#i have so many actual things i needed to work on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satellite-evans · 9 hours ago

Text

clumsy

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Your clumsiness is going to be the death of Lando.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: injuries, fluff, worried Lando

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The first time Lando saw you trip over nothing, he thought it was a one-time thing. Maybe you were just tired, maybe the floor was uneven, maybe it was just bad luck. But after months of dating, he realized it was just... you.

You were a walking hazard. A human magnet for misfortune. A professional at collecting bruises, scrapes, and band-aids like they were limited-edition collectibles.

And, unfortunately for Lando, that meant he was constantly on high alert.

“Babe!” His panicked voice rang out as he watched you stumble over absolutely nothing on the kitchen floor. In one fluid motion, he darted forward, catching you before you could face-plant into the counter. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you from further self-destruction.

You blinked up at him, sheepish. “Oops.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, holding you steady. “How does this keep happening?”

“I have my theories.” You shrugged, playfully tapping your temple. “Faulty wiring.”

He shook his head, scanning you for any new injuries with the practiced precision of someone who had done this far too many times. “You need bubble wrap. No, actually, I’m getting you a helmet.”

You giggled, resting your hands on his chest. “A helmet for walking?”

“Yes. And knee pads. And elbow pads. And maybe a full-body suit.” He crouched slightly, running his fingers over a fresh bruise forming on your knee. His lips pressed together in frustration. “When did this happen?”

You followed his gaze, only now noticing the purple splotch decorating your skin. “Uh… I have no idea actually.”

Lando groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Love, you’re killing me.”

You grinned, cupping his face between your hands. “But you love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed dramatically, but the fond smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I swear, one of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I’ll try not to,” you teased, pecking his lips. “No promises, though.”

Despite his exaggerated complaints, he was always there to patch you up. He had a first-aid kit permanently stocked—no, actually, he had multiple, one in the car, one in the bathroom, and a travel-sized version in his bag. He had mastered the art of wrapping bandages, applying ointments, and kissing away the pain (even if you insisted that last part was unnecessary).

At this point, he was convinced he could get a medical degree solely from the amount of practice he had.

And yet, no matter how many times he swore he’d wrap you in protective gear, he never failed to hold onto you just a little tighter, watching out for stray corners, slippery floors, and rogue table edges like they were mortal enemies.

Because, as exhausting as it was, he wouldn’t trade you—or your inexplicable ability to defy gravity—for anything.

Even if it meant keeping an ice pack ready at all times.

As if on cue, you turned to walk away and immediately stubbed your toe on the kitchen island.

“Ow! Shit!”

Lando just groaned, rubbing his temples. “That’s it. I’m putting you in a bubble.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You just injured yourself standing still!”

You grinned sheepishly. “Okay, fair point.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re a menace.”

“Your menace,” you corrected, snuggling into him.

He sighed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah. My menace.”

You were chopping vegetables, fully focused—well, as focused as you ever were when handling sharp objects—when you somehow managed to cut yourself with the knife.

The sharp sting made you gasp, and almost instantly, blood welled up from the deeper cut. Before you could even fully process what had happened, Lando was already at your side. He had been watching you closely (as he often did whenever you were near anything remotely dangerous), and the moment he saw the slip, he sprang into action.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. “Alright, that’s enough knife duty for you.”

His voice was laced with worry, though he tried to mask it with his usual teasing tone. His eyes darted to your finger, the cut deeper than the usual minor scrapes you tended to collect. Without hesitation, he led you to the sink, turning on the tap and holding your hand under the cool water.

“You know, normal people don’t injure themselves every day,” he tried to joke, though his brows were furrowed as he watched the water run red.

You hissed at the sting but still managed a lopsided grin. “I like to keep life exciting.”

Lando huffed a laugh, though there was a tightness in his jaw. “Yeah, well, I’d prefer if you found a less hazardous way to do that.”

After patting your hand dry with a towel, he grabbed the first-aid kit (which, at this point, he always kept within arm’s reach). His movements were careful, almost practiced, as he disinfected the wound. His fingers ghosted over your skin with such tenderness it almost distracted you from the sting of the antiseptic.

“This is deeper than your usual cuts,” he muttered, pressing a sterile gauze pad to your finger before wrapping it securely in a bandage. “It doesn't need stitches thankfully but you really need to be more careful.”

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly. “Well, at least I have you to patch me up.”

He sighed, shaking his head, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. When he was done, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“There. Good as new,” he murmured, but his grip on your hand remained firm, like he was reluctant to let go.

You wiggled your fingers dramatically. “Wow, a miraculous recovery. See? This is why I keep you around.”

Lando scoffed, feigning offense. “Oh, so I’m just your personal medic now?”

“Pretty much.” You shot him a cheeky wink before immediately reaching for the knife again.

Before you could even graze the handle, Lando snatched it away with lightning-fast reflexes. “Absolutely not.”

You pouted, eyes wide with faux innocence. “I was just gonna—”

“Nope.” He held the knife out of your reach, shooting you a pointed look. “I’m officially banning you from sharp objects.”

You crossed your arms, watching as he took over the cutting board and started chopping with ease. “So, what, I just sit here and do nothing?”

Lando smirked. “Exactly. Just sit there and be adorable.”

Your lips curled into a slow grin. “You think I’m adorable?”

His chopping faltered for a split second, and you caught the way his ears tinged pink. He rolled his eyes, refusing to meet your gaze. “Shut up.”

But when you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, you felt him smile against your touch.

A few days later, the two of you were strolling through the paddock, the soft air filled with chatter. It was the usual pre-race chaos—engineers darting between garages, reporters setting up for interviews, and fans cheering from the barriers.

Lando had a firm grip on your hand, partly because he liked holding it, but mostly because he had learned that letting go of you for even a second increased the chances of you tripping over something by approximately 100%.

Still, despite his best efforts, it happened.

One second, you were walking beside him, mid-sentence about what snacks they had in hospitality. The next, you were suddenly pitching forward with a startled yelp, your foot catching on a stray cable snaking across the ground.

Lando reacted instantly. With reflexes honed by years of racing at breakneck speeds, he lunged forward, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist just before you could crash onto the hard concrete.

“Alright, that’s it,” he huffed, keeping you firmly against him as you steadied yourself. “I’m officially holding onto you for the rest of the day.”

You barely even fought it, leaning into him with an amused grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather you not break an ankle before my race,” he muttered, shooting a glance down at your shin. His jaw clenched at the sight of fresh bruises already forming. “How do you even manage this?”

You shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Raw talent.”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head, though the corners of his lips twitched. He tugged you even closer, keeping a protective arm around your waist as the two of you continued walking. From then on, any time there was so much as a crack in the pavement, he subtly steered you around it, refusing to take any more chances.

Lando’s race had gone well. Not a win, but a solid finish—good points, a few impressive overtakes, and, most importantly, no major mistakes. After the usual post-race interviews and debrief, all he wanted was to find you, wrap you up in a hug, and maybe gloat a little about how well he managed his tires.

But when he finally spotted you in the motorhome, his relief was short-lived.

You were sitting on one of the couches, clutching your ankle with an ice pack balanced precariously over what looked like a nasty bruise. Your expression was sheepish, but there was a telltale wince every time you shifted.

Lando’s stomach dropped.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was sharp with concern as he strode over, kneeling beside you in an instant. His eyes scanned over you, heart pounding at the thought of what he might find.

You attempted a grin, lifting the ice pack slightly to show off the deepening purple splotch spreading over your skin. “Well, you told me not to break anything before your race… so I did it during your race instead.”

You let out a small, nervous chuckle, expecting him to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic comment.

But Lando didn’t laugh.

His jaw clenched, his usual lighthearted expression darkened with something much more serious. “That’s not funny.” His voice was quieter now, more strained.

You swallowed, the weight of his worry sinking in. “Lando, it’s just a bruise. I didn’t actually break anything.”

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his damp curls. “What happened?”

You shifted slightly, the movement making you wince again. “I was walking back from the paddock, and some guy wasn’t looking where he was going—ran right into me. I tripped over a barrier and, well… gravity did its thing.”

Lando closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to contain his frustration. “Jesus, Y/N.” His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure where he could touch without hurting you.

You sighed, placing your hand over his. “Hey, it’s okay. It just looks worse than it is.”

He gave you a look—one of those signature Lando Norris you’re full of shit expressions. “Yeah? So if I press here, it won’t hurt?” He gently placed his hand near the worst of the bruise.

You immediately flinched. “Ow, okay! Point made.”

Lando groaned, rubbing his face. “I leave you alone for one race.”

You pouted. “To be fair, I survived the whole weekend without getting injured until the race. I think that’s progress.”

Lando wasn’t amused. Instead, he carefully lifted your injured leg, maneuvering it so it was resting on his lap as he adjusted the ice pack. His touch was gentle, but his brows remained furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice softer now. “I just… hate seeing you get hurt.”

Your chest tightened at the genuine concern laced in his words. You reached up, cupping his face with your free hand. “I know.”

His blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. “Promise me you’ll at least try to be more careful?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “I promise to try.”

Lando huffed, clearly not satisfied, but he let it go—mostly. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before shifting to kiss the top of your knee, just above the bruise.

“You’re still getting the bubble wrap,” he mumbled against your skin.

You giggled. “And a helmet?”

“And a helmet.”

221 notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 8 hours ago

Text

Steve Harrington, who has a very “in name only” relationship with his parents, the people who claim they love him lots but have simply given him cash for his last six birthdays without bothering to send a card.

Steven Harrington, who lost his connection to the only adults in his life who actually parented him when he had his final fight with Tommy and Carol-- not that they ever really did that much. Having an adult put a bandaid on his knee and complimenting him for being tough was plenty enough.

Steve Harrington, who drove Dustin and co. to the Byers house that one Christmas and was told by Hopper not to come in; that Joyce was still mad at him about the ‘demodog in the fridge’ and figured his exclusion was fair--it wasn’t like Hopper actually liked him. Joyce certainly had no reason to. It wasn’t like he was doing anything for Christmas anyways.

Steve Harrington, who is fairly certain Robin’s parents have clocked her as queer but who still treats him in that careful way many parents do when he’s hanging around their daughter. There’s a barrier there, in the way of firm handshakes and “get her back safe”’s that keep things formal. (It’s never bothered him before, and he swears it doesn’t bother him now.)

Steve Harrington, whose relationships with adults are defined by words like “networking”, “proper connections”, “favors”, and “finances”, who has at best been treated like a miniature version of his father and at worst as a spoilt moron, who encounters Wayne Munson and has no idea what to do with the man.

Wayne Munson, who asks him actual questions about his life. Who asks him to watch the game with him. Who calls him “boy” and “son” in ways that sound affectionate and not frustrated. Wayne, who shoos him away from the dishes and compliments his cooking, who has invited Steve over when Eddie isn’t even home.

Steve Harrington, who keeps apologizing to Eddie because “I’m not trying to steal your Uncle man, I promise.” and doesn’t believe Eddie when the latter just laughs at him.

(“You can’t steal Wayne, Steve.” Eddie says with a snicker, when he finally figures out what Steve is apologizing for. The guy apologizes a lot for things that make no sense, it’s a bad habit Eddie’s working on him with. “Though I do believe he has been trying to steal you.”

“Oh.” This does not relieve Steve. In fact, this seems to make him more nervous looking, which Eddie does not want.

“I uh. I don’t want to come between you guys so I guess we can just hang at my house…?” The voice he trails off with is downright painful for Eddie to hear, and he’s already slashing his hand in the air in a wild ‘No’ before Steve can even finish speaking.

“Dude you’re fine. I’m glad you guys are getting along! Wayne needs someone to talk sportsball with and clearly so do you because you keep trying to talk about it to anyone who will listen.”

“I guess if you’re alright with it…”)

Steve Harrington, who allows himself to be adopted by the Munsons much in the way a feral cat lets itself become domesticated, and who starts looking at Wayne like the man hung the moon.

Wayne Munson, who is referred to by Steve as “Dad” exactly once, and feels so fucking happy about it he misses the panic attack Eddie has to talk Steve through.

He also misses that that is the moment when Steve accidentally confesses his feelings to Eddie in the Munson’s (new) cramped bathroom, on grounds that “I can’t date you and also call Wayne dad like that, that’s weird! Isn’t that weird!? It feels weird!”

(“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, trying not to smile and failing entirely. “I get what you’re saying, but I think in your panic you missed something kinda key, there.”)

Steve Harrington, who gets himself an entire family in the end (and gets to both call Wayne “dad” and Eddie as his boyfriend, without issue, because “we’re not related babe, you can call your inlaw whatever you want.”

“Now who's skipping steps? When did we get married?”

“The very second it’s legal, that’s when.”)

--and has never been happier in his life.

#I've been poking at small town rumors #trying to get Wayne to come through #fucking grumpy ass old men are so hard to write #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

297 notes · View notes

rauspberries · 3 days ago

Note

Spencer Reid × Fem!Reader

Frinds to lovers

Fluff

Friendship Bracelets | S.R.

summary: you and spencer go shopping for supplies to make friendship bracelets based on each other's eyes. which would be a fun activity -- if you could stop staring at each other. tags/warnings: gn!reader, friends to lovers, slight fluff, crush confession word count: 1.1k notes: this is the best i could come up with, but i had fun writing it <3

Majority of your days off were spent by Spencer’s side. He seemed to be the only person willing to do whatever fun event that you either saw on the Internet or somehow spawned into your brain, always answering with an enthusiastic nod and dropping a fact on anything you offered.

When you had asked him at work yesterday to make friendship bracelets with you, he had nodded, pulling his bag up higher on his shoulder. Friendship bracelets are said to come from indigenous people of Central and South America, although some knots are dated back to China in 221 BC. They can be used for things such as symbolizing friendship, art or social statements. The modern popularity of them actually started in the 1980s, worn during protests of the disappearances of Mayan Indians and peasants in Guatemala, he had rambled as you had gotten into the elevator, your eyes watching his lips as he spoke. He talked so fast, but it was always at a perfect pace for you. You weren’t known for having the best attention span.

In the early afternoon the next day, you both had taken public transit to a nearby craft store, your fingers trailing over all of the different materials. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what kind of bracelet you wanted to make. Neither one of you took frequent trips to the beach, but you did go through crazy situations with your job, so something strong was needed. But did you want to attempt a threaded pattern, like a candystripe or a chevron, or did you want to go for beads, so you could remake it if it broke?

“What if we made them for each other with beads the same color as our eyes?” You wonder aloud, plucking up a specific shade of brown off of the shelf and holding it up to his face. You watch closely as his brow furrowed, glancing at the beads before back at her. The corner of your lips tilt up as something sparks in your brain, head tilting before you place the beads back, deciding it wasn’t the correct color. “You know, brown eyes symbolize strength, reliability and a connection to nature. They’re said to be grounding. They’re also associated with a warm, nurturing energy.”

You can feel his gaze watching the side of your face as you look through the beads, grabbing another strand off of the shelf and holding it up. “My eyes might be a bit hard to find a color for. There’s, like, seven different colors in there.”

Glancing at him, his lips part into an almost cocky smile before he turns back to the shelf in front of you. Almost immediately, he grabbed a couple sets of beads, holding them up to your face before shrugging. “Think I got it down.”

“What?” You huff, narrowing your eyes as you look at his choice. Admittedly, they’re perfect. If you’d stared at your own self in a mirror long enough, you most likely would’ve chosen the exact same things. “How did you do that?”

A small laugh rumbles in his chest as he runs the beads through his fingers, glancing down. “I have an eidetic memory. I think I’ve stared into your eyes enough to memorize them, actually.” A slight pinkish tint crawls onto his cheekbones, eyes only meeting yours again when you raise another color up to his eyes.

Your bottom lip pushes out in a pout as you return yet another failed color, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the amount of shades of brown in front of you. There were so many options, both of beads and colors in his eyes. If the sun shone on them, they were honey-colored, light and smooth. In the ambient lighting of his dark-paletted apartment, they were darker, deeper, asking you to spill out all of your secrets over the glass of wine he had poured just for you.

“You’re making it seem like I never make eye contact with you.” You huff, rustling through the collection in your hands and plucking out a few different options. Laying them out, you take one final glance at them and him before nodding. “Got it.”

Spencer’s brow quirks in amusement, looking down. “That’s four different colors. My eyes are brown.”

In response, you shake your head stubbornly. “They’re more than brown, Spence. They’re a different color, all the time.” You turn on your heel, his eyes digging into your back as you lead the way up to the register. “When you’re asking me for something, they get darker, turning into your signature puppy dog eyes. When you cry, they somehow get darker than that. In the sun, they get brighter, like impossibly brighter. Like the color of peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” He laughs from behind you, hand skirting along your back as he leans over to place his beads on the counter. Then, he moves in front of you, blocking the way to the card reader as he blocks the way, paying for all of the supplies the two of you had grabbed during your shopping trip as you mewl your complaints from behind his back.

As you’re walking out, his fingers close around your elbow, causing you to turn and immediately catching his eyes. Looking up, you watch as they illuminate in the sunlight now cascading across his features. If you had to put a cheesy palette name to the color, you’d choose sunlit honey pot. If you weren’t so speechless at the feeling of his focus directly on you, you’d jokingly call him Winnie the Pooh. Instead, you’re forced to stare up at him, gaping like a fish out of water.

“You look at my eyes that much?” He asks, his voice impossibly soft. If you had to put another adjective to it, you’d say the tone of his voice was adoring. Instead, you just nod, and then you do the one thing you know to do when it comes to talking to Spencer. You list facts. “Prolonged eye contact with someone you adore can trigger chemicals such as oxytocin and phenylethylamine, making you feel bonded and deeply connected with the person you’re looking at,” you blurt.

It feels like you’ve said the exact right thing with the way his face lights up, lips pulling into an even wider smile as his face flushes. “Did you just say you like me, but with science facts?”

“No, I, uh,” you stutter, shaking your head and running your hands through your hair, “that’s not what I meant.” The whine in your voice gives you away, shattering your lie quickly.

Just as you turn away to hide your shame, his fingers enclose around your elbow, turning you back around. As you stand, starstruck, he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, beaming down at you. “I like you, too. Don’t worry.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

143 notes · View notes

tallysgreatestfan · 3 days ago

Text

It also comes across much more as "neurodivergent people should not exist and especially should not see anything positive or part of their identity in their disability" than "worried about teens diagnosing themselves with something inaccurate".

Best way to explain this is to use autism as an example. It is very difficult to get an autism diagnosis if you aren't a small child anymore and/or belong to literally any minority, and even getting a diagnosis doesn't necessary mean that you get any accommodations or actually useful therapy (diagnosed at eight, if anything this harmed me rather than help me). It is also something popular media and most neurotypicals perceive as purely negative outside of absurdly unlikely savantism, with close to no accurate portrays in fiction or even nonfiction googeling it for information.

Now, of course on TikTok, or other social media, misinformation spread my autistic people themselves does exist, but the bulk of the #ActuallyAutistic movement is centered around explaining the actual lived reality of autistic people, pointing out discrimination, and treating autism not as something shameful in need to be fixed, but a part of someones identity that has both positive and negative sides.

Popular culture and even most therapies wants us to look at our mistakes, flaws and weaknesses and blame ourselves for it, the Actually Autistic movement seeks to explain where this comes from and how the way all these systems are set up makes these problems worse, or sometimes even entirely creates them.

Can you see how threatening this can be for neurotypicals who need to believe that the way their brain works is the perfect and ideal one, that the way these systems are set up is ideal instead of unfair, and that they have it easier because they are more virtuous, more determined and overall better?

Have you seen all this talk about "glamorizing" and "glorifying" of neurodiversity the moment a neurodivergent person openly talks about their reality instead of whatever dehumanizing, inaccurate cliches they think would apply and doesn't hate themselves?

I was in autism therapy for almost ten years. I learned the most basic basics about what autism is there, framed in "this is why you are wrong and worthless". I learned to understand myself better, and learned more useful and in depth things about being autistic in one year of finding the Actually Autistic tag on tumblr than these almost ten years there.

This affects not just teens, but as first OP said, teens suffer the most of it because of their restrictive life circumstances, lack of money and power and just the general dismissive attitude towards them.

Hope this is not derailing first OPs point, but I think this takes a huge part in the general publics view on this and also why this feels so necessary for so many teens even additional to the already brought up points.

it's so funny to me when i see pearl-clutching articles about how "teenagers are diagnosing themselves with mental disorders via tiktok" because like. this is not happening in a vacuum. teenagers are severely and i mean severely medically neglected. i cannot stress this enough. teenagers do not have free access to medical care. those same news outlets would be clowning on women with housewife psychosis in the 1950's.

i sometimes go pale when listening to some of what my friends have gone through in their childhoods and teenagehoods. they talk about it so nonchalantly, things that would be considered straight up torture if done to an adult, can't fathom the effect this has on children. they are on multiple anti-psychotics and several antidepressants and anxiety meds now that they are adults. medical neglect has legally and effectively disabled them. a timely diagnosis and intervention could have saved them. of course teenagers are self-diagnosing using tiktok. if your knee-jerk reaction is to scoff at the idea and dismiss it as dumb teenager shit instead of being radicalized because the best shot young people have at attaining the mental health support they need is a fucking dancing videos app, you're categorically a political enemy of the youth.

#mental illness #ableism #neurodivergence #actually autistic

18K notes · View notes

gummydummy19 · 14 hours ago

Text

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

@princessayveke

@montsepliego

@scxrletrecsmarvel

@hopelesslyrogers

@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

@tfandtws

@vicmc624

@ahahafudge

@enchantedbarnes

@wickedravyn

@pono-pura-vida

@amayaraestyles

@matchat3a

@fictional-hooman

@sebastianexplicit

@peaches1958

@avengersfan25

@jamneuromain

@tryingtoliveonmywishes

@mrsevans90

@daybreak96

@tiredqueen73

@fallingforunrealisticromance

@identity2212

@randomweirdoss

@ragamuffin285

@juliaorpll78

@geralts-yenn

@imjusthereforliam

@bangtanstoeart

@squeezyvalkyrie

@enchantedbytomandhenry.

@superduckmilkshake

@kingliam2019

@bascmve01

@missgaygurl

@foxyjwls007

@mollymal

@urmomsgirlfriend1

@luxeydior

@beck07990

@liecastillo

@warriormirkwood

@vintage-is-my-middle-name

@lucinapomona

@madebylilly

@nothingbettertosay81

@est1887

@whoemj

@notanotherpotter

@morganlolitta

@cashmereandcookies

@secretdream2

#gummydummy19 #fluff #fanfiction #smut #cod #cod price #cod john price #price #john price #captain price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price call of duty #john price x you #john price fanfiction #female reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #poc reader friendly

98 notes · View notes

rcvcgers · 2 days ago

Note

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up.

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks.

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

#lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads #love and deepspace #rcvcgers requests #rcvcgers writings

132 notes · View notes

themilfsland · 7 hours ago

Text

Under the forbidden tree - Part I

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 10k

Summary: A break from your studies and work. A program dedicated to foster children you decided to join. A weekend of faith, charity, and innocence under the watchful eye of the Westview church. But beneath the prayers and borrowed smiles, something unholy stirs.

- "...but have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone."

tags | content: Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, improper use of religion itens, praying for grace.

A/N: My initial plan was to create an one-shot, but it ended up being too long, so I decided to split it into two parts. Honestly, I’m still not sure if that was the better choice, but anyway. Enjoy :)

menu fic | Part II (coming soon)

You were running late, but not as much as the ride your friend, Yelena, had promised you.

As you packed the last pieces of clothing you had laid out on the bed — "toothbrush, comfortable sneakers, sunscreen, hairbrush, cap, towel... vibrator?!" — your mental checklist came to an abrupt halt when your eyes landed on the object placed inside one of the suitcase compartments. "Do I need to bring this?" - you wondered, a pang of guilt creeping into your conscience. Bringing your toy to a church retreat might not be the wisest decision — actually, it was a terrible one. The possibility of boredom wasn’t a valid excuse, nor was the fact that finding a moment of privacy in your friend's apartment was nearly impossible.

Your thoughts drifted beyond the present — this week marked two months since you had temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s apartment. You could call it luck or mere coincidence, but either way, it had been a huge help.

A few months ago, you received an offer to work and study temporarily at a psychiatric hospital unit in Westview. At first, you considered turning it down — far from home, a small town that felt more like a village, completely different from your life, nothing particularly appealing. However, after an honest conversation with your favourite college professor, your perspective shifted. Finding out the significant research advancements happening there reignited your interest.

But, of course, there was still one major issue — where would you stay during that period? Money was tight, and there weren’t many good housing options in Westview. That’s when Yelena practically "fell from the sky" — or rather, her girlfriend, Kate, did, stepping in to help with everything you were missing — they were your saviour.

Two weeks after accepting the offer, you stood in front of Kate’s apartment with your small collection of belongings. In a quick rundown, Yelena had explained that she met Kate at an exhibition of ancient artefacts —more specifically, weapons and combat objects. Well, none of that surprised you. In fact, you made a mental note, wondering how it was even possible for more people to share Yelena’s questionable and somewhat violent interests. Either way, things moved quickly after that, and now Kate was working in a neighbouring city to Westview. Yes, even though you had to travel a few extra miles to the hospital where you’d be working and studying for the next few months, this was still the best option, and you were incredibly grateful for it. Oh, and of course, the small yet not-so-insignificant detail — less than a month after Kate settled into her apartment, Yelena invited herself to move in. Classic.

A knock on your bedroom door pulled you back to the present. The door suddenly swung open, followed by Yelena shouting, - “I’m home! Are you still not ready? Let’s go!”

You jumped in surprise and quickly shut your suitcase. Any hesitation you previously had about the vibrator was gone. It was coming with you, whether because you no longer had the chance to take it out or simply because privacy in this apartment is definitely not an option. Maybe, in a quiet place, free from interruptions, you’d finally get to enjoy a moment to yourself.

----

On the way to Westview, Yelena convinced you to make a quick stop at a Café. After all, a little caffeine would be welcome before hitting the road.

- "Are you sure about this, Y/N?" - Yelena asked, her expression filled with doubt.

- "You mean doing a little charity work by volunteering for the kids at the orphanage?" - you replied with a question of your own.

- "Yes... I mean, not exactly about helping out, but you know, this is a project run by the Westview church community..." - her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

- "I know, I get what you're trying to say." - You let out a small laugh. - "Honestly, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of spending the next few days at a church ‘club.’ Religion really isn’t my thing..."

Yelena was trying her best to not look judgmental, but she was failing miserably.

- "Look, it’s not going to be the best place or the best people, but I’m doing this for the kids. Giving them a weekend of fun, games, and a chance to breathe some fresh air outside of the orphanage. It’s worth it." - you continued.

Yelena stared at you while taking another sip of her coffee, carefully choosing her next words.

- "Okay, I’m still not completely convinced by that excuse." - You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a better response. - "But since you’ve decided, I should warn you that where you're going is far from being a ‘club.’ Kate and I went there once. Honestly, the place looks like the perfect setting for a period horror film. There's only a chapel and three large wooden buildings."

You were about to argue, but she cut you off.

- "No, don’t defend the place before you’ve even seen it. You’ll agree with me later. Oh, and before you ask what Kate and I were doing there — the only, and I mean only, good part is the huge, beautiful lake. Great for swimming or just relaxing."

You let out a long sigh and nodded, choosing to avoid a pointless argument.

- "Maybe the truth is... I just need a short break," - you admitted in a low voice, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself.

You could hear Yelena’s voice in the background — she was probably giving you a lecture about neglecting self-care and not recognizing your limits. But her words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, your thoughts louder than her voice, dragging you back to the exhausting days at the hospital.

- "Y/N adapted so quickly here, didn’t she, Darcy?" -Jimmy asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

- "Yeah! A little too quickly, actually. But she got lucky that we don’t currently have any patients going into the ‘dark book,’" - Darcy replied, giving you a playful wink.

The three of you were in the hospital’s break room, taking a short rest and having what might be lunch or maybe even dinner — with shifts so chaotic and schedules a mess from the overwhelming workload, this was probably your biggest meal of the day — a combo of lunch and dinner.

- "'Dark book'? What’s that?" - You asked, puzzled.

Jimmy shot Darcy a disapproving look as if she had just brought up a forbidden topic. Then, turning back to you, he answered in a tone that was far too cold. - "It’s nothing big, Y/N. Just reports on patients with more complex cases. In these instances, to protect their future, all records are archived under strict confidentiality. Once they’re discharged, it’s as if their past is erased — so there’s no public speculation and they can reintegrate into society more easily."

The idea intrigued you. What kind of cases could be so dark that they needed to be kept secret, their pasts wiped clean?

- "That sounds interesting, but I have my doubts about you two keeping secrets. I can practically read it on your faces that you know more than you're letting on."

Darcy let out a loud laugh before responding. - "Of course we do… and yet, we don’t." - She chuckled again. - "But honestly, we respect that confidentiality rule. I think it’s fair."

You weren’t satisfied with that vague answer, and your curiosity got the best of you. - "Oh, come on, guys! It won’t hurt anyone if you share just a little of what you know. Besides, I’ll be gone in a few months anyway." - You gave them your best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Jimmy chuckled before finally speaking. - "Look, Y/N, you can dig around in our library all you want, but you won’t find anything with real details. Even we, after years here, barely have any real information."

Darcy nodded in agreement and added, - "He’s not lying, Y/N. We don’t even know the patients’ names. All we ever get are bits and pieces of stories that float around the hallways."

You kept staring, silently pushing for more, until she finally gave in. - "Jimmy, do you remember that guy who used to pull pranks on other patients? Even on Dr Strange? He was absolute chaos."

Jimmy refused to say a word, just shooting her another disapproving look.

- "Oh, come on, Jimmy. Everyone here knows at least one story about that guy, don’t give me that judgmental silence." - She smirked before continuing. - "But fine, I know you were way more interested in that other guy… the one who almost turned green when he got angry."

Jimmy scoffed. - "Now that’s a low blow. Of course, that case was more interesting, but don’t even try to change the subject. Your real obsession was that crazy patient who kept rambling nonsense and scribbling in that little red notebook… the one with those three initials on the cover."

You and Darcy were about to press him for more when Dr. Strange walked into the room. - "I believe the break is over. Time to get back to the studies."

- "Y/N? Are you listening to me?" - Yelena said, shaking your arm. - “Y/N!! Earth to you, hello??”

You were snapped back to reality by the pinch she gave you.

- “OUCH, YELENA! I’m here, and that hurts!!” - you grumbled, rubbing the spot where she had pinched you.

- “Yeah, yeah, I can see that you're here, physically, at least. But your mind? Oh, it went far, far away from here,” - she retorted with a disappointed tone. - “Anyway, you do seem like you need a break. Maybe your crazy idea isn’t so bad after all.”

She continued speaking as she grabbed her bag from the chair.

- “Speaking of enjoyment, I got you a little present.” - A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she pointed to a small wrapped box in front of you. - “BUT — you can only open it once you get there. You have to promise me.” - She winked at you as she handed over the gift.

Still unsure, you took the package and shot her a suspicious look. - “This is so unlike you… but okay, I’ll accept this rare expression of affection.”

Her mouth fell open in mock offence at your comment — though she was well aware that acts like this weren’t exactly her style.

Well, you’d understand soon enough once you saw what was inside the box.

----

No matter how many times you drove down the road to Westview, you never grew tired of the natural beauty surrounding you — the towering trees lining the way, the fresh breeze streaming through the open window of the car, if you were lucky, you could even hear the birds singing as they soared through the sky.

As expected, the location was just beyond the entrance to town, requiring a small detour off the main road. A wave of anticipation and gratitude washed over you. You were excited about all the opportunities the universe was laying before you— and, of course, grateful that your friend was here to support you. After all, she was doing you a huge favour by giving you a ride. The designated arrival day for volunteers and children was technically set for tomorrow, Saturday. However, Yelena and Kate had already arranged a small camping excursion for the weekend. Not wanting to interfere with their plans, you reached out to the project administration to inquire about the possibility of arriving a day in advance. Fortunately, they responded quickly, assuring you that it wasn’t a problem — on the contrary, it was common for some team members to arrive early to help with preparations.

Once again, your mind wandered, and before you even noticed, Yelena was already steering into the front garden and parking the car.

- "Alright, are you ready to spend your next few days praying and dying of boredom?" - Yelena teased, her voice dripping with irony.

You let out a laugh. - "Girl, you are sooo dramatic! It won’t be that bad. I have high hopes it’ll be fun, and time will fly by. Just don’t forget to pick me up." - You tried to sound confident, though deep down, you had your own doubts about how interesting this place would be.

Yelena stifled a mocking chuckle, gripping the door handle. She turned her head toward you and stated, - "Good luck, then, Y/N. But seriously, don’t fool yourself into thinking this place is all rainbows and sunshine. When you’re sitting in that chapel praying…" - she pointed outside toward the small building, "… you’ll remember me and what I’m telling you now. There are a lot of weird people around here, so don’t be too easily convinced by good manners."

Without giving you a chance to argue, she swung open the car door.

You shared a brief embrace and a farewell kiss on the cheek. With a final wave, you watched the car fade into the distance.

Drawing in a deep breath, you turned toward the small gathering nearby and began making your way toward them. As you neared, a woman in the group noticed you and greeted you with enthusiasm.

- "Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome!"

The surrounding chatter ceased as the others turned their attention to you.

- "You must be Y/N, right? I’m Monica," - she said, extending her hand to greet you. You shook her hand in return, slightly surprised at her accurate guess.

- "Yes, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you! But… um, how did you know my name?" - you asked, suddenly aware that all eyes were on you.

- "I was the one who replied to your email about arriving a day early," - she said with a warm smile. - "I was just talking about you! We don’t get new volunteers here very often, so we’re happy to have you."

She glanced at the others and began introducing them from right to left.

- "This is Clint, Scott, Agatha, and Wanda."

They all welcomed you with warm smiles. A slight unease tingled up your spine — being in the spotlight had never been your comfort zone. Clint seemed to notice your nervousness and spoke up.

- "Hey, don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll guide you through the activity schedule. Today will be pretty relaxed — we’re just preparing the welcome for tomorrow and taking care of some last-minute details."

You nodded and muttered a "thank you."

It was also evident that holding onto your luggage was wearing you out, so Monica swiftly added, - "Alright, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know Y/N over the next few days, but for now, I think it would be best to show her around. Wanda, would you mind?"

Without hesitation, Wanda stepped forward and gently took your suitcase from your hands. - "It would be my pleasure! There’s so much to do here — you’re going to love it. But first, let’s drop off your things in your room so they don’t get in the way during our little tour."

She flashed a warm smile, gesturing for you to follow, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the vivid green of her eyes.

----

The place itself didn’t have much in terms of infrastructure, just as Yelena had warned you. There was the chapel, a large house that served as the dining hall and the main space for meetings and activities, and two additional buildings that housed the dormitories.

Fortunately, since you had arrived early, Wanda informed you that you could choose between a shared or private room. That was an easy decision—a private room, without a doubt.

Wanda followed up with something you weren’t expecting.

- "Alright, a private room for the young lady. But you should know, Y/N, that nothing can be hidden around here."

You stared at her, speechless and confused about the meaning behind her words, until she continued.

- "I’m talking about the bathroom, darling. The restrooms here are communal, but don’t worry — there’s hot water and plenty of stalls for everyone in the building."

That was… disappointing. Not the worst thing in the world, but you had always valued your privacy— especially in a place full of strangers. At least you had managed to secure a private room, you thought.

- "And here we are, finally, at the most beautiful part of the refuge — the lake!" - Wanda said excitedly, taking your hand and leading you closer to the shore. - "The sunset view from here is just breathtaking… We’ll have plenty of activities with the kids around this area. I’m sure you’re going to love it."

You were absorbed in the view when you suddenly realized — she was still holding your hand. A warmth spread through your body, catching you off guard. You weren’t used to physical contact, especially not with people you had just met. And yet, when Wanda gently squeezed your hand to get your attention, pointing toward a flock of birds soaring on the other side of the lake, you felt something… different.

Your palm began to sweat from nervousness. In an attempt to check if she had noticed, you turned to look at her — only to find her gaze locked onto yours. It was as if she was trying to read your mind. Strangely, it was both unsettling and comforting at the same time. She radiated kindness, an almost motherly aura. Yet deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had the power to destroy you if she chose to.

A wave of anxiety started creeping in, and to break the tension, your eyes mistakenly drifted to her lips. That only made things worse. A rush of heat spread across your skin, and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn. Acting purely on instinct, desperate to avoid an impending disaster, you abruptly pulled your hand away and turned to the side, pointing at some nearby trees.

- "This place is so green… so many trees, so many flowers. It’s really beautiful, Wanda," - you said quickly, starting to walk toward what you had just pointed at. - "Are those… fruits hanging from the branches?"

Wanda followed your awkward retreat, staying close. Too close.

Your face was burning, and you cursed yourself internally. Why do I always react like this around women? It was so embarrassing. This was exactly why you could never successfully start a relationship. It was ridiculous — being a lesbian but completely incapable of holding a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

Before you could spiral deeper into your self-inflicted humiliation, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts.

- "Yes! Most of these trees are fruit-bearing. We have peach, orange, pear, plum… and my personal favourite—apples."

Coincidentally, the tree closest to you had a few ripe apples hanging from its branches. You stopped walking, determined to keep your eyes on the fruit rather than on Wanda.

Your plan failed miserably.

Before you notice it, she was standing right in front of you — too close again. Close enough that you could catch the faint yet intoxicating scent of her perfume.

Your gaze remained fixed on the apples above, but your real struggle was maintaining steady breathing. And, of course, you failed at that too.

- "Are you okay, Y/N?" - Wanda asked with a concerned expression, taking a small step closer. - "Your face looks a little flushed, and—"

- "I-I’m fine, Wanda," - you interrupted, quickly stepping back. - "It’s just… hot, I mean, because of the sun." - You fought to keep your voice steady, but it was a losing battle.

- "Oh, darling," - she said with a pity tone. - "Maybe you didn’t put on enough sunscreen. Your face is looking a little red."

Before you could react, she reached up and gently brushed her fingers against your cheek.

You froze.

Your thoughts raced so fast that they made no sense at all. A simple touch. A meaningless gesture. Why did it make you shiver? Why are you like this?

Just as you were about to combust from sheer overthinking, an apple from the tree behind you fell to the ground with a soft thud.

You let out a startled breath — partly from the sudden noise, mostly from relief.

The shift in focus was instant. Wanda let go of your face and looked down.

- "Oh, we’ve been blessed, Y/N! Look at what we have here," - she said, crouching down to pick up the apple, rubbing it against the fabric of her blouse. Then, she held it up to your lips.

- "Here, sweetheart. Take a bite."

Her eyes flickered from yours to your lips.

You didn’t move. You just… stared at her.

- "Y/N," she repeated, this time in a firmer tone. - "I said, take a bite."

A tremor coursed through your spine. There was something about the way she spoke — the quiet dominance in her voice. Instinctively, you followed, taking a small bite.

- "Well done, dear. That was so easy," - she said with a sly smile.

- "Huh? Easy?" - you repeated, swallowing the piece of fruit.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing it softly as if wiping away a nonexistent trace of apple. - There was nothing there. Right? - Before you could even think to protest, she silenced you with a quiet "Shhh."

She took a bite from the same apple.

- "Mmm… absolutely delicious. Almost as sweet as you are," she murmured with a smirk, then winked at you.

Your brain shuts down.

- "Anyway, it’s getting late, and we still have things to do. Let’s go, dear," - she said, taking your hand — again. - "I have some important work for your hands."

- "W-What??" - you blurted out in disbelief.

These double meanings — was she doing this on purpose, or was your pathetic interpretation playing tricks on you?

Wanda didn’t respond. She merely pulled you along, guiding you toward the buildings without a word of explanation.

----

It was obvious that you would use your hands to make welcome signs — what else would you even use them for? — As you cut and painted the papers, you found yourself caught in an internal debate. There was no reason for you to have ambiguous thoughts about Wanda. You reassured yourself that she was simply being kind, making sure you felt comfortable around here. She was polite and respectful, and it was evident in everything she did.

As you both worked on the signs, she struck up a light conversation — never prying, never overstepping, but also not allowing an awkward silence to settle between you. When you casually mentioned that you didn’t have much knowledge of religion because it had never been a significant part of your life, she simply smiled warmly, respecting your choices.

She took the opportunity to talk about the upcoming services. For the children, there would be interactive lessons designed to introduce them to biblical teachings. For the adults, there would be mass at night, just like in Westview. Before you could even comment on it, Wanda reassured you that you were under no obligation to attend it but were always welcome to share in the Lord’s grace.

What once felt unattainable was now unfolding—you were speaking to her with ease, without anxious stuttering or overthinking every word. Wanda was an incredible woman, captivating in every way, but above all, she was deeply devoted to her faith. She was present at every service, every activity — the very definition of a right woman.

The signs were finally done, and without wanting to brag, you felt quite proud of your artistic skills. What you weren’t so proud of, however, was the mess you had made in the process. Clumsy as ever, your hands and arms were stained with paint. Wanda noticed your chaotic state and grabbed a damp cloth to help you clean up. Unexpected yet expected. The more time you spent with her, the more you noticed her nurturing aura. It was oddly comforting.

She took your arm and gently wiped the fabric against your skin.

- “You made quite the mess here, huh, Y/N?” - she teased, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. You felt your face heat up, both from embarrassment and from the way her fingers moved over your skin.

- “I’m proud of your work, though,” she continued, her voice warm. - “They’re so colourful, so full of life. In the end, the mess was worth it, wasn’t it?”

You were almost certain she said that just to make you feel better, but either way, you couldn’t stop the small smile that formed at the thought of her being proud of you.

Wanda continued wiping away the last traces of paint. Her touch was soft and delicate, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the moment. The silence between you carried a strange paradox — both exhilarating and calming at the same time. To keep your mind from spiralling into dangerous territory, you let your curiosity take over. After all, you did want to know more about the woman in front of you. So with the smallest bit of confidence you could muster, you crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

- “So, Wanda…” - You hesitated. - “You said you live in Westview. Are you married? Do you have children?”

The hand that had once been so gentle against your skin suddenly tightened around your wrist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The shift in her demeanour was instant, her features tensed and her breathing grew heavier. Regret flooded your chest, and you wished you could take the question back.

Seconds passed, though they felt like hours. Her grip didn’t loosen. You tried to pull your arm away, your voice barely above a whisper.

- “Wanda? I—I’m sorry if that was too personal. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

It was as if the more you tried to retreat, the harder she held on.

Then, finally, she spoke. - “Oh no, there’s no need to apologize.” - She let go of your wrist at last, and yet, you still felt the pressure of her fingers lingering on your skin.

- “Your question wasn’t inappropriate,” - she said, though something about the way she avoided your gaze made you doubt her words. - “It just caught me off guard.”

You unconsciously rubbed the spot where she had held you. The moment had been tense, and though you wanted to move on, you felt compelled to apologize again. Wanda let out a noticeable sigh. Wrong move. Before you could process what was happening, she took your chin between her fingers and tilted your head to the side.

- “I think there’s a little paint left on your neck,” - she murmured.

Before you could react, she wiped her bare fingers against your skin. - “Almost clean, darling,” - she continued. - “The paint dried, so it’s a little harder to get off.”

Her nails began to lightly scrape against your neck — not painfully, but enough to make your breath hitch. Your body froze again, your thoughts scattering in every direction, yet none of it seemed to add up. Such a small gesture, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. It was meaningless— just a touch, just a fleeting moment — so why did it feel like something more?

- "All done,” - she finally said, pulling back slightly. - “Oh dear, I might have been a little too rough. Your skin turned a bit red where I cleaned.”

Her voice was laced with mock sympathy, her eyes watching you intently before she leaned in. And then, without hesitation, she pressed a soft kiss against the spot on your neck.

- “Don’t worry, it’ll go back to normal soon,” - she murmured against your skin. She pulled away, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She didn’t wait for a reaction — not that you could have formed one if you tried. She simply changed the subject, as if nothing had just happened.

- “Well, that’s it. You’re officially free from your tasks with me.” - She winked and turned toward the door. - “I’d love to see you at mass tonight, Y/N. If you feel comfortable, of course.” - And then, just like that, she was gone.

----

After finishing your afternoon activities, you took one last walk through the garden, hoping the fresh air might help clear your thoughts. You had made a promise to yourself —all the interpretations you had about Wanda’s actions were just figments of your imagination. She was simply being kind, and that was it. You were the one at fault, the one creating feelings and fictionalizing reality. Plus, you even convinced yourself that she probably had a beautiful family but just didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.

Taking advantage of your free time, you returned to your room to organize your things and rest for a while. You even felt a spark of excitement as you remembered the gift Yelena had given you earlier. Tearing the wrapping open impatiently, you tried to guess what it could be. But the moment you saw what was inside, you immediately understood why Yelena had been so thrilled to give it to you. It was none other than a strap-on.

You stared at it in disbelief. Your friend was absolutely insane. Okay, sure — it was a good gift, you couldn’t deny that. Technically, you had no right to complain, considering that, during a drunken conversation some time ago, you had confessed your curiosity about trying one. But, honestly, first: it would be ideal to actually have someone to use it with. And second: of all the moments she could have chosen to give it to you, she had to pick now — while you were in a religious setting.

Anyway, it would be hypocritical to blame her, though, considering you had also brought something inappropriate into this environment. Still, you made a note: you weren’t going to let her get away with this when you saw her again. For now, to avoid any potential disaster, you hid your new toy deep in your suitcase, tucking it beneath layers of clothes.

----

You stood in front of the chapel door, hesitating, unsure whether to step inside.

- "Good evening. Are you not going in?"- A male voice sounded behind you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, startled.

- "I'm Peter… and you must be…?"

You extended your hand in greeting. - "Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N," you replied. - "Yeah, I was just about to go in, it's just—"

He cut you off before you could finish. - "You're the new volunteer! Nice to meet you." - He grinned. - "Don’t worry, the first time can be overwhelming. Come on, I’ll show you around."

Saying this might sound cliché, especially given the circumstances, but thank God Peter showed up to keep you company. Only now did it truly dawn on you that you were in a religious environment. The air inside the chapel felt heavy on your shoulders. Some people were wearing traditional garments, though - obviously, you had no idea what they were called. Others were arranging objects at the altar and most of them clutched bibles in their hands.

The service didn’t take long to begin, but it was enough time for you to get to know Peter a little. His situation was surprisingly similar to yours, he was a university student who was here simply to support the cause of the children. He wasn’t part of any religious community and had started participating in these volunteer activities because one of the partners at his internship happened to be the founder of an adoption center in his city.

Learning that there were others here who weren’t directly connected to the church was a relief. The pressure in your chest, that lingering sense of being out of place, softened just a bit. Besides, you were now intrigued to meet this partner Peter spoke so highly of — Mr. Stark.

Your eyelids drooped with boredom. The people around you were full of energy, reciting prayer after prayer, but to you, they were just meaningless words drifting through the air. Without thinking, your eyes kept wandering over the crowd, searching for Wanda. You were fairly sure she was seated near the front, beside the woman named Agatha. They seemed so immersed as if they truly belonged.

All of a sudden, the sound of drums and guitars filled the chapel. A group of people at the front stood and walked up to the altar. Among them was Wanda. Her gaze landed on you immediately. It was hypnotic. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t look away.

- "This is always the best part. The lyrics aren’t great, but at least the melody makes up for it!" - Peter whispered, nudging you with his elbow. - "At least it brings some energy to the room… and wakes up anyone who's about to fall asleep." - He chuckled.

You nudged him back, holding in a laugh to avoid drawing attention.

But Wanda noticed.

And when you looked at her again, her expression had changed. If she had been happy to see you here before, that feeling had now been replaced by something else entirely. Her eyes burned as they locked onto you — and your new colleague.

As soon as the choir finished their last song, Peter turned to you with a small smile. - "I have to go now. I promised to help with the kitchen duties for dinner," - he said, getting up.

You felt a pang of disappointment, both at losing his company and at the realization that the mass still wasn’t over. Turning your attention back to the altar, you watched as the singers from earlier now exchanged greetings with the priest. And there she was — Wanda.

From a distance, she looked so harmless. She conversed effortlessly with those around her, and everyone appeared to admire her. In a way, it felt odd watching her engage with others. She didn’t seem to be giving them those scrutinizing glances, nor did she speak in cryptic phrases designed to mislead or perhaps she behaved the same as always, and everything weighing on your mind was meaningless after all.

It didn’t take long for people to return to their seats. Some, like Peter, left the chapel, but Wanda— She didn’t go back to her place. She was walking toward you.

- "Is this seat taken?" - she asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting beside you. - "I'm really happy you came tonight. I hope it’s not too overwhelming for you, darling," she added, placing her Bible on her lap and opening it.

- "It’s been a good experience," - you admitted truthfully. - "Besides, I met Peter. He seems like a good person." - You weren’t sure why you brought him up, maybe just to fill the silence.

- "Oh, Peter. Yes, I know him," - she said, her tone suddenly firmer, colder.

Looking down, you noticed her fingers fidgeting with the rosary in her hand, gripping the cross a little too tightly. Her mood had shifted — again.

- "Uh… is the mass almost over?" - you asked, hoping to lighten the air.

- "Almost, dear. Almost," - she murmured, just as the priest began speaking again. She turned her head forward, focusing on the next prayer, but not before flashing you a small smile. You were exhausted, silently pleading for everything to end soon.

As the minutes ticked by, Wanda’s presence beside you awakened something unfamiliar. It was as if your body remained in a perpetual state of anticipation, craving something beyond reach, even though you knew your longing was forbidden. Dangerous. And then, almost as if she had read your restless mind — you felt it.

Her hand lay still on your exposed thigh, the cool beads of her rosary caught beneath her palm, pressing into your skin each time her grip tensed with every echoed “amen.” You silently cursed yourself for choosing shorts over jeans.

Unlike you, Wanda appeared entirely unbothered by the situation. She echoed the priest’s words with ease, her voice steady and sure. And with each proclamation of praise, her grip tightened just a little more, pressing the cold metal of the cross even deeper into your skin.

Then, at last, the priest spoke his final words.

Wanda turned to you again. - "I hope you have a blessed night…" - she whispered, leaning in. - "And one full of grace, Y/N. Good night." - her lips grazed your cheek in a whisper-soft kiss.

And just like that, she was gone.

You remained still, frozen in place, watching as she walked toward the others as if nothing had happened. What… was that? Was your mind playing tricks on you again? Regardless of what conclusion you might come to, one thing was undeniable — That kiss was way too close to your lips.

----

You woke up to the sound of the chapel bell ringing. You were exhausted. Pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes, you let out a low groan of frustration. Your treacherous mind dragged memories from the previous night to the surface — the chapel, a new friendship, the endless prayers, and her — Wanda. No matter how much you fought it, the memories kept replaying in your mind—her gaze fixed on you, her presence beside you on the bench, her hand on your thigh, the ghost of her lips on your cheek. Stop. You had to stop thinking about it. As if stealing your sleep wasn’t enough, you refused to let her linger in your thoughts all day too.

As you wished, things were going well. At breakfast, you ran into Peter, who instantly invited you to sit with him. He talked a lot, cracking jokes and sharing stories from college — a great distraction for your restless mind. After indulging a little too much in the delicious food, you both headed to the courtyard, where more volunteers and children began arriving. You finally met the famous Mr. Stark, whom Peter had raved about, and his lovely wife. The conversation was engaging, but duty soon called. Monica gave you instructions to take the children to the dining hall while others helped store their luggage in the respective accommodations. Everything was well-organized, and the people were incredibly helpful. While watching over the children, you even managed a quick chat with Scott, who was eager for you to meet his daughter.

The day was going wonderfully, and, without intending to be judgmental, there were moments when you almost forgot the place was tied to a religious organization. You met people from nearby towns who volunteered regularly for this cause, regardless of their beliefs. It was all about the children, and they were absolutely delightful. Laughter echoed through the air, some raced across the lawn, others tended to the garden, played ball, or explored the small farm area, where they could interact with animals and learn about them. The most rewarding part was witnessing their beaming smiles, their excitement unmistakable as they eagerly chose which activity group to join.

Speaking of which, you were assigned to oversee the lake activities. Initially, you were excited about your role, but upon realizing that "lake activities" meant swimming with the children, your enthusiasm waned. You hadn’t packed a swimsuit, after all, who would have guessed there’d be water activities at a church retreat? Never. Regardless, you worked with what you had, slipping into workout shorts, a sports top, and a lightweight shirt over it. That would do.

The evening bell rang, signalling the start of the night’s activities. You began calling the children out of the water and sending them over to Cassie, Scott’s daughter, who was handing out towels.

You were happy but utterly drained. You had to give your all to help your team win the water polo match against Peter, but it was worth every effort. Of course, you took the time to lift the losing team’s spirits, assuring the kids that they had played exceptionally well and placing the blame for the loss entirely on Peter. Maybe that was a little harsh because your convincing words successfully triggered an all-out water fight against him.

Well, karma always finds a way back. After all the children had left the lake and headed to the dorms, Cassie announced that only one towel remained. You and Peter locked eyes in a wordless challenge before sprinting for it. Unfortunately, he was faster, laughing mischievously as he grabbed the towel. - “Better luck next time, Y/N! I win. See you later!”

Great. A short walk to your room while soaking wet wasn’t the end of the world. Everything was fine, you told yourself — until you heard Agatha’s voice.

- "My God, Y/N! Where are you going, dripping wet like that?!" - she exclaimed, approaching you, her loud voice drawing attention including Wanda’s.

- "I’m just heading to my room to grab a towel," you murmured, not wanting to attract more stares. - "Don’t worry, just a few more steps and I’m there," you tried to sound cheerful.

- "Oh, poor little thing," - Agatha teased, giving you a mock pitying look before turning away. - "Wanda! Bring a towel, your little angel here looks like a lost, wet puppy."

A cold breeze hit your damp skin, making the temperature difference even more unbearable. Your body tensed as you saw Wanda approaching.

- "Y/N! Why are you walking around soaked like this? You’ll catch a cold, for God’s sake. Where’s your towel?" - she asked, concern evident in her voice. - "Here, let me help you," - she added, draping a towel over your shoulders, pulling you closer —too close.

- "It’s fine, Wanda. There was only one towel left, and Peter got to it first," - you admitted softly, feeling guilty for secretly enjoying her attention.

- "Peter, huh? I’ve noticed you two are getting along, maybe a little too well," - she remarked, her hand tightening on your arm over the towel. Her grip was firm. - "I hope you had fun." - You couldn’t quite decipher if her tone was sincere or laced with something else.

Your mind replayed moments from earlier. You had done your best to keep thoughts of Wanda at bay, and, for the most part, you had succeeded. The distractions of games and the children’s company helped lighten things, as long as you didn’t glance in her direction. Every time your gaze drifted toward the field where the children played, Wanda was there, watching you. At first, you brushed it off as a mere coincidence, but soon, it became unnerving. Again and again, you caught her observing you as if carefully tracking your every move.

You snapped back to the present when Wanda pulled the towel from your shoulders. You looked at her, confused.

- "Take off your shirt." - It was more of a command than a suggestion. You stared at her, surprised at her boldness.

- "I’m not saying it twice, Y/N. Your shirt is drenched. Take it off." - You stood firm, refusing to comply so easily. Who did she think she was, ordering you around? Sure, she was right, but still, you can make your own choices.

- "I’m warning you. Don’t test me," she said in a sharp tone, raising an eyebrow and stepping closer. - "Don’t worry, darling. No one will see." Your eyes locked, and in an instant, whatever determination you had shattered. She had that effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Hesitantly, you peeled off your damp shirt, shivering as the cold air met your skin and the fabric of your sports top. Wanda gave you a satisfied smile, wrapping the towel back around you.

- "Good girl. I’m proud that you listened to me," - she murmured, adjusting the fabric on your shoulders. - "It’s okay, sweetheart." - Her voice softened as she leaned in, her hands caressing your back over the towel, sliding lower. - "It’s okay to want to act like a brat sometimes…" - Her face was dangerously close to yours, her hands now resting on your waist. - "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know your place." - She whispered the last words against your ear.

Taking the wet shirt from your hands, she gave you one last knowing smile before turning and walking back toward the others.

----

Your plan to stop thinking about Wanda had completely failed. The scene from earlier kept replaying in your head. Nothing made sense. Why does she act so harmless, yet suddenly she feels like a predator ready to devour me? The question tormented your mind. Well, not that it would be a bad thing for her to devour you, you thought. "STOP!" The thought was so loud in your head that you accidentally muttered it out loud. You needed to do something.

The first solution that came to mind wasn’t the best. In fact, it was the worst. But you were tired and maybe, just maybe, desperate. Whether you were ready to admit it or not, the truth was that your body craved her. The way she looked at you, her touch, her words — everything. She was driving you insane, both mentally and physically. You needed relief, and you convinced yourself this was the perfect moment. After all, you had come prepared for this.

You sat up in bed, determined. This was the right time, everyone was probably asleep by now. After skipping the evening mass and only stopping by the dining hall to grab a sandwich to go. You had been avoiding any contact.

Rummaging through your suitcase for your toy, your body burned with anticipation, your thoughts consumed by Wanda. To your surprise, the midnight bell rang, and you jumped in fright. The cool night breeze rustled the curtain by the open window, bringing a sudden clarity to your mind. "God, I mean, literally God. What am I doing? This is madness!" Guilt crept up your spine. Letting out a long sigh, you made a new decision — you needed a cold shower, now.

The freezing water was undoubtedly the best choice. As it cascaded down your shoulders, you felt your mind finally regaining balance. You were relaxed, at peace, when suddenly, a noise outside your stall broke the silence. A chill crept down your body. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was nothing. Just to be sure, you murmured hesitantly, "Hello? Is someone there?" of course, no response. There couldn’t possibly be anyone here at this hour.

Finishing your long, calming shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stepped out, heading toward the bench where you had left your change of clothes. Everything was perfectly normal until you realized your underwear was missing. You shook out the rest of your clothing, but nothing. You could have sworn you brought it with you. — Had it fallen somewhere on the way? Or had you simply forgotten to grab it? — There weren’t many options left, you dried off and put on what you had. It was just a quick walk to your room. No one would see.

- "Y/N! You’re still awake!" - a familiar voice called out, approaching in the hallway.

No way, you thought. Your hand was already on the doorknob, about to open your room when Wanda appeared.

- "Oh, hi, Wanda. Yeah, I just… went to take a shower," - you responded awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and instead looking at the object in her hand.

- "Mmm, lucky me, then! I was heading to my room and figured I’d drop off your shirt on the way." - She extended the clothes toward you.

- "Oh, right. Thank you. You didn’t have to wash it," - you said, suddenly remembering the forgotten shirt. Honestly, at that moment, all your focus was on one thing — you were only wearing a thin pair of pyjama shorts, no underwear.

- "No problem, darling." - She offered a warm smile before tilting her head slightly. - "Are you okay? I didn’t see you at mass and dinner tonight. I missed you." - Her hand reached out, gently stroking your arm with a concerned expression.

The warmth of her touch instantly undid all the effects of your cold shower. Your body heated up fast. You tried to maintain a natural posture, but feeling so exposed beneath your flimsy shorts was not helping. You kept your response brief, gripping the doorknob tighter. You needed to get inside, for your safety. - "I’m fine, Wanda. Just tired from today’s activities."

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Placing her hand over yours, she stopped you from opening the door. - "Is that all? Are you having trouble sleeping, dear?" - She squeezed your hand gently.- "How about we say one last prayer together, hm? It will help you rest." - Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door open.

You had no choice but to nod and step inside, your pulse racing. Wanda followed, closing the door behind her. - "You know," she mused, her voice calm yet laced with something unreadable, - "I have this essential oil that works wonders for sleep. I could use it on you."

This had to be a curse. No word came from your mouth and you were afraid to face her.

Then the silence of the room was broken by her single command. - "Kneel." - Her voice was firm as she stepped closer to you by the bed.

You finally stared at her, incredulous. Your body tensed, yet you could feel a damp heat forming between your legs. She had power over you, and she knew it.

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone.

A thousand scenarios raced through your mind, all the possibilities of what might happen—but none were what she meant.

- "Didn’t you agree to pray with me before going to sleep?" - she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Oh—of course! Pray, yes, yes, let’s do that." - You responded, your tone far too enthusiastic for the occasion, but relieved nonetheless.

Of course, kneeling was for prayer. You were so stupid. Immediately after your reply, you dropped to your knees, resting against the edge of your bed. The movement caused friction between your legs, heightening your sensitivity. This whole situation was making you feel strangely aroused and simultaneously desperate at the thought of what Wanda might do if she discovered you had been without underwear this entire time.

Before kneeling beside you, she cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at her. - "You’re a good girl, Y/N. Let’s pray to receive His blessing."

Those were the longest, most torturous minutes of your life. You fought against your consciousness, struggling to stay focused, but every little thing distracted you — Wanda’s arm brushing against yours, the rasp in her voice as she pronounced each word, the way she inhaled between phrases. — You felt guilty for desiring her this way, especially at this exact moment.

Shame. Guilt.

Your soaked folds throbbed with ache, your knees pressed against the cold floor — you were paying for your sins, and the devil knelt beside you.

- "Amen." - It was the last word you spoke before she ran a gentle hand down your back and stood up. - "That was wonderful, wasn’t it? I can feel God’s presence here." - She smiled, extending her hand to help you up. - "Alright, now it’s time to rest. Lie down, and I’ll apply the essential oil on you." - She turned, slipping a hand into her bag to retrieve the small bottle.

Honestly, you wanted to plead for her touch — to put an end to this unbearable torment — but at the same time, you felt like the most unworthy soul alive. She was doing all of this out of care and concern… right?

You lay down as she instructed. She poured a bit of oil onto her fingers and rubbed it slowly onto your wrists. - "This will help you sleep tonight, I promise, darling." - Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. - "One last spot, and we’re done." - She released your wrists, giving you no time to protest before lifting the hem of your shirt, and slipping her hand underneath. Her fingers trailed just above your chest, massaging slowly. The motion caused the delicate fabric of your shirt to brush against your hardened nipples — she must have noticed. Just a few centimetres more, and she would be cupping your breast.

You couldn’t contain it, pressing your legs together, seeking any friction where you craved it most, a quiet moan escaped your lips.

- "You’re so good for me. My good girl." - Her eyes locked onto yours as she smiled. - We’re finished."

- "Goodnight, Y/N. I hope you have sweet dreams." - She stood up and left, leaving you there, needy and desperate. And you could swear that just before turning away, her gaze lingered on the damp spot forming at the center of your pajama shorts.

----

You slept peacefully, like an angel, and for that, you couldn’t hold it against Wanda. She had been right. However, that was the only credit she deserved. Last night had been a whirlwind of emotions and desires, forbidden ones. No matter how much your body craved her or how, in fleeting moments, you believed she might feel something for you too, none of it mattered. It was wrong.

Perhaps God had heard your prayers because your day went wonderfully well. In the morning, you had breakfast with Peter and Cassie. In the afternoon, you were in charge of the arts and painting activity group. Time flew by in the company of the children — so much fun and laughter. You even had the chance to teach them about recycling and how discarded materials could be turned into toys.

Everything was going perfectly — too perfectly. Until Monica approached you. Simply put, one of the church volunteers, an older woman named Sharon, requested a private room, claiming that her roommate’s snoring was unbearably loud. At first, you thought Monica was asking you to check the accommodation list for an available room, but then it clicked. She was actually asking you to give up your room for Sharon. Well, fine. It was a bit inconvenient, but you didn’t mind too much. After all, no one deserved to share a room with a noisy sleeper. However, the proposed solution for your lodging took you entirely by surprise — Monica suggested that you move into Wanda’s room.

You had no excuse to refuse. What could you possibly say? "I’m having forbidden thoughts about a religious woman and I think I’m losing my mind?" So, you had to accept it.

You didn’t have much to carry to your new dorm, or rather, Wanda’s dorm. Even so, Agatha offered to help with your belongings since Wanda had given her the key to unlock the room for you, as she was tied up with something else. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Wanda wasn’t here.

You stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settling in your stomach. It was nearly the same size as a single dorm, the only difference being two twin beds separated by a nightstand. You couldn’t help but picture Wanda sleeping there and wondered why she had a shared room all to herself.

Agatha walked in right after you, lingering by the door for a moment before heading straight to the window above the beds, pushing it open to let in some fresh air.

- “Feel free to put your things in the wardrobe, Wanda won’t mind,” - she said with confidence, settling onto Wanda’s bed.

You nodded in agreement, carefully placing your suitcase on a table near the wardrobe, mindful not to knock over the items already there. Then, you quietly began unpacking your few pieces of clothing.

Agatha decided to break the silence and asked - “Y/N, have you ever sinned?”

A strange question, you thought, but maybe not so much, considering the place you were in. You took a few extra seconds to think of a response. - “Mm… I guess everyone has sinned at some point, right?"

She let out a laugh. - “Smart answer, darling. But have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

You froze in front of the wardrobe. Did I hear that right? You wondered to yourself. A pang of guilt tightened in your throat as if she knew some secret you’d been hiding. - “Mm… I don’t think I understand. You mean in church?” - you lied, feigning innocence as you resumed putting your things away.

You could feel her gaze on you, the heat creeping up your neck as she studied you. - “Never mind. You’re still too pure, aren’t you?” - she chuckled again, but this time, there was something more suggestive in her tone. - “Anyway, it’s good that you’ll be keeping Wanda company here. She’s been down all day.”

Agatha was right. Your afternoon had been busy with group activities, but in the few moments you glanced around and caught sight of Wanda, she seemed… indifferent. For a moment, you told yourself she was just overwhelmed with tasks or maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as interesting to her anymore, not enough for her to seek you out in a crowd. Whatever the case, something had changed.

- “Really? What happened to her?” - you asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

- “Yeah, she won’t be able to attend the kids’ farewell or the final mass tomorrow since she has to leave in the morning,” - Agatha replied, idly twirling a strand of her hair before continuing. - “That’s a shame. She’s always loved the last day, but unfortunately, she has to go back to Westview to take care of her boys.”

- “Boys??” - you asked, almost cutting her off as she finished speaking. There was no doubt she noticed how quickly the topic had caught your attention.

- “Yeah, her boys. They’re adorable. Too bad I can’t say the same about their father,” - she replied as if it were common knowledge. Common to everyone except you.

You put away the last of your clothes and stared at the back of the wardrobe. Agatha had just dropped a fact you weren’t prepared to hear. You felt pathetic for ever indulging in your own fantasies, a slow-burning frustration creeping in, frustration at yourself. Wanda wasn’t to blame for any of this. It was all in your desperate mind. “Just one more night here, then you’ll be gone. You can do this. You’re here for the kids.” You kept repeating it in your head as you turned to zip up your suitcase, eager to leave the room. But in your emotional haze, you pulled the zipper too forcefully, causing the suitcase to shift and knock over a few nearby objects, sending them tumbling to the floor.

- “Shit,” - you muttered, frustration slipping out before you could stop it.

- “Oh God, everything okay over there?” - Agatha asked, craning her neck to check.

- “Yeah, yeah, sorry for the language. I’m just a bit clumsy,” - you said, quickly crouching down to pick up what had fallen.

The moment you saw what had fallen, you silently prayed not to be cursed. Lying there was a red hardcover notebook and Wanda’s Bible. You carefully picked them up and placed them back on the table. But, as luck would have it, one of the Bible’s pages had crumpled from the fall. Hoping to smooth it out, you opened it where a bookmark had been placed.

There were countless handwritten notes and highlighted passages. The sight warmed your heart. Wanda was truly a devoted woman. But then, one message stood out.

It was written in red ink:

“Father, forgive me;

For I have sinned;

This love isn’t holy;

But I’m too far in.”

Your eyes widened. You were about to read it again when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

- “Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay? Have you finished unpacking?” - Agatha asked.

You quickly shut the Bible, placing the small notebook on top of it. In one swift motion, you grabbed your suitcase from the table and turned to face her.

- “I’m fine, and everything’s set. We can go.” - You forced your best fake smile before striding toward the door, eager to leave.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n #mommy wanda x reader #unholy wanda #unholy reader #i don't make the rules #religious wanda #im a sinner #wanda x sinner reader #wlw fanfic #wlw #mommy wanda #mommy wanda fanfic #im still working on part two #I got inspired by the song Eve by precious pepala #I let my dirty thoughts came out #maybe I regretted it

70 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 hours ago

Note

Saw a post not too long ago (don’t even remember what it was about lol) and everyone in the comments was in agreement on how TWST should have an Emperor’s New Groove event with a Yzma twisted character that would be so fun and somebody should be turned into a llama.

…

I think Vil would make a great llama.

…

but really who out of our cast do you think would suit an ENG event and who do you think would be the best llama? 🤔

When I think of The Emperor’s New Groove, the four characters that come to my mind are Kuzco (ie “The Llama”), Pacha, Yzma, and Kronk. That’s perfect for the usual limited SSR, 2 SRs, and R introduced for new story events. Each of them could wear an outfit inspired by their Disney film counterpart. There could also potentially be a new twisted character introduced, but this only occurs for “hometown” (ie visiting other countries) events and Halloween events sooo 😅

For our Kuzco stand-in… Well, someone from a rich and influential background + has a ton of arrogance makes sense, right? So my immediate thought was Malleus or Leona, the royals. Idia or Riddle could also work, but they’re not quite as dickish. Of those, I think Leona works the best since he’s the most overtly asshole-y of the bunch and also it would be a little funny for the beastman to actually become a fluffy animal/j. Plus, he comes from the Sunset Savanna, which could be made into a reference about how Yzma’s original plan was to “snuff out the light” of the sun.

Something I’d really like to see is Kalim dressed as our Kuzco. He’s not a traditional asshole, but I think he could stand to learn a lot from being made more aware of how the less fortunate (like Pacha’s family) live. This might be valuable in connecting Kalim with the plight of the common folk, as well as get him to realize how some of the things he says/does are unintentionally very callous. The “snuff out the light” of the the sun metaphor also works for Kalim since he is usually so sunny + depicted as the sun, which contrasts with the moon (ie Jamil). The moon is also mentioned in the song lyrics, seeking revenge, reclaiming “[my] right”, and a world of darkness.

Pacha is very fatherly and kind, so I immediately thought Trey would fit in the best out of all of the “parental” students. (The others seem way too sarcastic or snide in underhanded ways.) Plus, that green poncho Pacha wears would look nice on Trey :>

Yzma has many potential candidates! I think Vil actually fits in a lot better as Yzma than as Kuzco, especially granted her obsession with maintaining her looks (very Vilcore) + penchant for potions (his best subject). You could also consider Azul, as he wants to maintain a certain public image and also seems to be good with brewing potions. On the more treacherous side, we could look at Jade (who shares the same best subject as Vil) and Jamil. There’s literally lines like “I’ve really stopped at nothing/Murder, treachery, and lying”. Jamil works super well especially if Kalim is our Kuzco for that moon and sun dynamic.

Himbo Kronk also needs a himbo to match! A physically strong yet well-meaning boy with a heart of good but not a lot of brains… It makes me think of Deuce or Silver. Jack and Sebek could also work here, but both of those guys are pretty (book) smart. Doesn’t have to be an exact match for Kronk though. I could easily see a situation where Sebek’s brazenness or Jack’s bluntness results in something stupid happening.

68 notes · View notes

1nkwe4ver · 1 day ago

Text

So here’s the theory. I think I’ve got it

I still think what Lumon is doing is bigger than giving rich people the chance to sever off their bad experiences. And I think Helena is actually a big hint to understanding whats going on with Gemma.

They act like Cold Harbor is going to be a religious revelation to the world, and I don’t think it’s just “eliminate all your troubles with Severance!” Like okay so if you’re not immediately existentially horrified by it, that might sound kinda cool, but what’s the big miraculous reveal they keep referencing with Cold Harbor? That will change the world? Make everyone join the cult of Kier? Why all the goddamned secrecy and hiding Gemma underground? Obviously people already know about severance and about using it for your inconveniences, people are already doing it. People are severing off worker bees for their 9-5. Rich people are using it to give birth.

So I have a theory of how this is bigger than that

First of all, some of the questions they asked Gemma. I felt like they were checking on her mental functions and memory as herself, as an Outie. “Where did you go?” And “Would you be more afraid of drowning or suffocating?”before she even starts her rooms for the day.

The next key I think is in things like MDR. They are finding the scary numbers and refining them into the boxes labeled with tempers(if that’s not what they’re labeled with it’s something like that). Mark’s first file matched the name of Gemma’s Christmas Thank You Note room, I think. Implying his finishing that file had something to do with the formation of that room. The room resembles the way one of their actual Christmases was set up, so I feel it’s implied they were drawing from his memories. Possibly one where they were feeling crappy because of all their failing to get Gemma pregnant.

Okay. So even if you accept that Lumon categorizes all bad feelings into the “tempers”, why does Lumon need this to make a room for Gemma’s Innie to experience this temper? Why bother personalizing it to Outie Gemma’s experiences in such a weirdly intimate way? After all, Innies aren’t supposed to have that kinda connection to their Outies.

And even beyond Mark, what is the rest of MDR doing? Why have them craft these weirdly personalized rooms to isolate tempers so intensely? If all they wanted was to let Innies do the dirty work for the Outies, surely they could come up with rooms doing the basic premises for themselves- eternal dentist offices and chores.

Also, why fucking plane crashes and Thank You Notes? Yes, Gemma hates thank you notes, but that Innie didnt hate thank you notes until she was subjected to that room over and over. You can’t tell me they’re going to sever so many innies into the average brain that someone is going to have one set aside to turn on just in case a plane crashes. Irl, a persons going to want to call their family if they have the service. They’re going to want to experience their last moments in case they die. They can’t trust the Innie to actually behave like a person on a real life plane rather than a simulated one. I also highly doubt someone will really get another brain surgery just to do a petty thing like Thank you notes. Will they delegate it? Sure. But even if I’m buying into the system of brain slaves thing, I’m not going to schedule the time and take the risks to have another severance done. If im that rich and petty I’m sure I have a personal assistant doing that shit anyway.

So how does Helena Eagan shed some light on this?

Remember after Irving nearly killed her, she speaks with Drummond. They say something along the lines of, doctors say her tempers will rebalance promptly. But if she’s still feeling poorly they can treat her. She insists immediately and firmly that she is fine.

I know it’s implied Helena wasn’t severed until she got her job on the severed floor. So what if that’s the point of severance?

Stay with me here. Kier has to be the core of whatever’s going to be revealed with Cold Harbor and Gemma. The beginning. They’re crediting everything to him. Praise Kier. His work will finally be realized and everyone will rejoice. But Helena has confirmed that Jame is the one to come up with the severance procedure.

So what did Kier do? He identified the tempers, for one. What does Lumon actually do with the tempers? All we’ve heard mentioned is people getting them in balance, or out of balance.

Helena’s situation implies two things-

One- followers of Kier approach larger medical issues, physical and mental, with doctors who rebalance their tempers as opposed to other remedies.

Two- Even Helena fucking Eagan isn’t really willing to undergo whatever the fuck you have to do to get your tempers back in balance under a doctor’s supervision.

So my theory is- Kier’s original method of balancing the tempers, the basis of Lumon’s ideology, is some variation of what they’re doing to Gemma, traditionally without severance. Obviously, because severance didn’t exist till a few years ago.

My theory is that they believe every illness/lack of wellness is an imbalance of the tempers. More often than not, a lower amount of one.

To raise this temper, they dig into you psychologically, maybe with normal therapy or something, take something that stimulates a certain “temper” and make you experience it over and over, to the point of torture. In their view, this ultimately realigns the temper and once youre done, you recompartmentalize the Dieter in you that’s experiencing that shit, and you’re well again.

The issue was, well- patients either left their cult or lost their minds. Kier died and I’m sure his personality, which had probably drawn and kept many in, lost many followers with it.

So the Eagans and their remaining followers have to accept that things aren’t going right. They have to change their approach. Make things a business to keep their power and influence, and back off from the things that make them look like wackjobs in the public eye.

I mean, obviously, Kier could never have been wrong, he was right. The problem is the world. The masses cannot handle his wisdom for some reason. We have to approach this differently.

So they need to do two things to make Kier’s word acceptable to the mainstream, really. They need to prove, as they believe, that balancing the tempers can heal pretty much any fucking thing under the sun. And secondly- they need to make a way to make the process usable on the masses. Something an average person could make it through without losing their mind.

In comes Jame Eagan.

He has the best idea. Kier always compartmentalized his time “balancing his tempers.” He put it all on Dieter(if Dieter was a real brother, excuse me, but I’m going with the ‘he was a metaphor’ interpretation for this. If you disagree, just take my references to Dieter to be personified portions of yourself you’ve compartmentalized to deal with traumatic situations). But Kier was pure. He was superior. The average person may need help to do that! Let’s section off a portion of their memories, so they don’t have to remember going through treatment! We create these people’s Dieter’s for them, because as long as the tempers in their body are balanced, they will experience the healing effects of Kier’s treatments. So what if those versions of them are in continuous loops of torture? Nobody cares about the states of those minds. Those are Dieters. Those aren’t real people. And then the real people get to be whole again!

Okay, but how do we convince the masses that this isn’t crazy bullshit? We need a real, solid example of how surreally magical and intense Kier’s treatment can be.

Well, the doctor says- with such strong mental barriers as this procedure will give us, I believe we could rebalance the tempers in anyone. Could do anything.

You know what it could do? We could raise the dead.

So- I think Gemma did die. Physically. I think they took her corpse, which Mark identified early on, and quickly swapped it out for them to bury a different one.

Then they used crazy technology to resuscitate her. I think she was on the edge of death and miserable and a shell of herself. Probably hardly functioning. Hardly reacting to the questions they asked. Who knows what her mind and body were like when she was recovered. She was her, but if she’d been allowed in a normal hospital, she would have long been pronounced dead, and if they somehow resuscitated her as Lumon originally did, so late, no one would have let her live how they resuscitated her to be. Gemma being brought back to herself as we’ve seen her would be a miracle.

That’s why they need MDR to unconsciously choose what they will use for the formation of the rooms. They are making sure the rooms will spike the sharpest reactions of her tempers possible. It is necessary to have a raw, unconscious human response dictate this. It is helpful to draw from Mark’s memories because they’re not trying to test Gemma’s Innies ability to withstand dealing with the rooms, they’re trying to restore Gemma’s tempers to the levels they were at before her death. Other people’s experiences can work for some general things, like anxiety at the dentist office, but it makes sense that Mark is so essential here in that context. He is the refiner that can’t be fired because to really get Gemma back to Gemma, we need situations that will stimulate her from the life they shared. They have a general idea of where her old tempers were, I think because they measure it in the blood. And they had a lot of access to Gemma medically before her accident. She went to Lumon blood drives. She went to the Lumon fertility treatment, where that doctor who worked on this hell floor was seen in the background. I’m guessing they believe they have an idea of her “tempers” pre-death because of that.

This also lends itself to a late stage Uno reverse from Cobel or Helena, trying to get Mark on their side. Hell, it might late stage be the only reason Mark finishes the goddamned Cold Harbor file.

Because we’ve seen how tortured Gemma is right now, so in our heads, right now, it seems like nothing could make us sympathize with these crazy evil folks. Makes us hate Lumon drones we’d come to like, like Milchik and Cobel and Helena afresh. But what if Gemma really was dead before all this? What if she really was a barely breathing corpse when they started this work on her? It wasn’t their right to take her body, but now she is back and she is her

If you hear, Milchik, Cobel, and them really are so devoted to this company because they’re working on bringing people to perfect health with a health framework that is so superior it can bring people back from death, you want to say that they’re deranged and wrong, but ignoring whatever got them into the company in the first place, what about what they’ve potentially seen with Gemma? Maybe it’s still wrong to be so cruel, but if you’ve really seen this company bring someone back from death to essentially herself, wouldn’t that inspire your devotion? Wouldn’t you think you should probably toughen up as opposed to getting out? Wouldn’t you be a little reverent? Wouldn’t you have committed to breaking society’s rules already? And if you wouldn’t be, can’t you imagine someone else being so? Like that is wild. Cobel has been in this company since she was a child and now she’s literally a part of them doing one of the most miraculous things anyone ever said she was crazy to believe they could do.

This also puts Cobel’s obsession with Mark and his family into perspective, because it’s not just screening things for a sign he might get away, keeping control of the situation, a weird sense that she’s entitled to be close to him- it was also originally probably a recommended route to getting more info on Gemma. How many times did Selvig bring cookies for Mark and gently coax him until he told her stories about Gemma? How many pictures did she pull up and ask questions about? How many little pieces of furniture, like the candle, did she steal, to help personalize Gemma’s experiences further? How much info did she get from getting to know Ricken and Devon?

Also, another thing about Helena, which is just occurring to me as I write this- I’m thinking back to early season 1. When we still don’t know her full identity, but we see her side of her first day at Lumon.

I originally attributed this to them being unsure what they were going to do so early on, but I’ll say, Helena seems genuinely happy and pleased when we see her side on the outside of her first day severed.

Nowadays, when we see her in the outside, she’s cold and reserved, in large part I think because the experience has gone so wrong. And I think people have just written off that early episode as just them keeping her behavior vague- she’s being polite, going through the motions. Based on her behavior now, we might think she never wanted to be severed in the first place, was always forced.

But I think of like, when they show her smiling and talking about it, almost nerding out while they’re doing the procedure. Nervous, but genuinely a bit excited. And what is there to be excited about? You’re not gonna remember what goes on. I don’t take anything she said for the videos at that party in the finale as real.

But this theory, about the Kier cult and balancing tempers for health purposes? I think that really makes it make sense.

Helena was raised in all this, and she seems to scoff at some parts of it. I’d say it’s implied on some level, she knows it’s bullshit. She is stressed and firmly denies she needs to go to the tempers balancing doctor after Irving tries to drown her. She starts giggling at the dramatic story about Kier masturbating. It very much seems like she doesn’t drink her own Kool Aid.

So, if shes really just a business mind in all this, not a real spiritual believer, I think she’s excited to be severed because she’s stuck in this system. Every time something in her life happens to her- she gets hurt, she gets attacked, she undergoes a traumatic experience- she gets sent into the waking nightmare of the doctors who dig into your psyche and rebalance your tempers. What they’re doing to Gemma, without Severance. Torture. She’s an Eagan, it’s not supposed to bother her, she of all people is supposed to be superior, but she fucking hates it with all of her being.

So she is excited to be severed because it represents finally not having to fucking deal with that.

She is ready and willing because before Helly, she saw severance as her way out of hell. Her way to finally create a Dieter she didn’t have to deal with. To not experience them carefully crafting experiences to torture her in the name of “rebalancing her tempers.” Severance was finally going to let her compartmentalize all the shit she couldn’t stand about being an Eagan and focus on being herself. Everything she’d been taught about it said she didn’t need to worry about Innies, they weren’t people.

But then she takes the severed job- and Helly keeps trying to run out the floor. She threatens to cut off Helena’s fingers. Helena is supposed to walk in the elevator and come out never knowing more than an echo of Helly’s pain- and one day she walks in the elevator, and the next moment she’s being hanged.

So her hopeful little smiles before going in are just gone. She still feels trapped. She never wants Helly triggered again, I highly doubt she wants to create a system of others. But of course, she’s still an Eagan, and she has to still finish the realization of Kier’s wishes, and they still have a woman nearly brought back to life in their sub-basement. And they still want Helena Eagan’s severance as a publicity stunt.

So yeah. I think we’re going to find that Gemma DID die in that car accident, and was brought back to life using an extreme combination of Kiers principles and balancing of the tempers, a process which she can only handle mentally because the parts of her dealing with the individual bits of the torture are severed off.

Mark’s contributions in unconsciously creating the rooms are essential because they need to make sure her tempers are balanced back to the way Gemma originally had them. I’m not sure exactly what the Cold Harbor file is, but once the room is done and used, Gemma will be “completely” brought back. And Lumon intends to use this as proof to the world that the Rebalancing of the Tempers is the cure for everything, as Kier always said.

#severance #severance spoilers

66 notes · View notes

icouldntthinkofabetternamesook · 3 days ago

Text

my brain made so connections

I'm not sure how pictures work here so this is gonna be formatted goofy but these two polycules/love angles have far to much in common and I need to share

Mel Medarda and Hazel Levesque

beautiful terrifying black women with mommy issues, gold, an association with wealth, prodigious magic powers, artistic pursuits and a distant brother. in a position of power in a system that will always see them as outsiders to some extent. big kindhearted boyfriend. terrible relationship with mother who is in many ways the antagonist of the entire piece and they never get a satisfying conclusion to their relationship(I see Gaea as Hazel's mom in this comparison). deeply and seriously underserved by a narrative that treats getting magic powers as the same thing as getting character development. I once again cannot overstate the shared connection to gold and wealth, especially gold. in many ways responsible for the events of the series but she did it for her mother's love so I can't blame her. Mels love of painting and Hazels love of drawing. A deep, loving, if damaged heart. if they came from anywhere near the same social strata they would be the same character

these two characters are defiantly cross universe variants of each other and their massive similarities kicked off this entire thought process

Viktor and Leo Valdez

scrappy, messy inventors with low self esteem, resurrections, a weird thing going on with a magical entity, and they both die to save the world. in weird sorta love triangle with the above. Leo has that pre arcane Machine herald vibe. they both push people away and are in a self inflicted cycle of loneliness despite being full of love. died for your sins and only got hate and pain in response

Jayce Tales and Frank Zhang

probably the least similar of the polycules. absolute puppies of men, tendencies to fail upwards, get put at the very top of a system of authority of a kinda fascist organization, magic totem of some form, come from some level of legacy in their systems though Frank has far more. most importantly in a weird polycule, love angle with the other two, officially dating the golden girl and has weird thing happening with the resurrected one.

these are both utterly delightful polycules were the boys should go make out so the girl can self actualize

a few more arcane riordan parallels under the cut with more thematic exploration

Caitlyn Kiramman and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano

queer woman of color who got pulled into the facism despite their good intentions

Vi and Piper McClean

a bit of a stretch, but messy haired lesbians in conflict with a lot of the existing order and pressure of family legacy. I kinda have it divided with Piltover=Rome, Zaun=greece. which leads me to another connection. their both very close to the next person on my list

Jinx and Annabeth Chase

now this is definitely a hear me out, but I love my girl geniuses who after a falling out with their family ran into an older male figure who loved them like family but nonetheless was horribly toxic and wound up falling into even through their genuine dedication to their righteous crusade being soured after a falling out with another figure who also acted in a similar capacity to the girl they took in and the story ends with the little girl standing over their corpse they are various levels of responsible for after choose their devotion to another over their toxic semi parental love who spends their last breaths reaffirming their relationship and ultimately winning a more centrist version of their cause after death. I just love when little girls wind up alone, and desperate to prove themselves because the system cares about them as weapons over children to be protected.

Silco and Luke Castellan

was right. bitchin scars. fallen hero figures who care deeply for the people they sent out to protect but ultimately became what they feared most and got corrupted by power. leftist hero's in a centrist narrative. this does not change the immense harm they did specifically to the young girl in their care they have weird semi sexual/romantic subtext with despite ultimately having a familial bond. they also have an antagonist relationship with

Ekko and Percy Jackson

the boy savior, far to much on their shoulders to early, leaders in their community, truly look out for the people, will spit in authorities eye but is also pretty close to some specific people in power, in love with the victim/adopted family of the villain/fallen hero. the one who breaks the cycle and saves the day

I managed to get most of the Arcane characters and the tip of the ice berg for riordan. this obviously has Thalia as Vander in the Luke/Silco, Annabeth/Jinx trio, as well as an association with wolves and dying in a heroic sacrifice to protect a little girl in their charge and ultimately coming back from the dead after being saved against their will. I think Vi might actually be the closest to Jason in this dynamic, especially after making Reyna/Caitlyn, but they don't have that much more in common. serious complexes about being what others need and a lack of internal stability? amnesia if you take vi's old league lore into account? I still prefer Piper I think they have more similar vibes and I'm trying to make the camps and city's line up

this also has Gaea as Ambessa and Calypso as Hexcore Sky. no one really lines up with singed or Sevika and no one lines up with Nico. Sevika works as Clarisse, as in utterly amazing butches

this might all just be similar tropes lining up in similar ways but I kinda like it

66 notes · View notes

cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞-𝐭𝐨-𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Gilbert had been acting strangely lately.

Gilbert: "Little bunny, is there anything you want me to do for you?"

Emma: "Again?"

When I arrived at our usual spot with freshly brewed tea and pastries, he set his work aside, greeted me with a charming smile, and insisted.

Gilbert: "I want you to rely on me more."

Emma: "I've relied on you plenty already."

(Just yesterday, for example.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "There, I finished drying your hair."

Emma: "Thanks. That felt really nice."

Gilbert: "I'm glad to hear that. So, what would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "N-Nothing, really—"

Gilbert: "What would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "T-Then maybe a shoulder massage?"

Gilbert: "Oh, good idea. You're probably the only person who could tell me to do that."

Emma: "Actually, never mind—"

Gilbert: "Nope. No need to hold back with me."

Gilbert: "If it's for you, I'd gladly do anything—no matter how selfish the request is."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(Lately, he's been overly sweet to me.)

(He's not usually like this, though.)

Gilbert: "Hey, won't you rely on me?"

Emma: "I feel completely content right now."

Gilbert: "Emma, did you forget?"

Gilbert: "You only have two choices: either listen to my request or be forced to."

(So I have to say something, no matter what?)

I set the tea and pastries down on the table and gazed into his crimson eyes, trying to read his true intentions.

Emma: "Did something happen?"

Gilbert: "Right now? Nothing at all."

('Right now'?)

Gilbert: "Hehe, come on, keep thinking. Until you ask me for something, I won't let you leave—cough!"

Emma: "Gil!?"

He suddenly started coughing, so I quickly placed a hand on his back and gently rubbed it.

Gilbert: "Hey now, aren't you overreacting?"

Emma: "Of course, I'm overreacting! I still haven't forgiven you for disappearing on me for days."

Not long ago, Gilbert had suddenly vanished from the castle.

I figured he must have caught a cold and hid so he wouldn't spread it to me, but I'd been beside myself with worry.

Whenever he was suffering, he always kept it to himself, refusing to share the burden with anyone.

That was the kind of cruel yet kind person he was.

(Maybe this whole situation is his way of making up for that.)

(I don't know the real reason behind all this, but I do have one thing I want to ask.)

Emma: "Gil."

Gilbert: "If you're about to ask me to stay by your side forever, that's a no."

Emma: "There's something I'd like to ask you."

Emma: "Is there a way to keep someone who occasionally disappears without a trace by my side?"

Gilbert: "Fufu, of course, there's a way. But before I tell you, how about you show me your method first?"

(That was… surprisingly easy.)

Gilbert ran his fingers through my hair, gently tugging—not enough to hurt, but enough to bring our faces closer.

His striking red eyes locked onto mine, silently urging me to act.

(My method, huh?)

Emma: "Please, don't go anywhere."

The moment I made my plea, looking straight into his eyes, he bit down lightly on my lip.

Gilbert: "That won't do at all. The moment you start begging, it means you're not really trying to make me listen."

Emma: "I just couldn't think of another way."

Gilbert: "That's because you're kind. But remember, the person you're dealing with is a villain."

Gilbert: "If you really want to tie down a villain, you don't beg—you control."

Gilbert: "If you and the villain want totally different things, why let him decide?"

(He has a point, but isn't forcing him to stay too selfish?)

(Asking him to rely on me is just my own selfishness in the end.)

At my silence, he let go of my hair.

Gilbert: "There are many ways to bend someone's will."

Gilbert: "But the methods preferred by a beast like me wouldn't suit someone as gentle as you."

Gilbert: "So, I'll teach you the simplest way—the one that won't weigh on your conscience."

Before I could react, he suddenly stood up, grabbed my wrist, and pinned me down against the table.

(Huh?)

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few papers covered in his handwriting flutter through the air.

But before I could pay them any mind, my vision was completely overtaken by his handsome face.

His lips captured mine, again and again, teasing, coaxing, drawing out a heat I hadn't intended to surrender.

(What the hell is happening?)

Dazed, I instinctively accepted his kiss, only for his tongue to invade, thoroughly claiming every inch of my mouth.

Gilbert: "Make sure you never do this with anyone else, okay?"

Gilbert: "I'd hate to stain you with someone else's blood."

His crimson eyes gleamed with something dark and possessive as he slowly ran his tongue over his wet lips.

Then, without warning, he hooked his hands under my legs and lifted them—leaving me utterly defenseless.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

#ikemen prince #ikepri jp #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian

89 notes · View notes

mendessi · 20 hours ago

Text

things i say when you sleep | chapter eleven

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 7k

chapter summary: The Battle of Resson.

content warning: canon typical violence & injuries, liam ):, mentions of death

AO3 masterlist

nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen

Magic beyond the wards feels different.

It's more freeing, but the lack of control concerns me slightly.

The terms we left Basgiath on feel strange, even though we went on orders. The account of War Games doesn't change the fact that Xaden pulling us caused more tension with Dain.

This was the first long flight Gleigeal and I had done, and my back aches when I dismount. We're stopped at a lake not too far from Athebyne so the dragons can drink. The view isn't too bad, and I take a moment to admire it. The quadrant grew quite boring after staring at the same walls for too long, so the change in scenery was nice.

"You okay?" Liam asks from my side as he dismounts Deigh.

"Call if you need me." I say to Gleigeal as he steps towards the lake. He chuffs in response, and I turn to Liam.

"Just sore," I vocalize my sigh as I stretch my back and shoulders. My back isn't the only sore thing, but I'd rather not mention that I can still feel Bodhi between my legs. "You?"

"I'm good," He nods his head, "Happy that you're here."

Things are so different now than they were a year ago. Everyone was trying to force my hand into following Xaden blindly, but Liam was the only one who gave me a choice. He was the only one who approached me in a way that worked. I have him to thank when it comes down to it.

I give him a small smile, and we watch as Andarna unclips from the harness attached to Tairn's. Xaden is a fucking genius.

"I'm gonna go check on her," Liam says as he approaches her once she lands on the ground.

The energy feels slightly weird, but I try to keep my shields down just a crack. I want to feel what's going on around me, and I don't want surprises. Especially not during War Games.

I lean against a tree and watch the rest of the headquarters squad situate. Xaden approaches Violet and laces his fingers with hers, and I can't help the subtle smile that finds its way to my face.

Xaden hand-picked this squad for a reason, and nobody here would judge the way he feels for Violet. At least not out loud.

"Who would've thought? Xaden and Violet," Bodhi says, appearing at my side. I didn't even hear him approach; I'd been so lost in thought.

"Who would have thought?" I verbally agree. I did think. I thought many months ago, actually.

"How are you?" He asks, leaning against the other side of the tree.

"I'm good. Nervous, but good."

The common knowledge that when we return to Basgiath, there's a chance that other cadets won't doesn't sit right with me. I trust that the squad I've been placed in for this exercise will return home just fine, but I can't say the same for the others. Anything could happen, and as much as I'm not worried for those I'm currently with, the idea of anything happening to Rhi, Sawyer, or Ridoc frightens me. Especially Ridoc. Who would I share a bed with when I'm upset?

"Everything is gonna be fine. Xaden is gonna have us leave for patrol at some point tomorrow, and you can see how the drops work," He says.

"You don't think Violet will question why I get to go and she has to stay?" I ask.

"Liam will stay with her to keep her distracted, and you can explain to him when you two have time alone," he tells me. "You should rest. Sit with me for a minute."

He sits down with his back to the tree and his feet apart. He pats the grass between his legs, and I shake my head with a laugh as I sit. I lean my back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around my shoulders. The position is quite comfortable, and I sigh in content as I watch the dragons drink from the lake.

"You look good in flight leathers," He says, his thumb stroking my arm lightly.

"Shut up," I hit his thigh playfully and tilt my head to look at him.

"I'm happy you're here, Ani," He says. "I would've been worried if I couldn't have my eyes on you for five days."

"I can handle myself," I say as he raises his hand to brush my cheek.

"Hey," He says gently, "I know you can."

I want to kiss him, but the inner monologue I had with myself during the long hours of flying stops me. I know I let him kiss me before we launched to leave Basgiath, but I don't want any more intimacy with him til we draw the lines around whatever this relationship is. I shouldn't even be allowing myself to sit like this with him.

"I would've just missed you," I tell him.

"We'll have some time when we get back before Conscription Day to do just about whatever we want," He says.

"I want to talk first," I reply, and he nods.

"I know." His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "Me too."

Our time is limited under this tree, and the conversation we need to have is going to have to wait. Maybe tonight, after we establish headquarters and retrieve our next missive, we'll have time.

"We have company," Gleigeal says, and Bodhi must receive the same news from Cuir because we're both to our feet within a heartbeat.

"Fuck. Violet doesn't know." Bodhi takes off running, and I follow behind him. I have practically sprint to keep up with his large strides.

"Gryphons?" I ask, pushing to keep up.

"Yes, but I'm told they're allies." He replies. A breath of relief fills my lungs.

When we approach, I feel the power radiating off of Violet, and I do my best to dim it.

Gryphons stand in front of them, and my lips part at the sight. I'd only ever seen them in drawings, but I'm amazed at how magnificent they are in person.

Violet is thrashing in Liam's arms, and Tairn's piercing roar makes my ears ring. Liam releases her, and I join her at her side. I can feel her betrayal seeping into my chest, and I consider raising my shields fully shut. It's a bitter feeling, and I don't like the way it hurts. I feel for her; I do. I know exactly how it feels to be kept in the dark.

She looks to me, scanning me for any sort of surprise or the same sentiment of betrayal, and she shakes her head when she realizes I don't.

"You knew?" She asks me, her voice slightly wavering.

"To an extent, yes. But there is so much you don't understand." I reply. I recall the time that Bodhi had said the same words to me when I arrived in the quadrant.

"You almost had me fooled," She scoffs and turns her attention back to the conversation happening between Xaden and the fliers. Her words sting, but I know that I would feel the same way. I don't hold her at fault for it.

"Venin never come this far west," Is the next line of the conversation I catch.

All I'd been told was that we'd supply venin-killing weapons as a form of aid. I had put two and two together that it was to fliers, but seeing it happen in action was insanely surreal. My entire life, I'd been kept on the outside, and finally, not being the only person in the room who was clueless felt freeing.

"Until now. They were unmistakably venin and had one of their-" One of the female fliers start. Xaden is quick to cut her off.

"Don't say anything else. You know that none of us can know the details, or we put everything at risk. All it takes is one of us being interrogated." I focus on Xaden's feelings and am shocked when I sense a bit of fear. He turns back to look at me for only a moment, and I know I've been caught trying to read him.

"Details or not, it looks like the horde is heading north. Straight toward our trading post on the border across from your garrison at Athebyne. Are you armed?" The male flier asks.

I reach for Bodhi's hand just to have something to hold. This was never something I anticipated when I agreed to help with the drops next year.

"We're armed," Xaden confirms.

"Then our job here is done. You've been warned. Now we have to go defend our people. As it is, this side trip only gives us about an hour to reach them in time." The flier says. I look at the entire drift of fliers, trying to remember faces. Something tells me that this isn't the last time I'll be seeing them.

My heart sinks. Ever since Bodhi told me that venin were real, it never really struck me as true. Of course, I believed him, but it was just so insanely baffling that the stories we'd been told as children were accurate accounts of history. Standing here in front of a drift of fliers, people that are supposed to be our enemy, who are about to head into battle against them, is hindering.

Bodhi laces our fingers together and squeezes my hand comfortingly, and I glance at his side profile. Still so beautiful.

"I wonder what your King would be willing to pay in order to get back the daughter of his most illustrious general. I'm willing to bet your ransom would be enough to defend all of Draithus for a decade." The male says, tilting his head to look at Violet.

Bodhi drops my hand, and we instantly move closer to her, and I'm prepared to fight if need be. Violet's power sizzles in my chest as Tairn snarls behind us.

"Try. I dare you." Light flashes above us, and the corner of my mouth twitches upward. She has it handled. It's ridiculous how powerful she is.

Xaden's shadow-wielding never fails to impress me every time I have the pleasure of witnessing it. Watching him defend Violet is extremely satisfying, and I don't hide my amusement at how the fliers back off after it.

After the drift is gone, all of us turn to Violet. I feel bad for her, knowing exactly how she feels, but I don't know how to comfort her. There's nothing I could say that would make this situation better. I know that this is a conversation she has to have with Xaden.

Her feelings are so overwhelming so I try to reach out and do what I can to ease them, but she's too damned strong and I haven't even begun to hone my signet. I'm not even sure if adjusting the intensity of someone else's emotions is something I can do, but I've been dying to test the theory. What better moment than now?

When she raises her voice at Liam, I let go of the strand of color that I know is her's. I'm either making it worse or not helping at all.

I turn and reach for Bodhi, grateful when he wraps his arm around my shoulders. I don't like the conflict happening in front of me, especially when I've convinced myself I'm the reason it's escalating.

"And you." Violet turns to me, and I grip Bodhi's jacket between my fingers. "You spent all this time pretending to hate them when you've been working with them all along."

"That's not true." Anger bubbles beneath my skin. She's upset, and I can't blame her for anything she's saying. Xaden will clear the air, hopefully. If anyone can get through to her, it's him.

"Everybody go back to the shore. Now." Xaden says, and we oblige. They need the space, and Xaden needs to get through to her.

"She will come around. Just as you did," Gleigeal says, and I hope he's right.

We sit in the sand, and Bodhi absentmindedly plays with my fingers as I watch the water lap against the shoreline.

"When we get back to Basgiath, we'll go into further detail about drop shipments before Xaden leaves," Bodhi says, and I hum in response, not really paying attention to him. "What's wrong?"

"I know how she feels," I say quietly, turning to face him. "I feel bad for her, that's all. And knowing that those fliers are about to go head to head with a 'horde' and we can't do anything about it is... horrifying. I want to help."

Bodhi takes in my words and processes them slowly.

And fucking War Games. There's still that, too.

"She'll come around," Bodhi says, and I shake my head.

"She's not me, Bodhi," I tell him. "She has lived her entire life believing in one thing and was raised differently than we were. I forgave you quicker than I should've. Don't count on the same from her."

Violet isn't wired that way. She's like me in the sense that it takes a lot for her to trust, but this isn't something she'll move past as quickly as I did. It was easier for me because I grew up with Bodhi, Garrick, and Xaden. I have a relic. She doesn't. Gaining her trust again will take time.

I unsheathe the alloy-hilted dagger that Xaden and Bodhi put into my possession not too long after I found out about the venin and draw in the sand with it.

"It's not easy lying to those you care about," He says, "Especially something to this scale."

"I know." I keep my gaze on the tip of the blade dragging through the sand.

"Listen, Ani," He gently takes the blade from my hand and tilts my chin to look at him, "I don't know what's going to happen over the next couple of days, but if I don't say this now, I'll regret it."

"I can't." I shake my head, pulling away from him to stand up, "I can't do the goodbye stuff. I'm sorry."

"Ani, please," He stands up too, reaching for my hand, "Let me just-"

"Mount up." Xaden's order grabs our attention, and I'm slightly thankful, though the look in Bodhi's eyes pains me.

"We'll talk when we're back in Basgiath," I tell him.

Ever since my family died, goodbyes have never been my forte. I didn't get to say a single word to any of my family members before I never saw them again, and this isn't something I can handle. Whatever Bodhi was going to tell me will have to wait.

"I hope that you putting off that conversation won't come back to bite you," Gleigeal says as I mount.

"I am not capable of having that conversation right now." I reply.

When we arrive in Athebyne, the energy is extremely off. When I join Bodhi, he glances at me sideways, and I look around at the empty outpost.

"There's no one here. Divide and search." He looks between Bodhi and me. "You don't take eyes off of her, you hear me?"

Bodhi nods curtly, and he, Garrick, Imogen, and I split away from him and Violet. The rest of our squad splits into small groups as well to search the seemingly abandoned outpost.

"So are you two..." Garrick gestures between Bodhi and me.

"I knew it," Imogen snickers.

My cheeks heat up, and I put distance between me and Bodhi. "Let's focus on the task at hand."

"I'm just saying, if you are, you know that we support you." Garrick continues. He's trying to get a rise out of Bodhi, and the way his strand of emotions in the Riorson library burns brighter tells me it's working.

"Shut up." Bodhi glares at Garrick, and he and Imogen break into laughter.

We enter the southeast tower, and Garrick is quick to find a missive addressed to Xaden. So, to counter Xaden's assumption, this does have something to do with War Games. Thank Zihnal.

We cross the rampart, and while Bodhi and Imogen engage in a minor argument about something I can't hear, Garrick falls in line with my step.

"You spent a lot of time avoiding me this year, Ania." He tells me.

"I spent a lot of time avoiding a lot of people this year, Garrick." I look up at him as we walk.

"Yeah, but," he shrugs, "You started talking to Xaden and Bodhi again and never came back to me. We grew up together, too, you know."

He's not wrong, and I do want to clear the air with him, but right now is not the time. Not when he's about to hand off our assignment to Xaden.

"I promise I'm not deflecting because I genuinely do want to have this conversation, but can we please wait til we get back to Basgiath?" I ask.

He smiles, "You were so quick to anger earlier this year. Look at you, having an actual conversation."

"Shut up," I laugh lightly and nudge his arm with my shoulder.

"I'm gonna hold you to it, little Alistair. We're having that conversation the second we land back in Basgiath." He says as we approach Xaden, Violet, and Liam. Garrick hands over the missive to Xaden and he pops the seal.

"That's from Colonel Aetos," Violet says.

"What's it say? What's our assignment?" Garrick asks.

"Guys, I see something past the trading post. Oh shit." Liam says.

The way the energy shifts is enough to make my head spin. I have got to get this empathy thing under control.

"So I've been trying to tell you," Gleigeal says, and I mock him down our bond.

"It says our mission is to survive if we can," Xaden says, and the way he pales makes my skin crawl.

Bodhi immediately reaches for my hand, and I don't dare to pull it away.

"Guys, this is bad!" Liam yells, and Imogen is at his side within a second.

Every single person from our squad is appearing at Liam's alert, and Xaden looks to Violet.

"This isn't your fault." He says to her before looking between the rest of us, "We've been sent here to die."

Xaden's emotions are the only ones I focus on while everyone else rushes to the battlements to see what Liam sees. He's... scared. His gaze meets mine, and he shakes his head. Somehow, he can sense when I read him, but I don't even think he's upset at me for it.

"I should've never brought you here," He says to me. "Fuck."

It takes everything in me to focus on what's happening. The conversations in front of me happen so quickly that I almost don't catch what's being said. I'm too busy trying to close the book where the emotions of those around me are starting to grow wildly. I cannot have a repeat of what happened on the field with Gleigeal.

"The letter says this is a test of your command. You have the choice of abandoning the village of our enemy or abandoning command of your wing." The section leader says.

"What the hell does that mean?" Bodhi snatches the letter from his hand.

"They're testing our loyalty without saying it," Xaden says. "According to the missive, if we leave now, we’ll make it to the new location of headquarters for Fourth Wing at Eltuval in time to carry out our orders for War Games, but if we leave, the trading post of Resson and its occupants will be destroyed."

Violet reeks of guilt, and I wish I knew why. There's no way she could know something like this would happen.

"By what?" Imogen asks.

"Venin." Liam's words don't shock me, but they should.

"I liked it better when we just delivered the weapons," Bodhi says under his breath.

"We are joined by seven gryphons," Gleigeal says.

I look to Bodhi, who likely just got the same message from Cuir.

"How many people live in Resson?" He asks.

"More than three hundred," Imogen replies.

"Then let's get down there."

The way he reacts, ready to defend innocent people, sets off an absurd feeling in my chest. The way he stares down his cousin who blocks him from running into the unknown is the reason I-

The thought doesn't finish forming because Xaden is on a justifiable tangent about the risks of marching into Resson. Once a gryphon flier approaches us and tells us to flee, my mind is made up.

I want to stay, and I want to help. Innocent people will die if we don't leave. I don't care about the risks. What good are we with dragons if we don't at least try to help?

This could've been prevented if the leadership in Navarre hadn't deemed it necessary to hide this knowledge from the public. They're all in the dark, just like I was.

"I’m not going to order any of you to join me. I’m responsible for all of you. None of you crossed that parapet because you wanted to. None of you. You crossed it because I made a deal. I’m the one who forced you into the quadrant, so I won’t think less of anyone who wants to fly for Eltuval instead. Make your choice.” Xaden says.

"I know if Beckett were alive, he would be here by our side. And he absolutely would not walk away from this fight." I say, looking to Xaden. I could very well be on the death roll come tomorrow, but I know what the right thing to do is.

"I was worried you'd say that," Xaden says, but there's a tiny hint of a sad smile.

"I chose well," Gleigeal tells me.

Every single one of us agrees that we're fighting. Whether we make it home or not, at least we die doing what we as riders swore to do.

Liam tells us what he can see from where we are, and I take a deep breath as I look at Bodhi. He's already looking at me.

Xaden gives us directives one by one. I'm to assist Bodhi and Garrick in evacuating the town. We're approaching our dragons when Xaden's hand wraps around my wrist.

"If you're telling me to stay out of this fight, I'm not going to listen to you," I tell him, pulling my wrist from his grip.

"I was going to tell you that I am proud of the person you've become," He says.

I remember after Threshing when he told me that Beckett would be proud of me. Xaden's pride in me means just as much, I realize. Beckett was a great brother in every aspect. But he wasn't my only brother.

"I'll see you on the other side of this," I tell him.

"Stay alive, Ania. Not just for Beckett, but for me too." Xaden doesn't give me the chance to reply. He turns on his heel and walks toward Violet.

"It is a shame that I never got to meet him," Gleigeal says as I approach his foreleg. I smile softly, thinking of the time when Gleigeal "didn't think he would mind his presence".

"Let's not dwell on what could have been," I reply.

I'm about to mount when Bodhi appears at my side. I open my mouth to speak, but he grabs my waist, pulling me into a devastating kiss.

My hands immediately find his face as he pulls me as close to him as humanly possible. It's passionate and deep and just what I need to prepare me for what we're walking into.

When he pulls away, his gaze locks on mine.

I look for the strand of emotions I know are his, but they don't sprout from the book in the Riorson House library. The spiral down from the mage lights hovered above, entangling themselves with the deep green tendrils of my own. He is more than a part of me at this point, and the feeling pounds in my chest. I know we share it as one.

"Ani-" He starts, with his forehead resting against mine.

"I know," I whisper. "Tell me after."

He kisses me one more time and then walks away to mount Cuir.

Everyone's attention is directed to the dragon that flies overhead, spiting blue fire. I immediately recognize it from the drawings in the books we read as kids.

"Is that a wyvern?" I ask Gleigeal.

"Unfortunately," He replies.

"Anyone want to change their minds?" Xaden asks and is met with silence. "No? Then, mount up."

Perfect. Is there any part of Fables of the Barren that is actually fictional?

Bodhi and I share one more glance before the entire squad is mounted on their dragons, heading into battle.

"Be prepared to relaunch at a moment's notice," Gleigeal tells me when my feet hit the ground.

The town center is a mess. People are running in a million different directions; children are screaming and crying. I don't give myself a moment to panic; I simply jump straight into action, guiding people in the direction safest to get out of Resson.

A venin stands on top of the tower, blue flames spewing from his hands into the town below him.

Tairn and Violet fly by, and the entire clock tower goes up in flames before collapsing in on itself.

"Soleil found a mine entrance. Start directing civilians toward it," Gleigeal shouts down the bond, and I nod my head. I see Bodhi and Garrick further up and assume it must be that way, so I start sending them that way.

The last couple of civilians from my end of town are now closer to Bodhi, so I take one last look around to ensure there are no stragglers.

"Mount, now!" Gleigeal's roar sounds, and I don't question it; I just sprint.

I execute the quickest mount I've ever done and look below as he launches with me halfway up his back. I nearly lose my footing but manage to catch myself on his spikes. The venin that stood on top of the clock tower emerges from the flames, and my breath is stolen from my lungs. Dragon fire is no use. The gryphon flier explaining that four of them is a death sentence makes so much sense now.

Fuck, what did we get ourselves into?

Gleigeal lands next to Liam, and I dismount, landing directly next to him.

"You okay?" He asks me, and I nod.

"Dragon fire doesn't work," I tell him.

I flinch as lightning strikes a section of the city wall, silently begging Violet to get her aim under control.

"I got the mine entrance open!" Soleil calls.

Liam and I take no time in starting to usher the townspeople into it. I don't have eyes on Garrick and Bodhi anymore. Bodhi was told not to take his eyes off of me, so I can imagine the fear he's feeling.

"Can you relay to Cuir-"

"Already did," He replies. "Enemy approaching."

I turn around, my jaw dropping as I watch the venin channel from the ground. The ground around it essentially dies, turning an ugly gray color.

Soleil is already charging at it, and I move to run after her. My feet skid when I halt, and I almost lose my balance. Not even two steps into the dead zone, she collapses and so does her Brown Clubtail. I hear Violet's scream, but my eyes don't leave the venin.

Its eyes lock on mine, and I know I'm next. The gray patch begins to expand outward. I won't make it back to Gleigeal at the speed it moves out, no matter how quickly I run.

I hold my hands up, focusing on the lanterns that line the path. I pull open the curtains in the library and pull every light source I can see into my palms before forcing my energy into them. The flare that rips off my palms is so bright that I have the instinct to look away, but I don't because I know it does not affect me. It's the same way I can look at the sun and not be bothered by it.

The venin lifts its hands to its eyes and stumbles backward. I take the small opportunity to sprint, but I refuse to look back.

"Faster!" Gleigeal's shout rattles my brain.

Again, I'm barely up his spine when he launches. The deadzone is only feet away from us, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"That was far too close." Gleigeal's tone is angry.

"Liam and Deigh, are they safe?" I ask.

"They launched in time," He replies, and I nod as I retake my seat.

Gleigeal and I engage in combat with a group of wyvern, and I've never struggled so hard to keep my seat in my life. The banks and rolls that Glegeal does has my ass lifting out of my seat each time, but it pays off because we manage to take out every single one. So long as we can keep them away from the town, then at least we've done some good.

"Tairn and Deigh require assistance," Gleigeal tells me, and I look around for them.

My stomach sinks when I see Violet struggling to hold Liam on top of Tairn. Deigh is fighting the disgusting beast for his and his rider's life.

"I cannot interfere without risking your life," He says as we fly under head.

"I don't care. Do what you have to!" I shout. I couldn't care less what happens to me so long as my friends live.

My Red Swordtail obliges my request, and I pull the leftover light energy from my hands, ready to wield at a moment's notice. I hold tightly onto his spikes as he interjects himself into the battle where he can to help Deigh. It's still too risky without taking out both the wyvern and Deigh.

"On the right!" I scream. A riderless wyvern appears, and Gleigeal is forced to let go of the wyvern holding onto Deigh. Luckily, Tairn was there within a second, snapping his teeth into its shoulder.

Gleigeal turns quick enough to snap his teeth into the wyvern's wing, shaking his head so furiously its wing comes clean off. The wyvern can't level out and has no choice but to accept fate and fall to its death.

The roar that Gleigeal releases is so loud that it makes my head split. He dives towards the ground and lands roughly, nearly making me fly off of him. I dismount at record speed and rush to where Violet is holding Liam in her lap.

"No," I whisper. "What happened?"

"Deigh is gone."

"Help me get him to Deigh." Violet cries, and I do my best to help lift him.

"Gleigeal was on the wyvern. I don't understand how this happened." We're stumbling under Liam's dead weight.

Xaden and Sgayel land a moment later, and Xadeb immediately takes his weight off of us. I follow him as he carries Liam toward Deigh. Liam's speech is weak as he's lying down with his dragon.

Perfectly healthy Liam is seconds away from his last breath, and there's nothing that can be done. If I can just give him this one thing and lead him into a painless sleep, then I'll do it no matter what the cost is.

Pain is an emotion just as much as it is a feeling, and Liam is full of it. If I can just... I don't listen to a word he and Xaden are saying, I simply reach my hands for his face. The pain that radiates from his skin at my touch makes me cry out. It isn't just his pain, it's Deigh's too.

"What are you doing?" Xaden asks.

"Release him, now," Gleigeal demands, but I ignore him. "Ania, let go!"

"I'm taking his pain," I whimper. I force my hands to stay steady against his cheeks as I absorb every last ounce of it.

Liam deserves to die pain-free. He shouldn't be dying at all. It fucking hurts.

When I no longer feel anything, I let go and stumble back toward Violet to let Xaden have his moment with his foster brother.

My knees hit the rocks, and even though she reaches out to make sure I'm okay, her eyes stay locked on Liam and Xaden.

"What did you do?" She asks.

I can't answer. I'm trying to control what's happening in the Riorson House library that I built into my head.

Nothing makes sense.

Liam is dead.

The first person with a relic that I trusted. The person who gave me so much of his time when I pushed back so hard. He made me care about him, made me let him in. Now, he was gone.

"Please tell me Bodhi is okay," I beg Gleigeal.

He's silent for a moment but then chuffs, "They are alive."

Grief barrels at me at breakneck speed, and a scream tears through my throat. It is mixed with Liam's pain and all of our sorrow at the loss of him.

"You can't do this right now," Violet demands as she cups my cheeks. "You have to finish this battle. Get it under control."

Control it. Don't let it control you.

I take deep breaths that shake my entire chest.

Focus on one thing.

The theory. To try and dim Violet's anger. It might've backfired earlier, but it worked on Liam. I could feel the pain slowly leave his body and enter mine until there was nothing left to take.

"Now, Ania!" Violet screams, and I'm brought back to my senses.

I sit up on my knees, ignoring the way that the ache lingers in my entire body.

"Tairn needs us to keep the wyvern off of him and Sgayel," Gleigeal tells me.

When I stand, the world tilts, but I shake my head and move as quickly as I can toward my dragon.

"Then we keep the wyvern off of him and Sgayel," I say out loud as I climb up his foreleg.

We do just that. Or we try to.

Everything happens so quickly. One minute, we're in the sky, and the next, Gleigeal screams at me to dismount.

He barely had time to tell me it was because he wouldn't be able to control his landing with the way a wyvern was on our tail. My running dismount was not the best, and I land in a roll that leaves my entire body in a type of pain I've never felt before.

When I stand, my left leg nearly gives out, the pain earth-shattering. I think my hip is fractured from the landing.

"I'm coming back, get ready," Gleigeal says, and a few moments later, he growls. "There are too many on me, I will not lead them back to you."

"Something is wrong with my hip," I cry out.

This might be where I die.

The sky is orange from the blistering fire, and the sun is slowly setting. I get so much power from the sun.

I look down the path, the light posts flickering, when I see the shadow of a venin appear. I unsheath the only alloy-hilted dagger I was given and hope for the best.

As he gets closer, I can tell he likes the fact that he gets to have me in hand-to-hand. It's like he can sense that I'm injured. If he wanted to, he could channel and drain the ground and kill me either way. Still, he approaches me with a devilish smile on his face that chills me to my bone. He'd rather kill me with his bare hands.

"Thank you for choosing me." I push the thought outward, and I know it's his roar that I hear from the sky.

"I will not tolerate that talk!" Gleigeal roars.

"A rider without their dragon," The venin laughs wickedly. "I can't wait to get my hands on you."

"In your dreams," I snarl.

Within the next heartbeat, he advances on me. One thing I was taught was that venin will adapt to your fighting style, so every couple of seconds, I switch. I fight like Xaden. Then Ridoc. Then Bodhi. Then Liam. Every person I have ever sparred against, every pattern I have ever written into my journal, I use it.

When I get far enough, I throw a blinding light to catch him off guard. I haven't perfected this skill, but I push out light flares that heat my palms to an unnatural degree. Anything to keep his hands away from me.

Each flare hits him in the chest, and I shift the particles to heat. He screams, and I know that it likely feels like someone just set a fire in his chest.

The adrenaline has dulled the pain in my hip, but each step burns.

While he's distracted by the light burning in his chest, I try to get a read on his emotions. There's nothing but rage and fury. He's just a gray, miserable being. There's nothing to work with. Nothing to manipulate.

"You are approaching burnout." Gleigeal says. "I can't get to you in time."

"I have made peace with what will happen," I tell him.

The light dies out, and he's on the move towards me again. I'm fucking exhausted and my will to keep going is running thin. I'm not walking away from this alive.

The venin throws two hits and kicks into my knee, but I don't have the speed nor mobility to stop myself from falling to the ground. I land on my back, my head hitting the ground with a crack.

Everything is happening in slow motion.

"Back up is coming," Gleigeal assures me. His panic surges through me, but I barely have time to register when the venin stands above me.

Gray figures are falling around us as lightning cracks across the sky.

"Thank you for what you are about to give me." The venin says as he crouches down next to me. "I'm going to make this slow and painful."

The way to kill venin is to strike them with pure power, with which none I have left.

His hands reach for my wrists, and my eyes flare with panic. He slowly draws power from me, drop by drop, and I scream out, kicking my legs for purchase.

Gods, this is how I die.

War Games seems like such a distant memory, a figment of something that doesn't matter.

Now, I'll be reunited with Mom, Dad, and Beckett. And Liam will be there too.

"FIGHT." Gleigeal blows the channel, and power surges through me. Energy pulses through my fingertips, and I notice that they're glowing.

Light is not something I bend, it is something that I am.

Everyone that I have ever lost and ever loved, I use them to push me to grip the venin's face.

I force every ounce of burning light I have into his skull. It takes a moment, but he screams and fights to pull away. His temples burn bright under my fingers, and his skin his hot to the touch. He releases my wrists, and I force myself to sit up, holding him with a bone-crushing grip.

I can see the power, my power, burning bright behind his eyes. It takes everything in me, but I can read his fear, and that only pushes me further. He knows I'm winning.

The power behind his eyes flashes rapidly, and his eyes roll back before he falls limp. I rip my hands away from him and back away from his body.

Wyvern drop out of the sky around us, and I smile tiredly as I look up. A sigh of relief leaves my lungs, and the ground shakes when Gleigeal lands next to me. I almost let myself fall back, but he's there behind me. His entire body is flat as he catches me on his nose.

"You fought well, Ania," Gleigeal says.

"Is it over?" I ask. I can barely keep my eyes open. I feel so sleepy now.

"It appears so," He replies.

Several footsteps approach, and I flinch away when someone leans down in front of me.

"It's just me, sunshine." Bodhi's face is in front of mine, and I blink quickly, trying to determine if he's actually here or if I'm dead.

"Bodhi," I whisper. He lifts my hands into his, examining my wrists closely. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine." He nods quickly.

"I used too much, I think," I say, and he shakes his head.

"No, you did good," He tells me softly, brushing his thumb against my cheek. He sits against Gleigeal, and if I had the energy, I would be surprised that he allowed it. He pulls me in between his legs against his chest, and I wince. "I'm sorry, Ani. I'm sorry."

"Never be sorry." I use his words against him as I tilt my head upward, with a small smile.

My arms feel like they have hundred-pound weights strapped to them when I lift my hand to trace his jaw.

"Beautiful," I say, but the word forms in a whisper.

I'm still convinced I'm dead and dreaming.

Resson killed me and everyone I love, and this is me reuniting with Bodhi in the afterlife.

"Sorrengail is down," I hear another voice to the side. I think it's Garrick. "We need to prepare Xaden for the worst. If we lose Ania too-"

"Garrick." Bodhi snaps before turning his attention back to me.

Oh.

This must be serious. I open the Riorson House library, and nothing streams in from the window. The normally deep green mage lights are gray, and the book that monitors the emotions I allow myself to feel is neatly closed. The library itself, on the other hand, looks like someone set off an explosion in it. The shelves are knocked over, and books scatter the floor.

"Am I dying?" I ask Bodhi.

"I don't know," He answers truthfully. A single tear rolls down his cheek.

"Bodhi, I have to say-"

"No," He whispers. "Please, don't. Tell me later."

"Fuck," I hear Garrick mutter.

"You may rest now, Ania," Gleigeal says.

I allow myself to succumb to the darkness.

previous | next

tag list: @itsmytimetoodream @lynnieluvsu @sherlockstrangewolf @abysshaven @wolfbc97 @paris009 @poseidont @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @lxnvmvrzx

#bodhi durran #fourth wing #bodhi fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #bodhi durran fic #bodhi durran x oc #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi x reader

54 notes · View notes