#if that were me now I'd tell him I hope that his balls got severed by a four-mile-long freight train amongst other unpleasantries

[david-watts]

I just remembered that time that I, extremely timidly, told that n*zi (if you know you know) that being racist wasn’t very nice of him in the LEAST confrontational way possible and he, a grown man (I think) went on a massive meltdown and put front and centre in his bio ‘fuck [url]’. because a fourteen year old told him that he wasn’t very nice.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

I Can't Say Part 1

Summary: Eddie thinks Reader is cheating on him and breaks up with her. He doesn't believe her when she says she has a good reason for acting how she has because she says she can't tell him.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Insinuation of Suicidal Ideation, Break Up, Cheating Accusation

Requested?: No   

Word Count: 3,995

A/N: Mmmmm I wanted to write break up imagine and had a short simple idea but that turned into what is now sitting at 7,823 words total. Here's the first half while I work on finishing the rest. At this point, I think I should just starting Character x OCs because I put way too much thought and detail into my "Reader" lmao. Ms. Ma'am has an entire background in my head... I also feel like I should start writing a novel or screen scripts because I love writing long works like this. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Love to all! Requests are Open!

[ A/N: the amount of space this man takes up in my brain rent free is getting to be ridiculous... ]

--- Your POV --- 

"I think we should break up," Eddie says, refusing to even look at me. Stun locked and silent, I can't believe the words that just came out of my boyfriend's mouth... 

"W-what? Why?" I ask, feeling very confused. 

He gets up from his seat on the couch beside me and starts pacing as he runs his fingers through his hair, "(Y/N), do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been distancing yourself? Or how about all the times you've been much later than you should for just making a quick stop on your way to my place?" 

"Eddie I-" he puts his hand up to interrupt me. 

"There's also the phone calls and text messages all throughout the day that you always take in private," he pauses, seemingly hesitant to continue. "The other night when you were an hour late, I looked your number up on Find My. You were out in the hills, (Y/N). No where near the route from your place to mine." 

It dawns on me, "You think I'm cheating on you?" 

He stops pacing with his back turned to me. I watch him rub his face before answering, "Yes, (Y/N). What else am I supposed to think?" 

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that I have a good reason for all that stuff?" I answer, quite hurt that he’d think so little of me. 

He whips around to look at me and I can see the tears in his eyes, "Oh yeah? Like what?" 

I look down at my lap, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet Chris had given me not too long ago. It's quiet for a few moments as I weigh my options before whispering, "I can't tell you..." 

"What happened to always communicating, huh? What happened to never lying to each other, (Y/N)?" he asks, his voice getting a small bit louder as he throws his hands in the air. Unfortunately, the motion makes me flinch, a reaction I never thought I'd have to Eddie. 

I bury my face in my hands for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, "I promise, Eddie. If I could tell you I would." 

His voice is quiet now and he sounds hurt, "What happened to the promises that we made?" 

I clench my jaw, attempting to keep myself from saying something I shouldn't. I hear him cross the living room and leave, slamming the door shut behind him. I stay seated on the couch for what feels like forever, attempting to wrap my head around what just happened. I should've just told him what's going on but I promised Talia I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone.  

Talia is a good friend of mine, more like a little sister, that I worked with at the 127 before being transferred to the 118. Several weeks ago, she called me, in the middle of the night, sobbing and gasping for breath. She begged me to come over. When I got there, I found her curled up in a ball on her living room floor, still sobbing profusely, and she only cried more when she saw me. Hours later, when I finally got her to calm down enough to speak, she explained that she was scared to be alone because she knew her head was in a dark place but I had to promise her that I wouldn't tell a single soul. So, I did. I stayed the night with her and made sure she knew to call me if she needed to before leaving for work the next morning. 

I'll admit, I have been distancing myself from everyone. I've been scared that I'd let slip what was going on with Talia. I'd made several stops to check on her on my way to Eddie's or home from work. I had contemplated just moving in with her at one point. Talia has been calling and texting throughout the day lately. Sometimes, because she needs support and sometimes just to let me know she was okay. She's gotten a lot better since she called me that first night, so much so that she agreed to see a therapist and has her first appointment in a couple of days. My train of thought derails off into other subjects like wondering why Eddie didn't trust me, wondering what it would be like moving forward, and plenty more.  

--- Third Person POV --- 

Knowing he needed to talk to someone, Eddie found himself pulling into Buck and Tommy's driveway. He sat there for a good bit before forcing himself out of the truck and up their front steps. Minutes after he rings the doorbell, Tommy answers looking very tired and quite disheveled. He immediately knows something is wrong due to the tears still running down Eddie's face and motions him inside. 

As Eddie steps across the threshold, Buck rounds the corner into the living room rubbing his eyes and yawning, "Babe? Who is it?" 

Tommy makes his way over to the coffee pot and starts a brew as he answers, "It's Eddie, Honey." 

Buck snaps his head toward his best friend, "What happened? Is Chris okay?" All Eddie can do is nod as Buck places a hand on his shoulder and directs him to the couch, "What's going on, man? Is it (Y/N)? Is she okay?" 

As the two sit down, Eddie drops his head into his hands and whispers, "I don't know." Buck and Tommy share a look over the back of the couch. Tommy holds his finger up, telling him to give Eddie a minute. The house falls quiet aside from the trickling and gurgling of the coffee pot. Buck does his best to wait patiently, glancing every few seconds at Tommy who still leans against the counter but now with hawk eyes on Eddie. Buck knows (Y/N) is like a little sister to Tommy and silently begs him not to get angry. 

Soon, the coffee is done and Tommy pours three mugs before joining Buck and Eddie on the couch, handing a mug to Buck, placing Eddie's on the coffee table in front of him, and taking a sip from his own. Buck carefully takes a sip as Tommy clears his throat, "Alright, say something." 

Eddie wipes the tears from his lashes, picks up the mug, and takes a deep breath, "I broke up with her," he stares down at the coffee warming his hands for a moment before taking a sip. 

Buck's jaw nearly hits his lap and Tommy grits his teeth. Never in a million years did they see this coming. Buck was pretty sure he'd soon be helping Eddie find a ring that (Y/N) would like and planning a bachelor party. Tommy was fully prepared to walk her down the aisle one day like she'd asked him to and thought for sure Eddie would be the one standing at the end of it waiting to put a wedding band on her finger. Hell, the entire 118, their friends and family, as well as some of the guys down at the 127 had bets going on when the lovebirds would get engaged. 

Catching sight of the pleading look in Buck's eyes, Tommy shoves his anger aside, although his tone still comes out a little harsh, "Why?" 

Eddie clenches his jaw and attempts to keep his tears at bay, "She's been distancing herself from me and taking weird calls and texts in private. She's even been lying to me about where she's going. I caught her in the hills on Find My a few nights ago when she was supposed to be on her way to my house with a quick stop at the gas station." 

"You can't seriously think she's cheating on you?" Buck insists. 

"What else could it be?" Eddie challenges, now looking his friend in the face. 

"I- I don't know but (Y/N) would never-" Buck is cut off as Eddie sets his coffee back down & stands up to pace. 

Tommy is deep in thought when Buck looks to him for assistance. He remembers (Y/N) having a friend who lives out that way. He can't for the life of him remember who but he knows he accompanied her to a birthday party there not long before she transferred. Buck leans forward and nudges his leg, shaking him out of his thoughts, and points at Eddie who looks like he's going to pave a flat spot into their carpet. 

"What did she say?" Tommy asks, desperately needing to figure out why his friend would be acting so weird and clinging to all hope that it's not what Eddie thinks. 

"She said she had a good reason for that stuff but couldn't tell me what it was," Eddie spits out. Buck and Tommy both are shocked at how quickly his tone has become angry. Buck gets up, aiming to convince Eddie to sit back down but is interrupted when Eddie flings his arms out, "We promised each other we would always communicate and never lie to each other. Hell, we pinky promised and you guys know how seriously she takes those! Why?!" he pauses, "Why wouldn't she just tell me what's going on instead of making up some excuse that she can't even say?" 

Tommy has had enough, "Sit back down and lower your voice." He knows Eddie is just angry because he's hurt but he won't let him be angry at her.  

Eddie is taken aback, "W-what?" 

"You heard me," Tommy stares him down, daring him to refuse. Buck thinks he's going to have to snap them out of it because of how long they stay staring at each other but finally Eddie gives and sits back down, dropping his head into his hands once again. "Where exactly was she?" Tommy asks, searching for any clues to what's really happening. Buck is also racking his brain but a small part of him fears that Eddie may be right.  

Without looking up, Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it toward Tommy, "I took a screenshot." Tommy's heart hurts when he opens the phone and sees the wallpaper of Eddie, (Y/N), & Chris all smiling brightly. He types in the pin number, Christopher's birthday, and navigates to the photos app. The most recent photo is, as expected, a screenshot of the Find My map. He zooms in as far as he can before pulling his own phone out and bringing up Google Maps. He types in the street name of the location pictured in the screenshot and hits search. Using street view, he attempts to jog his memory but has no such luck. Feeling defeated, he hands Eddie's phone back to him. Noticing Buck hoping for an answer, Tommy shakes his head.  

Abruptly, Eddie stands, "I'm going home. Thanks for the coffee." 

Buck stands with him, "A-are you sure? You can stay the night if you need to." Eddie shakes his head and leaves.  

Buck looks to Tommy, hopefully, as the door shuts behind their friend, "Please tell me she's not-" 

Tommy takes a deep breath, "I don't know, Evan. That's not like her at all but I also don't know exactly why she'd be way out there." 

Buck's features drop into sadness as he looks back toward the door, "What do we do?" 

Tommy pulls him into a hug and rubs his back, "I don't know... I'll try to talk to her in a couple days if they don't fix it themselves. Maybe she'll tell me what's going on." Buck nods into his chest before Tommy gently tugs him back to the bedroom. 

--- Your POV --- 

The next morning, I wake up curled into a ball on the couch. With a full bladder and a crick my neck, I begrudgingly shuffle to the bathroom. As I pass the mirror, the sight of mascara smudged across my cheeks shatters all hope that I had about last night just being a terrible dream. Fresh tears roll across the mascara as I empty my bladder. 

Exiting the bathroom, I head to my bedroom to collect some blankets and pillows before returning to the couch and creating a little nest. I plop down and open my phone to discover several missed calls and texts from Tommy and Buck. I put it on "Do Not Disturb" and then tap on the Doordash app. I order a bunch of junk food and once the order is confirmed I start trying to find something to watch on tv, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet out of habit. 

I could call Tommy and Buck to talk about what happened but I'm sure the reason they've called so much is because they already know. I honestly just want to lock myself up inside my house until I finally wake up from this nightmare. Maybe I'll talk to them in a few days but right now I have two days off work and I intend to spend them drowning my sorrows in ice cream. 

After God knows how many pints of Doordashed ice cream, hours of comfort movies, and plenty of napping, I wake up on the couch once again as my alarm blares from the coffee table. I silence the noise and roll off the couch, landing on my stomach with a thump. I take a few deep breaths, willing the tears to dry up, before dragging myself off the floor and stumbling to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. 

With the water running down my now clean body, I am once again reminded of reality. I have to go to work today where I will undoubtedly see Eddie. I have to pretend I'm okay or even though I feel like crumbling to pieces so my friends don’t worry about me too much. Eddie is my everything. When I asked Tommy to walk me down the aisle after my dad passed a few months ago, I fully envisioned Eddie standing at the other end waiting to say, "I do." I don't how I've survived the past couple days without him when I usually can't even go 10 minutes without talking to him. Hearing the doorbell, I force myself to turn the water off, get dressed, and slap a smile on my face. Talia asked me to take her to therapy this morning so I know that's who is at the door. 

A few moments later, I open the front door, "Sorry, I was in the shower. Give me a couple minutes and we can go." Talia nods so I grab my phone, keys, and go bag from the kitchen where I had left them the night before. As we get in my car, I shake my head, "I don't know why you wouldn't just let me pick you up. It would've saved you the uber here." 

She shrugs, "You've driven to my house so many times in the past few weeks so I figured I owe you one." 

As I crank the car, I give her a pointed look, "Talia, you don't owe me anything." 

She sighs, "You keep saying that but I don't believe it." I simply shake my head, knowing exactly where she's coming from and head toward her therapy office. A short drive later, I stop on the curb to let her out.  

She stares out the window for a few moments so I gently rub her shoulder, "You've got this, Tal. I know you do." 

She takes a deep breath and opens the car door to get out. Before shutting it, she ducks her head back into the car, "Thank you again, (Y/N)." 

I smile at her, "Anytime, kid. Now go before you're late." She mirrors my smile before shutting the door. I watch to make sure she makes it inside before pulling away from the curb and heading to work. I tell myself that I'll try to talk to Eddie today and remind myself that things are going to be okay. 

When I arrive at the station, Buck rushes over to me, "(Y/N)! A-are you okay? Eddie told us what happened." 

I do my best to offer him a reassuring smile and pat his shoulder, "I'll be okay eventually, Buck." He tilts his head and I can tell he's trying to decipher my facial expressions or maybe read my mind. 

As I head toward the locker rooms to get changed into my uniform, he is right behind me, "I don't believe you did it. I know there's something else going on." Unsure how to respond I stay quiet but when we reach the locker room door, he gently grabs my wrist, "(Y/N)... whatever you need, I'm here, Tommy too." I nod and again attempt to smile but just on the other side of the door, I can hear Eddie talking. Buck hears it too but only nods and heads upstairs. 

--- Third Person POV --- 

When (Y/N) slowly opens the door, Eddie is on the phone, "Tia, I promise we will visit soon." 

On the other end of the line, Tia Pepa is doubtful, "How soon is soon, Edmundo?" 

"I-I don't know," he admits as he notices that (Y/N) has entered the room. 

"Dios mio, sobrino," she sighs, "Well, will you please bring (Y/N) with you? I've heard so much about her from Christopher and would love to meet her," Tia asks, clueless to recent events. Eddie hasn't even figured out how to tell Chris yet, let alone the rest of his family who have been dying to meet the woman he just broke up with. 

"I'll have to ask her," he watches her make her way to her locker quietly, never making eye contact. 

"You better. Tell her I'll make some Tres Leches just for her," Chris has told Tia many times that (Y/N) absolutely needs to try real Tres Leches since she's obsessed with the kind you can buy at the grocery store. 

"Okay, I will," Eddie knows he's lying to her but he can't stomach the thought of having that conversation right now, nor does he have the time.  

"Te quiero mucho, Edmundo. Cuídate," Tia says, knowing he probably needs to go soon.  

"Te quiero mucho, tu tambien," as he hangs up, (Y/N) is silently staring into her locker as she changes into her uniform. Eddie desperately wants to run over to her, wraps his arms around her, and never let go. However, the ache in his heart holds him back. So instead, he stands and makes his way to the door. 

As soon as he opens it, she finally speaks, "Eddie..." He pauses briefly but without looking back, exits the room, and lets the door shut behind him. 

Over the next few days, (Y/N) does her damndest to get Eddie to talk to her. Every time, without fail, he ignores her. She doesn't notice him watching her from across the room or keeping an eye on her in the truck. He pretends he doesn't notice her staring at him with eyes full of sorrow every chance she gets. Buck does everything he can think of to make them talk but still no luck. Even Bobby, Hen, and Chimney have their own chats with both of them and come up fruitless. No one can get her to explain her actions and Eddie won’t even talk about it. 

About four days pass before Tommy has a chance to sit down with (Y/N) to talk. He stops by early for lunch at the 118 and finds her taking out her frustrations on an innocent punching bag. He catches the bag after it takes a particularly gnarly hit from her, "We need to talk." 

She looks down at her feet and drops her fighting stance. The two make their way over to a bench and sit in silence for a few moments. They both notice Eddie helping stock the ambulance across the bay. She takes a deep breath, fidgeting with her bracelet, "At this point, I'd settle for him yelling, screaming, and throwing every curse word in the book at me. At least then he'd be speaking to me." 

He pats her knee gently, "I know." She says nothing else so he declares, "I also know you wouldn't cheat on him so what's really going on?" 

She looks up at him with tears threatening to spill and regret heavy in her eyes, "I-I can't talk about it." 

It stings but he accepts it, "But it is a good reason?" 

She nods and looks back toward Eddie, "Yeah... I just wish he would believe that." 

He sighs, "I do too." He thinks for few moments before asking, "Do you remember that birthday party we went to right before you transferred here?" 

She knits her brows together, "Mmmm no, no birthday party. There was mine and Talia's going away party though." 

Tommy mentally face palms, why didn't he think of Talia? On a hunch, "Oh yeah, Talia. How's she doing these days?" he asks as nonchalantly as he can. 

She hesitates, doing her best to control her features so that Tommy doesn't catch on, "She's alright. Still hanging in there." 

He puts two and two together despite her efforts to prevent him from doing so but before either of them can say another word, Bobby is calling everyone up for lunch. The two make their way towards the stairs and as luck would have it, whether good or bad (Y/N) isn't sure, they arrive at the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Eddie and Chimney. A sort of tense standoff ensues, (Y/N) isn't sure if she should go and Eddie is fighting with his instinct to let her go first like he always does.  

Finally, Chimney gets tired of it, "Alright, love birds. Let's get up there and get a few bites in before the bell goes off." He steps between Eddie and (Y/N), who make eye contact when he does, and runs up the steps. Tommy follows his lead, stepping around (Y/N) to meet Buck at the top, who he promptly drags away to explain his latest epiphany. Eddie finally snaps out of it and motions for her to go. She drops her gaze to the steps and takes them up. 

Later that day, when everyone is getting ready to go home, Eddie and (Y/N) cross paths in the locker room again. The tension is thick and the silence is loud as they change into their street clothes. Both of them are internally screaming at themselves to say something and finally (Y/N) does, once again right as he's about to leave, door already open, "Eddie, please." His eyes are locked on the floor and his hand grips the strap of his go bag a little too tight. She takes a step toward him and shockingly he doesn't move.  

"Please, just look at me, breathe in my direction, hell scream at me until your voice gives out. Just give me something to show that you acknowledge my existence," she begs. The only movement he makes is a spasm in his shoulder muscle. 

As he finally shoves himself toward the door, she desperately tries again, "Baby, I miss you. This is killing me because god damn it, I love you." 

He pauses, "You don't get to call me that anymore," before exiting the room.  

From upstairs, Bobby, Buck, and Tommy watch Eddie leave as (Y/N) drops to sit on a bench. They all heard what was said. Buck looks between Bobby and Tommy before stating, “I swear I am this close to borrowing Athena’s hand cuffs, attaching them together, and locking them in a closet.” Tommy and Bobby both hum in agreement as they watch (Y/N) grab her go bag and exit the building. That evening, she does nothing but crash on the couch when she gets home. Having taken a shower at the station and knowing her alarm is already set for tomorrow, she curls up in a ball and drifts into a dreamless sleep. 

Part 2

More 911

Main Masterlist

[atsucry]

Beyond the Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

warnings: Incredibly boring. Actually this chap is jst like PURELY info dump so like if ch. 4 is out you can like siim over this and move on. COUGH COUGH this was made on a deadline.

content warning: none

3:12 pm, Royal Sword Academy. Dorm room

"Could you stop it with that?!" You reprimanded your friend, balling your fist and slamming it down on the bed by the side of your lap. As you read, Che'nya has been swishing his tail back and forth nonstop over the book and flipping the pages.

He laid floating above your canopy bed, enjoying the elevation over ground. And when he bent backwards to face you; it was an uncanny sight.

"You've been analysing that for a while now, don't tell me you have trouble with comprehending the material!" The cat snickered.

"Ya know…you could ask for my help," he suggested. "If you want!"

You slouched back into your pillow, holding the book open over your stomach. "Oh please, you'd word it as more complicated than it already is." You hadn’t noticed, but your eyebrow started slightly twitching.

Taking a double look at the page, you found that you still hadn't understood it, not one bit! It had messed with your head all morning, that or it was just Che'nya's interruptions.

The feline flipped over on his stomach and looked at you with owlish eyes, resting his head in folded arms. "Hm, Tomorrow's Magi-shift against NRC. You comin' to watch or are ya just gonna watch from the sidelines?"

"Ugh," you let your head drop to the side. "but the headaches…" You grumbled in displeasure. It was one of those headaches that would feel like knives that stabbed into your cranium. An awful one Indeed. You swear that one of these days you would pass out from the severity, though, hopefully not sooner or later.

"I'll get ya headphones if the whole stadium is too loud—!"

"It's not the noise!" You shouted in a whisper. Somehow you could never watch past anything near the championship round, so you never really saw who the winners were. Though you were certain that it was always RSA. NRC hasn't won against you all for 99 years.

Your friend grinned from ear to ear, a bemused noise left him and nodded his head from side to side akin to a bobble-head figure. "By-the-bye," he interrupted. "If you want to get rid of that 'awful headache' as you say…" Che'nya had always been the type of friend who you could never anticipate what action they might pull off next. But you could always tell If it leaned on more mischief or genuine goodwill.

"You should try seeking someone."

What he said was so stupidly blatant that it might've been a bigger, mind crushing headache than the ones you got occasionally.

"I've already tried that! I mean—of course I'd go to a doctor for migraines that won't go away. Who wouldn't—"

"That's not what I was referring to, silly," He chuckled, pressing his fingertips against his lips to…attempt to conceal the mockery. "But take it as ya will."

You raised your brow, He looked at you knowingly. His intentions weren't quite clear to you, but you could only hope for it to be rational, but what were you kidding?

"...Are you withholding information from me? Or what?"

"Aha! no no! not at all! I'm only suggesting, as any good friend does," He said with a dismissive hand wave, ascending down slowly at the foot of your bed to lay down, stretching his arms before flipping to face you.

"...You sure do love messing with me, don't you?" Your friend only responded in an amused shrug. "Well, I'll be off. Knowing you, this conversation won't go ANYWHERE till you turn over every rock. Buh-bye!" Che'nya's laugh resonated throughout him, trembling. He disappeared starting from his tail, his body followed. His legs were next and then his head—leaving behind a grin before it poofed away too. He frequently crashed at the Heartslabyul dorm to meet up with his childhood friends, his ability to turn invisible helped him stay low.

"Oh..that cat…" You wondered if Che'nya's teasing had a grain of truth to it—was there something more to what you were seeking, something you hadn't yet realised? The idea nagged at you, even as you tried to push it aside.

You managed to push yourself off the bed, tidying the sheets and led yourself to the front of your door, turning the knob to head for somewhere, anywhere. Though, no clear intention really presented itself to you. 'What to do with myself…I suppose a change of scenery could do me some good. For once. Not that I had anything else to do.' You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes well into aimlessly wandering, you stood at the threshold before walking inside, the mouth of the library engulfing you and its doors magically closing on their own—crashing in with a loud thud. The smell of old parchment welcomed you.

It seemed to only be you here. And the librarian.

You made a beeline for the literature section, the bookshelf was curtained in dust. Most thought of old things as borish, so it's to no one's wonder that it hadn't been touched.

You pulled out a book from the fourth shelf using a ladder, a book of turquoise leather binding and a golden spine. The cover had an engravement of a simple rose, peculiarly, its centre spiralled inwards and sometimes shone at you. You read the title: 'The whispers from no end, the collection.' It was a small thing. No bigger than your hands by 2 inches. The cover was still intact and wasn't actively rotting away in your hand…deducting that you were its first reader in ages. Atleast that's how you thought it worked.

Its charming cover attracted you, almost as if handing itself over to you. you slid down the ladder to make your way to one of the desks as you already began flipping through the pages.

You settled for a random page and began reading.

And when shadows swirled

around a solitary candlelight,

aware that it was seen

only by virtue of its glow.

At an opportunity to take leave

it scampered toward the exit,

yet with every step,

a cold breeze pushed it back.

In a moment of realisation,

it retreated into the depths

of the desolate manor,

unfurnished and shrouded in darkness.

You murmured the lines to yourself, jotting down notes for dissecting later. The notes didn't necessarily have to be done neatly, but just legible enough for you to understand.

From the right of you, you heard a sudden crack. Your eyelids burst open as you picked up the sound of glass shattering, but the windows in front of you seemed intact—The mystery of it confounded you.

Your eyes landed on the book you had just picked up, bringing it up close to your face once more to inspect it. It shone yet again in your eye, forcing you to jar your head and avoid the ray. At once, you picked up on a glass bead at the centre of the spiralled rose.

A crack ran along the delicate glass, atypically managing to break itself with no external force, that's what you thought, anyhow.

Your attention was engaged to the peculiar object, it almost lured you in. "...What could've possibly happened to you?" despite being something inanimate, you spoke to it as if you were referring to something that was animate. People would wonder why they'd always catch you doing this.

Your fingers ran along the fissure, untill it cut the tip of it. Pulling your hand back to your body, pinching the fingertip and swiping away the droplet of blood. Your blood seeped into the glass. Dropping the book and leaving it open.

It was that awful jabbing headache again. You've had almost enough of this tantalizing torture. But there was little to nothing you could do. "And if I had sought medical help, I'd have to down another useless pill."

Knowing that practically every item in here was laced with magic, you knew that you must have managed to involuntarily trigger something. And with such an anomalous appearing cover nonetheless.

"Agh…No, wait! Ack! I already have a curse on me—! I don't need another!"

With the senses that you had left, you managed to clasp the book shut with a loud slam—the pressure and force could've compressed the pages back into its former crisp and straight state. And by luck, your troubles were gone—and it only puzzled you even more so than answering anything.

Even the library seemed to hold its breath, anticipating another sudden outburst to happen. But nothing came after. And this became your telltale sign that it was time to leave.

Cautiously picking the book back up, you checked to see if it would come back alive, which it didn't—fortunately. You didn't bother to ask the librarian if you could borrow it—not wanting to show that you have…broken it.

By then, the hallways were painted in orange hues that reflected off of the pristine marble pillars and floors, your heels clicked against the tiles and echoed throughout. You eventually made it to the grand staircase that led up into the dorm rooms, though quite a hassle to walk up—since by every stop you'd have to catch your breath—it was gorgeous nonetheless.

You stumbled a bit on the way, but you ultimately made it back to your room safe and sound, removing your shoes— lugging the book onto your desk and crashing into your bed—Allowing yourself to melt into the sheets. Inward and outwardly exhausted.

"I can't exactly sit here and do nothing…can I…? Haha…" You chuckled to yourself. picking yourself up and sitting down at the edge of the bed, swinging one leg over the other. "'Go seek someone' He says! I've already gone to a doctor before, and if it did work, I wouldn't be complaining now!" You sighed into the palm of your hand.

“Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it’s like I hit a wall. What am I even missing?”

“Well, at least the day's winding down,” you said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Maybe a break will do me some good. It’s not like I’m making any progress here.” With a resigned sigh, you pushed the thoughts aside, resolved to get some rest. You lay back on your bed, letting the soft mattress calm you.

As you closed your eyes, the room fell silent, save for the faint echoes of your own thoughts drifting into the night.

Note: HEYEYEY srry for the lobg update i was dealinf with problems, my bad gng🙏 APOLOGIES FOR ANY WRITING ERRORS😊

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #61: The IMMORTUS IMPERATIVE

August, 1990

AVENGERS West Coast vs IMMORTUS and the LEGION of the UNLIVING!

Well! A Legion of the Unliving! And an Immortus. Vs the Avengers. We've been here before. But not with this specific Legion of the Unliving. Is that Iron Man 2020? He's not even unliving yet! Way to think outside the current year, Immortus.

Anyway.

Last times on Avengers West Coast: John Byrne was building up to something with Scarlet Witch and Immortus. But he had beef with editorial so he took his ball and went home and now Roy and Dann Thomas are going to pick up the plot threads and tie them together as best as they can.

But in plot terms: Scarlet Witch has been having the worst several weeks of her life. Her husband was disassembled and rebuilt except without emotions so he fucked off to the other Avengers team. Wanda went catatonic except when she woke up to be capital E evil and then she went catatonic again.

While she was Evil, she joined up with Magneto for his vague plans and kept suggesting he murder people. But then she went catatonic while he had to fight the Avengers by himself. So he fucked off.

Immortus has been shown spying on the Avengers for Reasons and deleting divergent timelines for Reasons and after Magneto fucks off, Immortus shows up to claim everything has transpired according to his plans. Also, he's going to marry Wanda or something.

Sir. If Wanda takes up polygamy, you are not high on her list.

Honestly.

This era of Avengers has way too much Kang and Kang accessories in it.

Quicksilver (and Lockjaw via growls) tell Immortus to get his creepy self away from Wanda but Hank Pym is like dammit, let the villain monologue!

He says it's for Wanda's sake but I think he just knows we'll never know what the plot is if we don't let Immortus villainsplain at them.

Wasp: "Spoken like a true leader and founding father, Hank!"

God. Get off his dick, Wasp.

I'd hoped that her characterization being reduced to being Hank's cheerleader would go away with Byrne but forecast looks bad.

Hawkeye ignores Hank (because the Avengers West Coast don't have an official leader so Hawkeye thinks it should be him and therefore he can do what he wants) and shoots an arrow at Immortus.

Which bonks off thin air.

Wonder Man: "You know force fields are standard issue with supervillains, Hawk!"

Yeah, Clint. Are you a veteran or not?

Immortus takes issue with being called a villain and asks "do you apply such negative labels to everything you cannot understand?"

Which would hit harder if it were not Immortus and not a situation where he's mind-controlling a woman.

Hawkeye points out that Immortus has been causing trouble for the Avengers since issue #10. I mean, he's right. But how does he know that? Issue #10 got retconned.

And Wonder Man says that his own introduction in issue #9 happened a few weeks after the Immortus fight that didn't happen at all because it was retconned and as Simon describes it the issues would be in the wrong order even if it did happen and...

This way lies madness.

Despite his injured leg, Quicksilver isn't going to stand by letting Immortus talk even if Dr Pym, Wasp, and Iron Man say he should.

He tries to rush Immortus but Immortus has Time Powers.

Immortus: "You would use so pitiful a power as speed -- against one who controls time, without which speed is an inconceivable concept? I could take this single step backward -- or walk to Earth's Moon and return -- while you were merely careening into this other fool who thought to sneak up on his superior!"

So Immortus just steps out of the way of Quicksilver's charge and lets him collide with US Agent. But he describes it as TIME POWERS.

Immortus doesn't actually want to Explain It All and says he's protecting all timelines, source: trust me, bro.

But the Avengers don't trust him, bro.

Wasp tries to get Lockjaw to teleport Wanda away. But she's still in that time-space stasis field thing and that's immune to teleportation. And also, Immortus has Dog Sleepy Powers which he uses to make Lockjaw to sleep.

Supposedly.

Lockjaw continues standing around with his eyes open. So maybe Immortus doesn't know how to get the Dog Sleepy Powers to work.

The Avengers all rush Immortus, since he won't exposition at them.

Immortus sighs and decides okay fine, I'll just take you with me then. And teleports them all to Limbo.

Leaving behind a weird after image of himself in the Avengers' base.

Immortus' throne room has been redecorated to look more... organic, apparently. Immortus says that's because Limbo reflects his moods and he's been in an organic mood lately.

Sure, okay.

I'm not sure what he means because the background just looks like. Rock. Like a rocky cave that someone put a metal floor in and a throne.

Wonder Man thinks it's very impressive and says a set like this would cost the budget for three of the movies he's worked on.

Hawkeye: "Right about now, Simon, your movie career's the last thing I'm worried about!"

Hey, c'mon, Clint.

He's just describing it through his lived life experience. And reminding people that he's an actor who acts in movies.

Remember when Hawkeye showed new maturity by getting married and leading a team of his own? Remember when he and Wonder Man came to an understanding in the sauna that even though he was an actor, being a superhero was still Wonder Man's number one priority?

I can't believe I'm saying it but characterization has gone downhill since Englehart.

Whether on Earth or in Limbo, the Avengers are still ready to kick Immortus' ass. And apparently his TIME POWERS only work on Earth. Because Limbo is timeless. Except for all the passage of time that the people in it experience because duh.

But if there's anything consistent about Immortus from the non-occurring events of Avengers #10 onward it's that Immortus doesn't fight his own battles.

Immortus: "Still, I am disappointed you think me stupid enough -- to face all you overly muscular specimens alone."

And boom. As the cover promised, a new Legion of the Unliving.

Getting a bit ahead of myself but that's Toro, not the Human Torch. The villainous Black Knight. Ugh, Grim Reaper. The Swordsman. Left-Winger and Right-Winger. Iron Man 2020, who I guess is unliving in the sense that he's not even been born. Unless you count sliding timescale because the timescale slid so hard that Arno is now contemporaneous to Tony. And Oort, the Living Comet.

Despite Oort asking if they remember him, this is his first appearance.

Like Arno, Oort is implied to come from the future. Although a more recent future.

Honestly, that's a fun thing to do with Immortus. It's HARD to do, unless you have established some characters from the future like the Iron Man 2020 series. 2099 characters would be a good choice but we're a couple years from that being possible. Or you can just make up a future character like Oort, the Living Comet, and have him mention a personal history that hasn't happened yet.

My point being: despite how stupid this story is looking, I like Immortus getting creative with his Legion of the Unliving choices.

Most everyone dies at some point and Immortus has every point at his disposal so he could throw any given character into his Legion.

Actually, I'm a little sad that the MCU just has Immortus as One of the Kangs and that maybe the Kang plot will get dropped or deemphasized due to so many reasons. Because an MCU Immortus dropping a Legion of the Unliving on someone. Imagine the characters you could bring back for it.

There are so many dead characters in the MCU. So many.

The only limit is imagination and how much Disneymarvel would be willing to pay to get actors to come back and reprise.

Anyway.

Wasp tells the Avengers not to hold back just because these are dead people that they might know. As far as she's concerned, these aren't the real dudes, they're simulcra that Immortus pulled out of time and if the Avengers get too in their head about fighting dead people they might know, they'll wind up dead instead.

She's actually right.

Because Immortus kept using dead characters that actually turned out to be alive - including Wonder Man once - it's had to be retconned that sometimes Legion of the Unliving members are just Space Phantoms.

So many Space Phantoms in Immortus retcons. So many.

Anyway, this Legion of the Unliving seems to have been chosen for personal connections with the heroes. Mostly.

Wonder Man obviously squares up against Grim Reaper, his supervillain brother that keeps harassing him and trying to put him and Vision in a blender.

Iron Man 2020 fights Iron Man because he's always wanted to prove he's better than the original Iron Man, Tony Stark, his great-uncle. Despite Iron Man's protests that he's definitely not the handsome, brilliant Tony Stark.

Hawkeye fights his old mentor and frenemy Swordsman.

Swordsman claims that he taught Hawkeye everything he knows which is why he's totally going to win this fight. Kind of ignoring the fact that he's been dead for years and Hawkeye didn't just stop learning shit. It's just a dumb boast, is all.

Black Knight faces Dr Pym, his old nemesis. Hank is no longer Giant-Man but he unshrinks Rover, the airship with the brain of an ant who loves Hank, so he can have an aerial duel with his old foe.

Right-Winger and Left-Winger fight US Agent. They're dudes he fought during his time as Captain America. He kinda blew them up in to a coma. Because they were involved in his parents' deaths.

Wasp is fighting Toro (who everyone is mistaking for the robot Human Torch). ... Okay, this is the odd one out. Wasp has no connection with this dude.

You couldn't think of a dead villain that has a personal connection to Wasp? I hate to say it but... I mean. She did tell Hank to crush Vibro to paste three issues ago. Maybe she should fight Vibro.

It would kind of make that fill-in issue where the Avengers West Coast take a break from the Wanda is Evil and Crazy arc more relevant to the arc. Wasp sentenced a dude to die because he wouldn't stop earthquaking Los Angeles. And then he pops up again in the Legion of the Unliving.

Feels like it writes itself but it didn't.

Anyway. The most interesting match-up here is actually Quicksilver vs Oort, the Living Comet.

Because Oort knows Quicksilver. And Quicksilver has no idea who Oort is.

Oort: "We never did find out which of us is faster, did we, mutant?" Quicksilver: "What are you talking about, Oort -- or whatever your name is? I never even heard of you befo-- NO! Those comet bursts --- fired at Wanda -- !" Oort: "You haven't changed a bit since we met in the 50th Century, Quicksilver. Even there, you were overly protective of your sister... though she couldn't care less whether you live or die!"

It sucks nobody ever ran with this.

This story is Oort's only appearance. We may never know what the hell Pietro and apparently Wanda were doing in the 50th Century. Or why they started beefing with this Oort dude.

The Thomases introduced Oort in this story as a future foe of Quicksilver because Quicksilver doesn't have a rogues gallery to draw on and everyone (but Wasp) was getting personalized fights.

So they made a whole new guy up to give Quicksilver a personalized fight and they gave Wasp Toro.

Double standard, boo.

Meanwhile, in the Hawkeye vs Swordsman fight, Swordsman does his usual Swordsman thing. You know, slicing or batting Hawkeye's arrows out of the air.

Really showing off his visual acuity and reflexes, the jerk.

He even mocks Hawkeye's gimmick arrows as relying on a "technological care package from Tony Stark" as if Hawkeye didn't invent anti-gravity by himself and then never use it for anything.

Swordsman: "Whether it's the strength of my arm -- or the sharpness of my blade -- I shall always be the teacher, and you merely the pupil!"

Basically Swordsman talks a good game up until the point Hawkeye tricks him into trying to block a 21k volt electro-arrow with his very conductive metal sword.

Props to the story, for a dude that Hawkeye has personal history with, he comes off like he has personal history with Swordsman.

After he... yeah, he basically kills Swordsman. Twenty-one thousand volts will do that. And this is Avengers Don't Kill Hawkeye, having to re-kill his dead mentor because if Hawkeye lost, Swordsman would move onto killing the next Avenger.

Hawkeye: "You -- shouldn't have made that crack -- about what you were gonna do to the others. I knew you best, so that meant I had to be the one to stop you, at any cost. Do me a f-favor, okay? D-don't let Immortus bring you back to life again. I really don't think... I could take that...!"

It's a low bar to clear but nobody in West Coast Avengers but Wanda has had appropriate emotions for the entire Byrne run. So I'll give credit where due that Hawkeye is emotionally impacted by having to kill a dude he has conflicted feelings about.

I'm realizing that I'm liking a lot of the bits in this story. The overall story is still kinda dumb. But it's cleaning up someone else's mess so maybe this bodes well for the Thomases run on this book.

Anyway. Remember how Immortus left behind an after-image when he teleported everyone to Limbo?

Yeah, Agatha Harkness did that.

She "half-sensed" Immortus' hand behind all the shit that's been happening to Wanda and her growing powers and her hard swing into mutant superiority and also the fake made-up children who definitely didn't exist.

Agatha didn't tell anyone though because fuck you nobody tells anyone their suspicions about anything in this book until it's too late to matter. Remember all the times recently that Hank Pym suddenly claimed he knew something all along?

But since Agatha Harkness kept a low-profile, Immortus didn't think to take countermeasures against her and she was able to cast a spell that left behind an after-image of himself.

Why? Eh. Apparently she can do magic on the after-image to learn what he's up to.

Agatha Harkness: "For, as you know full well, Earth's very timelines are in danger of unraveling, like threads in a fallen skein... but I, for one, am far from certain that you are the one to knit them up again!"

That's fair. He retgonned the timeline where Lincoln kicked John Wilkes Booth's ass. What a jerk thing to do, to get rid of that.

Anyway, Agatha does a magic that will make the image of Immortus share all the hot goss about Immortus' schemes. Magic can do that. Why wouldn't it?

In the grand aerial duel of Dr Pym vs the Black Knight, Black Knight's flying horse outmaneuvers Hank Pym's technology. He uses his laser lance to blast Rover but Hank just unshrinks a hover-pack and jumps out at Black Knight.

Who panics and falls off his horse to his re-death.

Hank saves himself with his hover-pack. He realizes that Black Knight must have remembered the last time he fell to his death, while fighting Iron Man, and that's why he panicked and, ironically, caused history to repeat.

Having put this together, Hank feels lousy about helping history to repeat on Black Knight.

He supposedly repented his evil right before he died the first time and then Immortus drags his ghost out of time, or whatever, and throws him into superhero fighting again. Black Knights just got no luck.

... Huh, did Thor ever get Dane out of that time warp he left him in?

Meanwhile, US Agent gets double-teamed by Right-Winger and Left-Winger.

Then US Agent throws his less-mighty-than-Cap's shield and makes Left-Winger trip so both brothers accidentally stab each other with stalagmites.

US Agent: "Welcome back to the dead zone, boys."

It's his favorite DBZ movie.

But, wow, he sure is proud of himself for deading those two guys.

Elsewhere in this big Limbo, Iron Man vs Iron Man. Future technology vs modern technology. A dude who just bought his armor vs the dude that built it.

And Iron Man 2020 is kicking Tony's ass. There's several decades of advancements in Arno's favor, even if Tony is the better engineer.

Iron Man 2020: "Face facts, unc... You're like some primitive stealth bomber up against a star raker from my day!" Also Iron Man 2020: "Whoever you are in there, you're last century's model!"

And then Tony wins via sucker punch.

I guess decades of improvements don't mean a lot if you can't take a punch.

Shrug.

(Feels like there was a more thematically satisfying conclusion to this fight somewhere but this is a team vs team fight issue and each character can only get so much time.)

Over with Wonder Man vs Grim Reaper for the umpteenth time.

Grim Reaper is in full bigger brother bully mode, reminding Simon of when they were kids and Eric would threaten him with a stolen pocketknife.

Grim Reaper cuts Wonder Man up with his scythe (which he lampshades he wasn't able to do when he was alive) but Wonder Man grabs him by the throat and demands he stands down.

Bigger brother bully refuses and shocks Wonder Man with his scythe, Wonder Man determinedly keeps his grip on Grim Reaper's neck and-

KRAK!

Wonder Man: "My grip -- so strong -- I killed him -- broke his neck! Immortus's control over him was so strong -- he wouldn't quit fighting till he was dead again! You're going to pay for this, Immortus! So help me -- you're going to pay!"

Damn. That's dark.

Which seems to be the theme with the fights where the Avengers win their fights.

Hawkeye had to go against his Avengers Do Not Kill principle and re-kill his mentor. Hank Pym (accidentally) put the fear of death in Black Knight so hard he died of it. And Wonder Man squeezes his brother's neck so hard it breaks -- and doesn't even realize he's doing it.

Oh, and US Agent made two brothers kill each other. But he doesn't seem too broken up over it. I guess he's the combo breaker.

And the afterthought fight: Wasp vs Toro.

Who she confuses as Human Torch until he informs her otherwise.

I sincerely believe this fight happens - and Wasp gets screwed out of a personalized fight - to clear up some continuity.

When Toro reveals he's Toro, Wasp realizes that the previous time the Avengers saw the robot Human Torch in a Legion of the Unliving (under Kang) it couldn't have been Jim Hammond because androids can't die because they're not real people!

Oof.

Toro: "Kang the Conqueror once thought I was the Torch, too -- when he gathered the first Legion of the Unliving! I was a man -- so I could -- and the Mad Thinker murdered me! -- Just like Immortus is going to make me kill you -- RIGHT NOW!"

Glad we cleared that up.

And, yeah, Wasp loses her fight because she's too distracted by the Not-Human Torch thing.

This issue kept cutting back and forth between Agatha interrogating Afterimage Immortus and the Avengers vs Legion fights. I just moved most of the fight stuff together in this recap for clarity.

Because we're about to do some big retcons, Agatha Harkness asks Immortus to RECAP HIS ENTIRE BACKSTORY.

Granted, how long has it been since we learned Immortus' complicated deal?

He was born in the 30th Century in a world of peace and plenty and he hated it because it was so boring. His only solace was watching old video tapes of superheroes punching people.

Especially the Fantastic Four. He loved their exploits best because he had learned that he and Reed Richards both traced their ancestry back to Nathaniel Richards.

Little Kid Future Nathaniel Richards (Ie Immortus) found a shrine Reed's dad Nathaniel Richards left behind with a time machine. Young Immortus rebuilt the time machine to look like a Sphinx and time traveled back to Egypt to take over as White Pharaoh Rama-Tut.

Then the Fantastic Four showed up and kicked his ass and he fled Back to the Future.

He went too far, wound up in post-apocalyptic year 4000 and became Kang the Conqueror.

Later, he became ashamed of all the stupid shit he did as Kang and became Rama-Tut again and took over Egypt again (but benevolently?). Then he became Immortus and moved to Limbo.

Afterimage Immortus: "As Immortus, I was a more contemplative type than my Kang counterparts, who were dedicated only to the conquest of historical eras. Sequestering myself in the ageless dimension known as Limbo, I dedicated myself to the study of that ultimate enigma -- time itself."

Then, the Time Keepers came to Immortus in Limbo and taught him all about time and appointed him the custodian of the time stream for the period which he had lived as Kang -- 3000 BC to 4000 AD.

So Immortus became responsible for monitoring time travel during that period. Which mostly meant monitoring himselves.

And if he fulfills his vow to the Time Keepers' purpose, they'll give him total mastery over those seventy centuries.

Kind of seems a downgrade from when Immortus was Master of Time.

Agatha Harkness asks Immortus what the Time Keepers' purpose is and what the heck it has to do with Wanda or with all those divergent timelines Immortus deleted in Byrne's run.

Afterimage Immortus: "You already know the truth, old woman! The Scarlet Witch is a nexus being -- one who belongs equally to all possible timelines -- all realities and divergences -- so that, through her, all futures can be totally safeguarded -- inexorably controlled -- by Immortus, Master of Time!"

Okay. Does that mean anything for Wanda herself or does that just make her a plot device to win?

Remember when Sentinels kidnapped Wanda because they needed to her power to sterilize Earth? And not her hex power, just the fact that she was A Woman?

This shit keeps happening to Wanda.

I'm surprised she didn't go evil and crazy sooner.

Speeeeaking of whiiiiich.

This is where (Afterimage) Immortus explains how he's been behind everything.

EVERY. THING.

Going back to his first appearance in Avengers #10 which was retconned and didn't happen so I don't know what he's talking about.

But, hypothetically, his evil plan in that story that didn't happen was to break up the Avengers so Scarlet Witch could never join them. Without the Avengers as a support network, Immortus could have manipulated Wanda so much more easily.

And why did Immortus show Vision an origin where he was built from the body of the original robot Human Torch? TWAS A RUSE! He wanted Vision and Wanda to marry and only knowing his origins would make Vision comfortable enough in his life to marry!

(The retconned origin that Vision was made out of extra Human Torch parts is close enough that one wonders why Immortus didn't just show him that? This is stupid. God I hate sweeping retcons like this.)

Why did Immortus want Wanda and Vision to marry? Is he just a big ol' shipper actually?

NO!

WANDA MARRYING VISION WAS ACTUALLY A SLOW BURN PLAN TO MANIPULATE WANDA! IMMORTUS PLANNED IT ALLLL!

Immortus knew that Wanda would want children and that she would specifically use her mutant magic to magic them up instead of adoption or surrogacy! He knew it all along!

And having created fake, not-real children, he knew that one day, she would learn they weren't real!

Afterimage Immortus: "Over time, Agatha Harkness, I slyly seduced the Vision into attempting to dominate the Earth by taking over its computers. After he tried that, it was easy to subliminally influence a multi-national security alliance to take him apart-- in such a way that, although his android body could later be more or less reassembled -- the Vision's particular mind and memory -- and thus his love for the Scarlet Witch -- became part of a dead and unrecapturable past! Soon afterward, even while I was subtly increasing her hex power, I made certain she was one of seven brides-to-be of Set, to further undermine her confidence -- by making her fear she was doomed, always, to be a victim of circumstances beyond her control. Perhaps she was, at that. Witness her quite coincidental capture later by the human servants of the micro-organism known as 'That Which Endures'... Although Master Pandemonium, whose kidnapping of her 'twins' caused her pain and terror, was unknowingly obeying my secret suggestions. And when her 'offspring' finally vanished forever -- you, dear lady, did me the service of explaining to her how they never truly existed! This was the final straw that turned her into a hard-hearted human-hater -- and thus perfect for my purposes. Magneto's blundering along just then was an annoying, but quite temporary, nuisance -- one which scarcely delayed the implementation of my plan!"

God this is so much. I hate it also so much.

Saying someone secretly conspired to organize so many events is a hard sell. And roping in Master Pandemonium seems unlikely since Immortus couldn't see into the netherworld where he took Wanda.

Saying Immortus nudged Vision into his takeover the world plan diminishes the original story.

And the writer drawing the line at Immortus being responsible for the That Which Endures story is just kind of funny. It's brought up solely so Immortus can say "that wasn't me" even though it seems like the racism goo turning Wanda into a mutant supremacist would only serve his plan.

There's so much to like about this issue and then there's the big reveals, which are unfathomably stupid.

Sheesh.

With all this exposition, Agatha Harkness has finally pieced together what Immortus' plan for Scarlet Witch is.

Although, she doesn't share it with the class. No doubt wanting to keep up the tension for next issue.

(Also, Immortus sends the Legion of the Unliving back into the void, sparing Quicksilver and Wasp from being finished off by their opponents.)

Next week, switching back over to Avengers East Coast for more airport paperback political thriller action in the Crossing Line arc. And in two weeks, the Immortus slash Wanda is Evil and Crazy arc wraps so the Thomases can start their own plots.

I will not be sad to see Byrne's lingering plot threads go.

Follow @essential-avengers. I'm too tired for a more extravagant pitch. Like and reblog, maybe?

[natasha-in-space]

Hello there! This is my first time coming into your inbox and I want to say how much your writing inspire me and makes me feel so safe especially the ones with Saeran in it.

If it's not too much to ask for, can I request a comfort fic with GE Saeran? Lately I've been struggling with my abandonment issues. It's telling me that people around me will soon get tired of me and leave me behind once they saw how miserable I am in the head.

It doesn't help the fact that I've seen several people that I deemed close to me were beginning to do things without asking or including me. I feel like I'm so easy to replace and forgotten... or maybe it's because I'm the one who's been struggling with this kind of thinking.

I know Saeran wouldn't judge me for this but sometimes I couldn't help but feel like I'm asking for reassurance too many times, or get scared of being left behind out of nowhere. It can be overwhelming whenever I feel like this.

Ah, I'm so sorry for the sudden trauma dumping. It's just that I've been dealing with the issues along with physical fatigue at the moment. Makes me easy to forget myself. Feel free to delete this ask if you're not taking any request at the moment! I guess I really need to let this out of my system. Have a good day and I hope you take care <3

Don't you worry dear anon, you're fine! I've been there, more times than I'd like to admit. It's exhausting and it's stressful as hell to deal with. I'm sorry to hear that you have to struggle so much. Even if things are hard for you right now, I hope only good comes to you soon. Please, take care of yourself and treat yourself with the same kindness and love Saeran would want you to experience. Now, onto the fic! <3

"Y/N?"

Saeran knew something was bothering you for a while now, but he didn't want to push you into telling him anything when you simply weren't ready for that yet. It hurt him to see that distant look in your eyes as you tried to keep up with your daily schedule, forcing a cheery smile onto your face that didn't quite reach your eyes, and pretending that everything was fine, almost as if you were too scared of showing anyone that you weren't doing so well on the inside. He did try to gently nudge you into opening up to him at breakfast, but you were quick to shut him down and change the subject with a clumsy joke and a kiss to his cheek. He saw that wordless plea in your eyes for him not to press the issue any further. So, he didn't pry.

Yet.

That is, until he got woken up in the middle of the night by insistent tossing and turning coming from your side of the bed, your short shaky breaths soon reaching his ears, once he was awake enough to think. You were being pretty quiet, but Saeran never slept too deeply. It was practically impossible for you to sneak out of bed without him waking up to see what you were up to. This time, however, he was grateful for his ability to not sleep through much of anything. He would hate to think of you suffering right by his side without him even knowing it. He was quick to push up onto his elbows, looking over at where you laid, curled up into a small ball, the sight of which made his brows furrow in deep worry.

He anxiously whispered your name a couple of times to try and gain your attention, a sick feeling of great concern twisting at his insides with an iron grip, once you didn't reply or even turn to look at him. Despite everything, you heard him. He could see that by the tiniest hitch of your breath and the way your body has stilled it's trembling. This wasn't like you at all...

It reminded him of the way he would get whenever his fears and doubts would leave him too overwhelmed and scared to even try and ask for help. The thought of you going through the same thing, or even something remotely similar to it, made his heart bleed for you. So, he scooted himself just a tad bit closer to you, a result of his natural desire to be near you in the moment of crisis. He couldn't help it. Even if he didn't want to touch you without you saying that it was okay for him to do so, his soul longed for him to embrace you and hold you tight until all of your fears and doubts would leave you be.

"My love, what's wrong...?" He asked, carefully tilting his head down in such a way that would allow him to take a look at your face. Or, what surface of it wasn't obscured by your hair or pillows. Your eyes were open, but you were avoiding looking at him. A single tear slipped down your cheek. It took him all of his self-control not to embrace you right then and there. His heart was aching for you. But, he didn't want to overwhelm you. He would be patient. He would try. For you.

For you.

"Nothing. I'm... I'm fine." You sniffed, your voice sounding hoarse and so very sad. The uncharacteristic rasp in your voice was a sign that you had been crying for a while now, and it broke his heart to discover. Why didn't you just wake him up? He would be there for you. He wanted to be there for you. Why were you closing yourself off from him? This wasn't like you, and it worried him greatly.

He just couldn't take it anymore. Saeran's hand rested gently on your shoulder as he slowly rolled you over to face him fully, before moving his palm down to press it against your chest. You didn't resist him, which made him breathe a small sigh of relief. He could feel the hard pounding of your heart underneath his hand, almost as if you had just come back from an intense workout. Oh, how he wished that was the reason behind your racing heart. That, or maybe you are feeling too smitten by him to handle it. But... no, the reason behind your heart working so hard to pump blood through your system was that you were in distress. You were in distress, and your body was doing all it could to keep you safe. Even if it only left you feeling even more anxious and shaky in the end. He knew that feeling all too well.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He coaxed you softly, moving his hand up from your chest to caress some of the messy strands of your hair away from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin for just a bit longer than necessary. Touch was a crucial way for him to express his feelings towards you, and he couldn't help it. A way for you two to feel connected. A promise of safety. For him as much as you. He always wanted to feel you close in one way or another.

You bit onto your bottom lip harshly, swallowing the lump in your throat, before giving him a brief nod. Saeran's heart was breaking at the sight of you, but at least you were no longer concealing your pain from him. That was a good sign. Some part of him wanted to praise you and kiss you on the forehead, but he resisted that temptation for now. Instead, he moved himself farther up the bed, resting on the soft pillows and plushies your shared bed was adorned by, and nudged you to lay on your side close to him, now starting to comb his fingers through your hair. Without saying a word, he tilted his head down to kiss your temple, nuzzling into your hair just a little bit to let you know he was there. He felt you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, burying it into his shirt, like what a frightened child would do. He rested his forehead on the top of your head, stroking your hair and back tenderly, trying to keep his breathing even as he felt your tears soak onto his shirt.

"You're alright, my flower." He whispered into your hair, feeling the tremor that vibrated down your spine as you cried into his shirt silently. He had to battle the urge to start tearing up himself. He hated seeing you cry. It's almost like he could feel the same pain you're feeling, his heart desperate to ease your woes. But, he had to be strong right now. For your sake. "I'm here. I'm right here. Whatever it was, it was just a dream. We're safe. You're safe."

You never told him what your nightmares were about whenever you ended up having them, and he'd never push you to tell him anything: he didn't want to force you into talking with him about these things, figuring that, if you wanted to tell him about it one day, you'd tell him on your own time and terms. He was content with that. As long as you let him be there for you when you were too scared to bear your burdens on your own. That was enough for him.

Saeran laid there with you in his arms for about twenty or so minutes, without even realizing that he had eventually fallen back asleep. Your shaky breaths hitting his skin in small puffs of air and your weak and tired voice hitting his ears quickly awakened him to the reality, though. He opened his eyes, looking down at you worriedly as his hand rubbed your back gently.

You were trembling, your arms tightening their hold on his torso in a way that wasn't natural to you. He didn't have any problem with it, just keeping you close and providing the least amount of support he could. It's the least he could do for you in such a difficult moment. He could handle a tight hug just fine. Especially coming from you.

Saeran hushed you, brushing your hair out of your face to take a proper look at you, only to see your expression pained and stricken with anxiety. Despite that, your eyes were closed. Were you asleep, perhaps? He didn't like to think that you were having yet another nightmare. Something must be seriously troubling you if you're having such a hard time... He only wished you weren't so afraid of telling him.

"I'm never going to let you go, my love." He breathed softly against your hairline. He was aware from his own experience that it could be a very stressful thing to forcefully wake someone from a nightmare, so he made an effort to calm you while you were still asleep asleep. You did the same for him many times, after all.

You groaned and pressed your face deeper into his chest, almost like you were trying to hide yourself away from the world around you. And while he appreciated you instinctively viewing him as your source of safety and comfort, he would be lying if he said it wasn't absolutely destroying him to see you like this. He didn't care if he was being too sentimental right now, he just hated the idea of you being this sad or hurt at all. It reminded him of the inner agony he had to fight against back when he chose to sacrifice himself to save you and Saeyoung, back in the Jihyun's house. The way that his heart would ache and bleed with every tear your eyes would shed and every shaky breath that left your lips as a consequence of his decision. He truly wished he would never see that same look on your face ever again.

But, life wasn't so generous, was it?

"I'm right here, Y/N." He told you gently, knowing you were still asleep, but wanting to let you know he was there regardless. "Oh... my angel, what are you dreaming about...?"

He frowned, holding your head close to his chest and nuzzling your hair as he muttered his inner thoughts softly to you. If only he could have a glimpse inside of your head right now. Maybe he would be the knight in shining armor he read about in fairytales, and chase all those bad thoughts of yours away with a whip of his sword. How nice would that be?

"No-!" You suddenly jolted out of his arms, making him flinch and move away, as you sat up and panted hard, your tear-filled eyes fixating on something in particular, yet also nothing at all, your entire body shuddering in complete panic. You were in a state that he had never seen you in before. And, while usually, he loved discovering new things about you... it couldn't be applied when you were actively suffering.

Sitting up next to you, Saeran wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and gently rested his chin on your shoulder. Slowly, he rocked you back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you shake in his arms and heard you sniffle. Your nightmares had never been this bad before. Sighing, he was at a loss for what to do to comfort you. He couldn't do much when he didn't even know the source of all this pain. But, he also didn't want to push you when you were this hurt and vulnerable. He honestly felt stuck on what would be the right thing to do for you here.

"I'm- I'm sorry..." You finally whimpered, your voice raspy and borderline unrecognizable.

"It's okay." He whispered back, turning his face into your neck and pressing his lips to your jaw lightly, not minding the salty taste as his lips brushed against your damp skin. “I just want you to be alright. That's all."

After a few more minutes of quiet, broken only by the sounds of your shaky breathing and occasional sniffling, you eventually calmed down, leaning back against his chest and closing your eyes. Your fingers wriggled together anxiously as you let out a sigh. Finally, you spoke up. "I'm sorry, I'm just- I'm just... so, so afraid..."

"I know." Saeran informed you quietly, rubbing a hand up and down your tummy. Despite his desire to express more, he felt that he should allow you to handle this at your own pace for now. You obviously had a lot of things bottled up.

"I'm so afraid..." You repeated, quieter this time, your shoulders slumping in defeat. You had never spoken about your nightmares before. Saeran wanted to hang onto your every word. "I'm so... so afraid of feeling abandoned, again. It's- It's debilitating and exhausting, and- and-"

"Y/N, I will never abandon you." He cut you off as you started to choke on your own words again, his stomach twisting at just the thought of you feeling abandoned. Saeran was familiar with that terrible feeling all too well, after all. He squeezed you a little bit tighter. "Even if I die, my soul would be right here next to you. Every moment of your life. Watching over you. Guarding you. Loving you. Forever."

"I know that, Saeran." You sighed with a small chuckle slipping through your tears, probably as a response to how incredibly cheesy he sounded. He didn't find that bothersome. He had a lot of love in that heart of his. He had to express it. But, he fell silent now, waiting for you to continue as he traced invisible patterns on your abdomen with his finger. "But, I've... I've actually struggled with feeling abandoned for a while. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I just... I know it's stupid and irrational, but I just can't help but feel like I am nothing but a nuisance to everyone. That once you all find someone better, you will... you will leave me. And, recently, some of my friends seemed to do some stuff without telling me or inviting me, and... and, I don't know. I just feel bad. And then I feel even worse for feeling bad in the first place. Does any of this even make any sense?"

Saeran pressed his forehead against your shoulder, fighting back his own tears at hearing you talk of how you were so afraid of being left behind by the people you so wholeheartedly loved. It brought back memories of his own pain, which caused him great distress. Because he knew exactly how you felt. Then again, maybe that's why Ray felt so drawn to you back when it all started.

You knew his pain, and he knew yours.

"It is not stupid. It's okay to feel afraid. I am afraid, too. So often, and of so little. But... We'll be together, Y/N." He uttered, hugging you tighter and pressing back flush against his chest. "Fate lead us to meet one another. Just like fate lead you to meet everyone in the RFA and all of your other friends and loved ones. My heart and soul are yours. They will be yours until the end of time."

Your eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, your face flushed and wet with tears as you looked at him over your shoulder. He had to resist the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“You promise...?” You whimpered quietly, making his heart melt for you all over again.

"With all of my four seasons." He reassured you by kissing your cheek.

"You are one of the kind, Y/N. A wonderful, loving soul with an experience unique to you and you alone. No one in this world could possibly replace you. And, when you feel like it all becomes too much: think of me. Think of me and the love I have for you. Even when we're far apart, even when I'm not there to hold you tight and whisper these words into your ears myself, remember our promise of happiness. Remember that I love you, with all that I am. And remember that you are deserving of such love and care. I know it can be scary to open your heart up to others... but, let them know of your fears. Don't close your heart off. Seek out those who are willing to treasure your heart, and trust them to do so when you know you can't handle it on your own. And, remember that my heart is there for you through it all."

[wolves-against-the-world]

Witchfinders

Jay started from a shivering half doze when their target finally appeared. May slapped his arm several times, making empty fwhoop-fwhoop-whoop sounds on his winter jacket.

"Told you!" She hissed triumphantly.

"Great," Jay said between chattering teeth. They’d first noticed him about two hours ago. Well, May had, because May was a psychic, something she never ceased to mention she hated.

"It's not like I picked this", she always said. "Do you know how fucking inconvenient it is to always see people's negative feelings and whatever lurks around without being able to do anything about it? If that was what I wanted, I'd have become a tabloid writer."

Jay wasn’t certain she was not exaggerating - psychic abilities were genetically recessive, and you needed a lot of luck to get more than a few psychics in any lineage.

She was admittedly a keen observer though, which had made her entire family fairly successful spiritualists until that sort of thing became embarrassing instead of impressive.

Jay looked at his radar and found the screen infuriatingly empty. He already regretted spending the exorbitant amount of money (about 70 pounds) on something this useless. The seller - a sturdy old woman who had been well known for being the only reputable psychic in the country, ironically because she didn't like the spotlight - had assured him it could detect latent magic. So far it had only been useful for detecting cellphones, microwaves, and one time, memorably, a minor radiation leak at a cancer clinic.

May was staring at something a bit away, which was impressive since there was very little to warrant more than a passing glance. To one side, there were the houses in their neighborhood that hadn't changed in about as long as they could remember, if one discounted the pressure wash of several house fronts that had made plaster drop on unsuspecting people for a week. To the left was a fence restricting access to the train tracks out of town, or into town, depending on your perspective. Current demographic surveys suggested the former.

May was staring down the street, her jaw set in the way it was when she was very certain of something. Now, very certain of something didn't mean she was right, not even in the supernatural realm.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Why not??" Her voice carried the indignation of her entire heritage.

"Because last time you did this, we got laughed out of a theater AND a restraining order! You weren't even right! We need a better plan than just going up to random people and hoping for the best!"

“Then make a better one.”

They stared at one another.

Jay scowled. “Fine, then go up to a possibly magical human that might just zap us out of existence.”

"Oh don’t be stupid. He’s not a witch, I just think he's carrying some sort of magical item."

"You don't even know that's a he, how can you tell what he's - what they're wearing under those layers? Could be a tall woman, for all we know. And besides-" He had meant to bring up the frankly nerve-wracking cold, and was pleased to have found a logical place to slot the topic into. "It's cold as balls, we should go home and - wait-"

May gave him the sort of look that typically made people's toenails roll up, dampened slightly by its path over her shoulder. She left Jay to catch up with her as she strode down the street, catching up and then holding the pace of the figure she'd locked in on. May, full name Mayflower Justicia Borden, was very tall and the sort of person that was remarked on by being remarkable against her will. She hadn't spoken for most of her school life, until she realized people picked on you for things that were out of your control anyway, and from then on made it everyone else's problem.

"Excuse me, Sir, sorry to bother you-"

The personshaped black spot turned slightly and for a second she thought "fuck, it's a woman after all, she's gonna be mad" until the figure pulled off a pair of headphones and turned to reveal, indeed, a man, if the beard was any indication.

"What?"

The tone wasn't unfriendly per se.. but the man didn’t have a very welcoming face. If that was by accident of birth or a choice was to be seen.

"Right, sorry Sir, this is going to sound very odd-"

"So sorry about that, we're uh-" Jay came to a rather undignified halt with one hand holding onto a street light lest he turn his last step into a sledding trip.

The man stopped walking and observed them. He was in his mid-60s, tall, but not remarkably so, handsome but not remarkably so, with a long-ish, square-ish face and brown-ish skin. The only thing not -ish about him were his eyes, which were too blue to be anything but contact lenses. Jay felt acutely seen, in a way he hadn't felt since May's grandmother had read his future and been right all the damn time, too.

The difference to Mrs Borden was that this man wasn't trying to hide the cold calculation in his face. He'd picked the contacts well. It turned the gaze from smoldering to arctic, sending a physical shiver down Jay's spine.

"It's not very polite to follow strangers," the man pointed out. His voice reflected the same control, not using a syllable more than necessary.

Well, shit. Jay already saw another policeman call his parents to ask what the hell he was up to, and why he couldn't do this in his university town instead. "Uhm."

Even May seemed taken aback, visibly calculating how far they'd been away, then decided it didn't matter. "So sorry to bother you, Sir. Do you happen to be carrying a magical item?"

The stranger didn't even blink.

"If you're trying to rob me or sell something, that's an odd way of going about it," he said. His expression remained flat, which would have been funny if Jay hadn't been shitting his pants for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. Somewhere in his brain an instinct so old it preceded upright walking woke from a coma to scream "DANGER DANGER DANGER GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE". But Jay also had anxiety, so that was really not out of the ordinary.

"What, no!" Jay stammered. "We're, uh, we're paranormal investigators. She's a psychic!" He gestured to May, who nodded with all the dignity she could muster.

"Didn't know psychics used knives these days.”

May shifted uncomfortably, revealing a switchblade knife. A pink one.

"Where'd you even get that?" Jay hissed. "Aren't those illegal?"

May ignored him, easing her grip on the knife but not putting it away. "Going up to strangers can be dangerous."

"Undoubtedly," said the stranger.

"As my, uh, colleague said, I'm a psychic. You're carrying something with a strong magical aura, we just wanna make sure you're safe. And, uh, maybe take a look at it. For research."

"And I'm sure you're not just trying to sell your services." His calm tone stood in stark contrast to his words. Well, at least he didn't yell at them like the last five people.

"Absolutely not!", May assured. "We're volunteers. No money involved. Uh, unless we're doing like. An exorcism."

Finally, the man showed a physical response: he lifted an eyebrow.

"Right, uh, could you, like, warrant a guess what it might be?"

The man pondered this for a moment. "No." He cut May off when she wanted to speak. "Mind walking with me for a bit?"

May had already said yes before Jay could tell her how stupid an idea this was, so they walked. The stranger introduced himself as Zachary. When Jay asked where they were walking, Zachary told him an address that was vaguely familiar. He still spoke mostly in single sentences, but it was enough to reveal an American accent. Maybe they'd gotten lucky. Americans believed all sorts of shit.

Zachary told them he'd just gone grocery shopping, since his cousin wanted to make dinner. Even though the bag looked like a pimple about to burst, he carried it easily in one gloved hand. As they walked along the empty and depressingly gray street, May filled him in on their work, emphasizing their good intentions and downplaying how little they'd actually accomplished so far. She omitted the radiation incident, which was probably their biggest success, though in a different way than they'd hoped for. To his credit, Zachary didn't remark upon their names, which raised Jay's opinion of him substantially.

May described and then quizzed their new friend on various magical artifacts he could have come in the possession of, but save for a notebook bought in a second hand shop, he denied knowledge of all.

Maybe, Jay thought, they were being set up. Maybe the guy was wearing a microphone and camera, stuff like that was so small these days, shit, he could just use his phone for all they knew. They'd be laughing stocks for all the internet to see. Or maybe he was a psychic himself, or even a witch, fully aware of his item's traits and just entertaining himself. Staking out the competition.

The closest coven they had identified was in Sheffield, a circle of old ladies who used their abilities to enhance their healing potions and alcoholic beverages. Didn't mean there couldn't be others, more hidden ones, doing scary things.

Jay tried to get May's attention, but she was deep into explaining the intricacies of aura reading. They'd made their way from the train tracks to the square in a needlessly complex route. Maybe he was one of those guys. A manly man who didn't ask for directions. Or he was just enjoying the walk.

"So you can see everyone's aura?" Zachary asked. His voice was still the eery drone of pack ice moving, but there was a lighter note of curiosity now.

May paused longer than was necessary or comfortable.

"Mostly. Non-magical people don't know how to hide their aura, let alone that they have one. If it's gone the person is either dead, magical or, like, really introverted. The colors often give me a hint of someone's personality and the movement can indicate emotions. They get very bright when someone is using magic. It's not an exact science unfortunately, experience mostly. My grandmother was really good at it in the end."

"Fascinating." Zachary looked around and turned into a side street instead of returning to the road following the train tracks. "How about my aura, then?"

"I thought you didn't like people selling you things?"

"I don't like buying the cat in the bag. I'm sure my cousin wouldn't mind hosting you for dinner, though."

"That's really not nece-"

"Sure," Jay said, thinking with his growling, frozen stomach instead of his brain. The trip back home would take a minimum of thirty minutes walking. He'd also finally matched the address to the town's only pub (and B&B and event location). They were safer among people than out here, completely alone.

May gave him a searing look, but Jay was used to that.

"Look at that, we're already there." Jay decided to ignore how ominous that sounded.

Indeed there was the front of the pub, painted black and reading something incomprehensible followed by "goat" and the words "founded in 1367". How true that was had been up for debate since the pub opened.

"How are you liking Britain so far?" Jay asked conversationally. "Lotsa old buildings here compared to home."

If there was a physical reaction, Jay didn't notice.

"The weather could be improved upon."

"Yeah," Jay said unimaginatively.

The door moved disappointingly silently. Jay’s face began to itch in the sudden warmth and he hurried to take off his coat before he cooked to death. He'd been in the pub once and now found it no less unpleasant but all in all no different than any other several century old pub. The room was almost entirely made of wood, the woodworm probably doing more work than the actual struts by this point, blackened by smoke and maybe tar.

"Welcome back," someone purred.

Jay flinched, nearly flinging his coat at the figure. The woman gave them a smile, wholly unimpressed by the reaction and decidedly closer than social convention dictated.

She was stunning, simply put, though too short to make it as a model. Dark hair flowed over a shiny turquoise top, and tight black leather pants showed about anything anyone wanted to see. Around her hips hung a belt made of silver medallions.

"You've brought guests, how lovely."

While Jay was still working on rebooting his brain, he was dragged away from the door and the woman's hypnotic gaze. They were met by a short, middle-aged man on the verge of fat with a kind, round face. He greeted them warmly and hugged Zachary, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Corner of the mouth. Maybe.

Jay was still puzzling about that gesture in the context of the man's priest collar when the next revelation hit: It was quiet.

Not in the way of a forest near a predator, but in the way a theater is quiet waiting for the performance to begin. He could tell May was thinking the same. There were about a dozen people in the room, all of which were looking at them.

"Nice to meet you," May said stiffly. "Is the pub not open tonight?"

"We rented it out for a few days," the priest said in a very much not American or British accent. "We're doing a...reunion of sorts. Our friends came from all over the place, you see." He smiled. It was a very nice smile. He seemed like a nice, reasonable person, Jay thought. Hardly a witch of any kind. They hated churches, they'd never survive all the time it took to become a priest, even if it was a pretty good diversion.

"My name is Mayflower," May said, shocking Jay and probably all her ancestors. "I'm a psychic. Zachary is carrying a magical item and we want to make sure you're all being safe."

"We're not trying to sell anything," Jay added hastily. In a much smaller voice he added: "Though he said something about dinner."

Jay was aware he missed a lot of things in life. His brain just had different priorities than other people. He did not miss the sudden interest of the people at the back table, a short man with almost implausible golden curls and a duo of women with heights firmly outside the average in both directions.

"A magical item?" The priest did not seem too alarmed. "That is indeed something worth investigating. Come and sit with us then, we'll have dinner soon."

May looked around, scanning everyone, but not coming up with an excuse. They went to sit at a table near the front, where the woman in blue had already taken a seat, one leg in knee-high boots lazily draped over the edge. She unwrapped a piece of blue bubble gum and tossed it into her mouth.

"My friends, this is Eliza. She has an interest in the occult herself." He was interrupted by an enormous man with alarmingly ginger hair throwing himself into one of the seats. "You shoulda told me there's stuff going on. What's that about magical items?"

"These are our guests Mayflower and..." He looked at Jay. "Jayden?"

Jay just shrugged, too taken up by May trying to break his hand. He didn't want to draw back so obviously but she pinched his finger really hard and -

Ah.

Jay shot a stealthy look towards the priest. His radar was vibrating in his pocket. Both men were wearing a silver sigil in the form of a pendant and a brooch. They looked different than Eliza's, the wolf head combined with some sort of pointy cross, but unmistakably related.

Jay considered if they had in fact not stumbled into a witch coven but some weird nationalist fraternity. Not fraternity, specifically, considering there were several women, but some sort of... Cult? They were all different ages, too, the woman, Eliza, looking no older than 25 and the priest being in his 50s at minimum.

"Really cool, uh, pendant you got," Jay said before his brain could tell him this would get them killed. "You into, what's the name again, that fantasy show where people die all the time?"

"Didn't like the ending much, but the books are good," Eliza said in that way too sultry voice. The big man made a face between distaste and amusement. He leaned onto his elbows, resting his chin on one large but surprisingly delicate hand. A lot of things about him were paradoxically delicate, from his pale, freckled skin to a face looking surprisingly young despite the visible lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was the color of wildfire, curls pulled into a ponytail that left bangs spilling over the side of his face.

"Sooooooo, what kinda psychics are you?" he asked. "Telling the future? Making potions? Kinda hard to find proper witches these days."

"You've met proper witches?"

Eliza loudly popped her bubblegum.

"I just said they're hard to find, didn't I?", said Red.

"I'm not a witch," May said stiffly. "I read auras and magical signatures." Not for the first time, Jay wished desperately he could see what she saw. What were these people's auras like? Were they dangerous? Upset? Laughing at them?

"Yours is blue," May said in the tone of voice she used when making shit up on the spot. "Light blue, a bit silvery. Like a tuna."

Red didn't seem offended by the comparison. "Neat. How about Sasha?"

"Who?"

"Zachary, sorry."

"It's grey," May said without even turning around. "It's a pretty rare color, but it means he's a very controlled and logical person."

Red nodded enthusiastically. "He is! How about me?"

"You're curious," Jay said. "Silver and blue are the colors of the sky and sea, you like to travel, can't be in one place for too long. You're also not really into pointless workouts, but like to apply yourself."

May had meant to kick his leg, but had thought better of it. Jay felt vindicated.

"That's something every half-baked carnival psychic could tell you," Eliza huffed. She swung her legs off the table, heels thumping the wooden floor. "Tell me something secret."

There was a long pause.

May knitted her brow, then held out her hand. "Okay."

Eliza observed her, still chewing her bubblegum. Then she placed her manicured hand in May's. Her nail polish was bright blue. "Knock yourself out."

The moments May sat there seemed to draw into eternity. Eliza kept the vague expression of distaste, while Red was leaning forward in obvious interest.

Jay tried to get an overview of the room in case things got ugly. Zachary was speaking with a tall man behind the bar he hadn't noticed before. Under the beanie he'd taken off, Zachary had shoulder-long brown hair with a white streak at the front. He hadn't seemed the type for that trend. The other man had waist-long black hair, a goatee, and wore sunglasses inside.

The table in the back was silently sipping on their drinks, clearly trying to listen in. The priest - if he was one - had disappeared.

The tiny bell over the door rang and then took a nosedive, hitting someone with a muffled thud. "Aw man," the someone said.

"There you are!" The priest was back, somehow. It was quite disconcerting.

The newcomer was a lanky youth, looking to be barely out of secondary school. His pale cheeks were flushed from the cold, a thick scarf wrapped around about everything above the belt.

"My apologies, this place wasn't too easy to find. Are we still on schedule?"

Under the thick jacket, the youth was wearing a white shirt and black bow with matching suspenders, meaning he was either a nerd or a waiter. Hired help meant paperwork, meant questions asked if someone disappeared. Jay relaxed a bit.

He really was being too paranoid. The worst thing that had happened on any investigation was being forced to drink bad tea and being laughed at. And the radiation exposure. That was pretty bad.

Still. Nothing supernaturally bad had happened.

He liked May a lot but her abilities were nothing to brag about. They were just two kids who liked to dig into things most people didn't take seriously.

The young man hung up his coat and immediately began sorting things behind the counter, finally removing the man with the sunglasses. Coming around the corner, the man revealed an arm covered in Nordic occult tattoos. Enthusiast, witch, or fascist? Impossible to tell by looking.

"You're a con artist," May said suddenly.

Jay turned back to the table. Eliza had raised one very accurately formed eyebrow. "Takes one to know one I suppose."

May didn't take the bait. "You're from Scandinavia, liv

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

From the data you'd so bravely collected, you were able to extract several potential addresses, splitting off in teams to investigate.

That now led you to a house, hidden in the mountains on the outskirts of Las Almas. A glowing pool sat at the back, arched windows along the hallways.

You'd never get used to the beauty of the architecture here.

You were stooped atop another building in the mountains, tactical gear strapped tightly to you this time, with Alejandro, Graves, Soap, and Ghost. It was dark, and you watched as people were let through the guarded gate, some of which, you recognised from the party.

"La casa de Sin Nombre?" Soap asked,

"No. One of his Lugartenientes."

"A cartel lieutenant."

"Nice, brother." Alejandro complimented, "you're learning."

"Aye. (Y/N)'s been teaching me."

You grinned proudly, happy that Soap had been making progress with the language.

"My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight. Some are invited, others are, um..."

"Volun-told?" Graves said, Alejandro nodding. "What's the meet about?"

"Us. Las Almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire."

You stood next to Ghost, a little further back than the others, both of you sporting your masks. You looked at each other, sharing a look that you both understood.

This isn't good.

"Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?" Ghost asked.

"No guarantees, but this is our best shot."

"Then we take it. I've got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country."

"I'd prefer if you didn't." Alejandro scowled.

"I'm just sayin'...one house shouldn't be a problem."

You rolled your eyes, "yeah, I'm sure the civilians here would really appreciate that."

"We need Sin Nombre alive." Ghost said, stepping to Graves.

"Then we need to meet him."

An involuntary groan left your lips, your head tipping back. Graves was getting on your very last nerve. 

"And how do you suggest we do that?" you said, joining the group.

"Give 'em what they want...intel. They wanna know who's here. Let's tell 'em."

"In person?" Alejandro matched your attitude.

"Correcto. Get one of us inside, find the boss, roll him up."

"I hope that's you volunteering to go. Think I've done enough on this one." you spat.

You hated the way he was so very willing to have you or your team walk into enemy territory, completely unarmed. But then, the man in front of you was now a stranger. You didn't know him at all anymore. 

And it wasn't the first time he'd sacrificed others to get what he wanted.

"I'll do it." Soap said.

You shook your head, "What? No you fucking won't." 

"You go in there, and they'll kill you, hermano." Alejandro said lowly.

"I'll take my chances."

"Soap don't-"

"We came here to stop a missile, let's stop it. I'll offer intel, for a meet with Sin Nombre. And if he's there, we pounce."

"You've got balls, you son of a bitch. You'll need eyes and ears, I'll go too."

You scoffed, walking away from the group, unwilling to hear any more of this nonsense. You couldn't believe how willing they were to sacrifice themselves for this mission. You hated that they were so willing to go in and die, to leave you behind.

Ghost turned, watching you walk away, worry clouding him.

"Right, so I'll take (Y/N)-" Graves started, but Ghost cut him off.

"(Y/N) and I will take overwatch, Shadow circles the target in a helo." 

"Uh, sure. Roger that."

Graves ripped the badge from his vest, handing it to Soap and commanding him to provide it as proof. 

The group split, then. Alejandro waited, while Graves was picked up by his Shadows in the helo. Ghost set up for overwatch, putting a small blanket on the floor next to him. You ran to Soap, helping him in taking off his gear. You were silent the entire time, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you.

"Not got any snarky comment for me, pet?" he said, ducking his head down to make eye contact with you.

"Not tonight, Soap." you mumbled.

You looked at him and smiled, but he noticed that it didn't reach your eyes, and offered you a sympathetic grin.

"Hey, c'mon, needs more than a little cartel to kill me."

"Don't die on me, yeah? You can't leave me to deal with Ghost on my own."

"I heard that." Ghost's voice came through your comm, making you giggle.

Your smile had reached your eyes, then, and it warmed Soap from the inside. 

Yeah, there was absolutely something there.

"Cross ma heart." he said, making the motion, "it's too much of a punishment being left alone with 'im."

The blanket was for you.

Ghost didn't want you sitting uncomfortably. You'd noticed that since your night at the cabin, he had been doing more to show you he cared, even if you weren't exactly communicating outside of mission prep. 

He made you tea.

If you passed him in the halls, or anywhere else in the compound, he'd give you small touches, his own way of showing he was thinking about you.

You remained silent as you listened to the men of your team communicate. Graves was up and ready, Alejandro had wormed his way into the house, violently, as he put it. You had the binoculars raised to your face, watching through them as Ghost watched through the scope of his gun. 

You gasped as the guards at the gate shot at Soap's feet, shoving him to his knees and pushing him to the floor, before throwing a sack over his head, and dragging him into the house.

"They're takin' him in." Ghost whispered.

"Kid's got sand...I hope he makes it." Graves said.

You muted your microphone, not wanting to say something you might regret, or something that comes back to bite you. 

"Stop lettin' him get to you." Ghost said from beside you, eyes forward as he muted himself also.

"Easier said than done, Ghost. He didn't kill your team, or cheat on you."

"No." he said.

"But he hurt you."

You smiled, knowing that he definitely tried to say that quiet enough so that you wouldn't hear. You opened your mouth to make some sort of joke, but he cut you off before you could start.

"I heard you both last night."

You were sat alone in the kitchen, a warm tea sat between your fingers, your night cut short by yet another nightmare. Graves must have heard you get up, because he wandered in, not 10 minutes later.

"I'm sick of the silent treatment, (Y/N). You need to talk to me."

"No, I don't."

"How can you not love me anymore?" he said, moving around the island to stand in front of you. "Three months ago we were engaged!"

"Exactly, Phillip. We were engaged. You killed my team, and made me think it was my fault, you shot my self-esteem and confidence into the ground. And you were shagging the medic!"

"You weren't supposed to know about that."

"Oh so that's okay then? You'd have still married me?"

"I-I was just scared, baby. You were so depressed all the damn time and you wouldn't do anything to help yourself, to help us."

"I'm a soldier, Graves! You have no idea of the things I've seen. I'm so sorry that my issues with nightmares and mourning comrades got in the way of your sex life." you rolled your eyes, shoving him away.

"W-well, you're no better!"

"What?" you laughed.

"You all but fucked Soap on that mission. You and Ghost are being shady as fuck since you got back. You sucked all the dicks of the 141, huh?"

"Even if I have, that's none of your concern."

"You're mine, (Y/N), you always have been and you always will be. You think he can give you want you want? You think he can love you the way you want? The way you need? The guy won't even show his fuckin' face."

"You don't know a thing about him."

"I know he won't make you happy."

"You don't know that. And you don't know a thing about me anymore."

With that, you left Graves in the kitchen, seething in his own despair. He had well and truly lost control, and it was breaking him down.

You frowned, remembering the conversation.

You didn't want Ghost to take Graves' words seriously, and you could only imagine the hurt he may have felt hearing people doubting his heart.

"Ghost-" you turned to him

"S'fine." he grunted.

"I don't believe a word he says, you have to know that."

"He's right, though. 'm no good for ya."

"Don't you think that's my decision to make?" you sighed, as he refused to meet your gaze.

"I'm no good at this shit. Better off alone. Ya should be with someone who can be with you in the way ya want."

"Stop it."

"I don't need the pressure o' being responsible for your feelin's."

"And I don't know what else I can do to make you see that there's no pressure here. If you're feeling pressure, it's 'cause you're the one creating it."

"Ya should move on-"

"I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can make my own fucking decisions."

You cleared your throat, feeling yourself getting more and more upset with every word. But not for yourself, for him...you were enraged. Whoever hurt him has done so beyond repair. Who could hurt someone to the point that they're not sure they can love?

"Everyone's capable of love, Simon. No matter how damaged they are. You don't have to fight alone."

"Don't want you waitin' around for me, I'm not worth it."

He felt tears in his eyes. Ghost never wanted to hurt you, he never wanted to have to push you away. 

But no matter how much he wanted you, he didn't want to hold you back.

"I'd wait for years if I had to." you mumbled, shuffling back into your position, eyes ahead.

You'd said it so quietly, but his expert hearing didn't miss it.

Fucking hell.

His heart hammered in his chest. Despite everything, despite him not being able to be openly affectionate with you, despite him barely even speaking to you, you still wanted him, you still wanted to show him that he could be good.

That he was good.

"Heads up, there's movement." Graves came through the comms.

And sure enough, you raised the binoculars to see Soap being pushed through the hallways by a masked guard, who you assumed to be Alejandro. Other guards were rushing around, and through the scope, Ghost saw Alejandro make the signal for you all to move in.

"Reaper, get down to the gate, it's time to sneak in."

You nodded, pulling your knife out ready, and checked your pistol was loaded, before getting into a crouched position to sneak through the treeline.

"What does a ghost call his girl?" Ghost said quietly, grabbing your hand as you shuffled past him, and you rolled your eyes.

"This really the time for one of your cheesy jokes?" you teased.

"Boo."

You smiled widely under your mask, eyes crinkling in the corners. You looked at him, holding his gaze for a moment, his eyes willing you to be careful, before turning and quickly stealth-ing your way down to the gate, with a little more pep in your step.

[invisibleraven]

And one more to get you to your 500 faster and not at all because I'm greedy: playing with each other's fingers for Ray/Rose/Reggie please and thank you

Reggie had kind of hoped that five AM wake up calls were a thing of the past now that Julie was sleeping through the night. But of course he forgot about his insomniac night owl of an agent, Marcy.

He joked with her once that she must be a vampire given her tendency to never sleep, and she had flashed him a wicked smile in response which almost made him shudder. But Marcy was the best in the biz, patient and kind, but tough as balls. He couldn't ask for any better.

That didn't mean he didn't want to downright murder her when she called the house looking for him at the ass crack of dawn one Sunday.

"Please don't tell me you need me to bail you out," Reggie grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Rose was still snoring against his back but Ray was blinking up at him sleepily. "Go back to sleep hun, it's just Marcy."

"Just Marcy huh? Is that how you talk about the woman who is gonna change your life?"

"You already did, several times over. But that still doesn't explain why you're calling me before the sun has risen. Some of us enjoy sleep you know?"

But then she spoke and Reggie's world turned on its axis. "The Grammy noms are out, and you scored three."

"WHAT?" Reggie shouted down the line, sitting right up in bed. Ray jolted awake, sitting up next to him. Rose slumbered on-that woman could sleep through the end of the world, he swore. "What do you mean I scored three? I didn't even put the album in for consideration!"

"But I did," Marcy said, and Reggie could almost hear her smirk through the phone. "You can thank me later, but you have a full day of interviews ahead of you, so get up, get beautiful, and start writing your speech."

With that the call was over, and Reggie just stared at the receiver in his hand until Ray gently eased it out, returning it to it's cradle. "So you got nominated for an award?" he asked gently.

Reggie hung his head. "Grammies. Three Grammies."

"And this is a bad thing?"

"I... I don't deserve them," Reggie said.

"Bullshit."

They turned their heads and there was Rose, scowling up at Reggie. "That album is amazing tesoro, you deserve all that and more."

"But the Petal Pushers..."

"Pssh," Rose grunted, sitting up and taking his hand in hers. "I love my band, but we play for fun, not for accolades. I don't need awards to know we're good."

Ray took his other hand, and then Rose's, their fingers tangling together, twisting and playing so that Reggie could fidget without leaving the bed. "You deserve all this and more my love."

"It just feels... I always thought if I got here, the guys would be there beside me, you know?" Reggie said, snffling. Even after all these years, it still hurt. Not as much as it did thanks to time and therapy. But it felt almost hollow to be nominated without Luke, Bobby, and Alex's names there beside his own.

"I bet you, wherever they are, they are so so proud of you Reggie," Rose assured him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "You keep them alive in every song you sing, so don't deny yourself this honour out of any obligation to them. They would hate that."

"They really would," Reggie said with a wet chuckle. "I still might not win."

"You will," his partners chorused and Reggie grinned, always bolstered by their faith in him. Squeezed their hands, and nodded. Even if the bittersweet feeling never really left him at the feeling that history was funny in the way it worked.

The night of the ceremony though, with Rose and Ray's hands clenched in his, Reggie felt... okay with being here. He had a Sunset Curve tee under his suit, a bracelet from each of his boys on his wrist, and he knew that somewhere, they were cheering him on.

But when he won, Reggie still cried a little at the empty spaces beside him on the stage. "Oh wow, I um, never thought I'd get here." He looked at the camera. "Julie, look! Daddy won! Now go to bed baby girl, okay?" The audience chuckled, and Reggie went through his speech, making sure to thank his team, his partners, and then finally, he held up the award. Sure it was for country, not rock. But still...

"I wouldn't be here today if not for my friends," he said, stifling a sob. "They... they meant the world to me. So Luke, Bobby, and Alex? this is for you."

He wiped away a tear, blew Rose and Ray a kiss, then walked off stage. The award feeling so heavy in his hands, but his heart felt a million pounds lighter.

[eldritch-spouse]

Table anon again! For the millionth time! Because I'm fucking hooked! God damn it!

Anyways, idk if you take requests or not, but... I'm sure you remember that Patches Nebul Morell thing 👉👈....... I'd- yeah I'd kill to see a fic about that...... I KNOW YOU'VE GOT OTHER THINGS TO BE DOING BUT I can hope....... also I'd scream if you did it so there's also that

;w;

[There's a lot of things I want to do, and my biggest grievance is that days are far too short for all the shit I want to get done. :') But I like this scenario. POV shifts sporadically between all three.]

TW: Anything involving Morell usually warrants gore or blood; Socket fucking (sort of??); Patches lives through damage that would maim someone.

" So, it has come to this? "

Nebul looks at the monster before him. A frankly pathetic display, as per usual.

The dullahan sways slightly in place, and while Nebul's sense of smell is greatly diminished compared to that of most living monsters, he can practically smell the alcohol wafting off that green vegetable head. He's more than hammered, the wraith would be surprised if his coworker was able to tell left from right. Patches won't meet his eyes, not after boldly draping himself over the shopkeeper's counter, but the radiant flush of seaweed green on his cheeks speaks for itself. Words aren't needed for the wraith to tell that this one wants to be taken for a ride, but he'd like to hear them anyway, so Nebul remains impassive until the pressure forces speech out of the other.

" I dunno... A-Are you busy? "

Lollygagging. But it's usually very easy to make him speak.

" Am I too busy to fuck you? "

The green monster fumbles, withdrawing from the counter momentarily. Nebul deeply enjoys it when people understand that he can't be so easily seduced, that manners will get them everywhere as opposed to whorish displays. But then again, the dullahan probably already knew such, maybe he just wanted to provoke the shopkeeper. He won't put the scientist above that.

Claws tap harshly against wood.

" Mm- Well... "

" Come now, say it, you were brave enough to walk here. " He doesn't have to be so mean, but he can be.

Patches sighs, lowers his hat, gloved digits fiddling with a small vial of fey powder lying around. " It's early... I know you don't have anything better to do, so- So why not do me? " Lord, he's corny. " I can take anything you dish out. Go wild. "

There's some truth to his statement, undead monsters have a pain tolerance that makes the strongest wrath demons froth at the mouth with jealousy. Nebul can go to greatly depraved lengths with the dullahan. Though, he has to question why his coworker is so keen on seeking pain lately. Something must have happened, and Nebul isn't so sure if feeding that urge is the best course of option right now. In fact, the mildly depressed signals he's picking up on will warrant a talk later on. Not right now, the dullahan needs escapism and attention for the moment.

Nebul rises from his seated stance, waving at Purpur, who is currently playing with the bobbles in a display pen. The little spaghetti ball gets the message and uses his tendrils to scoop the creatures into the shop's backdoors, staying there.

" As a matter of fact, I am too busy to indulge you, slut. " Nebul starts, never missing the shiver of want that races down Patches' spine upon the correct terminology being used to address him. Though it's humorously followed by a wispy exhale.

" That's fine, I'll j- "

" However- " He interrupts. " You're still of use to some of us. "

Patches "blinks", machinating the wraith's intentions. No time is given for him to think.

" Go on, undress, must I spell everything out for you? "

" N-No. " The dullahan starts fumbling with his needlessly complex outfit, circled idly the wraith, who watches him with an unwavering eye.

" No what...? " Nebul stops by the display rack exposing several sets of collars and leashes, picking a golden-spiked, velvet collar and a thin but durable leash of the same hue to match it. It's not actual gold, that'll spook the dullahan, Nebul is not that heartless.

" No, master! "

Well, he certainly can't complain about the monster being clueless. He catches on to what a dominant figure wants to hear fast, even if much too clumsy for the other undead's tastes.

" Very well. "

Once he's standing still, both hands politely covering his shame and eyes cast to the floor, oh what a view, Nebul hums, placing the collar around the dullahan's neck in a motion that's almost mechanic, given how many times he's done it before. The leash clips with a neat metallic noise.

A beat of stillness passes between the two men, Nebul appreciating the straight posture Patches is able to keep in spite of spending his days curved over an office chair. He insists on wearing the hat indoors and it's frankly infuriating. The moonlight can't snare him from inside! Foolish. He tsks softly, depositing the hat on his counter and letting the rest of his clothes lay on the floor for now.

There's a wordless nudge of Nebul's clawed finger against the green monster's bare arm, an expectant nod spared his way. Patches slowly allows his limbs to drop uselessly, revealing a half-hard length. Right, he's heard of this before, people who seem to get aroused under the influence of alcohol. Not that the dullahan wouldn't drink if he wasn't already intent on humiliating himself, this is just the liquid courage propelling him forward.

" How often do you masturbate? "

The question sounds fairly out of left field, and the other understandably fumbles. " I- ? Uhm, o-once or twice. "

Nebul stays put. " You are insulting my intelligence. I suggest you don't repeat that. "

" D-Daily... "

That's a little more like it.

" From now on, you will cease that. If you're so intent on bothering your coworkers for pleasure- " The wraith leans in. " You will let them have control of it. "

Someone definitely liked hearing that, if the downstairs twitch was anything to go by. " Y-Yes, master. "

" Good. " A dark, dusty gray hand curls around the dullahan's length in reward, giving slow, luxurious pumps. The undead's hands aren't very soft, courtesy of his weathered nature, but they don't need to be. Patches makes a quiet moan when Nebul deliberately allows long claws to flirt with the underside of his cock. He's full-mast in moments.

As soon as that's established, the cloaked monster quickly retracts his touch. Cold, heartless, uncaring. " Walk. " The wraith commands, holding the crimson leash. " And touch yourself along the way. "

Patches gawks, making a noise more akin to an incredulous squawk than anything, walking anyway. " B- Buh- Neb- "

" Did I stutter? "

Nope. It'll be a cold day in Hell before the shopkeeper is caught stumbling over words.

" N-No, sir. "

" Then start. "

And he's led to the elevator in that state. Naked, collared, with trembling hands reaching for his own cock like some mindless pervert that can't help himself. Patches gulps, full of delicious shame even as Nebul calmly presses a button on the elevator wall, not sparing the pumpkin-headed monster a single glance. The dullahan gets momentarily distracted by his own motions and huffs in the quiet of the confined space, finally getting a pleasant buzz of sensation.

He's mid-stroke when a ding rings out, and in steps a pair of monsters he doesn't recognize, clients no doubt. A wave of mortification courses through Patches, who flushes ten shades darker and averts his gaze immediately, aware he's being stared down with equal parts disgust, amusement and mockery. The moment he stops moving however, Nebul spares him a frigid look. Well, he's incapable of facially emoting, but intent is transmitted near flawlessly anyway, and Patches senses nothing but menace in the wraith.

So, accordingly, the dullahan resumes palming and teasing himself shamelessly, open-mouthed. The shopkeeper then casts his attention towards the pair, towering over them. His regard is wordless, but an air of challenge hovers over him, as if daring the two to say or do anything stupid. Needless to say, they don't, awkwardly huddling closer to each other.

An undefined amount of time later, the elevator door parts again, and the pair of clients basically scrambles out, Nebul had been exerting a lot of pressure on them, but he can't be blamed, can he? It's only natural to be protective of your pathetic pets. Patches finally understands where he is when the sound of cutlery clinking together and droning chatter can be heard. The restaurant floor. Ah... It's only early evening, so it's not as busy as it would be say, during witching hours. But more than a couple of heads certainly swivel at the sight of an imposing individual like Nebul casually dragging another monster on a leash, said monster swaying lightly and fisting his own dick.

Lord, he's dying of shame, but he's throbbing harder than ever.

Wait... Why is he in the kitchen? Oh fuck. This is what he meant. Oh shit. Morell.

" N- Nebul?! " The crack of his voice is high-pitched and cringe-worthy.

" Hush. "

Inside the kitchen, not that much is going on, the place is inundated with bobbles rushing around, a cluster of them worried over ingredients, some cleaning counters and others washing dishes. Turnip is orchestrating most of this. The vast majority of the small creatures are too preoccupied with their curreent tasks to care about the pair of monsters that just walked in, recognizing them as their boss' coworkers. The pink in question does eventually speak.

" Mistah Nebul, mistah Patches. " He greets, seemingly unfazed by the monster "forced" to touch himself in plain sight. " What can I help y'all with? "

" Where's your boss? " Nebul begins.

" Sir's in tha back. " The warehouse, so to say.

" Playing with the food? " There's a subtle hint of glee in the wraith's tone. If Morell's getting frisky with his pigs, then it'll be much easier to tilt him into playing along for this.

" Yep! " Chirped without an ounce of awareness.

" Splendid. Go call him, it's urgent. " The pink bobble nods, trotting past the two and disappearing behind heavy doors. Nebul turns to Patches and taps the chopping block functioning as a kitchen isle, there are knife marks on the surface, but it's otherwise spotless. The floor around it has drains, no doubt for the bloodshed that happens here regularly. " Sit. "

And the dullahan does. He can't help but feel a touch of panic, never wanting to be subjected to the butcher's treatment. Or maybe, maybe Patches would like that- Though he's not gone enough to throw his life out for an orgasm. Hopefully. Jury's still out on that one. Nonetheless, the dullahan's hand still works quickly at his own girth, mind rouletting through possible scenarios. He's going to get split open by the mushroom monster, spitroasted between the two, maybe forced to take both at once, he can stretch far enough, especially with a touch of magic! Nebul's going to slap the shit out of him while he bounces on the cook's fat fucking-

Fingers snap before his face, making the pumpkin man gasp.

" Morell will kill you if you cum on his chopping block. " The wraith warns. " Hands off. "

Patches wasn't even aware of how lost in his own pleasure he was getting. Sure enough, a little bit more and he'd be risking a premature orgasm. He doesn't doubt the chef would do exactly that, to be fair.

Speak of the devil, heavy footsteps signal Morell's arrival, the kitchen doors opening to the sight of him wiping blood off his hands with a towel. He doesn't look very amused, and his frown only deepens when he stops to take in the sight of the collared, naked dullahan on his kitchen isle.

" Tha fuck's yer problem?! What's all this shit? "

Oh, he's definitely not happy about being interrupted. Patches shrinks in himself silently. Nebul remains impassive, noting the tent on the cook's pants when he moves to slam the dirty towel next to the sink. He looks back at the duo with a furious, tense glower.

" You seem upset. "

" DO I-?! Wise ass! " He leans against the counter, arms crossed, it speaks volumes of Patches' depravity that he remains hard in spite of the chef's yelling. Perhaps because of it.

" Mhm. " Nebul clasps his hands. " See, I think you're in dire need of relief. You're awfully tense, Morell. "

That actually makes the shroom bark out a laugh. Now he's curious. " Ha! I don' suppose yer offerin'? "

Nebul chuckles quietly. " Perish the thought, my dear chef. " Patches' leash is tugged harshly, making him choke. " I usually don't sell this type of product, but I believe I can interest you in used goods... "

Morell's attention is diverted to the pervert twink on his chopping block, glowing eyes accessing him sharply. It takes a long, drawn-out pause full of quiet tension... But eventually, a bit of a smirk pulls on the mushroom monster's face, just barely visible above his scarf.

" What's yer deal, pumpkin? Ya wanna be some kinda Merry Go Round? Anyone can catch a ride? " The chef teases.

Patches nods, definitely too drunk and stimulated to be ashamed of himself, the wraith having already successfully put him in a submissive mindset.

" I don' even think ya can handle me. Yer all skin and bones! " Morell prods at his coworker's arms and legs in much the same dehumanizing way he studies his piglets. Patches only gasps and flushes the more he's dragged about, definitely getting a thrill from the other's brute strength.

Nebul makes another subtle snicker. " Oh, I assure you that won't be a problem, undeads can be roughed around, don't worry about something as silly as a stretch. "

The cook spares Nebul a squint.

" Now now, he's not all for you. " Dark digits reach for the dullahan's head, Patches understands the request and gladly allows Nebul to extract his head. " You can keep his body. "

Patches finally realizes what's going to happen, as does Morell, the two of them gawking at the wraith. A nasty, blunt-toothed snarl of a grin paints itself on Morell's face, and Patches' legs clench in excitement. His form used by two people at the same time, in separate places. Like an actual toy you can take apart and put together on a whim- Two kids fighting over a plushie until it tears at the seams and each gets a piece. Lord, that's fucked up. He's so ready.

" Say goodbye to yourself for a bit, we'll be heading back up. " Nebul prompts, giving Patches a perfect view of his body sitting placidly in front of a very interested shroom, before promptly taking his leave...

Morell stares at the leashed offering before him, guessing there's really no point in wasting time now. He had been getting handsy with some of the piggies in his warehouse, one of them is very easily spooked and will let him do just about anything to them so long as he doesn't raise his voice. He's going to enjoy cutting that one up... Morell guesses, since Patches interrupted his rendezvous, he can be the replacement.

The dullahan twiddles his thumbs, fiddling with the leash silently while the chef removes his blood-stained smock, hasty hands unzipping his black pants so a strained length can pop out. With a relieved sigh, the shroom grabs Patches' hand and brings it to his cock, interested in how the other might react. Patches seems to jolt slightly, and the chef knows he'd be stuttering by now if his head were on... You know, taking it off might not have been a bad idea, saves him the trouble of having to shut the twink up himself eventually. Nonetheless, he's pleasantly surprised when green hands tentatively start working smoothly at him.

" Lawd, yer really some slut, ain'tcha? " He snorts, speaking to no one really. He's glad he made Turnip watch over the misbehaving catch inside the meat freezer, because the chef will certainly get busy now. The rest of the kitchen bobbles work smoothly, so used to the depravity of what usually takes place within these walls that no one spares Morell or Patches a second glance.

The chef bucks once or twice into the dullahan's touches, getting riled up whenever the other is bold enough to squeeze or linger on the tip of his member. Something flashes through his mind.

" ...undeads can be roughed around,... "

That's right, he can have some fun with this one, can't he? Oh joy.

Morell leans into the dullahan's space, delighting in the shiver his coworker gives upon sensing him so close. Morell hovers over the other's exposed neck, nudges the collar up, and swiftly bites down. Hard. Making sure to grind his teeth together. Patches squirms and kicks out in pain, no doubt screaming somewhere, making the shroom laugh against his flesh. Still, ever so dutiful, he keeps stroking the chef, which is commendable really! Morell rewards this obedience by groaning lowly in satisfaction, giving the dullahan a small respite in which he focuses mostly on the taste of the trembling being.

It's not like human blood at all. It's thicker, less metallic, more of a soupy, bitter substance. Quite different. Do all undeads taste like this? The shroom peels back, licking at his chops and observing the massive bite mark he left behind. It's green, his blood is a curious juniper green hue, like he's spoiled or something. Morell's own ichor is discolored, but this is news to him. Nonetheless, driven by both an erotic sadistic urge and endless curiosity, he continues to scrape and ghost bold dentures across the dullahan's shoulder, teasing, warning. A meaty hand curls around Patches' own dick to gently return the favor. He wouldn't say he dwarves the other's cock, but his girth is certainly null compared to the mushroom monster's.

In contrast to that generous treatment, Morell once again sinks his teeth into the magic caster's tender hide. Deeper, harsher, feeling muscle give way, ligaments collapse and blood vessels burst- The chef moans, low and needy, shaft throbbing while he secures the flailing monster and rrriiips a chunk out of his shoulder.

He chews pensively, still hastily pumping the other's cock as he heaves and pathetically squirms, bleeding all over his torso. Not a bad taste at all! He can work with this! Morell's jolted out of his evaluation by the sudden piston of his comparatively small coworker, who promptly cums all over his hand.

Figures, little loser must be screaming his eyelights out up there. The cook smiles, licking cum off his digits. This ain't over.

Nebul makes an airy cackle, watching the dullahan's facial expression contort in immeasurable, appetizing agony as he stops licking the wraith's shaft to yowl.

" AAH GHH- FUCK-! AH- OH GOD. "

" HURKK- GONNA DIE. GONNA DIE! " Patches screams, a blood-curdling sound. Too bad Nebul has no blood.

" Don't be dramatic. " Nebul pats the pumpkin man's head as he pants and keens through whatever's happening. " Tell me things. " He demands while idly pumping his length.

" H- He- He tore a chunk? Of my shoulder? He- " The monster gasps and moans very suddenly, speech faltering into pleasured, breathless cries. Magic tears slide down his cheeks. Nebul knows that look, he just came. " Gh- He's gonna eat me. "

" Oh, part of you, definitely. I expect nothing less. " Nebul hums, adjusting his seated stance on the chair behind his counter. " Do continue. Tell me things as they happen from now on. "

Patches dutifully continues to use a summoned tongue to lap and curl around Nebul's length. In different circumstances, the wraith would be face-fucking him by now, but he seems intent to take it slow this time.

" I- " The dullahan gasps, sockets wide. " I think I'm- B- Being turned around? Wha... I'm touch- I'm bent over the sink. " He puzzles out.

Ohh, this is getting good!

Nebul makes a sound far too akin to a giddy titter, grabbing his cock and sliding Patches' head closer. He has an idea as to how he can fuck his coworker and keep hearing those lovely cries. His cockhead poises on the rim of the other's right socket. The wraith gets to see his coworker's attention finally fully veered towards him, excited yet submissive eyelights flickering to his misty head.

" F-Fuck yes, stuff my ffucking brains out! " He offers enthusiastically.

Fact of the matter is the dullahan has none, physically speaking that is. But Nebul understands completely, he himself knowing the true, invasive depths of allowing others to touch what essentially amounts to one's mind, one's very conscious, their core. To fuck that is to penetrate beyond bodily limits, it's capable of breaking monsters if overdone. But Patches... Patches is already so cracked and shattered, he can take it.

Eternally grateful for the way the dullahan made his face so malleable, Nebul slowly stretches the triangular socket with his girth, going deeper and deeper into the other's head until it's essentially forced into a circle around his cock. The small magic field Patches created to mimic pupils creates a pleasant, vibrating buzz on the wraith's cock. Nebul moans low in delight.

" Ha- Ahn- HhnHn- Fffffuck. Y-Yes! " Patches makes an ugly, guttural sound. " Th- Thank you, master. " He's crying again, crocodile tears steadily flowing as the dullahan sobs in a blinding mixture of pleasure and pain. " Harder, please! "

" Such manners. " The wraith praises, a purring lilt to his tone. " How could I deny you? "

And he thrusts. Firm, merciless, balls smacking against the other's head. He readjusts, legs spread, steadily using the moaning, crying dullahan's hole as an improvised toy and idly wondering what Morell's up to some floors below.

He's screaming again, the sound making Nebul's thighs shake in euphoria, though the wraith doubts his coworker has enough mind to narrate what's going on.

Morell growls, fists slammed against the counter as he hilts inside the green monster's tight ass. Yeah, that's not right, he definitely tore him open. Oops... He can handle it, right? Probably.

The shroom holds himself back for a moment, being merciful enough to wait for his coworker to calm down. But he doesn't. In fact, the smaller male starts kicking out harder, hands desperately scrambling for something to hold onto until they grab the edges of the sink. Huh, that can't be the chef, the wraith must be sticking needles in his head like a pincushion or something... Whatever it is that he likes to do.

" Well boy, if ya ain't gonna settle down on yer own... "

The cook grabs his velvet leash, quickly using it it to tie Patches' hands behind his back. One arm keeps his upper body flush to the counter, while Morell's foot nudges his bare legs apart further. This, he can work with. One fierce piston jostles Patches forward, body screaming mutely as it tears further to accommodate him. Yeah sure, Morell could have prepared him before, but no one said he had to. The dullahan will walk it off just fine, this is his kinda thing anyway.

For an undead, he's not that cold. Morell will give him that, enjoying the tense grip of the magic caster's walls around him while he bucks hard and fast. There's no point keeping things slow, the chef got interrupted and he wants a reward for humoring this nonsense, drowning the dullahan's guts will do just fine. Glazed, pleasure-filled eyes spot his cleaver discarded to the side. The shroom cackles, reaching for it giddily and deciding to play with the man beneath him.

In contrast to great, jarring thrusts, Morell drags the very tip of his blade over Patches' back. The prominent line that marks his spine. Morell knows that if he swung his cleaver juuuust right, he could cut through the bone, split him in two. But he doesn't, of course, even if part of him thinks Krulu could just sew Patches back together without issue. Tempting, but ultimately, the shroom only makes a couple of slow, grating, deep cuts across Patches' back, enough to get more of that strange dark blood.

The squeeze around his cock has Morell luridly cooing. " Figures, little pain slut, this right up yer alley I'll bet! "

He dips to lick the lines of seaweed green now pooling on the other's back, making sure to stick his tongue into the wounds, prodding, deliberately stretching the tissue just to hear it squelch and part further for him. Morell's moan is near guttural as he grinds more generously. Finally, he gets to feel the bruised and torn dullahan grind back greedily. " Atta boy... " Not that the monster can even hear it.

Another belly laugh rips out of Morell when the chef subtly drags the blade of his cleaver against Patches' twitching cock and the monster visibly jumps. It's followed by almost enthusiastic squirming and leaning, as if daring Morell to actually do some damage. The chef thinks about it, motions picking up in his rampant excitement. He enjoys castrating some of the piggies he catches, part of him would delight in tearing Patches' dick off. Or his balls. It's not like he's going to put babies in anyone, most likely. Better not, that'll probably take a long while for the poor pervert to fix. Instead, Morell lets Patches play with fire, dragging his shaft through the cold stainless steel. At this rate, he's gonna get himself cut without the chef's help at all!

Morell's too frenzied to wait, blanketing over the undead and fucking wildly into his trembling frame, cleaver ghosting over his abdomen. What if... What if he just- Right here, right now, right on the counter...

There's an impatient kick, then a force trying to lift against the shroom's heavy arm- What the Hell's he doing now? Then finally, a SLAM downward.

He... The fucker stabbed himself.

Morell gawks at the sight, panting heavily in shock, throbbing as soon as rivulets of thick blood cascade to the floor. His brain shuts off entirely. The last couple of pistons the shroom offers are brutal, he makes sure to pump Patches in wordless praise as he buries himself to the root and keeps his promise to flood the smaller monster's insides. The chef groans and huffs, not remembering the last orgasm he had half as intense as this one.

He twists the blade up further into the dullahan's guts, making sure to rotate and dig further, drooling. Patches cums near immediately, the overload of pain making him spasm like a fish out of water while his cock spurts uselessly against the counter, mixing with his own blood and Morell's fluids. It's... A complete mess. Morell grimaces a bit at it, but he's determined to encourage this perfect behavior, milking the other's orgasm well past the point of comfort.

Maybe, he thinks, sighing in blissful satisfaction, he should do this more often.

Nebul glances at the dullahan's jizz-soaked head. Globs of seed escape through his carved mouth and nose, right socket sticky with tears and precum.

He's stopped cleaning the wraith's length to seemingly freak out.

" You're hyperventilating. "

Patches groans, a bit of attitude surfacing. " Hrk- Well, excuse me- " A sudden wheeze, words are understandably hard to form for him currently, but the other can wait.. " There's a fuh- Fucking k-knife in my abdomen! "

Nebul snickers, using a handkerchief to wipe the cum off the corner of his coworker's mouth. " Joy, he likes you. "

" Oh, I- Hhhng- Can tell. " A tired sigh escapes Patches. " C-Can we go down, I think- "

There's a long pause, Nebul practically dies of anticipation. " ... Yes? "

" Yeah, I'm spilling my guts on his floor. "

And his head is picked up again without warning, the wraith quickly slipping into the elevator. Not because he's concerned about the other's well-being, not even close-

He just needs to know what Morell's going to do next.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

I have a request for your future work. If you are comfortable writing this topic, I'd love to read it.

I have always had very bad cramps when I'm on my period. I also have PMS so I struggle with pain a week before my period starts. And It makes me think, if I could not let go of this cruel pain until menopause, I'd rather stop living. (Sorry it sounds heavy)

I want Bucky to comfort women who are struggling with serious period cramps ( Dysmenorrhea ) and PMS.

Thank you for reading my request! You can ignore this if you are not feeling right!

I love you so much❤️

Of course!!!

------------

PMS for Please Make it Stop

Bucky x reader

Summary: Reader suffers from severe cramps and PMS symptoms on and in between her periods. Bucky, her boyfriend, comforts her as much as he can.

Word count: 1666

Warnings: talk of everything that comes with periods, pain and cramps, PMS, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I am so sorry that it’s so painful for you! I’ve had a lot of experience with “that time of the month” feeling completely unbearable, and I hope that this fic is helpful! I don’t know exactly what you’re going through because each person has different symptoms with different severities and time spans. I truly hope that this helps you! I’m always here to talk as a fellow person with periods and the emotions that come with them!

Tags: @mardema @buckfics @stucky-on-spiderman @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @babyboibucky

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You rolled over in bed, curling in on yourself and using your pillow to suppress a groan. It was early morning, you could tell because the sun was up but Bucky hadn’t left for his run with Steve yet. It was that time of the month again, the one you hated so goddamn much. The one every woman hated so much. But it was never just the few days of blood they had taught you about in sex ed.

You hadn’t been prepared for the cramps, bloating, mood swings, headaches, cravings, and pain…

So. Much. Pain.

You could handle blood, that wasn’t an issue for you. You had seen your share of bloodshed on the battlefield. It was the horrible cramps that felt like something was stabbing you from the inside out constantly for a week preceding the bloodshed that was too much for you. It paralyzed you in a way. It hurt to do anything at all. As much as you hated to admit it, you could deal with any cut, burn, or broken bone. But these cramps had you curled in a ball with tears in your eyes.

You let out another groan and felt Bucky stir next to you. He turned over and rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, why are you awake?” he asked softly, sleep still lacing his voice. There were only 2 reasons that you would be awake. Either you had a nightmare, or...

You let out a small whimper as another wave of pain came over you.

...cramps.

“Hey, it’s okay, come here,” he said before carefully wrapping his arm around your stomach, rubbing small circles over your stomach. He brought his body flush against you so his chest to your back, without squeezing you too tightly. You sighed in relief, his warm body easing your pain slightly. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

He had learned a lot rather quickly when it came to helping you with your pain. He hadn’t known much at all at first, growing up in the 40’s where people never talked about it. When he had first walked in on you curled in the fetal position, crying and whimpering, he had been so worried. So when you referred to it as ‘just a period’ and that ‘it’s happened before', he was very confused.

He thought a period was something you ended a sentence with.

You had sent him to Nat and Wanda to explain what was happening. You had synced up with them naturally, but their cramps weren’t as severe as you. Everyone's experiences of periods, their symptoms, and PMS differently, but they felt bad for the severity of yours.

He was very confused as to why he had to ask other people about your pain. When he approached the two wide-eyed and confused, asking why you were in severe pain with no injuries, they had to try not to laugh.

They explained the basics to him, and what was off-limits. No assuming it was happening because of mood swings, no expecting you to keep functioning at peak condition, no mentioning how the emotional mood swings were happening

He was just in awe of it - how women were expected to just act naturally as if they weren’t bleeding at a constant rate while dealing with horrible pain and emotional mood swings. He thought that it was amazing that it was expected that they act naturally.

It took a little bit of trial and error and a lot of patience on both your parts, but he knew how he could help make these days as bearable as he could.

He would spend these days close to you, showing you a lot of affection. He would be gentle and patient with you, reminding you how much he loved you. He would get you anything you needed, be it food or pads or tampons. Once you had sent him to get pads and tampons and he had come back with one of every box with a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t know which ones you wanted so I got...all of them.”

You had laughed so hard that it hurt, but it was worth it. He made you promise not to tell Sam.

But eventually, he had learned what you needed. How he could help. The heat helped ease your cramps, so he’d hold you close, but not tightly. Rubbing your stomach helped too, in slow, lazy circles.

While he hated seeing you in pain, he loved taking care of you. Anything he could do to help you he would do.

Another cramp made you shift slightly, trying to find the impossible position that would help relieve the constant pain. You let out a small groan, trying to curl in tighter on yourself. Bucky pressed a small kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay angel, it’s alright.”

“It hurts,” you said, voice cracking.

“I know it does, I know,” he said, using his left hand to brush some hair out of your face.

“I just want it to stop hurting so much,” you said, letting out another pained whimper.

“I can’t imagine,” he said, sincerely. He couldn’t imagine the same pain every month with no relief or solution. He knew just how strong you were, strong as anyone on the team if not stronger. Seeing you in this much pain must have meant it was unbearable.

“I can’t make it go away but I’m here to do whatever I can to help, okay?” he whispered against your skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Did you choose to go through this?” he asked softly.

“N-no.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded slightly, your heart melting. You tried to take slow and even breaths. After a few moments passed, he asked “Can I help you to the shower? You always say how much the hot water helps.”

You paused for a moment before you nodded, and he pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up and moving to the other side of the bed to help you stand. Moving from your position sounded like the worst idea right now, but you took a deep breath before taking his hands. You sat up slowly, groaning as your hand wrapped around your stomach. You stood up shortly after, bending forward slightly as you made your way to the bathroom with Bucky. He had noticed a bloodstain on the bed, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to know that.

He turned on the water for you, checking the temperature every few moments. Once he deemed that it was hot enough but wasn’t going to burn your skin, he told you and gave you a quick hug before giving you some privacy. You had always enjoyed intimate showers together just...not when you had your period to worry about. When he closed the door, you started to slowly undress to get into the shower. You got into the shower, sighing in relief as it helped soothe your cramps.

Bucky, meanwhile, was working fast. First he texted Steve that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training today, knowing he would understand. He then moved to make the bed with clean sheets, so you wouldn't see the small bloodstain on the current ones. He didn’t want you to worry or feel bad about it. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts that you had always loved. He cracked the bathroom door open and placed them on the counter, careful not to disturb you. He then quickly ran down to the kitchen, still empty for the moment, and grabbed a few of your favorite snacks along with a few water bottles to bring back upstairs.

When he came back to the room, he noticed the water had been turned off. He set the water and snacks on the bedside table as you opened the bathroom door, hair in a messy bun and looking much more refreshed. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” you said quietly before wincing slightly. Bucky gave you a small smile before taking your hand and bringing you over to the bed, him sitting down and leaning against the headboard. He helped you sit down between his legs so you were able to lean your back against his chest. You laid your head back against him and he wrapped his arms around you so his human arm was on your lower stomach, his metal arm resting over it. You let out a small sigh, relaxing back against him. He pressed a small kiss to your temple, rubbing smooth lazy circles on your stomach.

“Try to get some rest, doll.” he whispered. “We can watch your favorite movie when you wake up.”

You turned slightly to look up at him. “But you hate that movie.”

“But you don’t,” he said simply.

You felt tears brim your eyes even though it felt so stupid. “I love you, Bucky.’

“I love you too angel,” he whispered, pressing a last kiss to the side of your head. “Try to get some rest.”

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Fourteen // Wanda Maximoff

chapter thirteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | epilogue

author’s note: the last chapter is finally here! i hope you like it 😊

There were many times when I'd get distracted by thoughts of Wanda.

I could be going for a walk and remember that time she tripped over the flat pavement, almost bringing me down with her. I could be shopping for stationary and remember that time she almost bought the whole shop in one visit. I could be sitting by the water fountain and remember that time she tried to make a wish, only to drop her whole purse in it.

This time, I'd just woken up to the sun streaming through my curtains. I rolled over to an empty bed, hand brushing against the cold sheets as they expected more. For some reason, my subconscious decided to taunt me with a memory taking place just after we'd first made love in her room...

"I love you so much," Wanda told me with an enchanting smile.

I turned to face her, one arm comfortable under the pillow as the other rested outside the duvet, covering my bare chest. She raised her hand, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before resting her hand there. I smiled at the contact and felt a warmth spreading all over me at the affectionate gaze she sent my way.

"I know, love, you only said it several times," I teased lightly, making her chuckle. "I love you, too, though, in case you didn't know."

She sighed contently, eyes closing. I admired how beautiful she looked with her hair sprawled over her bare shoulders, smile on her lips and freckles dusting her skin. Her touch still ghosted my body, taste still embedded between my lips, scent still wavering in my nose. She was permanent and I was certain she'd never leave.

"We should probably get up in case somebody comes to check on us," she said, interrupting my moment of admiration.

Her eyes flickered open slowly, blue with golden flecks glistening right back at me. Suddenly, anything that happened after this didn't matter to me. For once, I appreciated where we were, what we had and nothing more or less. No wedding, no future... just now.

"We should," I agreed regretfully, though her leg moved closer to mine and made me wish we could stay here longer. "I wish we didn't have to."

She smiled halfheartedly, hand moving down my cheek, caressing the skin, before they rested at my chin. She outlined my lips with her thumb before leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

"Can't we have a few more minutes?" she asked, lips brushing mine as she spoke.

She was making it very hard to deny her and judging from the playful smirk on her lips, she knew that.

"I guess we can," I agreed quietly, making her smile with satisfaction.

She rolled on top of me, capturing my lips in a kiss as her bare chest pressed to mine and my hand found her waist for support. As usual, the effect she had on me was indescribable and I couldn't imagine us ever leaving the bed. I knew for sure that I'd never been happier than I was in that moment.

It was such a perfect moment, but it haunted me. Nothing felt right without her. She'd overwhelmed all of my senses and remained, even when I didn't have her by me in person. The wedding was literally in a few weeks, but I hadn't managed to get over her.

How could I be her maid of honour when I could barely speak to her? Not without wanting to curl in a ball and cry afterwards. Every thing I did seemed to be filled with memories of her. She was inescapable.

A groan left my lips as I dragged my hand down my face with frustration. I couldn't let her get to me yet again. I had an interview with the local paper today. The last thing I needed was Wanda as a distraction.

So, with that lovely thought lingering in my mind, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

—

Press interviews weren't something I was used to.

Whenever Y/B/N had them with journalists for his books, I wasn't present. The only thing I heard was when he came back and told me how it went, then I proceeded to read about it in the paper the next day.

I was sat in Steve's office at Maximoff Publishing with Steve sat by my side, sending me a supportive smile. A journalist from the local paper sat before us, notebook and pen in hand as he watched on with curious eyes.

"So, Y/N," he began. "I'll start with the obvious, if you don't mind."

I glanced at Steve who nodded encouragingly. Clearing my throat, I looked to the journalist. "Sure thing."

He smiled and glanced at his notebook before asking, "How does it feel to be published? You're Pietro Maximoff's first female author."

"An author who happens to be female," I corrected, hoping I didn't come off as rude. "And that isn't something that should be new, in my opinion. It should be normalised."

He nodded, noting it down in his notebook. "Controversy... I like it."

Swallowing hard, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I think the readers would like to know how you managed to score a publisher," he began his next question. "How exactly did you get noticed amongst the many authors that look to be published?"

Okay, not so difficult, I could answer that.

"Well, it was actually my–" I paused, Wanda's face flashing to mind. Okay, maybe a little difficult.

"Your...?" the journalist prompted.

I blinked, attempting to find my words.

"Wanda," Steve answered, starting me off.

I looked to him with grateful eyes before looking back to the journalist. "Right. Yes. Wanda."

"Your brother's fiancé, right?" the journalist asked for clarification.

"Yes," I answered, with an accidental clipped tone. "She... she was the one who gave my work to her brother. Asked him to look at it. And the rest is history."

The journalist was making notes as I spoke, nodding and humming in response, before looking to me with raised brows.

"So, the wedding," he said, making me wince subtly. "Are you excited?"

Forcing a smile, I said, "Ecstatic."

"How does it feel to have your two families uniting?" he asked, and I chewed on my lips, unsure how to respond.

"I– er–"

"Are you afraid that Y/B/N marrying Wanda may put him in Pietro's good graces?" he interrupted eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't land me in hot water or make me look like a jealous sibling. Glancing to Steve questioningly, he thankfully noticed my speechlessness and gave the journalist a warning stare.

"Can you stay on topic, please?" he asked the keen journalist. "Y/N is here to talk about her book and nothing more."

"Okay, okay," the journalist gave in, making me exhale slowly. "What's next in store for your readers, Y/N? A sequel, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm still in awe at the reception from the first one."

He nodded, note taking as he listened. "How many books do you think you'll get out of your career before getting married like your brother?"

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. But I didn't get to answer as he was already moving onto his next question.

"Are you not worried about getting married? You know, men don't like smart women."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I clenched my fists by my side and was very close to strangling him before we were interrupted. A servant whom I recognised from home knocked on the door and earned everyone's attention.

"Oh, tell him to go away," the journalist said dismissively, waving his hand.

Steve looked to me and I plastered a bitter smile on my lips as I glanced at the journalist.

"I'd let him in if I were you," I told Steve, and he seemed to understand that I was about to pummel the journalist if I wasn't distracted, because he nodded and motioned for the servant to enter.

The journalist sighed rudely and I clenched my jaw before looking to the servant with a quirked brow. He looked out of breath, panting for air and face flushed red.

"Did you run here?" I realised, cocking my head to the side with confusion.

He nodded, straightening up and attempting to catch his breath. "Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Very sorry to interrupt, but your mother insisted I hurry."

My eyes widened. "Oh, God, what happened? Is she okay?"

"Kind of," he answered, before clarifying, "The wedding between your brother and Miss Maximoff has been cancelled."

"What?!" everyone in the room asked at the same time.

What did he mean the wedding had been cancelled?! Wanda and Y/B/N weren't going to get married?

"I don't know the details," the servant got out quickly. "I just know that your mother sent me to fetch you as soon as possible. She's distraught and requires you home immediately."

I nodded instantly, already making a move to stand up, then I remembered where I was.

"You mustn't publish anything you just heard," I told the journalist with a stern finger, but he seemed over the moon at the news.

"Go, Y/N, your mother needs you," Steve said, resting a hand on my shoulder as he, too, stood up. He side-eyed the journalist as he added, "I'll take care of this tool."

At that, the journalist's eyes widened with fear and judging from the smirk on Steve's lips, I knew things would be okay.

"Thank you," I told him, hugging him quickly, before looking to the servant. "I'll go now. Thank you."

After giving the servant some money to grab a treat and calm him from his breathless state, I got a carriage home with my mind racing a million thoughts a minute.

Why was the wedding off? My mum was distraught, according to the servant, so that could only mean it hadn't been her choice. Was it Y/B/N? Had he broken it off? Or maybe it was Wanda? But no. She'd never do that. She wouldn't hurt her family like that.

I wasn't sure what it was, but I definitely didn't know how to feel. This could either be heavily in my favour or go against me in the worst way possible...

When I arrived home, I found my family in the dining room. My mum was sat down, upset and shaking her head in her hands, tear marks on her face. My dad was sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering calming things to her as my brother stood to the side, looking apologetic and uncomfortable.

"It's okay, mum, it'll be okay," he was saying to her from across the table. "It's not a big deal. I can find somebody–"

"Hello...," I began awkwardly, standing in the doorway and hesitant to move forward. "I just got the news from our servant. What happened?"

"Oh, Y/N, you shouldn't have–" my father began regretfully, before my mum slammed her hand on the table and glared at my brother.

"Y/B/N broke off the engagement!" she shouted with frustration.

"There you go...," my dad mumbled before returning his attention to his wife.

"Mum, I–"

"You did what?!" I cut Y/B/N off with raised brows. "You broke off the engagement? You dumped Wanda?"

He looked to me with sad eyes. "Y/N–"

"You idiot!" I shouted, feeling angry as I imagined the effect this must have had on the Maximoff family. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you–?!"

He grabbed my waving arm and dragged me out of the dining room, making me shove him off when we reached the hall.

"Why the hell did you break it off?!" I yelled at him with a glare. "Why would you–"

"I didn't!" he whisper-shouted back, looking down at me with a downcast expression. "She did!"

My anger faded as I realised he was telling the truth. He looked genuinely hurt, eyes glassy and a frown on his lips. Wanda was the one to break it off? What?

"She broke it off with me," he elaborated quietly, so our parents couldn't hear. "She told me this morning. She said she didn't love me and that she couldn't marry me."

I swallowed hard, looking away from him momentarily. "Why did you tell mum and dad that it was you who broke up with her?"

He pinched his forehead with agitation. "Because it looks a lot less foolish if I say it was me rather than her. She doesn't love me, Y/N. She never did."

I risked looking at him, seeing his disheartened expression. Part of me felt guilty because I knew it was my fault this had happened, but I couldn't exactly say that to him, so I stayed quiet. He shook his head once more before walking away, leaving me standing there with shock.

"Er, Miss Y/L/N?"

I spun around when one of our servants approached me.

"I know now isn't the best time," she began, "but a letter came for you earlier. I left it on your desk as you were at work."

Nodding, I offered the servant a halfhearted smile before watching her leave. There was so much to unpack right now...

I headed upstairs and to my room to see what letter was here for me. But I was finding it hard to focus since all that was on my mind was the broken engagement and Y/B/N and Wanda... I needed to see her. What the hell was I doing here?

Planning on going to see Wanda as soon as possible, I grabbed the letter from my desk with the intention of reading it on the way out, but then I recognised the handwriting on the front and paused at my desk.

It was Wanda's handwriting.

I hurried to tear open the envelope, wondering what she had to say. It was no doubt related to the broken engagement.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope that you manage to read this letter before you hear the news, but knowing our families, you'll read it afterwards. In which case, you will know that I have broken off the engagement with Y/B/N.

It was the right thing to do. I chose to do it and I'm sorry if it's caused tension between your brother and your family, but I knew that I couldn't go forward with it when I'm in love with you. I'm not expecting you to come back to me and run away together all dramatically – this isn't about that.

I did this for myself. I'm not in love with your brother and I never was. He should have known that. He had to. Because if not, I'm afraid I broke his heart. And that's the last thing I wanted.

I also did this for you. I need you to know that I'm not heartless or horrible and I didn't expect you to sacrifice anything for me. Cheating on your brother with you... I never meant for this to happen, nor did I mean to get in the way of you both. Falling in love with you was completely accidental, but I don't regret it.

I don't want to go on too much, but I just needed you to know the truth, from me, that I am truly sorry for causing you such pain. I'm still in love with you and I'll never forget what we had. In another lifetime, maybe we could have worked. I'm certain that you were always perfect for me, as was what we had. You are magic, Y/N. I just wasn't powerful enough to keep you.

When I finished reading, I flipped the page over, expecting to find more, but it was blank. She'd ended it there and I didn't know what to think. My heart was racing, mind adjusting too slowly for my liking. She'd broke it off with him for me. I knew she loved me, but I guess I'd never realised just how much.

After recovering from my shock, I put the letter away and left for Wanda's, not bothering to tell my family where I was going. My dad was attempting to console my disappointed mother as Y/B/N moped around somewhere else, so I took that as my chance to nip out without them noticing.

I was trying to plan what to say to her – I didn't even know what I wanted to say to her. She said she didn't expect me to get back with her, and even without Y/B/N and their engagement in the way, we still couldn't be together. Not like how we wanted to be. But I wanted to. I wanted her. All this time without her had been heartbreaking – I didn't want to leave her again. I didn't know the specifics of how we would work, but we could work. We had to.

When I reached her house, it was her mother who opened the door. And that's when I realised that I wasn't sure if she blamed Y/B/N or her daughter for the engagement breaking apart.

"Iryna, hi," I greeted with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time–"

"Y/N, I'm glad you're here," she cut me off, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded with mild confusion, returning the hug, before pulling away.

"I'm so sorry for the pain Wanda has caused to your family," she said regretfully. "I hope that your parents aren't as distraught as we are."

I eyed her strangely, still not sure what Wanda had told her. Either way, I didn't bother questioning it as my urgency to see Wanda was overpowering my curiosity.

"It's okay, Iryna, there's no need to apologise," I reassured her. "My family will be okay... I just thought I'd come and check in on Wanda. It's a lot, what happened."

She nodded sympathetically. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're such a good friend to her." She stood to the side to let me in. "Go on up. She's in her room. Hasn't come out since this morning."

I offered a small, awkward smile Iryna's way before letting myself in and going upstairs to Wanda's room. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry – stupidly juxtaposed – when I stopped before Wanda's door. On the way over here, I still hadn't decided what to say. I figured it would just come to me when I saw her. One could hope.

Knocking on the door, I heard her sweet, accented voice give me permission to enter. My stomach flipped at the sound and I did as she said. Closing the door behind me, I turned and saw Wanda sat at a stool before a canvas.

Noticing I didn't say anything, she glanced over her shoulder casually, probably expecting a family member. She widened her eyes when she realised it was me and immediately stood up, smoothing out her paint-covered smock in an attempt to look neater. The simple action warmed my heart – she was adorable and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hi," I said quietly.

She cleared her throat, eyes darting around nervously. "Hey. I didn't– what are– hi."

I let my eyes wander, admiring her messy ponytail and the strokes of paint on her face that she definitely wasn't aware of. She was stunning, even with her confused eyes and pursed lips. Better yet, her hand was ring-free and I was reminded of the fact that she wasn't engaged anymore.

"I assume you're here because you read the letter," she began apologetically, but I didn't let her finish because the longer I was in her presence, the more I realised I wanted to kiss her.

Approaching her, I found her eyes before pressing my lips to hers. My hands cupped her cheeks as I held her close, revelling in her taste and scent and touch. She was quick to react, her fingers curling around my waist and tugging me towards her, squeezing our bodies together. Breathing became a problem and we regretfully had to pull away, but remained close enough to exchange breaths and swim in each other's eyes. I'd never been more relieved to see the colour green.

"You're not mad," she realised, looking between my eyes as if trying to search for some anger.

"How can I be mad that you broke off your engagement for me, knowing we can never be together in the way that you deserve?" I asked with disbelief.

She smiled beautifully, making my heart flutter in my chest. "You still love me."

I stole another kiss from her lips. "I never stopped, Wanda. Of course I still love you."

She rested her forehead to mine and closed her eyes peacefully. "Thank you for coming back."

I laughed, feeling tears brim my eyes. "I'm not leaving again, love. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise you that."

Wanda Maximoff deserved the world. And I was going to give it to her in this lifetime and beyond.

[mashmallow]

𝔾𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕄𝕪 ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖

jihoon x nobody!fem!reader

ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

jihoon had smiled soon after he'd entered the flower shop. his classmate had quickly paid attention to any flower closest to the entrance, hoping to have checked every corner by the end of their visit.

his classmates had decided on shooting pictures for a number of calenders to sell in order to raise a few bucks for an event. and jihoon was one of the models who'd be surrounded by flowers.

but that wasn't the reason behind his sudden giddiness.

you were tending to a few plants, stalled to catch some sun. a small watering can hesitantly hovering above a few succulents and from what he could tell, you may be wondering if you watered the plants enough or too much.

his gut was telling him to approach you, but his feet stayed rooted. his friend would've nudged him, yet his feet wouldn't change their mind.

in a way his wish had been granted when he'd seen you lower the watering can as your name was called, before you timidly approached him and his classmate.

"good morning.. is there.. anything i can help with?" your tone was sweet and silky thin, automatically imprinted in his memory.

"oh no, we're just looking for now, but whe- oh.. we'll make it known if we need help."

jihoon frowned, you forcefully smile and swung on the balls of your feet, before scurrying off to another row of potted plants.

"what was that?," jihoon asked.

miju shrugged, "you really want to know?" and jihoon nodded, argueing that if they'd visit the shop several times, he would want to be updated about the newfound tension.

"she seems to be quite reserved whenever i see her."

"you come here often?"

"this is my first visit, i see her every week on campus."

"she goes to our uni?!"

surprised at her, jihoon comtinued, "that's news to you?"

miju's voice lowered and scoffed, "she's a nobody and rude." and then jihoon chuckled.

he didn't know why back then, but his feet finally agreed to the courage he was suddenly filled with. he'd gone to look where you had disappeared to while miju softly shouted out his name.

a big potted plant had obstructed your view when you reappeared, but not enough to prevent you from finding your way to the open air.

"let me help you there." your hands were free of duty before you knew it and for a moment you were left wondering what happened.

"you don't have to-" "where do you want it."

it was the first time in a long time that you'd caught someone's eyes and in the next few seconds you struggled to look away and find the spot he could put the plant.

"we'll be having a photoshoot in a few weeks, a flower themed one and i was just wondering if you could help me with a flower that'd suit me." in all honesty, he wasn't. he had to make use of the confidence miju's disagreement with his infatuation, sparked inside of him.

"u-uhmm.. i.. i'm not the right person to ask," you let out a nervous laugh, "it's best to ask mrs kang. she owns the shop and knows her flowers and aesthetics."

"i can maybe hold a flower and you can tell me if they speak to me." he wanted to kick himself for that sentence that sounded like he just stuck some words together and ran with it.

by the looks of your face, his suggestion didn't seem bad and he sighed in relief.

"i'll do my best."

it may not have been in his plan, but he got the opportunity to look at you while he.. well.. modeled.

meanwhile, on the other side of the shop, miju gruntled at jihoon while getting some help from mrs kang.

**

"i'm proud of you, but you frequent the shop quite a lot now."

"i have reasons."

"your photoshoot sessions are over already," junkyu deadpanned.

"would you rather i stop?"

"no, by now i'd have thought you had taken her out already."

**

next

@rutowonz @illyzo @yoshiikore @milkybonya @hyunsuks-beanie @ravenori @enhacolor @yogurteume @deobienthusiast @softforqiankun

[gojo-satoru-brainrot]

I Don’t Want a World Without You. Eren Jaeger x Reader

Request from @shittypaperwork

A/N: This took me forever to write this. I wanted it to be perfect. I really hope it is. Also, my asks are open for AOT smut (Disclaimer I do prefer to write in Canon Au but not opposed to writing Modern AU if I like the idea.) , Jujustu Kaisen smut. But please enjoy!!!!!!

WARNINGS: SMUT!!!, slight breading kink ig, name calling, slight Dom!Eren. Unprotected sex, Canon AU,

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

Your friendship with Eren was unlike any relationship you had experienced before. You both joined the Scouts after the attack on Wall Maria. You both bonded over the losses you both endured that day. Eren sought out revenge on the Titans. His hatred and rage fueled his desire to become a better soldier. You wanted a better understanding of the outside world. Why all the memories came fooling back in the middle of a titan ambush you had no idea why. A giant hand came out from the shadows of the forest directly aiming for you. You didn't have much time to react before Eren swooped in and grabbed you.

"(Y/N) you need to pay more attention," Eren said right before the titan grabbed the wire to his ODM gear causing him to fall to the ground several hundred feet below.

"Eren," you screamed out. Your heart pounding in your chest as you locked eyes with the titan. Suddenly, a red hot burning sensation rushed through your chest and up your face. Tears started to form in your eyes as you maneuvered around the giant trees. Finally finding a vantage point, you zipped over the titan and your blades cutting deep into its nape. It fell to the ground dust and debris flying above its lifeless body. The feeling still stuck in your chest, but it was different something lingered beneath the surface. You located Eren, and you looked at him the feeling became stronger as you watched him lay there, blood dripping from his head on the ground under him.

You were irrevocably in love with him.

There was no time to confess to him your newfound feelings. He needed to get the infirmary. The more you realized your feelings for him, the more you realized it would never work. This world was unfair and unforgiving. There was no room in the world for love let alone a relationship, or that's what you told yourself. The pain you would feel if Eren didn't reciprocate your feelings would tear you apart inside.

Two weeks had passed since the ambush in the forest and your feelings had remained the same, in fact, they had gotten stronger. Your whole squad had made it back alive, which you were grateful for. Eren was rushed to the infirmary due to his extensive injuries. You didn't sleep most nights so you would sneak down to see Eren. You held his hand and changed out his bandages being very careful not to wake him.

"(y/n), you have to let him rest," quickly turning around you saw Armin standing in the doorway.

"It's my fault this happened," the tears started to swell up in your eyes. Armin grabs your hand leads you outside.

"B-but Eren," you stammer looking back at him.

"He's going to be fine while you're gone". You looked up at the night sky, gazing at the stars above you. It was late, you didn't realize until now. How long have you been sitting by Eren? An hour? Maybe five. A cool breeze hits your face as you sit down beside Armin on the bench just outside the infirmary.

"You're so concerned about Eren. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're acting like Mikasa," he laughs. You chuckle slightly. You had been so wrapped up in making sure that Eren was okay that you had forgotten what it feels like to relax. Memories of you and Eren flood your mind.

"Armin there's something I need to tell you. I can only trust you with this information," the blonde turns to look at you.

" I'm in love with Eren". Armin's face gets all red and he turns away.

"So why are you feeling me this? Shouldn't you be telling Eren?"

"Because it would never work out the way I want".

Eren was finally recovered enough to leave the infirmary, but he was strictly prohibited from any training, missions, and extraneous activities. You have been avoiding him for days, unable to come to terms with your feelings you thought it best to stay away.

"You're eventually going to have to tell him you can hide from your feelings forever," Armin said to you quietly.

"Shut up, Armin," you punched his shoulder just a little too rough. He winches in pain, and you touch his arm.

"Sorry." You start to blabber about how you're used to hitting Eren because he can take a hit. You didn't realize Armin was trying to tell you that Eren was right behind you. A slight punch suddenly hits the middle of your back causing you to fall forward into Armin's chest. You turn around quickly to see you hit you. Your eyes lock with Eren's, trying to speak, but nothing comes out of your mouth. His green eyes peer into yours. It feels like your entire being is melting into the palm of his hand.

"Shouldn't you be picking on someone your own size," Eren smirks at you.

"Uhhh," you fumble your words trying to form a comprehensible sentence but fail.

"I gotta go!" You said quickly as you darted off somewhere far away from Erin and Armin.

Finally catching your breath you stood in front of the shower house you are reminded of a prank you pulled on Eren just a few months ago.

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

It had been a long day of combat training and Eren was the first to use the shower, like always. Connie dared you to sneak into the men's showers and take Eren's clothes and hide them in a nearby bush.

"Easy! You should come up with a harder one next time," you smirked knowing this was going to be way simple. Quietly you snuck in being extremely careful not to slam any doors. You glanced around trying to find Eren's clothes, the steam from the showers making it hard to see. Stumbling into one of the benches close to the showers.

"Fuck that hurt."

"Hello? Who's there?" You heard Eren call out. Your heartbeat quickened as you heard the water turn off.

shit shit shit where are they?

Finally, you found the clothes tucked away under the bench. You guessed this isn't the first time this happened to him. You balled up his clothes and ran out. The steam made your hair stick to your forehead as you threw his clothes in a bush.

"Nice going (y/n)!" Connie gave you a high-five. Both of you waited for Eren to realize his clothes were missing, but to both of your surprises, Eren walked out of the showers butt-ass naked with only one of his hands covering his goods. Your jaw dropped at the sight of him the sunlight made his wet skin glisten. He shook out his hair causing water droplets to scatter around him. You followed the water as it dripped down his toned chest and pass his carefully carved abs. Your eyes followed the v line just below his abs.

"My eyes are up here! Now, where did you put my clothes, darling?" Eren steps closer to you feeling the heat radiate off him from his shower. Your mouth stayed agape and all you could do was point over to the bush. He made his way over not bothering to cover his ass.

"Well, that was fun," Eren chuckled as he pulled up his pants and let them sit on his hips unbuttoned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wetness started to pool in between your thighs, causing you to blush from the intrusive thoughts of Eren. You looked around to make sure no one would follow you. After stepping into the shower, you took your clothes off, and neatly folded them, and placed them on the bench. You pulled the curtain closed in hopes of having a sliver of privacy. The cold water rushed over your body and hair. Your nipples became hard as the cold water ran over them. Your mind began to imagine Eren behind you and what his hands would feel like as he rubbed your shoulders and softly caressing your breasts. Maybe he would snake one of his hands down your waist and tease your folds as the other would grip your neck pulling you back into his bare chest.

"Mmm. Eren," you moaned teasing yourself closer and closer to orgasm. Your finger moved faster in circles around your clit. A tightness started building up in your core and just about as you were going to come undone the door to showers swung open. FUCK! Disappointed in your attempt to relieve some stress you quickly got dressed.

"Hey (y/n)," Sasha greeted you, but you bolted past her "okay, bye!"

You didn't want to be rude to Sasha, but you had other things on your mind. All of them were Eren. Your body ached for his. You wondered want it would feel like on top of yours. Your mind kept racing all these thoughts about him and what he looked like under his clothes.

"(Y/N)! Instead of daydreaming why don't you help in the kitchen?" You were quickly drawn away from your thoughts as Levi approached you.

"Sorry Captain, I-" you tried to explain yourself before Levi shut you down.

"You're almost as bad as Eren." Eren? You clung to his name.

"What's wrong with Eren?" You ask.

"Well, since he's been released from the infirmary he's been zoning out. But enough chit-chat go help get dinner ready."

You made your way to the kitchen. Both Connie and Sasha were slacking off and having a baguette battle.

"Guys, let's do what needs to be done. I'm tired and want to go to sleep." You announce. It took about an hour to get prepped and cooked. By the time you were done cooking, you wanted to go to your room and finish what you couldn't in the showers.

After finally arriving at your room. You quickly shut your door. The rooms weren't big, but none the less you were grateful to have your own after spending a year in the barracks. The rooms were massive, but they were a decent size for one person. A desk with a wooden chair sat in the far corner and a closet just big enough to hold a few scout uniforms and a full-size bed. Still, a layer of dust covered everything although you didn't mind. It wasn't like you were going to be staying in your room all day.

You rubbed your eyes and sat at the edge of your bed, taking off your boots and jacket, neatly putting them away in the closet. You always hated taking off your harness there were so many buckles and straps, you got confused so easily. The only light to work with was an oil lamp fixed to the wall. You sighed heavily as you finished folding up your clothes and getting into your pajamas.

As you laid down in your bed thoughts of Eren came back to you. Softly you moaned as you pawed at your breast and teased your nipple. Woefully imagining it was Eren's instead of yours. You felt a wetness start to pool between your legs. Slipping your hands down your shorts your finger circled your clit. You were a virgin, but you still knew what happened you just never found anyone worthy enough. Expect for Eren.

You moaned as you came closer and closer to climax, but it was cut short again. "(Y/N)..." You had sworn you heard someone moan your name. Quickly you pulled your covers over your body as you listen to the room next to you and you heard it again. You were sure someone was moaning your name. In the room next to yours you heard the bed squeak as someone got up from it. Your heart beated faster as you heard footsteps approached your door. You closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep. The door to your room slowly creaked open. "(Y/N)... Are you awake?" It was Eren. You still didn't open your eyes as the door shut and Eren sat on the edge of your bed. He took your hand and held it and pressed it to his chest.

"I know you're asleep but I wanted to tell you, thank you for saving me, I know everyone told you to leave me but you didn't and I'm grateful. I don't know why you've been avoiding me, but I probably deserve it somehow." You heard his voice crack and you could tell he was about to cry.

"I just don't know how to tell you this but here does nothing, I love you (Y/N)." You opened your eyes and saw Eren crying.

"I love you too." You said sitting up in your bed. Your hands cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. His lips were soft and perfectly fit in between yours. It was sweet and soft but your core ached for him. He pulled you onto his lap and brushed your hair behind your ear.

"I can't tell you how many nights I wished for this, to be here with you." Eren buried his face into your chest.

"You don't have to wish anymore," you told him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again this time softly biting on his lower lips. He moaned into the kiss sending chills down your spine. He gripped your hips, his callused fingers dug into your sides almost as if he was scared you were fall through his hands if he didn't hold you tight enough.

Your hips ground into his causing a deep moan to escape from his lips. His erection grew quickly underneath you. Eren flipped you over on your back onto the mattress. He stood up and began removing his shirt. Your eyes followed the skin on his stomach as more of it was exposed. Moonlight peaked in through the window, shining on his torso. It was beautiful, hours and hours of training had paid off.

"My eyes are up here, darling" he chuckled as he climbed on top of you. You couldn't help but feel his chest and abs. His piercing green eyes looked into yours. His lips crashed into yours, it was sloppy and wet and hot. Your clothes limited his access to your perfect body. He slowly took off your shirt and kissed up your stomach and in between your breasts before he took one in each hand and massaged them. His thumb rubbing your nipples before he took it in his mouth and circled it with his tongue. Your fingers ran through his hair as you leaned your head back and moaned. He made his way up to your neck kissing and sucking on it. You knew for sure there was going to be a hickey tomorrow but you didn't care. You wanted everyone to know that you were Eren's and that he was yours too.

"Eren, I need you." You begged him to touch you. He leaned back on his calves and pulled your legs up to his chest, slowly removing your shorts.

"You're so wet for me already, have you been expecting me?" He chuckled and smirked as he pushed your legs apart. His hot breath hit your folds making you beg for him even more.

"Please please Eren!" Your cries for his touch were desperate. Him seeing how much you needed him turned him on. He was throbbing in his jeans. His finger slid up your folds and collected your wetness before he put it in his mouth and sucked on his finger.

"Open your mouth," he commanded and you did as he stuck his finger in your mouth. "Suck." His voice was deep and demanding making you want him even more. Your tongue danced around his finger you tasted yourself on his finger. His mouth attached itself to your clit and you threw your head back moaning. His tongue circling your clit making you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. Your hands found their way to his beautiful brawn locks, your fingers entangled themselves pulling slightly. Eren groaned and gripped your thighs tighter, maybe enough to leave bruises. The idea of having Eren's fingerprints lingering on your skin turned you on even more.

Eren's erection grew harder and slightly painful. He stood up from the bed and a whine came from your mouth in protest.

"Don't worry we aren't done yet. Do you know how much my hand hurts by now? I'm so glad you accepted my feelings so I can fuck you now."

"All you had to do was ask" you teased back at him "but you should know I'm a virgin." You weren't shy about it, it was just how you were.

"Well, I am too, if that makes you feel better." You sat up on your knees and began to undo Eren's pants. You could hear his moan that he held back. Your fingers slipped between his skin and underwear slowly teasing it down before releasing the waistband and having it snap back to his skin. A low hiss rolled out of his mouth as he smirked at you and his eye went darker with lust.

In a fit of lust Eren quickly removed his pants and pulled his cock out. Your eyes widen at the sight, you always thought Eren was big but never this big.

"Suck now." His tone cold and demanding. You took it in one hand and started to suck on the tip of his cock. You could taste the precum from the tip. His hand placed at the back of your head slowly pushing you further and further down. Your hands gripped his thighs as he drove his cock deeper into your face. You looked up at him, he looked so hot his eyes were rolled back and beautiful moans escaped his mouth.

"Ahhh fuck (Y/N) your so warm. I'm so close, will you be a good girl and swallow for me?" He looked down, locking his eyes with yours, you nod.

"Mmmm that's my girl." He continued to fuck your face, his hands cupping your checks. A warm salty liquid flowed into your mouth. You swallowed it and sucked the rest off his cock before opening your math to show him.

"Fuck... You're such a good slut for me." He crawled on top of you. "I'm gonna take such good care of you," he kissed your stomach right below your navel. He slowly slid two fingers inside of you making you arch your back and grip the sheets. He took his time moving his fingers in and out of you taking care to make sure you never felt any pain.

"More Eren, please..." you begged for him, bringing him closer for a kiss. He lined himself up at your entrance wetting his tip on your folds. He steadied himself by placing his hand next to your head. He looked into your eyes. "Ready, darling?" You nodded. He slowly pushed his tip in both of you letting out moans of each other's names. You momentarily adjusted to his size before he added another inch. You wrapped your legs around his hips allowing him to fully enter you.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight I could cum right now," Eren moaned into your chest. Your breath was heavy as you fully adjusted to his massive size. Eren pressed his forehead to yours as he thrust in and out of you at a good pace. You moaned and softly bit into his shoulder careful not to hurt him and activate his Titan.

His thrust because faster and faster. You moaned his name over and over again. Sweat started to drip from his forehead, you could tell he was holding back his orgasm. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix. Eren let out a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" You asked.

"I can it inside you. Look." You glanced at your stomach and saw the tip pressing the skin up. "Fuck I can't wait to fill you up with my seed." He pounded harder into you as your orgasm started to build.

"Eren I'm getting close," you mewled in his ear. His thrust becomes sloppy as his thumb played with clit and that sent you over the edge. Eren watched as your body twitched underneath him. It felt like your entire body was on ice and fire at the same time. Eren was not long after you as he slammed one last time into you and let out the most beautiful moan you ever heard.

"Ahhh fuckkkkk (Y/N). You were such a good girl for me." He pulled out and laid down next to you pulling you close to him.

"I love you. I always have. I don't care if this world is unfair and unforgiving. A world that doesn't have you isn't where I want to be." You pressed your face into his chest and slowly fell asleep.

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[lit-works]

One Thing after another

Pt.2

I've often wondered what became of the Red Ghost–Ivan Kragoff, the Russian scientist who willingly subjected himself to the same kind of cosmic rays that turned me and my friends into the Fantastic Four. The rays affected him and several experimental apes in a variety of ways–he was able to make his body completely untouchable. The Red Ghost has always given me trouble–my strength isn't much good against him–but he's been out of sight and laying low a long time.

As these thoughts pass through my mind, I notice something strange about the Red Ghost–he seems to be glowing. But, I'll have to solve that mystery later. Right now, I've got my family to save 

"Okay, Ivan, Whattaya want? An' make it fast, I don't usually palaver with arch-villains, especially after they beat up my buddies, know what I mean?"

"I appreciate your position, monster. I hope you can appreciate mine. A crack team of Russian researchers and scientists has bio-engineered a disease aimed exclusively at those whose blood and tissue has been charged or mutated with cosmic rays. They hope to eliminate you and the rest of the Fantastic Four. My beloved apes were their first guinea pigs. My testing followed shortly after. The apes are finished…in a coma. I escaped the motherland and came to you seeking aid. Perhaps Reed Richards can effect a cure. I cannot."

Sheesh, next thing I know, Doc Doom'll be comin' around wantin' Reed to remove his bunions.

The moment is charged with tension. The Red Ghost stands rigid and stolid, waiting to see what I'm gonna do. I stand equally motionless, trying to decide what to do. In the end, there isn't any choice: The arch-villains stands, glowing evilly, surrounded by my unconscious friends.

Glowing? The Ghost musta picked up a new trick while he was outta sight. But I'll deal with that later. Right now, I've got some friends to save.

My mind is made up, I reach down and grab a handy medicine ball–a handy thousand-pound, Thing styled medicine ball–and hurl it at the Red Ghost, hoping to catch him unawares, and before he can make himself untouchable. It's a nice try, but not good enough. He shimmers and fades, and the ball passes right through him, destroying the wall behind him.

"I'd hoped to not have to do this, Thing. Intangibility is the one thing I can't afford right now, but you leave me no choice…"

What's he talkin' bout? Intangibility was always his first, best, line of defense.

The Red Ghost drifts towards me, looking for all the world like the apparitions from which he derives his name. I try desperately to think of something I can do, some way I can use my strength against an untouchable foe. I come up with nothing, but it doesn't matter–to my astonishment, the Red Ghost stops just before he reaches me. His eyes wide in pain and amazement, a scream leaves his lips, and he begins to glow even brighter, bathing my body in a cold, yellow light.

Then he's gone.

I stand in 4 Freedoms Plaza, alone, wracking my brain, trying to figure out what just happened. I rush over to my fallen comrades. They're out cold, and they don't look good. Could The Red Ghost've been telling the truth about some cosmic disease? He didn't seem to be much in control of his own power…and his exit didn't look planned.

I pick my friends up off the ground and carry them tenderly to their quarters. Then I return to my own quarters and spend the rest of the night trying to think of a way to fight a killer disease. I come up with nothing.

Early the next morning, I awaken to find Sue and Johnny still in bed where I left them. They're alive, but they won't be going anywhere for a while. Reed, bless his brain, is in his lab. Though weak almost beyond imagination, he insists on running tests to determine just what the Red Ghost did to the Fantastic Four.

I seem to be nearly unaffected by the Ghost's attack, so I act as Reed's guinea pig. Finally, Reed completed his tests, and then staggers to a chair. He looks haggard, and, as he speaks, each words seems to take it's toll: "Ben, The Red Ghost has transmitted a disease along to us…affects only cosmically-charged blood. The disease is fast-acting. We're all infected. It mutates red blood cells…have to find a way to reverse mutative effect…" before he can get out the next word, he falls unconscious.

What did Reed mean by "reverse mutative effect"? Again, I fall deep into thought. Finally, a possibility springs to mind: If the disease mutates cells the way Reed says it does, reversing the mutation would cure me and my friends. Reed once said something about our old foe Annihilus, the ruler of the negative zone…something about his cosmic control rod having the power to change the atomic structure of matter. Maybe it would work on living matter and change my mutating blood cells, effecting a cure.

I call Alicia Masters and ask her to watch over the fallen members of the Fantastic Four while I'm gone. She's still out of town for an art gallery opening, but when she hears the news, she agrees to return at once. She arrives not long after.

Me…I head to the negative zone to talk to Annihilus.

[kyunisixx]

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

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