared for it, he ploughs forwards with that same unyielding efficiency and careless air. The few times he does lose his composure, it's largely due to the revelation of his own unwitting role in the crime. And when it's at last proven beyond a shadow of doubt that it was Daryan, his friend, his partner, the first detective he ever worked with, who tried to set him alight and killed someone, all Klavier has to say is,

... A cool, clean cut. No unsettled feelings, no messy loose threads. Just the hard truth and the calm acceptance of it.

It's the same with Kristoph later on — honestly, I'd argue it's even colder there. With Daryan, he had time to process the possibility and prepare for it. With Kristoph, it happens abruptly in court, and I'm not even sure that Klavier wholly believed Kristoph's original murder charges. There's a line right when he begins helping Apollo against his brother, where he says, "Honestly, I wanted to believe you", and I think the Shadi Smith charge is what he was referring to then. Even so, he puts it aside (much like Daryan, the few times he loses his composure are when he realises how he's been manipulated) and continues with his usual showy efficiency:

It ends, interestingly, harsher than it did with Daryan:

And there's something impressive about that, isn't there? That ability to come to terms with yourself and deal with your emotions so succinctly and conclusively. But isn't it also vaguely terrifying? It's murder on both counts here, so maybe it's a bit hyperbolic to say this, but it almost comes across like there are no second chances with Klavier. Like he sees other people, like himself, as being "simple", without room for greyness or capacity for meaningful change. People are fundamentally good until they do an inexcusable act, and then they're unforgivable and he's better off without them.

There's the argument to be made that Klavier's actually much more affected by these events than he lets on and this is just him masking his emotions to be professional, and I totally agree that that could be it, but I also don't think it fully is? I don't see Klavier as being one for masks, to be honest. I believe him when he says he tries to live simply — even the above examples I've given of him being unkind aren't parts of him he tries to hide; he's rather open about being apathetic, hence why I wouldn't call him manipulative. Like he says, he prefers to "keep things civil" because it helps him find the truth, and he's not particularly secretive about his friendliness being anything deeper than that. So, rather than him 'masking' his true emotions, I'd say it's more akin to him shoving those complicated feelings into a box, stashing it somewhere deep inside himself and refusing to ever examine it to the point where it doesn't affect his life in any obvious or even conscious way.

The one moment we know Klavier was truly conflicted about in his life (the forged diary page) he dealt with by, essentially, running away from. He left the court behind, threw himself into his band and only returned to it when it was forced into his lap, which relates back to how I think he only purses the truth relentlessly when he can see it clearly. He didn't look deeper into that diary page because it would have affected his simple relationship with Kristoph. We kind of see him do the same thing with the Gavinners, actually. Prior to Serenade, he's extremely proud of his band and brings up their achievements often. But after Daryan's arrest, he disbands the Gavinners and starts saying things like their lyrics comprised "ridiculous flights of fancy". There's a decisive effort to distance himself from that debacle, and I think he treats the people in his life much the same way.

There are also less significant moments that point to him not quite caring about other people's situations and his need for control — like when he glares at Ema for interrupting the Misham trial proceedings, though she did so to help them get to the truth; and when he sends Apollo tickets at 20% off though he's the millionaire rockstar and Apollo's the one living paycheck to paycheck — and one that sticks out is his case with Phoenix.

When Klavier warns him against using the page, and when he mocks him for the fraudulent evidence later, he says Phoenix has "embarrassed" himself. Not that Phoenix has made a decision that will ruin his reputation and leave him potentially without a means to support himself, just that he's "embarrassed himself". And I think that's adds another element to his unsympathetic treatment of people.

Klavier is sometimes just... a rich asshole HAHA I don't think he sees how certain hardships can push people to do awful things or really understands what desperation is like. When he's confronted with the darkness behind his cases and the nuanced circumstances that led to the people involved doing what they did, he treats them as amusing diversions, another element of the greater show that is the trial. And when you see how he reacts to complications in his own life, you kind of see why. He would never be driven to act in such a way because he doesn't allow those events to affect him. Whenever something goes wrong for him — really wrong, not just minor inconveniences he can moan about — he just... cuts the problem out. Keeps things neat and simple and moves forwards to a place where everything is, once again, within his control.

And, you know, maybe I'm just reading too much into moments that aren't meant to be taken particularly seriously — they do all fall under his self-absorbed rockstar gimmick, after all, but I don't know. I look at these moments in relation to one another, and I'm not sure he's as simple as he'd like himself to be.

wait, no. i think my ACTUAL hottest aa take is that i don't think klavier is all that nice

[kzuhadovey]

sour grapes

➷ character: diluc ragvindr x reader ➷ type: angst ➷ warnings: - ➷ song rec: sour grapes, lesserafim

“would you ever fall in love?”

diluc looks up from his paperwork, staring at you with an incredulous look.

you were splaid out on his couch, chewing on a strip of bubblegum. dawn winery was always where you hung out after doing commisions from the guild. it was a cool, humid place, perfect to take a nap or occasionally disturb diluc.

he was your work friend - at least, you consider him yours. he considers you to be mostly a disturbance in his work. you were dispatched to protect the dawn winery area, and with that came the task of protecting the owner himself. he was tall, buff, with hefty red hair. currently, it was tied up in a low ponytail, a hair or two ocasionally dropping down and blocking his eyesight. truly, it was a sight to behold, diluc ragvindr, tucking his hair behind his ears like a schoolgirl.

“what’s with the look, pretty boy?” you tease, shooting him a wink. at that, he immidiately ducks his head again, a faint blush on his cheeks. “answer the question!”

“i’m busy. stop disturbing me.”

you roll your eyes. busy my ass, you think. “come on, diluc. answer.” he cringes internally at the use of his first name, but he makes no effort to answer. at that, you roll your eyes - even harder, if that’s possible. “if you don’t answer, i’ll disturb you and you can’t do anything except listen to me talk.” you threaten, standing up and approaching diluc at his table. diluc looks at you, a little exhausted by your antics, but when you menacingly reach a hand out to take his pen, he raises his hand.

“grapes.”

you pause, raising your eyebrow. “uh, okay, i’ll tell adelinde to bring you some grape-” diluc shakes his head firmly. “no. grapes… they’re sour. when you bite, juice spills out and - bleh.” so, yes to wine, but no to grapes. fun! “point is.” he exclamates his point by putting his finger on the table. “to me, love is exactly like that. no matter how hard you try, at the end of the day, grapes will always be sour.”

is he speaking from experience? it was a weird analogy. you blinked, still processing. “you done?” diluc asks, a bit curious on why you were silent. after another beat of silence, he coughs. “if you are, i’ll get to working now.” he quickly picks up his pen, ready to start scribbling on vicious notes on the newest intern’s report.

“you’re wrong.”

diluc looks up at you, half-surprised by your reply, half-exhausted-and-needs-to-do-his-work. “grapes aren’t all bad, honey. you literally own the greatest wine company in teyvat! you, of all people should know how sweet grapes can be, diluc. sure, once in a while you get a sour one, but that’s part of the fun, right? the satisfaction, once you find a perfectly sweet one.”

as you lean in closer, his heartbeat picks up and he can feel sweat trickle down his back. whoo, it’s hot, isn’t it? he gulps, trying to avoid eye contact with you. “don’t be scared to fall in love, pretty boy. after all, not every grape you eat’ll turn out to be sour.” you smile, and ugh, diluc’s heart feels like it’s beating in his stomach.

“shit! i have a meeting at the knights’ headquarters - jean’s going to be so mad if i’m late.” you suddenly exclaim, making diluc shift in his seat. you quickly gather your things, and finally, you say goodbye. “i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you don’t wait for his response as you rush out the door. it seemed like diluc was lucky today. his heart finally slows down, and he can control his breathing. from his office, he can hear you greeting tunner with a chipper tone. at the sound of you going “drink your medicine, old man!”, he smiles, an unknowing blush forming on his face.

hm, maybe you were right.

[cartierbin]

pls , dilf!bangchan 🥺 with a huge size kink ! thanks if you’ll do it

ofc baby. maybe I should make a separate masterlist for miscellaneous requests.

『 pairing — chan x reader

genre — smut + dilf!billionaire chan fucking his babysitter

word count — 1.322k 』

smut under the cut !

“nana”, the smaller three year old boy tapped your arm whilst rubbing his eyes. the day was getting too long for him to handle and after spending it playing with you he was quite exhausted to say the least. “nana I’m sleepy”. he whines with his blonde curly hair disheveled over his eyes. he was a spitting image of his father with his thick lips and tiny face. you place the last toy in his toy chest. “you want to go night night baby?”. you coo and watch him nod his head in response reaching his arms up so you could lift him.

you hauled him on your chest rubbing his back while his head fell into the crook of your neck. he was so precious and sweet he melted your heart each day you took care of him. when you finally carried him to his room you tucked him in his Superman blankets to which he appreciated greatly. he cups your cheek and kisses it tiredly. “I love you nana”. he whispers just before turning over. nana is what he called you instead of “nanny”. the word nana was much more appealing to him. much more adorable to you. while tucking him in and planting a kiss on his forehead you hadn’t known the his father was watching your actions from the doorway, admiring the way you loved his son. owning a record label never gave him enough time to give baby chris the attention he needed. his mother was out the picture so you were definitely his only hope.

he admired your love but as of now he was also appreciative of the way your clothes were fitting you. just tight around the curvature of your frame and he couldn’t help but to watch you as you bent over, kissing baby chris in one of the many short pleated skirts that you owned. his eyes grazed over the way the hem of the skirt stopped just below your ass. you were startled when you finally realized the man was there. he usually didn’t come home as early as this. “oh! good evening mr.bang”. you bowed graciously in front of him. a small smile creeped along his lips. he sized you up, enjoying the fact that you were barely the same height as his shoulder.

“you don’t have to do that sweetie. I’m here a little earlier than usual but I’d just like to say thank you for taking care of my son the way you do,”. he fishes out his wallet, “I know I already have you on payroll but I’d like to pay you a little something extra if thats alright with you”. he informs while pulling out fat wads of cash. your eyes widened nervously at the amount. “oh mr.bang I don’t think I can take all that. what you pay me is just enough”. he smiles at your modesty. “It’s fine. just take it sweetie. by yourself something nice with it”. you shake your head. “it’s really alright. I love baby chris like he’s my own”. he crinkles that cash in his hand. “I’d really love to pay you something extra for your services. Is there a way I can do that?”. he asks, and by the way his eyes were already fucking you, you already knew just how he wanted to pay you. his energy wasn’t unwanted either. you’ve had your fair share of fantasizing over the sexy billionaire for months. however you thought it would be hard to even get a chance.

but here you were bending over his luxurious living room sofa with him beneath you, gripping the cheeks of your ass spreading them apart while he was sucking your pussy from behind. your hands grip the soft material of the pillows with lewd moans falling from your lips. his tongue slid easily around your pussy because you were gushing with each move of his lips, every single one being much more powerful than the last. he slams a hand down on your ass while wedging his lips in between your sopping folds, earning a sharp whine from you. “mr. bang”. you stammered into the couch cushions in a tiny muffle. he slid upwards giving you a long languid stroke before tongue kissing your creaming pussy with little regard for the loud wet sounds his mouth was making each time he pulled away and went back for more. each time he went back you felt yourself contracting and oozing more, saturating his lips and chin to the fullest.

you were still throbbing when he hiked your hips up, the height of the couch still not being substantial enough to bring you to the height of his hips. he flipped your skirt up and relished the way your pussy looked with streams of white all of over it. he cinched his fingers around your waist and inched his lengthy veiny cock in between your folds, feeding you everything he had until you were filled to the brim with his cock. you took an astonished gasp feeling him inside you completely stuffing you. he dropped his head back and licks his lips. “your pussy is so small and tight fuck”. he groaned trying to get used to the feeling. he never felt anything more pleasurable in his life. he draped his body over yours and you could feel his cold chain sweeping over the back of your neck. your mouth was still agape from him entering you but now he was absolutely drilling you, not giving a single fuck about his intensity. almost as if he were waiting for this moment just as you were.

his thick lips kissed the back of your ears, licking and sucking hickies into the back of your neck. “what are you doing princess? hm?”, he groaned and whispered all at once, “what are you doing being this small and taking dick this good? who taught you this?”. if you could talk you would tell him that absolutely no one did and that in fact, he was the biggest you ever took in your life. you didn’t know how you were even functioning with eyesight and hearing, because chan was fucking the thoughts out of your head and the breath out of your lungs. you could barely moan without becoming winded, everything coming in half syllables that came to abrupt stops. he slaps your ass with a stinging pain. “you’re so fucking cute. I could fuck your pretty little pussy all day long”. you shrieked and clutched another pillow with your body jolting forward from the roughness of his thrusts. your walls were clenching harshly and an overwhelming bliss curved flames in your belly. “I’m going to cum ngh fuck it feels so fucking good”. you whine on the verge of tears. chan smirks. “this is how big girls get fucked princess. can’t you take my dick like a big girl?”. you shake your head trembling underneath him. “no I can’t- I can’t I’m fucking cumming please mr. bang”.

it was hot hearing your cum drip to the floor beneath you both as he kept fucking you until his cum filled your pussy to the brim just like he dick did. by the time he was finished with you you draped over the couch wearily, wondering how the hell you were going to be able to walk to the door. you were so fucked out and tired you were incomprehensible of doing anything active anymore. he kisses that weak spot below your ear again, kneading his hands into your ass massaging it like dough. “go upstairs in the guest bathroom and get yourself cleaned up. I’ll drive you home later”.

[fairycosmos]

I've had a number of strange occurrences in my life, as have my mom and both my grandmothers. Here are a few:

-In the house my mom and I lived in when I was a kid, there was a ghost named Chewie. He died in the house before my mom moved in, he hung himself. Pretty often he would leave the toilet seat up, turn lights off and on, close doors, open and close cabinets, but if you just told him to knock it off he would. One time my mom was getting ready for a party with her friend "M". M went into the kitchen to get something while my mom was in another room, and when she came back she asked my mom if "that guy" was going to the party with them. My mom told M they were the only people in the house, but M insisted there was a man in the kitchen wearing a flannel and jeans. They searched the whole house but no one was there.

-I don't experience sleep paralysis or anything of the kind, but when my girlfriend and I first moved to the city we lived in an old old duplex, with an unfinished basement and an empty apartment above. We would often hear footsteps, but we assumed it was squatters or rats. A couple times we called the landlords but when they went to check no one would be there. The first night we stayed in the apartment, our mattress was on the floor. I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman lying on the floor looking back at me. she seemed very old and was mostly translucent. We stared at each other until I fell back asleep. The landlords told us the next day there was an old woman who had died in the apt above ours a few months before, and she had lived there for almost 50 years. The basement too was incredibly creepy, I tried never to be alone down there, something just felt off. I always felt like there was a man down there, just out of eyesight. One night I was taking an uber home from work, and my driver mentioned that he had lived in the exact same apartment about a year before us. We were just chatting and he asked, without my bringing it up, if we also had noticed a dark something in the basement. I was surprised, because this guy didn't seem like the type to believe in ghosts. We both agreed that something felt very wrong in the basement, and that bad things just seemed to happen while we were living there.

-the night my cousin died of a heroine OD, i dreamt of swallowing mouthfuls of loose teeth and just new something was wrong. My dad called the next day.

-My elementary school was built in the 1800s, and I sometimes saw a woman in a black 1890s style dress waving from one of the attic windows.

-My grandmother is mormon and has multiple visions on record with the sakt lake city temple - this is not common.

-I have dreams of exact moments in time often. They usually aren't anything big - a kid kicking a soccer ball in a specific place and angle, a snippet of conversation between my mom and sibling - but they're always exact.

I think it's more likely that places remember than spirits linger, but there are definitely moments in my life that have stuck with me.

whew - you could literally write a book about these, and i'd read it numerous times LOL. the idea that a place remembers is so cool, i've rarely thought of it like that. about that guy chewie, it just makes me so sad. i wonder if he's sitll living some version of his life day after day somehow, not knowing he's dead. and that old woman on the floor. i wonder if she was looking out for you (positive) or watching you (negative) lol. just creeps me out. i think the taxi driver asking that would've sent me into such a spiral - the fact that you didn't even say anything to him but he brought it up first. very weird. also, the teeth dream, i didn't realise this was linked to death at all. my sister would talk about having it all the time, like so so much. we thought it's because she was stressed. anyway, these are all really cool and unsettling to think about. what does it mean, what does it all mean! maybe youre kinda psychic? or you can see into the places memories. ty for sharing <3

[spideyspeaches]

Roller-coaster ↬ p.p

gif’s not mine

A/N: My take on What if Peter was in Wandavision? But with a twist ;) Beta read by my wifey @stars-aligning​ 🥰🥰

Warnings: canon typical voilence? mentions of death. Also the timeline doesn’t really make sense, just pretend everyone is of the same age. OH and Wandavision spoilers :)

WC: 9k (longest one shot I’ve ever written 😭)

Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!Reader 

Masterlist || Taglist

"Ben? What's wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?" 

"I- I don't. I don't know. She seems familiar." 

"Familiar? Familiar how?" 

"Like her and I don't belong here. Like we're from another world." 

Working with Tony Stark as his intern, then head of the R&D and now working in the labs as the head of the department felt surreal, a fresh breath of air every time he looked at his desk, with his name written on it. It had been Peter’s dream to meet Tony Stark, maybe work with him too.

And then he got bit by a radioactive spider, giving him super strength, super eyesight and apparently super luck too, because though he liked to think that he was working in SI due to his intelligence, the spider bite did play a role in becoming his mentor’s favourite intern, without which he might have not had a chance to meet him hands on.  

Tony kept reminding him that even if Peter had not been bit by the spider, he would have still secured a high position in Stark Industries, with his disarming intelligence that rivaled Tony’s own and charmingly trippy personality. 

Peter begged to differ. But then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in it’s mouth. Ever since he was a bushy haired, rosy cheeked jittery teenager, he had always worshiped the ground Tony walked on. 

Peter remembers the day he got an anonymous letter, which turned out to be SHIELD's handiwork, asking him to join them in their base in New York, even if he insisted that he wasn't interested in being a superspy wannabe. He was skeptical at first, why would the most paranoid of paranoid agents send him a letter in mail? Him, twenty three years old Peter Parker, who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with termite issues and smokes weed like the government is going to ban tobacco and is barely able to take care of himself with the overload of work. 

Maybe it was just his Parker luck, or the fact that he was a freelance vigilante who looked after New York in a skintight spandex suit, because the safety of the people was apparently second in priority to the government. They'd rather have people die than have an illegal protector. 

Yeah so Peter was salty, and what about It?

Slinging his satchel higher, he saw the sleek black car in confusion, trying to get a look at the number plate before the lift binged on arrival, walking into the open door. He swore he was either hallucinating or in midst of an intense flashback of the events that lead to what people dubbed as the 'Civil War', back to when he had been shaken out of his mind watching Tony Stark eat his aunt’s homemade walnut date loaf that had more salt than sugar.

His thoughts were put to a halt when he entered his and his aunt's old apartment in Queen’s after a long week of Spidey on mission and nearly getting (illegally) fired, footsteps coming to a pit stop. It's not like it's everyday you come face to face with Agent Coulson, Nick Fury and your ex not- really- girlfriend, somehow all in one day all together. 

"So… um. What are you- What are you guys doing here again?" he asked, folding his hands on his chest defensively, leaning into his aunt's side as he whispered, "how long have they been sitting here?" from the corner of his mouth.

Fury raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at him with a dagger for eye, making Peter shift nervously. Agent Coulson looked uncomfortable and You, You looked strangely in your element, sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, a neutral expression on your face. 

Back when he was still in high school, when he'd first met you, he used to be in awe of how outgoing you were, seemingly adjusting in whichever situation you were thrown in. You had always accommodated to your surroundings, but with a start he realised that he had never seen you so… You in a while. 

Not during your visit to the Avengers tower, not during the first time you came into his bedroom, all alone. Not when he had seen you take down a mugger on your way home from your first date without even as much as batting an eye.

"They were here ten minutes or so before you came home. It's creepy, as if they knew you were visiting," May answered with a whisper, wearily eyeballing them before moving towards the kitchen, leaving Peter unattended to Your and Fury's piercing gazes. 

"I'm sure they know my monthly schedule before I do," Peter said, turning to look at the aforementioned agents. "So... you like, work for SHIELD, too?" He asked, wringing his hands to abate the tension in them. 

"Yes, she does, but that's not what we're here for, Mister Parker," Fury said in his gruff voice, sitting back with a sauve expression. Peter gulped as Agent Coulson looked him in the eye, finally noticing the thin file he held in his hands. 

"Well what are you here for?" Peter asked, mustering up some confidence as he tried not to look at You or the eye that Fury had that wasn’t covered by the patch.

"We need you to come to Westview, New Jersey with us," You said, a final no nonsense undertone in your voice. He shuddered when he heard you, remembering how soft and sweet you used to be. But that was before you disappeared out of nowhere, and apparently that nowhere was with SHIELD. 

"Me as in Peter Parker or Spider-Man?" he asked, looking behind his shoulder to make sure May wasn't listening. It's not like she didn't know about his… nightly whereabouts, he just wasn't comfortable with making her worry. She already had too much to deal with, with the nephew by day and vigilante by night thing he had going on.

It was also a little concerning that the three in front of him knew that he was visiting her today. He wondered if his apartment was bugged (well, more than the daily roaches and ants) or if SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him after he had denied their offer, instead opting to stay in SI.

It was probably the second one, although the first one was entirely a possibility. He was going to need to talk with Mister Stark about debugging his shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. 

"We need Peter Parker and his tech skills for this one," Fury said, before shoving the file in Peter's hands and crossing his own, “and my offer still stands.”

"For the last time, I'm not joining your little murderous boy band," Peter grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at your twitching lips, as if holding in laughter. "I'm perfectly content with working with Dr. Connors in his little laboratory in SI." 

Fury didn’t look convinced and opened his mouth to probably threaten Peter, when Aunt May came in with a tray of cookies. They smelled amazing, too good to be made by her, she probably brought them from Delmer’s.

“Oh- Were you…? I just thought you guys might want to eat something,” She said awkwardly, looking at Peter with pleading eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, May! I would love to eat some of those, I’m famished,” You butt in, taking the tray from her with a smile.

“Um, May, you can um- you know?” Peter gestured, shifting on his legs, hoping that May would get the message before she stood for a minute too long. He didn’t like the way Nick Fury’s eye was looking at him, his tranquilizer gun suddenly visible from his leather jacket.

“Don’t be rude Pete, here May, I’ll help you get that.” You smiled, winking at him and dragging May by her arm, who was mouthing “she’s such a sweetheart” behind her shoulders. 

"What if I told you that his man accidently got evicted due to some legal issues? And that now you're legally unemployed with severe financial issues that need to be looked after because the government suspects something illegal brewing?" Fury continued, looking him dead in the eye.

"Are you seriously blackmailing me? Threatening to unemploy me after all that shit you put me through with Mysterio?" Peter defended, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, watching you strutt back into the room, distracted by the sway of your hips in your mom jeans. He tried to shake the image, rolling his head to crack some tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mysterio was a mistake, Parker. This one is not; and we really need you for this one. Besides, remember that you're still a vigilante that hasn't signed the Accords of Sokovia." 

Peter stiffened that the mention of the Accords. He thought the government was over it after the second amendment after the arrest of Thaddeus Ross, but apparently not.

"You said that last time and I almost died! My ex-girlfriend almost died, my best friend nearly died, heck half of Europe almost died because you Director Fury, apparently trust some superhero wannabe in a green and purple costume and overlook facts that could potentially harm someone. So the answer is clearly no!" he retorted, flopping the file on the table as he resisted the urge to sit on the floor flat on his back. 

The three agents were looking at him with an unreadable expression, making him uncomfortable in his skin. 

"Well, it's all up to you then." His voice had a finality to it, one that irked him to no end.

"Do I have a choice?" He sighed after a beat, looking at the three of you with a forlorn expression. 

"Get your equipment ready, Mr. Parker. We'll be leaving for the camp tonight. You can read the details in this file." He heard Agent Coulson say (he was pretty sure his name was Phil), trying to make sense of how fast everything was going past the chronic tinnitus in his ears.

"It's Dr. Peter Parker," he muttered fruitlessly, blushing under your raised eyebrow. 

***

"So, I didn't know you got a PhD. I knew you were smart, still are, considering that you're a PhD at twenty two," You said, sipping on your virgin mojito, and placing the mug in front of you. 

Peter had taken you to a cafe after the confrontation, wanting to know more about your whereabouts and how he had not noticed that you were a superspy all of his high school years. You had retorted with a simple "I'm a spy, that's why,” which he found pretty badass.

"Well, yeah, I did my undergraduate and PhD together." He shrugged casually, looking out of the window to avoid looking at you. 

You had always been beautiful, but somehow, you had become even more beautiful than the last time Peter saw you. 

"That sounds brutal. Only you can manage that," You joked. You weren't going to admit it, but you had missed being with Peter, joking with him and watching his beautiful side profile as he blushed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"So, um. This thing, what is it about?" Peter asked, snapping you out of your daze. 

"Huh? Oh it's a long story. Like really long, if this was a TV show it would take five episodes for me to explain." You gestured, dismissing his scowl. "Okay, so you remember that time when that super high security facility was broken in back in december 2019?" 

"Which super high facility? There are a lot of break ins happening in high security facilities in America, and it's more than concerning, considering they're supposed to be super high security." He said, fiddling with his own drink. 

"Okay, Yeah that's true. It was a S.W.O.R.D facility, and long story short, Wanda Maximoff kidnapped her corpse husband to reenact the dad-knows-best suburban lifestyle with an entire town held as her hostage." You said, looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was listening. 

"Wanda stole Vision's corpse? Wait, is this about Westview? 'The Town that ceased to exist'? Is that what happened? Is this some sort of mind control thing? Cause I know she can make people believe what she wants them to..." Peter whispered, leaning in to show that he was interested. You took a moment to admire his front profile, his broken nose and dimpled chin, rosy lips and sharp cheekbones, accidently zoning out on his theories.

Leaning forward, you brought a hand up his face, pushing a stray curl behind his ears, cutting him short of his rambling. 

"W-what?" He stuttered, his breath hitching, making the table shake with a wince. 

"You have nice hair." You commented with a smirk, caressing his hair one more time. 

"You said that in the senior's party too, and well, there's no sex happening anytime soon." He said, rolling his eyes, sitting back in his hair with his hands folded on his chest.

"I like being optimistic." You rolled your own eyes, heart beating a mile a minute at the reminder of your relationship- ex relationship with Peter, "so what were you saying about Westview? I kind of zoned out." 

You watched him roll his eyes again, trying not to let your eyes wander around his biceps and the little bit of his collarbones peeking from his shirt, unbuttoned from the top, also exposing the thin chain that he always seems to be wearing. With a start you realised that it was the one you had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday.

"So this town, Westview, it just disappeared right? Behind a barrier of sorts? Is it like, coming from an energy source? Was it created by Wanda?  " he asked, ever his inquisitive self.

"Yeah, apparently she's created an alternate reality, sitcom style, with the people of Westview trapped in it." 

"So she's basically starring in a fanfiction alternate reality of sorts but a sitcom format? Wouldn't blame her, poor woman's been through a lot." He nodded, shifting in his seat. He could feel your eyes burning a hole in his skull, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you staying in a hotel? Or a shield facility?" 

"Nope," You answered, leaning back on your chair. "Am I still allowed to stay in your room? With the doors open?"

He watched you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head with a smirk, replying to you with a nod, "alright." 

*** 

"Did you pack your mittens? The extra warm ones with a built in heater? You know you're susceptible to frost bites-" 

"May! I packed my mittens." Peter murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment as he raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. 

"Okay, okay, that's great. Socks? Painkillers? Extra pair of glasses?" she asked, fumbling around the room like she did whenever he went on field trips. 

"Yes, May!" 

"Great. Stay safe, okay?" Her eyes softened, holding his cheeks in his hand like he was a seven year old, living with them with a knowledge of death no seven year old should have. Sighing, he leant into her palm, holding his own hand encompassing her small one. Giving her a smile, he kissed her cheek. “Ti amo, May. I’ll call you once I get there, okay?” 

She nodded, pulling him into her embrace, though she knew full well that he’s going to forget to call her, too excited to be in the vicinity of multiple certified geniuses and other figures of authority. 

***

"Is there anything I should know about? Like anything unexpected?" Peter asked, looking at the camp in awe as the jeep pulled over makeshift gates, a bunch of soldiers surrounding them. 

Peter was used to seeing the hustle and bustle of camps, considering all the missions he had gone through with the Avengers, back when Steve wasn’t retired and the newer generation of avengers hadn’t entered. 

“Your blood’s radioactive, right?” You asked, turning to face him with a smile. 

“Yeah. Why? Is that relevant?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he saw someone carrying his bags before he could protest. 

“Well, Dr. Lewis found out about this hexagonal anomaly, no one really knows what it is, but the source seems to be emitting huge amounts of radiations,” You said, getting off the jeep, pulling Peter out with you. Walking towards the crowded camp, you came face to face with the tent where everything was set up.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” Peter said, looking at the place in awe. It wasn’t extravagant, but the technology surrounding the tent, the vans and what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna were all way beyond the regular one used in tech companies, which is funny, considering he’s been working with Mr. Stark his whole teenage life. 

“Yup, that’s her, nerd.”

“So, what exactly is this Hexagon? Is it, like, a barrier of sorts? Can everyone go in?” He asked, looking around with glinting eyes, lips twitching in a smirk as he saw the barrier in question. His super hearing caught the static sound it emitted, wincing at the sharp noises. His boots crunched under the snow as he felt the thing pull him towards it, your voice muffled by the noises of the hex. 

It was something he had never seen before, like the static of a TV with a lost signal, glowing red in places as if reaching out to him. His senses seemed dull, the world greying around the way it had before he was bit by the radioactive spider. The spider bite had enhanced his vision in a way that he saw colours not visible to the human eye, a technicolour wonder that even Bruce couldn’t solve. 

He felt a tug, looking down at his shoes, wondering if he had just imagined it. 

“Mom and dad have been, not fighting, just like different.”

He swore he felt a white light flash in front of him, his spidey sense buzzing at the base of his skull, tingling all the way to his spine as he straightened up to dissipate the feeling, shifting awkwardly.

“Only Captain Rambeau has gone in and come back intact so far. It’s emitting a colossal amount of cosmic microwave background radiation, also known as CMBR, and once you get into it, your mind doesn’t really stay your own, so no one has volunteered other than her. Everyone knows the risk,” You said, startling him, a sharp contrast to the voices that seemed to have suddenly accumulated in his brain. 

“If you’re going to break the sound barrier, please just take your brother with you!”  

‘Sound barrier?’ he thought, looking back at the hex as it flashed red, the tug strong enough to make him stumble in his place. You looked at him weirdly, asking if he was okay, but he wasn’t listening, turning to ask you what the red flash meant, distortion evident in the barrier.

“Captain Rambeau? The daughter of the director of SWORD?” he asked instead. 

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Damn.” He sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, and dragging it down his face. 

Walking inside the tent, Peter was hit with a face full of cold air, and the hundreds of monitors nearly gave him a sensory overload. The people running around didn’t help, either. “Where do I keep this?” He asked, pointing to his bag full of equipment that Fury had asked for. 

“You can set up over here, newbie,” A new voice said chirpily. Turning around, he came face to face with the Darcy Lewis, eyes widening as he took in her smiley presence, another human who he didn't recognise standing behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Doctor D-”

“Darcy Lewis, I know- I’m a fan!” 

“Aw look at you, you have a fanboy at your hand,” Captain Monica Rambeau said, strutting in and keeping a hand on her shoulder, confidence radiating off of her every pore. 

"And… You are?" he asked awkwardly, looking pointedly at the FBI agent. He saw Darcy hide a snicker behind her hand, patting his shoulder and shoving him forward. 

The man fell forward, steadying himself on the table before he flicked a card seemingly out of nowhere. "Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI,” he said proudly, a smile on his cute little baby face. Peter was left staring in awe, wondering how he had done that.

"Wait, can you do that again? How did you do that?!" 

"It's cool, isn't it? I could teach you if you want." 

"Yes, of course, but how did you do it? It appeared out of nowhere and if you take in consideration the law of conservation of mass, it can neither be created nor be destroyed and it just seemed to have accumulated-" 

"It's a trick of illusion. You see, when I opened my palms, I-" 

"Peter, let's set things up shall we?" You interrupted their session, a smirk on yours and the other women's faces, shaking your head.

Ditching the bag on the counter, he nodded, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him next to Tony Stark sitting on his aunt’s old futon. And the magic trick.

“This is the coolest day of my life,” he whispered, shrugging when you chuckled at his excitement. “Ned’s going to freak out.” 

“Wait until you see the schematics and control panels.” You smirked, making him raise an eyebrow as he blushed, the flush apparent from his neck to his ear. The others scattered just as he finished setting his station up, fidgeting with the radio, when the voice of Hayward boomed across the cubicle. 

“Ah, Mister Parker!” he says, a faux smile on his face as he looks at the station, making Peter shift uncomfortably. The weird tingling of his spidey-sense came up again, his hand automatically reaching there to scratch at the itch.

“Here we go again,” Darcy muttered, patting Peter’s back, her eye roll loud enough for him to glance at her. 

“It- It’s doctor,” he muttered, hearing a “he gets me” from Darcy.

“Very well, Doctor Parker it is, then. I’m Hayward, welcome to SWORD.”

“SWORD? I thought this was a SHIELD thing?” 

“...Fury didn’t brief you?”

“He did! He was just very vague, hence why I’m asking. What exactly have I been called here for?”

The silence that took over was palpable, with you shifting awkwardly as Hayward eyeballed them all, looking at the five of them morosely before saying, “Brief him Monica,” and leaving.

“God, is every higher official such a dick here?” Peter grumbled, watching him retreat, shaking his head as he threw the ball of paper he hadn’t noticed he had been fidgeting with.

“See? He agrees, I like him.” Darcy nodded, pulling him with her towards the briefing table. 

“This all started when the town of Westview disappeared after the second blip,” Monica said, pulling up holographs that showed the image of people reappearing from the snap, his breathing increasing in pace as he remembered vaguely of his own reappearance. 

The whole situation was fucked up. After stealing Vision’s corpse, Wanda had basically resurrected him, holding and controlling thousands of people, an entire fucking town. Looking at the list of all the missing people, his eyes zeroed on to one particular face. He racked his memory to remember who exactly it was, mouth hanging open when he realised who exactly she was.

“Is that… is that Agatha Harkness?” Peter said, pointing at the woman who had no name written under her photograph.

“You know her real name?” Darcy asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he nodded, wringing his hands around.

“Yeah, Wanda told me about her, she’s the witch from the Salem trials!”

“How is she significant to the plot, though?”

“She... she mentored Wanda, before she went to the dark side." 

In the time he knew Wanda, she had been the sweetest person ever. She was like an older sister he didn’t know he needed, empathising with him on a cosmic level. They had come close before the events of Thanos happened. She was his person, and they shared a lot of secrets, this one being one of them.

“That’s one connection to her. What about the others? She keeps telling Vision that she doesn’t know what’s happening, but when the drone strike happened, she looked straight at the camera, like she knew,” Monica intervened.

“He tried to deploy a drone strike? In front of her children, after knowing very well that she saw her parents die in the Sokovian attack when she was ten? Is he fucking insane?!” Peter seethed, nearly crashing his fist on the table hard enough for cracks to appear on it. 

“Peter, hey, calm down! You breaking things is not going to make the situation any better, okay? He already tried to chuck us out of this, you don’t go around breaking things now!” You said, holding him still as his body shook. You had never seen him this angry, and frankly, you would never want to see it again. 

Peter was a sweet person, respecting people’s boundaries and always so understanding. He was the embodiment of good, even after living a fucked up life, he never projected his trauma on the other. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and your heart clenched every single time, seeing him in pain. 

"Listen, that's my sister in there, and she has no idea what she's doing. She needs our help and I'll do anything to help that woman and if you guys even think of hurting her I will make sure each of you regret it," Peter hissed, staring daggers at the silent team members of the room. 

“Is there any way to reach there?” he asked, more softly than before. Darcy exchanged a look with Agent Woo and Monica, opening her mouth before knowing better and shutting it. “What?! Is there a way to communicate with her?”

“Follow us,” the brown woman said, breathing deeply as she looked at the other two silently. 

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, fidgeting with your fingers. He hadn't noticed himself holding your hands, your lips twitching when you realised he had done that unconsciously.

“Trust me, I don’t know half the things these ladies do,” Woo whispered, and Peter nodded along seriously. 

“Whoa, I feel like there’s a secret underground base here! Is there a secret underground base?” 

“Well, it’s not underground, and not really a secret anymore,” Captain Rambeau said, unravelling a curtain, revealing a small space with a million monitors and a wooden desk littered with laptops and too many empty coffee cups. 

“This is so cool,” You whispered, watching in awe as Dracy lit up the screens, revealing various codes and stuff you didn’t really understand. Peter was already invested, babbling about codes and addresses and hidden files within hidden files, things that flew over your head at the speed of Darcy’s fingers on the keypad.

Leaning on the table with one hand, Your eye caught a flat round metal looking thing on the ground, picking it up and tracing it with your fingers. “Is this… a bullet?!” 

“Yeah, it was hit on that suit, which turns out to be 87% kevlar. That happened when Captain shot at it,” Jimmy answered, giving you a smile as you dropped your jaw. 

“She went in wearing a bulletproof vest right? Wanda just… manifested a dress made of kevlar?” You wondered, your words interrupted by Peter’s yelp.

“So, remember how Director Douchebag ordered a drone strike on Wanda?” she said, contemplating her words next as everyone turned towards her. “Turns out he’s been planning something else.” 

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing at the screen, which displayed two boxes full of what seemed like cells.

“That’s Monica’s blood work, he’s been tracking it the whole time. The first time you travelled to the hex? It changed your cellular structure on a molecular level, twice.” She said. 

A sombre expression took over the older woman’s face, pursing her lips. “He thinks I’m gaining powers.” Monica nodded.

“I may not be a genetic engineer, but from what I’m seeing here, he’s most likely right,” Peter interrupted, a silence taking over everyone. “He’s keeping track of the enhanced, if I’m not wrong.” 

Shaking his head, he clenched his eyes when he heard another voice. You watched him weirdly, reaching to ask him if he was okay, before retracting your hand.

“Chill out sis, it’s not like you can kill your dead husband twice.” 

“You’re right. He’s been tracking everyone who’s enhanced, including Vision.” Dracy said, typing something on the screen to show you the map of Westview, pulsing red and blue dots appearing in your sight.

“Do you know what his endgame is?”

“Yeah. Rebooting Vision.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, trying not to let his face show the anger inside him as he looked at Monica with wide eyes, both of them looking at each other dangerously, both of them realising same thing.

“Then, I’m going in. Someone needs to tell her,” he said, looking at the others for affirmation.

You took a step back, gulping in anticipation of his words. Reaching out with a hand, you stared at him, hoping he wouldn't lash out. "Peter, you have to know, the hex is a dangerous place. You won't even remember who you are so there’s no point in you going in. You won’t be able to convince her to magically leave her hostages, she’ll just see you as an outsider and throw you out-" 

"Captain Rambeau went in and she was able to get out!" he argued.

"Peter, I was tossed out because she saw me as a threat. She might not do that to you but going in that thing is dangerous, especially with your mutations-" 

"I don't give a fuck about my mutation! You of all people should know how it feels like to lose family, Monica," Peter said, looking at her. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. No one dared to intervene. 

"Peter, your mutation could potentially kill you. You know the risks of going past the barrier due to your enhancements. The radiations are altering DNA to a molecular level, your cells-”

"-are already metastasizing! My spider DNA is going to get me killed some day because my body won’t be able to handle it anymore, so I don't care, I'm going and that's final." He nodded, puffing his chest to show that he wasn't going to step down. 

"Fine, I'll come with you then," You said, looking at him as you said that. A lump formed in your throat as you realised that he was so willing to sacrifice himself, and blood pumped in your veins as determination set in along with a rush of adrenaline. 

"Do as you please." He shrugged, pursing his lips, but his eyes were a different story. You felt sick, insides tearing themselves up as you took a good look at him and his pallor, the artificial lights illuminating the scar tissues on his face. Ones that you knew were inflicted by his years of being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. 

***

“Maximoff is never gonna negotiate with us,” Hayward said, circling the table as Monica looked at him with disbelief in her expression. “We’ll need all the guns we have here to stop her.”

“We can’t outgun her, but what we can do is try and talk her out of this. Antagonising her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, she has to be our solution!” Monica argued, looking forward.  

“She’s already killed thousands during the Sokovian attack. How do you guarantee that she won’t kill another person she finds threatening?!”

“She was guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault, do not bring that into this.” 

“Yeah? Well, the guilt isn’t going to bring back the dead children is it?” 

"The dead children aren't coming back, but those people trapped in Westview? They can, if you fucking let us!" 

"Fine. But someone will be monitoring you."

Negotiations with your boss and commanding team of SWORD concerning the ship was a tough feat. you had finally convinced them to let you and Peter go across the border, but Darcy and Monica were to be on the radio in case everything went amiss.

Sitting in the (illegally acquired) van, you watched Jimmy, who was trying to teach Peter the card trick, invested in the trick yourself. Leaning forward to get a better view, you tried not to let the rush of blood in your cheeks get to you at the close proximity with Peter, heart pounding with every step you took closer to the hex. 

“I did it! I finally did it, Y/N, look!” Peter said, showing you the trick, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm. 

“That’s great! You should show it to Morgan, she’ll like it.” 

“How do you know about Morgan?”

“I know everything.”

You may have been bluffing, but he seemed to have caught on your cue, the awkward tension reappearing as he shifted in his seat, twisting and turning and going back to the magic trick. You tried not to smile, but your mouth never did coordinate with your brain. 

“We’re here,” the driver said, parking the van. 

“Okay let’s go through this again: Captain Rambeau and Dr. Lewis will be on the radio while you try and get in, stay near a radio as much as you can so we can try and communicate, and do not try to meddle with Wanda,” Jimmy said, going over your checklist. 

You were skeptical of the plan, thinking about how successful your mission was going to be, considering how powerful she had become in her own little sitcom. You had heard of her expanding the borders just after you had started driving near it. 

“You ready?” Peter asked, taking your hand as you nodded, and wrapped your fingers around his knuckles, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, looking over your shoulders to see the FBI agent giving you a thumbs up, muttering something into the comms. Looking back at Peter, you felt dizzy with the buzzing anxiety, the pull of the barrier strong. 

Stepping close to it, you felt electricity buzz in your veins, shuddering at the chilling sensation and sudden exposure to stimuli, your gut twisting the more your hand went in the hexagonal anomaly. You swore you felt your physical being tear apart, your life flashing in front of you in a white hot light, your brain was practically mush with how much force you needed just to get in. 

"I thought we would be able to get in easily!" Peter shouts, his screams echoing in your eardrums, mixed with your own screams. 

"She's becoming more powerful the longer she stays inside, and so is the hex," You replied, gasping for a breath as you tried to move forward.

With a final scream, you closed your eyes at the static sound bombarded your ears, you couldn't fathom how loud it must be for Peter, sending a look towards him. His eyes were scrunched, hands curled around his head and ears to stop the sound. Before you could comment on his state, your own vision doubled, bright green and magenta lights appearing out of nowhere, the coiling of your gut intensifying, and before you knew it, the strong force pulled you inside, throwing you off on the hard concrete of the road, and everything went dark.

***

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Everything is alright,”  Wanda said, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she sat on the couch. 

She repeated the phrase like clockwork, just like being a mom to two half synthezoid pre-teens and the gatekeeper of Westview. Snapping out of her daze, she felt something in her brain stir, realising with a start that something had been messing with the barrier-- or, rather, someone.

Closing her eyes, she willed her powers, similar to the ones Tommy had, to look past the barrier, opening her eyes with a flash when she saw a familiar face.

“Peter,” she muttered, the brown eyed boy who she had come to think of as a brother materialising in front of her, dropping on the carpet with a thud as his unconscious form fell on top of Yours. Wanda remembered you from all the stories Peter had told her about. 

Crouching down, she reached out to touch you both. Her eyes glowing red as she held a finger to your and his forehead, scrunching her eyelids as she navigated both of your heads.

A lonely young girl was seen sitting on a rock, the wind blowing wisps of her dark hair along with her dress. Suddenly, the noise of clucking of horseshoes could be heard, a woman coming into view as she got off her horse. 

“Feeling lonely and afraid at the middle of the night when you’re a young and beautiful teenage girl?” the woman in the cowgirl shoes said, holding her hip as the girl nodded. “Well, don’t worry, every young girl must have a sword at her disposal!” 

“A sword?” the young girl asked, tilting her head as she took the object in her hand.

“Yes, a s.w.o.r.d, my dear. Fear not, for the sword will protect you from all the hexes around you.”

The girl smiled, looking at the camera with the cowgirl’s hands on her shoulder. “A sword to protect the young!” 

Buy now at your nearest convenience store, terms and conditions apply.

“What are you two doing here and not at school?” Wanda chortled, startling the two who were now very much conscious. The boy moved, fisting his eyes, and he curled his hands to stretch the kinks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the varsity jacket scrunching underneath his fists. 

“Babe?” the boy groaned, messing up his hair, looking at the general direction of the girl. 

Putting on a smile, Wanda folded her arms, biting her lips at how adorable the two of you were.

“Ben? Is that you?” the girl asked, looking at her disheveled frock with a confused expression, finally noticed the woman standing in front of her. “Oh my god, babe, I swear we were at the bleachers not long ago. Did you manifest teleportation powers now?” 

“Miss Maximoff! You’re Billy and Tommy’s mom! Babe, we’re in Billy and Tommy’s house!” The guy, Ben said, his voice rising up an octave as he looked at his surroundings. 

He couldn't remember much about the Maximoffs, except that his neighbours talk about the weird mom and dad almost everyday in the gossip sessions. Whatever, he wasn't interested in them.

"She turned them into teenagers." 

"Well there goes our plan. Do we still have back up ready?" 

“That’s right, kids. Now, what were you two naughty children doing out of school?” Wanda asked, helping the two kids get up as the boy blushed, stuttering an apology.

“We- we weren’t ditching, I swear, Miss Maximoff! We were just-”

"-Doing homework! Because… because Ben's a nerd and he doesn't like that he gets behind because of the baseball team!" the girl said, stuttering as Ben nodded along with her.

“Yeah! We weren't making out or anything! Even if we're totally dating." 

Their relationship wasn't exactly your normal relationship. It was more of a… mutually beneficial relationship. 

Well, so far they had the entire town fooled, having them all think that a guy such as Benjamin Fitzpatrick would ever date a girl like her, who liked her books more than her siblings. 

"Hmm, well, thankfully, I'm a cool mom and I will not tell your parents about this… thing. Whatever it was. Anyone want cheesecake?" Wanda smiled, clapping her hands once as she looked at the two teenagers. 

Ben's stomach growled at the thought of food. "You don't have to do it, Miss Maximoff, but I would love some," he said, sheepishly looking at the ground, and wincing at another growl. 

Wanda chuckled, patting the boys back kindly. "Oh honey, it's alright. Come on, don't be shy, the both of you!" she said, looking over her shoulder and saying, "and it's just Wanda! Miss Maximoff makes me feel old, you know." 

They followed her to the kitchen, taking in the interior of the house. Ben's eyes caught something from the corner, it was almost as if it was… flickering? Shaking his head, he dug his fingers in his eyes, wondering if he was still feeling the effects of the time he had hit his head during the baseball practice. 

"You okay?" the girl asked, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

"Yeah, probably the aftereffects of a concussion." He nodded, burrowing his brows in confusion. 

"Hmm, should probably get that thick little noggin of yours checked by the nurse." She snickered, hitting his shoulders playfully. Her heart was beating fast, he noted, wondering how he could hear it so clearly. The thought that he would have to leave her after she gets a date for prom made him sad. 

They may be faking their relationship, but he had caught on very fast and realised that he wanted it to be real. As real as the town of Westview.

Wait, what?

"You know we don't have to pretend anymore, right?" Ben said, looking at the girl as she came to a halt. Miss Maximoff was nowhere in sight, the house eerily silent with her heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

"This is the best ship SWORD could ever make." 

The awkward silence was interrupted by the opening of the front door, a loud jingle as Agnes came strutting in, a big smile on her face. It made Ben's neck sting weirdly, slapping his hand at the base to nullify the feeling. 

"Hello, children! What are you doing, skipping school like the little troublemakers you are?" She grinned, pinching each of their cheeks as her voice took a baby-like tone to it. Ben took a step back, grimacing as she continued pinching his cheeks. 

"Um, we weren't- we have no idea actually-" 

"Agnes! Oh, what great timing! Were you here for Billy and Tommy?" Wanda came in, a plate full of cheesecake and crackers in her hand. 

"Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda! Your little troublemakers are already in my house, or did you forget?" She chuckled, the sound of her laughter taking a higher pitch. 

Wanda furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, a grin taking over. "Right. Yeah, of course! They really love it there with you, huh?" 

"That's right, everybody loves Auntie Agnes!" 

Ben looked at his girlfriend again, feeling strangely out of place between the two women. 

"Um, Miss Ma- Wanda? C-Can we go now? I feel like-" 

"Oh, Ben, don't be ridiculous! Why don't you sit down and take a breather? You look pale, hon." Wanda smiled, setting down the plate and ushering the two kids on the table, both of whom looked at the table with hunger in their eyes. Well, it had been long since lunch break. 

"Thank you for the cheesecake Mi- uh, Wanda, we appreciate it," the girl said, promptly digging in after the affirmation. 

***

Vision knew something was wrong the moment Agnes showed signs of knowing what was going on. The first time it happened, he was sure his paranoid wife would do something, but she had continued to act as if nothing was wrong with Agnes' behaviour. 

Walking down the road in his ridiculous costume, he nearly sighed in resignation, before he realised that he wasn't capable of such human actions. 

One more thing that perplexed him to no end was his strangely human behaviour. It was as if someone was forcing him to act more human, some weird force that was so unlike Wanda's warm presence, something more foreign and way out of his realm (like the gum incident. He sure did remember Wanda chastising him for doing this atrocity, surely she couldn't have been the one controlling him? Right?).

His mechanical heart ached for his wife. She had gone through a lot, from what he had read from her thoughts; losing a brother (twice, if the absence of Pietro was anything but a confirmation), and then him (it didn't bother him much. He was a synthezoid, there was entirely a possibility that he could be revived). 

He just really missed her, he realised. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boys were born. He didn't blame the drift on his boys, of course. He loved them to no end, would sacrifice himself for them, but he couldn't help but notice the change it brought in Wanda. 

The arrival of Pietro 2.0 didn't help either. 

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet halted their movements, and with a snap he realised that he had somehow made it to Ellis avenue, the border's static buzzing through his entire being. 

"You look lost, buddy," a strange man said. 

Looking at the man, Vision tilted his head, looking through the database of Westview to see that the man seemed to be nowhere in the records. How had he made it here? 

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, leaning against the car door to peer inside, the man sitting rigid. It was only then did he realise that the man's eyes seemed… glazed, almost like he wasn't aware. Looking back at the barrier, Vision gaped at the view in front of him. 

The man's car was half inside and half outside the barrier, the slow moving particles seemed to be disintegrating the vehicle, watching in awe as sparks flew the closer the barrier came to the man. 

"Listen, you have to get out of here before that thing destroys you." Vision tried shaking the man, but to no avail. His attempts were in vain as the man simply grunted. "Listen! Can you hear me? What's happening? Why is the barrier moving?" 

He tried opening the door, but it was shut firmly. Groaning, he punched the door, nearly falling to catch the falling man, who was mumbling some incoherent mumbo jumbo. 

"Wanda, what are you up to...?" Vision muttered to himself, realising with a start that the barrier was expanding and the man had come from outside the barrier. 

Looking at the muttering man, he quickly moved them both away from the barrier, propping him up against the grass.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, his hands gliding yellow as he touched the man's forehead, his own circuits being bombarded with incoherent noises. 

"Oh god! I'm sorry, please save me! Please, this hurts, this- you- you're the Vision!" the man screamed. 

"Yes, I'm the Vision! Now, can you stay still? I'm trying to help you!" 

"-Please! She's in my head!" 

His hands lit up again, the yellow light smothering the man's forehead as he went still again, as Vision retracted his hands regretfully. Opting to leave the man there, he stood up again, startling once again that day when he heard a shrill cry, the body of… Geraldine? Appearing out of the barrier. Shaking his head, he was convinced that he was hallucinating, if that was even possible for a droid, and turned around to walk back home. 

(Agatha gave a satisfied chuckle, purple sparks erupting from her fingers as she turned back to Wanda, pretending that that didn't just happen.) 

***

"Do you think our school is a little… solitary?" Ben asked, inhaling a puff of smoke from the blunt in his hands. His girlfriend and him were sitting on the rooftop of Westview high, their feet swinging against the edge as she clutched at Pe- Ben for dear life. 

Peter? Who was that?

"Did you see that?? Peter was right, that was Agatha Harkness and she's been the one manipulating the people, it never was Wanda! It was meant to be a plot twist, but I totally predicted it."

"Um…"

"What? I'm invested." 

Peter? 

Y/n? Can you hear me? Please say yes if you can hear me.

She noticed the static sound of the radio speaking to someone. The static noise increased, and Ben didn't seem to have noticed the small portable radio malfunctioning. Shrugging it off, she went back to passing the blunt from her boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. The word ignited a flame in her chest. Ben, who she faked her dates with once upon a time, now was her actual, real boyfriend, who she was ditching homework to smoke a blunt with, uncaring of her nearing curfew. Her parents would have her head if she found out.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, exhaling the stale air from her lungs. She knew it was more of the deep breathing than the weed, but it made her feel serene. 

"I've been hearing a lot of things lately." He croaked, clearing his throat, sniffing the air as he leaned back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gulp. His glasses were sliding off his face. She reached to push them back up, smiling at the flush of his face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, slipping her fingers through his, rubbing a hand on his back. His life had been difficult, she knew about him being an orphan, but she didn't know he was having a hard time with life at the very moment, her heart aching for the poor boy.

"I don't know, I keep hearing these voices in my head. Children screaming, people crying, and this… this buzz at my neck, I can't ignore it anymore! I feel like I'm going insane and I can't keep them quiet! I've tried, but it's like they're trying to communicate with me." 

Her eyes softened, hands running through his thick, straight hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Suddenly, the height at which they were sitting on didn't matter, she had him in her arms. 

"He broke the fourth wall. He's been hearing things, just like Billy." 

Wiping away his tears, she kissed his forehead, rubbing her hands gently on his back. 

"It's gonna be okay. You're okay, they'll go away soon." She reassured, folding her legs to get up, and pulling him up with her. "It's getting late, and mom will have my head if I'm later than curfew." 

"You've broken curfew before." He chuckled, stepping closer to Her, his hands on her hips.

Moving forward, she enclosed her hands around his shoulders, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. Standing on her highest tip toes, she crashed her lips into his, their bodies swaying with the cold wind. 

"Awww, they're so cute! Exes to lovers, I like it."

"I agree. Didn't see the fake dating coming though." 

"Right?! Wanda should start a production company." 

"If Agnes lets these people go." 

***

Meanwhile, Monica had managed to find an abandoned shack in the backyard of Wanda's neighbour's house, her body buzzing with a familiar tension. 

Opening the shack, she saw the trails of purple, vein like thing running their tracks until they reached somewhere she couldn't see. She didn't notice another person creeping up on her, too busy looking at the trails. 

"Snoopers gonna snoop," the voice said, making her jump out of her skin, and keeping a hand on her heaving chest to stop her from hyperventilating. 

"Pietro?!" She startled, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. The neighbourhood was eerily silent, leaning against the wall, before deciding against it and squared her shoulders, looking at the man in front of her. 

"Yeah, that's me. But who are you? And what are you doing in Margie's backyard?" he asked defensively. She would have found the expression comical if it wasn't for her racing heart and adrenaline filled brain. 

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, folding her arms to show a defensive stance. 

"I'm here because… I live here?" he muttered, borrowing his brows as his eyes glazed over again, "Yeah, wait, no... I live with my sister! Who lives two houses from here! What am I doing here?"

"I don't know, you tell me." 

"God, this is so weird. First Wanda was being weird, now I am." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Nothing." 

***

Billy was afraid. He knew that he should be stronger and braver, if not for himself, then for Tommy. His momma always told him that the only thing to fear was fear itself, and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew that he had to be braver to get back to his mom and dad. 

"Billy, I'm scared," Tommy whimpered. "I'm hearing voices again." 

"It's gonna be okay, Mom and Dad will be here soon," he reassured, just as scared as his brother. They were only twelve minutes apart, but he still felt a responsibility for him.

Mom said that they both reminded of her own brother- Uncle Pietro. 

Hearing the door open, he felt a chill crawl up his spine. 

"She's here! Billy, she's here!" 

"I know! I know! Shh!" 

Her footsteps came closer, the cackling of her laughter making his heart pound. His brother buried himself in his shoulders, both of them huddled next to each other, as if the inevitable could be avoided. 

"How are my best boys doing?" Agnes' shrill voice rang, making Billy breathe faster.

"We want Mommy," Tommy whimpered, sounding as small as Billy felt. 

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, that's not happening anytime soon." She tsked, sounding as apologetic as the villains in the action movies his mom forbade him from watching.

"Why's that?" Billy asked, squaring his shoulders as much as he could. 

"You didn't hear? Mommy's dead." 

And his world crashed, his brain crowding with darkness.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! 😁😁

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

[aishiteruuu]

"I always knew you were mine, Angel."

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader.

➽───────────────❥

Sypnosis: You've been raising your and someone else's child. Ever since a accidental one night stand, you got a little tipsy one night, and had someone else's kid 9 months later.. But, when you enroll your kid in soccer practice.. You and the coach have a strange connection..

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, and breeding. NSFW (slightly), Pet names, such as "Bunny' or "Angel". "Sir" kink. Dom! Sukuna. (Slightly) Pre-named kid! And Dad-mentions. Size-kink. Car-session.

CW: All the characters are at the correct age to intervene or comply with the storyline!

Word count: 2.1k words!

➽───────────────❥

You were driving Yuto to soccer practice, looking back in the review mirror at him. "Don't worry munch! You'll do so well!" You tried cheering him on. You knew he was nervous, you could see it in his face. But you were always distracted by your kid's looks. He had bright hazel-pink hair, with your eye color, and shape. And the cutest little nose that looks just like yours. Topping it off with a cute little dimple on his left cheek. He looked back your eyes in the review mirror, and sighed.

"Mom.. What if I mess up? I don't know how to play soccer!" He whined into his hands, kicking the seat slightly. "Munch. That's why you're going to practice! I'm sure there are other kids there who don't know how to play! Nobody's born and becomes a soccer prodigy!" You tried lighting his mood again.

"Well, all my friends had a dad to teach them things, why don't I?" He asked, with his hands tugging at the seat-belt. You tried dodging the question, asking him short questions instead. But he wanted an answer, so there you were. "Well.. Munch, I Don't really know where your dad is." You gulped, hoping he wouldn't continue. You really wanted to tell him the truth, but you couldn't just lay it on the table, and say- "Sweetie, I have No clue where your dad is. We haven't talked at all, and We barely talked when we met. Well.. not with words, to be nice."

"Makes sense! Onodera's dad travels a lot too!" He smiled, with his dimple-cuteness activating. You smiled at him, finally pulling up to the gym. You always questioned why this place was so big when you came here as a child. It was a sky-blue, with silver and yellow Pillars. You thought that the Pillar colors represented something, but there wasn't a mascot. Not if you count the Peeling paint on the side making the deformed shape of a cresent. You softly grabbed Yuto's hand, asking him if he tied his cleets, or if he needed to pee.

"I'm fine, Mom. But I won't be if you keep making me nervous." He muttered slightly. You run your hands through his hair. Still leading him to the gym room doors. You see a slightly tall figure, with Hair that reminds you of snow. The figure had on a very slick red jacket, with words that read,

"Nekoma high graduate!" On it. It looked pretty worn out, with a rip on the bottom of the sleeve, And a cat with spots on it. He seemed so proud of it, doing some weird motion with his arms. He greeted you with a smile, tugging at the cloth over his eyesight. "Well.. How do you do, Madomoiselle?" He attempted, biting his lip slightly. You laughed nervously, and greeted him with a goofy-smile. "Hello there.. Mr Satoru?" You peeped at his colorful nametag before smiling back at him. "This is my little munch, Yuto!" You cheered slightly, giving Yuto a little nudge.

"Hey there, kiddo! You're the spitting image of your hot mom." Gojo smiled, giving him a little push. "You'll do great out there. Now go- I have to get your mom to sign me some papers. And maybe her number-"

You cut Gojo off, with a kiss to Yuto's forehead, and a few extra cheers. You smile at the sight of Yuto's feet scuffing the floors with his shadow, and tell him you'll be in there right after. Gojo looked at you, them gave a big smile. "Miss, you have the eyes of a woman that's trying to cope. What's the issue? If you don't mind me asking."

You sighed, reading the paper Gojo handed you. It metioned something about a new coach, and how they'll be games every other day. You signed your name, and replied.. "Well, Yuto is starting to ask more and more about his dad lately, and his dad isn't really.. Y'know-"

"Hm,, Sounds like someone got a little saucy, yeah?" Gojo joked, bumping your elbow with his arm. You gave him a smile, and muttered an insult that made him laugh. He grabbed the paper, and smiled. "Well, Ms Y/n! Even though I don't see your number on this paper, I'll accept it."

"I'm sure I'll see you again, Mr Satoru." You smiled. "But- It won't involve my digits in your hotline, Mister." Gojo laughed, and gave you another smile. "Fair, Fair. But I'll always be here for the party, purrrrincess~" He made a pun, motioning to the cat on his jacket. You gave him an "Mmhm." and laughed a little.

You walk into the gymnasium practice room, seeing Yuto talking to a very tall man. The man was very slender, with slight broad shoulders. His figure was dream-made, with long, gentle bu slightly big looking arms, and very long legs that moved up to his sized torso, and shaped face. Tracing to his hazel-pink hair, with a messy hairstyle. "Christ- What does this man do for a living to be looking like a full course?" You thought to yourself, trying not to stare. You sat yourself on the bleachers, looking at how Yuto looking kicking the ball straight into the goal, avoiding all the blocks and built-up tension of his teamates. You laughed to yourself. "All that talk about not being good, and look at you go. Kicking that thing with no mercy." You felt a presence on the side of you, as you looked over.

The man had sat bedside you, looking at the sight you were only just gazing on seconds ago. "Good evening, Miss." He said holding out his hand.

Why so formal? It's just soccer. "Good evening, sir! How do you do?" You asked, taking Gojo's line. Sukuna chuckled a little, and gave you a little smile. "That's that idiot Satoru's line, isn't it?" He asked, shaking his head jokingly. You laughed, making his eyes widen slightly. He had noticed your familar laugh, wondering where he heard it from. He shook the lingering thoughts in his head, and tried to break the sem-comfortable silence. "Is that your boy?"

You shifted your vision back to Yuto on the field. "Yeah, he's mine." You replied. Sukuna admired your features, your hair that blew from the air circulation, your eyes that sparkled in any angle the light shone in.. His eyes moved their way to your legs.. then your waist, which he wanted to touch, then your chest- Which he paused on. He fastly took his eyes off of you, blushing.

You look over at him, and ask if he's okay, because you see that his cheeks are a little red. "Yes, Yes. I'm fine.. Just a little hot." He responded. You got up, telling him you were going to get ice. He pulled you back down gently, and gave you "It's okay's". He wanted you to stay, so he could admire you some more. He had felt this before.. Like Deja Vu. He knew he'd seen you up close like this somewhere, but it felt closer. Sukuna was tempted to ask "Have me met somewhere before?" But didn't want to sound strange.

You smile, as he told you not to worry, and slipped off his coat. You still worried for him a bit, feeling his face to make sure it wasn't too hot. He flinched at the feel of your touch.. He swore he felt your soft hands on him once. And he finally came to ask. "Miss.. Y/n, do we know eachother?" He asked, adjusting his glasses.

You didn't know whether you did or not. You did know that his cologne scent was so mesmerizing, yet familar. You had smelled it somewhere.. And it was really comforting. "I'm not sure, Sir." He gave you a smile, showing a dimple on his left cheek, that looked just like Yuto's. "Call me crazy, but.. You look like my Little Yuto over there, Sir." Sukuna cleared his throat, and looked away. "You think? I think we look similar aswell."

You both realized the sense. With Sukuna's looks.. And your Genes, you both were inmates. Partners. Maybe.. Lovers. You refused to believe that your 6 year old kid's dad was his new soccer coach. "If you don't mind me asking.. How long has it been since you've engaged in those.. Activites Ms?" He asked you, trying not to be weird.

"Well, since I got fucked, and pregnant? Maybe a few years." You wanted to say. "Well, It's been a few years. Since 7 years ago?" You gave him an answer. "It wasn't really.. A official thing."

"Maybe we can make it official, Angel? I already know who you are." Sukuna asked himself, rotating his fingers. "I understand. My last encounter was also about 7 years ago."

"My next will be soon.. Angel~" He smirked to himself. "There's always a right time for everything." He smiled, patting your shoulder. "Maybe we can talk after practice?" He said, walking off. You took off your serious face, and started flushing. The scent of his cologne made you a little aroused, which you found strange. You wanted to smell it more and more, until you couldn't anymore.

Practice was finally over, and you went over to collect Yuto, who was talking to another boy. Yuto looked back at you, and gave a flustered smile, before returning to the boy. You always knew Yuto had some type of affection for boys. So you'd let him have that friendship. You went to go give him his tennis shoes, when Sukuna pulled you aside.

"Gojo will take care of the kids. Please, wait for me at the door." He told you, patting your shoulder. You listened, walking to the door. You saw Gojo doing some silly walk leading the kids outside, Yuto's new friend waved at you. And you waved back, winking at Yuto. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you jumped.

"Don't worry, It's only me, Angel." Sukuna calmly said.

Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. It finally hit you. That name that you were called so long ago. The name you were obsessed with that one night of your life. The name you had written down in your book. "Who are you? Sukuna?" You asked, backing away slowly.

"..Hm, I'd perfer If you'd call me Sir like you were." He smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Go on.. Your baby daddy is waiting, Angel." He teased, loosening his tie.

"You can't just- This is wrong. I haven't seen you in years, and you want to just come on me like this?" You said, trying to push him away.

"No Angel, I'm trying to make up for it.. You know how lonely It's been for 7 years? Without the sweet, small little Angel that I love?" Sukuna asked, thumbing your lips. "Then if you love me, why'd you leave me laying in a inn? Not even an explanation. And you missed 7 whole years of your child's life." You shot back.

"Well, there's the rest of it to make up for lost time, No?" He whispered in your ear, nibbling it slightly. You flushed, and your breathing got heavy by the scent of his cologne coming back to you. "We're in a gym, Suku- Sir.." You whispered, getting nervous by the second.

In the car, wasn't maybe the right choice. You had forgotten how big Sukuna was. He was huge. You didn't think you could take him at all. "Don't be scared, I'll go slow. Get loose Angel, we're making up for lost time." Sukuna whispered in your ear, touching your bare waist. "Now won't you be a good little angel, and spread those legs for me?"

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine leaving the fire nation with Zuko when he was banished and helping comfort him when he’s having his breakdown.

Your years of banishment had been pretty uneventful at first, just travelling the seas and every corner of the earth looking for the avatar who didn’t exist. Then he suddenly did and your life was turned into an endless chase. You honestly didn’t care that the avatar was the biggest threat to the fire nation but as it was Zuko’s mission to capture him you helped. Then after Zuko’s many failed attempts Ozai sent Azula and you went from being the hunters to the hunted. You, Iroh and Zuko all had to go into hiding and Zuko took it the hardest. He’d been in an awful mood for days but when Iroh offered to teach him lightning bending he perked up and put all his effort into learning the skill.

You however, were more than happy to stand and watch from a distance. You had always been scared of lightning and although you’d done a good job hiding it in the palace (if you showed it you knew Azula would constantly do it so you managed to stifle your flinches) you still didn’t want to get too close. So you stayed by camp preparing food for later when suddenly you heard yelling. You stood up and frowned to see Iroh and Zuko arguing. Zuko was clearly angry at Iroh and pushed past him storming away. You ran over to Iroh and watched as Zuko stalked away from your camp. “What happened, what’s wrong with him?”. Iroh sighed “he wanted me to fire lightning at him but I refused and now he’s heading out into the middle of a storm”. You frowned looking up at the sky, it was drizzling but it didn’t seem like storm weather. "I’ll go after him, see if I can get him to calm down" you suggested and Iroh nodded “thank you y/n”.

As you rushed after Zuko you were hit with the irony that this was what you always seemed to be doing. Following Zuko around, trying to calm him down, but that’s was friends did. When Zuko was banished you weren’t sure if it was the thought of being truly alone in the fire nation or just all the pain and sadness you knew he must be feeling but for some reason you demanded to go with him. The whole point of a banishment was to make people leave not stay and so you managed to talk your way into accompanying Zuko easily. You helped Iroh nurse Zuko back to health from his injury and it was really hard at first. When his burn was fresh it was so angry and painful but Ozai didn’t let you have the royal physician work on him. It was mainly up to you and Iroh and you did everything you could. At first the main worry was if Zuko would lose his eyesight or even his eye but Iroh managed to save both. When Zuko did wake up he was in excruciating pain constantly and it killed you to see him lie so clearly wreathing in pain but refusing to show it. He thought he deserved it and that killed you further. You wanted to shake him and yell that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Ozai’s but Zuko had a problem seeing who his father was. You’d given up trying to tell him and for the sake of your friendship decided to just support him, Iroh assured you Zuko would eventually realise the truth of everything and you prayed he was right.

You continued following Zuko but through the countryside but he was moving very quickly and you struggled to gain any ground on him. Soon Zuko disappeared from your view altogether and you just carried on hoping you’d find him. Iroh was right and soon the light rain turned into a downpour. Then the lightning started and you jumped every time a bolt boomed across the valley. If it was anyone else the lightning would’ve scared you off but Zuko was your closest friend, you had to find him. Your foot slipped as another lightning bolt lit up the sky and you sighed but continued to follow the direction Zuko had gone in. You were beginning to give up finding him when you came to the top of the hill and saw him stood on a cliff edge. You paused taken back at the sight and then you realised what he was yelling. He was  screaming for lightning to hit him, sobbing and yelling at the storm to strike him. He looked the most broken you’d ever seen him. Even worse than when he was first banished, at least then he’d had a mission he pretended was reasonable, now as a fugitive hiding from Azula as well as the earth kingdom he didn’t have that. He didn’t have any hope. Zuko was broken and Ozai had done this to him. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes and reaffirmed the fierce protectiveness you felt for him. "Zuko!" you yelled through the storm and somehow he heard you. He turned around shocked before returning his gaze to the lightning "what are you doing here y/n?". "I’m making sure you’re not doing anything stupid like trying to get hit by lightning". Zuko didn’t respond to your joke "go back y/n" he said simply and you paused. "No i...Zuko this is dangerous the storm is really close". "So go" Zuko said yelling at you now. He was angry at the world and you were the nearest thing for him to vent it through.  "I don’t want you here i didn’t ask you to come with me! If it’s so dangerous then go! You never should've come here with me anyway, you should be back in the fire nation not here with me". "Wait why is this about me leaving the fire nation with you?" you asked and Zuko glared. "Because you and my uncle are always so selfless, it makes me sick! You changed your whole lives for me, you helped me recover from my burn you both try and appease me but it’s useless! I will never accomplish my mission, i will never be able to take us back home! I’ve ruined both of your lives and seeing you trying to help me makes me sick with anger. I can’t fix it y/n, i can't repair the damage, i can’t get my honour back, I can’t" he yelled and collapsed on his knees shaking with tears. You wrapped your arms around him and held him as he carried on sobbing. "No wonder father prefers Azula i’m useless! Useless, useless" he carried on hitting the ground with his fists until you grabbed them so he couldn’t. Zuko kept repeating the world useless however and so you just held onto him tightly as he cried. Eventually he stopped talking and just sobbed into your neck. You were crying too seeing him so defeated and just held onto him tightly. The rain was mercilessly pelting you both but you didn’t even register it, you were too focused on what was happening to your best friend. "You’re not alone and you’re not useless" you told him "we don’t care for you because we think you’ll save us but because we love you, you are worth it Zuko" you told him raising his face to yours "you are worthy". Zuko just stared so you hugged him again and Zuko clutched you tightly. The rain showed no signs of stopping and after a close lightning bolt you managed to get Zuko to stand and come with you. You found shelter in a small cave and led him inside. Zuko collapsed on the floor as soon as he was inside and you helped him lean against the side of the cave. He was shaking and still crying so you wrapped your arms around him again. Zuko leant into you and you patted his back trying to soothe him. Finally Zuko stopped crying but he didn’t move away from you. You supposed he needed the comfort and had no intention of denying him that...but you were still so close to all the rain and cold. Your feet and hands were freezing and you were itching to make a fire and move further into the cave. After waiting as long as you could you spoke softly "Zuko we should make a fire....you’re freezing". Zuko got off you without a word and followed you as you walked further into the cave. You found the makings of an old campfire and the wood lit instantly. Zuko moved closer to the fire and sat hunched over his knees. You came to sit beside him and silence settled. You were sure he must be hungry and searched through your bag for some food. It was soaked but you managed to find an only slightly damp packet of fire flakes at the bottom. You opened it and held it out to Zuko. He glanced at you over his shoulder and you shook it "we won’t be able to travel in this weather so we'll be stuck here for the night, i’m sorry but this is the only food i have". Zuko sniffed "it’s okay" and took a handful. You both sat munching on the food quietly until it was all gone. You added the packet to the flame and tried warming your hands on the fire. "You’re shivering" Zuko noticed and you shrugged "it’s okay". "No it’s not, you’re soaking wet and trapped in this cave all because of me". You shook your head "not because of you, yes i choose to follow you but not because I had to. I did it because i wanted to, i’m not your responsibility". Zuko shrugged "i guess but you wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me". You knew he actually meant this whole situation not just the cave and sighed worried he still blamed himself. "Maybe but we are here so the only thing to do is to make the best of it, how about we try to sleep? Things will look better in the morning". Zuko didn’t reply but you laid down close to the fire and hoped he’d copy you. "Make the best of it" you heard Zuko mutter "okay". Zuko suddenly grabbed your shoulders and began dragging you to the side of the fire nearest the cave opening. "What are you doing?" you asked laughing and Zuko smiled "making the best of it, if we have to sleep here then you should be near the fire but we also need to make sure it doesn’t go out so we’ll block the wind with our bodies and still get the benefit of the fire”. The wind blew angrily against your back and you frowned before Zuko sat down putting himself between it and you. He blocked the cold and the fire’s warmth was more noticeable. "Better?" he asked and you nodded "thanks". A massive lightning bolt struck right outside the cave and your whole body jumped. Zuko laughed “what was that?”. “I...I hate lightning”. “What since when?” Zuko asked and you shrugged “since forever, i can usually hide it when i’m safe inside but when I’m in the middle of a storm....” you trailed off when another bolt struck and you flinched again. They seemed to be getting closer. Zuko smirked “it’s okay it can’t get us in here”. You nodded “i know that but...”. Zuko paused and cautiously put an arm around you “does this help?”. You managed not to blush but you couldn’t look at his face. “I...yes”. Zuko nodded and he smiled slightly before pausing. "Y/n about today....". "It’s okay" you said immediately but Zuko shook his head. "No it’s not, i didn’t mean to yell at you but i did and that was wrong. I’m so sorry". "You were just upset" you shrugged and Zuko nodded "i was but you are not the person to direct that at, all you and my uncle have ever done is be there for me, even changing your whole lives for me and i guess i feel guilty about that, like i’ve dragged you down with me". "You didn’t drag me anywhere i came willingly and so did your uncle because we care about you, you don’t have to be held responsible for that, we don’t hold you to that and so you shouldn’t. We made our decision and neither of us would change it". "Really you’d still decide to follow me out here in the storm?" Zuko asked with a smirk. "I’d like to say yes but i can’t feel my toes". Zuko laughed but noticed you were indeed still shivering. Zuko moved closer to you again and tightened his grip on you. You didn’t manage to hide your blush this time but luckily Zuko was looking away to also hide his own blush so he didn’t notice. "Thank you" Zuko said suddenly "that’s what i’m trying to say....i don’t know what i did to deserve someone like you in my life but somehow you’re here and i want to thank you, i don’t do it enough but thank you for being with me, for not giving up on me, it means a lot". "I’ll always be here for you" you smiled. "Really?" Zuko asked smiling, you knew he was joking but could also hear the sharp undertone of his voice, that part that was seriously asking, scared you didn’t mean it. "Always" you nodded and laid a hand on his cheek. Zuko’s blush deepened and you pretended not to notice. "We should go to sleep” you smiled and Zuko nodded still pink "erm good idea". You lowered your head against his chest to hide your smirk at Zuko’s awkwardness and folded into his side. With the rain pouring outside and the warm fire you were actually very comfortable. Zuko seemed to be too and you smiled as he stroked your arm absentmindedly "goodnight y/n" he said softly and you smiled "goodnight Zuko".

[p-redux]

It's has been that cold. Bullshit. We've been hiking and surfing. Stop with your lying. He looks terrible. Maybe was sick.if he wasn't positive he has no valid reason for postponing NZ and screwing over Graham and the crew there, except for his own screw up on travel which his production company not Starz is responsible for or he just wanted another vacation after 5 he's already had this year . He's suck, an idiot, or the usual narcissist. take your pick.

I just watched the move “Being the Ricardos” about Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, so let me ‘splain some things, oh frothy one. 

Los Angeles finally got some sun the last few days, but up until then, for the past two weeks it was COLD and rained most days. Granted, when I say cold, I mean cold by L.A. standards. Most native Angelinos break out the parkas, wool scarfs, beanies, and mittens if it gets below 65, myself included. Having said that, the last few weeks have been in the low 50s AND raining. So, unless you’re from the Midwest, the East or a country with cold winters, NO ONE in L.A. has been hiking or surfing in the RAIN. Actually, let me take that back, the only people surfing are hard core surfers. And they wear wetsuits, when the freaking Pacific water is below 50, ya dope. I cannot stress enough how COLD and RAINY the last few weeks have been in L.A. I don’t remember a Christmas that actually felt like a Christmas and this one did, weather wise. We’re always saying “Aw, man why can’t we get a white Christmas like they write about in all those songs, it’s annoying that Christmas here is 75 degrees and sunny.” Well, THIS year it wasn’t your typical L.A. Christmas. 55 degrees and raining is practically snow here, okay. Have I made it clear how unseasonably cold it felt? 

So, don’t come to MY blog to call me a liar. The weather is nice NOW, but it was not for a few weeks. And that’s a FACT. Unless you’re from a place where it actually snows on Christmas, then by all means wear your bikini and go surfing and hiking in 50 degree rainy weather, ya freak. Everyone else was COLD and stayed inside. Capisce?

As for Sam looking “terrible,” um, pretty much every man on this planet would kill to look this ☝ “terrible.” Sam looks great. Baby just has chapped lips, because as I said up above, it’s COLD in L.A. AND L.A. is extremely DRY right now. I’m lathering myself in cocoa butter, olive oil, and 30 year old Crisco, and barely making a dent in keeping my skin from cracking. So, no, Sam doesn’t look sick, he just needs someone to dab some Chapstick on those beautiful lips and some lotion on his angel face, and he’ll be juuuust fine.

And this 👇 pic was just posted a few hours ago, does Sam look “sick” to you? Or maybe you’re just proving that Extreme Shippers and disgruntled Ex-Shippers have bad eyesight and little working cognitive function, and they CONTINUE TO MISCONTRUE REALITY.

Sam obviously had a GOOD REASON for postponing his trip to New Zealand and given he stayed in Los Angeles aka Hollywood aka the entertainment capital of the world, it would seem logical it was WORK RELATED. And had nothing to do with him being a “Covid-ridden idiot narcissist who needed another vacation” to paraphrase you. Trust me, anyone who came to L.A. the last few weeks looking for a warm, sunny holiday was sorely disappointed. 

Anon, if you think so badly of Sam, then WHY pay any attention to anything he does? You and yours are SO bitter and miserable. Find a fandom and a celeb that makes you HAPPY. 

So, I propose a New Year’s Resolution... take the stick out of your ass, step away from anything having to do with Sam, and go find something that puts a smile on your face. Novel idea, I know. 

[cazimagines]

Oblivious

Request from anon: Hi, I really enjoy your writing, particularly your Zemo fics! I had an idea for one that basically follows the while y/n joining Sam, Bucky, and Zemo through Madirpoor and Riga. Only despite Zemo’s flirting, y/n doesn’t really do anything about it or even notice until y/n along with Sam and Bucky witness Walker (New Captian America) murder a flag smasher in the street. They all go back to the safe house and y/n is like, in shock. “Captian America just killed someone” is all y/n can really say. And Zemo is able to calm them down. Maybe the romance can start then?

Word count: 3.4k

Author’s note: This one-shot can be multiple parts, if you would like to see a sequel please say! If I do decide to write a sequel though it will take me a while as I’ve had a lot of requests, please check out my master list to see what I have coming up next and if requests are currently open or not

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Heels clicked along the pavement as you sashayed along the road, approaching the men before you, two of which you know fondly. The other one, however... not so much.

They all stood close together in a circle, obviously discussing something important but at hearing your voice call out their heads turn towards you, a smile appearing on Sam and Bucky’s faces as they see you. “Long time no see boys,” you say, stopping a few feet away from them to lean on a wall.

They both walk over to you, Bucky pulling you into and hug then followed by Sam hugging you tightly. “Thank you for agreeing to help us out y/n. I know things haven’t been easy for you,”

You fake a smile at Bucky, one you hoped he wouldn’t see past resting your arm around his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,”

He was right, though. These times haven’t been easy for you, especially after Steve Rodgers left. Captain America had always been your idol, ever since you were a little kid you aspired to be just like him. You collected all the Captain America merchandise along with your brother Phil, always arguing with him who owned which toy of his. Meeting Steve had been a dream come true for you. He was the person you were closest to. He helped you come to terms with your brother’s death and whenever you needed help; he was there. You two stuck together through the thick and thin. That’s was how you got to become good friends with Sam and Bucky. You and Steve have always had a complicated relationship, though. You two liked each other and tried to see if you could be something more, but it never seemed to work out. Then Thanos happened. You, along with half the universe, were dusted. For you it was as if you had simply blinked however for Steve it was five years without you. You barely got to see each other again before he went away for good. You couldn’t hate him for it, you understood why he did what he did. He was always telling you about the ’40s, about his childhood, about her. You just wished you weren’t so connected with him. Seeing him there, old, dying. It broke your heart. But times move on. You can’t live in the past as he did.

Your eyes focus on the man behind Sam and Bucky and you frown, pulling your arm away from Bucky. A man you never thought you would see again was staring right back at you.

He stood a few feet back, knowing he wasn’t welcomed in the warm reunion of friendship. He clasped his hands, unsure what exactly he should do right now, feeling awkward, but as he looked over at you his eyes twinkled with recognition. Now you had been interesting to him. You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and James. Yet you certainly could hold your own against them. He had seen when he had first activated James. No, your strength and fighting abilities were down to your own human powers and he admired that. You were one of the few avengers he might have had an inkling to like if the Sokovia attack never happened. Still, it wasn’t as if you were to blame for it. The people who were to blame had suffered for it. You were merely the pawn in the giant game of chess. Perhaps he could grow to like you, after all, he could admit you were certainly tempting to him, the way your body was shaped excited him, the way your neck was shaped made him want to brush his fingers along it and your piercing eyes felt like they could look into the darkest corners of his soul.

“Why is he out of prison?” you snap, bringing Zemo out of his trance

Sam turns to scowl at Bucky as you all turn to Zemo, who awkwardly smiles. “Bucky thinks we need him,” Sam mutters

“Why would we need him!” you exclaim, crossing your arms and shooting Bucky a glare.

“I am invaluable,” Zemo explains with his hands, his eyes unwavering from you as he answers for Bucky.

“He hates super-soldiers, therefore he will help us in getting to Karli,” Bucky says, stepping in front of your eyesight trying to explain himself.

“That also means he hates you, Buck,”

All of them freeze as you address the elephant in the room. Bucky grits his teeth and steps back, averting your gaze as you and Sam stare expectedly at him but he doesn’t respond so Zemo takes his opportunity to step closer to you, now only a few feet apart.

“I can assure you, getting rid of Karli and her super soldier friends is my priority. Not James,”

You clench your jaw in anger as you look at Zemo. He tilts his head, the side of his lip curling up slightly, hoping you’d take a chance on him. Sighing, you turn to shoot one more look at Bucky.

“Steve wouldn’t have liked this,”

Later you sat across from Zemo on his private jet. All of you sat in uncomfortable silence as you flew to Madripoor. Sam and Bucky did not seem as close as you were to both of them. They both just sat on their respective sides and looked out the window. Zemo had a book on him which he seemed very preoccupied reading, yet there were moments where you could feel his eyes settle upon you. Ignoring his inquisitive gaze, you choose to follow in Bucky and Sam’s lead of looking out the window and daydream the rest of the trip away.

Your mind trails back to Steve. You wondered just what Steve would have thought about you teaming up with Zemo. He would have understood, wouldn’t he? It was the best option you had. Ah, but he had always been such a stickler about the rules. Breaking a criminal out and helping him avoid the law wasn’t very patriotic of you. Yep, he would not have gone through with this plan, he would have found another way that worked. But none of the people here were him. He choose not to be here. You knew you had to let him go.

“Champagne?”

You pull your eyes away from the window, coming back to reality as you see a bottle of champagne in Zemo’s hand and an empty glass in his other hand. He already had another glass full beside him as he looked at you expectantly.

“No,”

“Sure?”

“What part of no do you not understand,” you snap harshly glaring at him then back out to the window

“My apologies,” he says, pursing his lips together as he looks down at the empty glass. He glances over to Sam and Bucky but they both shake their heads as well so he hands the glass and drinks back to his butler and sighs as he opens his book again.

The tension between all of you sticks around as you arrive at Madripoor. Zemo had provided you a tight-fitting dress to ‘appear the part’ of your allice, and it showed off a bit too much of your chest than you liked. It was too bright for you, golden and sparky, cutting off at your upper tight, and had a very low v cut. You try your best to pull it down to cover you some more but to no avail. Begrudgingly, you leave the plane to meet up with the rest of them.

“My my y/n, the dress suits you,” Zemo says, smirking as his eyes trail up and down your body as you walk past him taking a straight beeline towards Sam and Bucky.

“How long will this mission take?” you ask, already feeling the cold air nip at your skin.

“Few hours at the least. I’m sorry that you have to do this, y/n”

“Hey, I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help you two,” you mutter as you hear a car pulling up behind you

“Not exactly this though,” Bucky grumbles, glowering over at Zemo who motions to the car that had arrived. Zemo opens the door and waits for you to get in however you walk to the other side of the car and get in. Bucky chuckles at Zemo’s annoyed expression as he instead gets into the side, which Zemo held open.

During the mission, Zemo kept getting uncomfortably close to you. Occasionally his hand brushed against your back as he moved past you, or his hand would bump into yours slightly, lingering against yours longer than normal.

You knew why he was doing this. Because of Steve. He knew how close you and Steve were, everyone did. During the fight between Steve and Tony which Zemo had helped cause you stuck by Steve every second. Now that Steve was gone, Zemo was trying to rub that in. Trying to irritate you on purpose. You would not let him get to you.

During the meeting with Selby you stood off to the side with Sam and you were feeling pretty good about yourself that the mission was going well until Sam’s phone rang. You tried to keep cool while also giving Sam the wtf look as to why he didn’t put his phone on silent. You hung out hoping things would go okay, but today wasn’t your day.

Shelby got gunned down in front of you, and the mission was ruined. Running in heels wasn’t ideal, but you had to make do. You followed Sam and Bucky as Zemo split up from you, running off somewhere else. Eventually, you kicked off your heels, believing running barefoot would be better than dealing with the agony of heels.

Finally, meeting back up with Zemo, you were ready to have to fight your way out of this mess, but then someone you didn’t think you would ever see again appeared. Sharon Carter. You two weren’t exactly buddy buddies. You got along for Steve’s sake, but it always felt like a sort of rivalry between you two for his attention.

“Y/n,” she says, finally addressing you

“Sharon,” you say back, feeling the awkwardness seep back in. Sharon didn’t seem bothered however, she even kindly let you have some new clothes and shoes which were much more comfortable than the ones Zemo lent you and more your style.

Walking back into the main room you see Zemo sitting down, once again drinking, Bucky sitting down as far away from Zemo as he could get and Sam standing at the side. You choose to stand by Sam.

“Hey, y/n, you doing okay?” Sam asks as you walk over.

“Better than other days. What are we waiting around for?”

“For Sharon to lead us to a party where she can get the information we need,” Zemo answers for Sam, peeking over at you. You ignore him.

Sharon comes back in and tells all of you not to get in trouble while you are out at the party.

“Trouble,” Zemo jokes, and he once again glances over to you, raising a glass and winking at you as he downs it.

Following Sharon, you head into the party. It was to show off the art pieces she had got a hold of so you thought you might as well look at them as you were unlikely to see any of these genuine pieces again. You could see however Zemo following you. He tried to be sly by checking out the other artworks near you, never exactly where you were, but you could tell because every time you moved to a new place soon enough Zemo would suddenly appear there as well. He leaned into one of the artworks, pretending to study it closely, but the corner of his eyes would flick over to you.

Groaning in frustration at your new stalker, you decide you had to lose him in the crowds. Swaying your body, you enter the dancing crowd and jump along to the music, letting yourself go. You could feel your excitement growing with the crowd as you danced, but with one quick turn around there, you saw him.

Zemo had now entered the crowd and was dancing along to the music as well, pumping his hands in time to it. As you stared at him in disbelief, he notices and takes that as an innovation to dance over to you.

“Dancing is fun, right?” he asks as he claps his hand to the music

“Why are you doing this!” you exclaim glaring at him.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “I don’t understand what you mean?”

You huff in annoyance and storm away, going to find Sam and Bucky leaving Zemo alone on the dance floor. He watches you go and sighs, moving away from the dance floor. It had been a long time since he last got to socialize with anyone and he was trying with you; he wanted to know you more, but he didn’t want to push you too far either if you were uncomfortable with it.

The next few hours felt like a blur to everyone. Sharon found out where the doctor was and you found out a bit of information before Zemo choose to shoot him. Then the whole place exploded, and you had to fight for your life while Zemo hijacked and car to pick you up. Now you were standing outside the safe house.

Zemo opened up the doors, and with his arm motioned for you to go in first. You roll your eyes at his extravagance and storm in, looking around the place. It was simple, but you could still tell that it was all designer, expensive to Zemo’s tastes. You sit down on the sofa while Zemo instantly gravitates towards the liquor cupboard.

“If you drink so much you won’t have long left to live” you mutter as you watch him pour some whiskey. His head shoots up as he turns sidewards to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Concerned about my health now?”

“I’d rather have you not pass out during a mission, at least till you are no longer of use to us then you can drink yourself to death for all I care,”

“Ah concern for the mission, yes you avengers folks are all the same. The mission takes precedence before anything else,” Zemo says, grabbing his glass and walking over to take a seat on the sofa opposite you.

You give him a cold hard stare crossing your arms. “What do you mean by that” you hiss

He tilts his head, smirking as he sees how riled up you were getting. “I’m simply observing that you have to put your mission before human lives. I know from how much I studied Steve-”

“Don’t bring Steve into this!” you exclaim, leaning forward, baring your teeth at him.

Zemo pauses for a moment shocked, he pulls his head back to observe, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyebrows cast down but realization dawns across his face.

“Ah, you and Steve, you two were an item,”

“It wasn’t like that” you murmur, jumping up from the sofa and pacing around the room to try to alleviate the agitation you felt, your nails digging into your arms as you wrapped them around your body in comfort.

“But there was something,” Zemo replies, watching you pace around the room then looking into the glass bitterly, his grip on it tightening.

You turn your back to Zemo to stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing the tears swell up in your eyes.

“Why are you bringing this up? Why do you keep trying to annoy me Zemo, what purpose are you getting from this apart from some sick sadistic pleasure?”

It was Zemo’s turn to jump up from the sofa, hurt you could ever think so lowly of him, his eyebrows furrowed as he speeds over to you. He stands beside you, getting a lot closer to you than you would like. You turned your head away so he couldn’t see the tears threatening to fall.

“Do you think that bad of me? Y/n we may not have had the best first impression but know that it is never my intention to irritate or upset you,” Zemo says, trying to move even closer to you, but he moves a step too far and you back away.

“Just leave me alone, Zemo” you whisper, then run out of the room to find a bathroom to let everything out.

Zemo watches your form leave, angrily clenching his jaw, knowing he pushed it too far. The vein in his neck twitches as he grabs an ornament by the side of the mirror. Holding it in his hand, he observes the glass figure, a dove, then chucks it into the ground in rage, feeling an inkling of satisfaction at seeing it smash into a thousand pieces. He grabs more ornaments, at that moment not caring how much they each cost, just enjoy the release of anger he felt every time he smashed one.

-

You could hear the blood in your brain roar through your ears, the feeling of your heart hitting your chest in shock as you stared down at Lemar’s dead body.

Your eyes flicker to John’s who knelt beside him, trying desperately to wake him up, but you knew it was hopeless. Lemar was gone. Your eyes flickered around the rest of the room, Karli and her friend realising how bad they have messed up were already running away from the room. Bucky and Sam looked at each other as if knowing what was to happen. Your eyes finally land on Zemo’s. John had tried to arrest him, but you were able to stop him. Zemo was still useful though you hated to admit it, it wasn’t long however till the Dora Milaje would find him.

You feel a hand brush against your shoulder and snap back into reality, “We need to leave, now,” Zemo whispered in your ear, pulling your arm to make you move.

Gathering your senses, you let Zemo lead you out of the building as you hear a crash from above. Running out into the road, you and Zemo catch up beside Sam and Bucky and watch the disaster unfold.

There was John, in Cap’s uniform, holding Cap’s shield above that man.

Steve.

Steve’s shield.

You feel a scream tear from your lips as you watch John Walker bring the shield down, penetrating the man’s chest, staining it in blood. Tears leak from your eyes as you attempt to rush forward, to try and stop it, but arms grasp onto you, pulling you back.

“NO” you repeatedly cried, trying to worm your way out of the grasp, but they gripped you, refusing to let go. Your knees gave out and you sink to the floor, collapsing in the arms of the person who held you, your head buried in the fur part of their coat as they held you to their chest.

You kept sobbing, shaking as the image replayed over and over in your mind.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whispered, unable to say anything else. The arms which held you picked you up, quietly shushing you, and carried you down a road, back into the safe house.

They tried to put you on the sofa but you clung to their body, not believing you could survive without their support, so they settle on lying down beside you on the sofa.

They turned you to face their body as their arms draped around you, gently rubbing circles into your back. Burying your head into their chest again, you let the sobs wail out as your chest ached from breathing.

“Captain America just killed someone,” you whisper again to him.

“That wasn’t Steve, y/n, Steve would never do something like that,” he murmured, his accent soothing your nerves.

“But it was his shield Zemo. The very thing I had idolized for so long,”

“A shield which by now no longer belongs to him. He was never Captain America y/n, what we just saw proved that. They will give the shield to someone better,”

You sniff, trying to prevent the snot from coming out of your nose as your bloodshot eyes look up into his, “Really?”

He gently smiles at you, taking his hand off your back to push a strand of hair that was hanging over your eye away.

“Yes, they won’t make the same mistake twice,”

Zemo’s words brought more comfort than you could have ever imagined. His embrace brought you warmth and you could feel yourself slowly stop shaking as he held you. Looking away from Zemo in embarrassment, you instead choose to snuggle your head back into his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart which lulled you to sleep.

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