#its so so so funny how she has the rings on her wrists because THEY AREN'T FROM SHADOW

[itz-pandora]

Sky the Hedgehog (and human?!)

For my girl dad Shadow agenda, I give you a Shadamy daughter.

I don't know if her and Spirit are from the same canon, but they technically could coexist. Sky would be younger by around 2 years.

[boxwinebaddie]

i'm halfway through this ask meme abt ravenstan staying at the broflovski house for the great hate south park embark and i cannot tell you how much it thrills me that rm!sheila went from hating ravenstan's guts and being like "you are the reason my family is in ruin; you destroyed our lives" to being like *pinches stan's cheek preciously* “this is orev :) and he's my lil matok sheli superstar <3" ft. stan beaming and her constantly mom-whacking jerseykyle with the kochlefl and reprimanding him for 'letting her son in law get away' like not even Raven Of Crimson Dawn but her Literal SON IN LAW.

anyways...branch in my EYE.

[c4n1d43cup1d]

Some hogcanons. notes (me rambling) under the cut

So silver was the reason i wanted to make this in the first place despite him looking the most on model (not entirely obviously, but i don't have many hcs for him). Mostly i wanted to draw his height compared to the other hedgehogs since him being freakishly tall despite being younger than sonic and shadow is funny. I saw someone say hes probably the most conventionally attractive hedgehog and i think that's true, hes a pretty boy and his fur/quills are really sleek and well maintained. The fluff on his chest is less spikey and more fluffy looking plus i put some fluff in his ears as well. I think his paws and nails are black and he doesn't wear eyeliner his lashes are just really long and hes got black markings on his eyes. Coming back to this after writing Amy's desc but i think hes genderqueer in some way idk maybe bigender i need to study him under a microscope some more every character i touch becomes transgender

Sonic has a few more added details, i like giving him a little nick in his ear and top surgery scars because that hog is trans. I haven't really seen many people give him stylized top surgery scars surprisingly, i tried to make his look kind of lightning bolty because uh something about him being fast. idk man. i think i imagined its similar to what itd look like for him to run in a zigzag? whatever i think it looks cool. I think his claws are kind of uneven and he doesn't really care too much about how they look especially since he just has them under gloves most of the time

Amy is fat because i said so, also i gave her wavier quills and heart markings everywhere. Her ears might look a little strange since it like implies her skin is making that heart shape but i imagine thats her fur spiking into the point. Her nails are painted the same red that shadows markings and stuff are mostly because i think them being besties is cute like. i see shadamy as a queer platonic relationship. Theyve always been my favorites im going to to make them as close as i want. Anyway, i think she and sonic are tied for having the shortest ears, and hers are the rounest (might make them even rounder the next time i draw her) also not entirely related to her design but i think shes transfem and genderfluid.

Shadow my son. im taking custody from black doom and gerald. anyway, i have the most headcanons for him because he is my absolute favorite guy ever he rots my brain. I think he and Amy are the same height, his rocket shoes are like platform/heels and so when he has them on he looks like Sonic's height or maybe a teeny tiny bit taller. I give his quills extra little spikes for no reason other than i think its cute, i could bullshit that its a black arms thing but idrc. What are black arms things though are his eyes and claws, his scelera is a more yellow compared to everyone elses (jaundiced as my friend put it. thanks endy) and i didn't draw it but his pupils are slits. Claws are long but are even longer when all the way out (retractable) his gloves are thick enough that he doesn't pierce them but he probably has a few spare pairs. Also not pictured but black arms related: his teeth are fucking razors, larger than the other hedgehogs and also serrated because i think thats cool. his tail is the longest out of all of them though i think it used to be longer but was lopped off in the name of science and never properly grew back. also his inhibitor rings are connected to a sort of device that does the task of being a proper gateway between his internal energy and the rings themselves, i didn't draw them but essentially its like a smaller ring that is embedded into his wrists i think. also hes trans but in a sort of alien way, i think the black arms can do the clownfish genderswap thing and shadow has it to a somewhat lesser degree its like an internal tshot i guess idfk

ok yeah thats all if u made it to the end thanks for reading the ramblings of a mad man

[lightxsheep71]

Hi sheep! Its StrawberryWritezz! I have a few questions for you

1. How do you feel about fanart? :0

2. In relation to art question, can you describe what N and Uzi look like for reference?

3. Whats your writing process?

1. i LOVE fan art! i've gotten a couple of pieces of fan art inspired by tiny angels already and i've been absolutely floored by it every time. you honestly don't even have to ever ask my permission to make art inspired by my fics, all i ask is that if you're posting it somewhere you include a link to the fic.

2. nolan: 6'2, white, same curly hair as he has in canon but more of a pale blond than straight-up white, amber eyes, heart-shaped face, muscular (he's not like, ripped, but he ain't scrawny either)

uzi: 4'11, asian (japanese/mongolian), olive skin, also the same hair colour/style she has in the show, grey eyes (but a very dark grey, like, almost black), round face, freckles, blonde eyebrows (she bleaches them), slim body type. it's also mentioned a few times in the fic that she's heavily pierced and tattooed, so here's specifically what i imagine her to have -

piercings:

left eyebrow

right side of nose

septum ring

snake bites

tongue

she has a lot of piercings on her ears too but i haven't thought specifically about what she'd have so just take some creative liberties with that i guess

she used to have her nipples & belly button done too but unless you're drawing her naked it isn't really relevant lmao

tattoos:

octopus on left shoulder/upper arm

gothic cathedral sleeve on right upper arm

vampire bat across chest

laser gun on lower stomach

constellations on the top of her foot (specifically the ones for cancer, sagittarius, capricorn, and gemini - yes this will make sense later. she also gets more constellations on her other foot at some point)

deftones "white pony" album cover on forearm

a crow somewhere (i'm thinking right below the octopus maybe)

patchwork sleeve on her thigh of caps from various anime/manga she likes (eg. serial experiments lain, oyasumi punpun, neon genesis evangelion, & junji ito's uzumaki, to name a few)

the date of her and n’s wedding anniversary on her left ring finger

a really ugly poorly done stick n poke of a skull and crossbones on her wrist that she did in high school but has never gotten removed or covered up despite how shitty it is because she sees it as a part of her that tells a story

at some point after her daughter is born (since pregnant women can't get tattooed) she gets an american traditional style portrait of her late tarantula on her shoulder blade. she also gets a tattoo for her daughter buuuuut i can't say what specifically it is because #spoilerz

she probably has way more, these are just the ones i've put thought into, however most of these would probably be a complete bitch to draw so if you wanna give her different tattoos or even forgo the tattoos entirely i would not be mad LOL. n and uzi's marriage in my fic is so funny to me... a goth baddie and the most normal guy ever

3. this is a pretty vague question haha but i'll try and give a generalized answer. the number one rule i have for myself (and the biggest piece of advice i can give to other writers) is to only write when i feel like writing. the reason i've been able to update tiny angels as frequently as i have (idgaf what anyone says, 100k words in 3 months on top of grad school and a job is damn productive) is because it's a fic i feel excited about and have a lot of ideas for. on average i'm able to post a new chapter within 2-5 days, but there's also been a few incidents where it's taken me a week or two. when this happens, it doesn't always mean i've been too busy to write, it usually means i either A) didn't know what i wanted to write or B) didn't feel like writing. or both.

if i feel excited about writing something (and this could be anything, from fanfic to essays for school - yes i am that nerd who gets genuinely excited to write essays), i will shit it out in no time at all. i see a lot of posts by other fic writers about being excited to write only to then open and stare at a blank google doc for hours on end, and i can sympathize with this to an extent but can't relate to it at all, because if i'm looking forward to getting my next chapter out there, the words will literally just flow from my fingertips and onto the document. sounds cliché, but it's true. if i'm forcing myself to write when i don't actually want to, then i'm putting out something that's less than the best work i can do. at the risk of sounding selfish and ungrateful, i'd much rather keep my readers frustratedly waiting for a new chapter and have it turn out great than deliver a lackluster, mediocre chapter just because people got tired of waiting. think of it this way: if you wake up early enough in the morning, you'll have time to make yourself a nutritious, filling, and tasty breakfast. bacon cooked to perfection, eggs prepared whatever way you like them, a stack of fluffy pancakes doused in maple syrup, a bowl of fresh fruit, coffee with just the right amount of milk and sugar (or tea if that's what you prefer, or freshly squeezed orange juice if caffeine's not your thing). if you wake up late, you'll throw a slice of bread in the toaster, slap some butter on it, scarf it down and head out to work, school, or wherever it is you need to be. both options are edible, sure, but one probably sounds much more enjoyable than the other, right?

something else i do is never coming up with an excuse not to write, even if i'm in a situation where i'm typically not "supposed" to be writing. as creatives, we can't control when or where inspiration hits, and if we don't log our ideas immediately, they can leave us just as quickly as they came to us. i have these little mini-notebooks that i bring with me everywhere along with pens, so that if inspiration strikes when i don't have access to a computer, i can just physically scribble down whatever i'm thinking and transfer it to a google doc later. this especially comes in handy when i'm at work - i don't think i'm exaggerating when i say probably about half of tiny angels was written while i was on the clock, LOL.

also: i never don't proof read. proof reading is helpful for not only catching grammar, spelling, punctuation, and continuity mistakes, but making sure i'm effectively conveying whatever it is i want to convey. i can't tell you the amount of times i've re-read a chapter before publishing it and decided to throw in an extra sentence or even just an extra word because even the finest of details can make a HUGE difference in impact. it also helps me to realize if i've repeated the same word too many times in a single chapter - for example, before publishing chapter 18, i read through it and noticed that i had used the word "completely" about 5 or 6 times. so i went back and swapped out some of those instances of the word for a different word with the same meaning - something like "utterly," "definitely," "totally," "entirely," etc. now, the word "completely" only appears twice within the chapter (and it's within the same sentence, which is intentional). a varied vocabulary is so, so important!

on that note: DESCRIPTIVE LANGUAGE. SIMILES. METAPHORS. these things are your best friends. use them, but don't over-use them. not every single sentence of your fic needs to be poetic prose, there's no shame in the occasional simple "He sighs." or "She shrugs." but a total lack of poetic language isn't going to make your story memorable and it sure as hell isn't going to evoke strong emotions in your readers (which is exactly what you're trying to do as a writer). for example, take this short paragraph from chapter 18:

Jade's eyebrows twitch up briefly and her eyes flash with something that almost looks like anger, as if she can't believe her brother would dare to challenge her like this. But just as quickly as it appeared, the indignation in her expression evaporates, her face frosting over with indifference instead.

now imagine if i had written this instead:

Jade briefly looks angry, but her face quickly becomes indifferent instead.

both betray more or less the same thing - that jade is mad at nolan, but is pretending not to be by pulling a poker face. however, the first one is much more immersive, and actually gives the reader an accurate glimpse into how jade is feeling during this moment. every word i've written here was carefully cherrypicked to make a statement about jade's character. "flash", for example. what else flashes? lightning flashes. ambulance & police lights flash. flashing indicates danger. the indignation in her expression doesn't just "go away," it "evaporates." evaporation is the process of a liquid turning into a gas. gases can be toxic. jade is toxic to nolan. her face doesn't just become indifferent, it "frosts over." frost occurs in the coldest months of winter, when temperatures reach below freezing. jade's personality can absolutely be described as cold. she assumes an unfriendly, emotionless demeanour here to conceal her true feeling, which is anger - thus, the word "frost" is appropriate. that post about how "the author just meant that the curtains were blue" couldn't be further from the truth - every word that went into this line had at least some layer of intent behind it.

that was a really fucking long winded answer. i'm sorry. tldr: write whenever you feel like writing but ONLY when you feel like writing, proof read, try to avoid repetition, use poetic devices but don't abuse them.

oh, and lighting either a scented candle or some incense while i write. i have no clue why it helps, but it does. 👍

[frostbittenfemme]

Wild pulls away and stares up at Ironhide. “Wait.. if you’re here.. For fuck sake I’m actually dead aren’t I?!” The medic throws her hands up in the air and begins yelling up at sky. “You could have at least let me finish what I started Primus!” Pacing back and forth the small femme glares up at the starry sky and begins to screech. “Mahthakulsoha! Dak sutoku muz loru poch tiyem kimi muz okla ni chetsuez! Nyriwhi  kimi bakiru berue za zaipaiku zasoshi kochi ni reizmotan ozhora!” (Motherfucker! How dare he get away with what he put me through! Primus you can eat a spike and kiss my frosty aft!”) Booming laughter erupts from the weaponsmith as he watches the small femme’s tantrum unfold, snowball after snowball being formed and pelted at anything and everything within her sight. Usually her anger is something not to be trifled with, but this? This was tame and cute and absolutely hilarious for the large mech to witness, so much so that Ironhide was practically doubled over from laughing when Wild finally took notice.

“Why are you laughing?!” Wild yells, Kaonian accent much more prominent in her voice. “It’s not funny! “ She stomps, throwing a snowball at Ironhide, promptly ceasing his laughter with a grunt which quickly turns into a loud shriek as snow works its way under plating. “That’s fragging cold!”  

Wild watches as the weaponsmith squirms, desperately trying to dislodge the snow stuck in his kibble, only for it to fall beneath his pedes causing him to slip and come crashing down amongst the flowers. It isn’t the first time Ironhide has fell in front of her, nor is it the first time he’s fell because of her snow and ice; usually its met with concern and a rush to help him up, but this time the medic approaches slowly, looming over him as cracks start showing in her angry façade. A small smile forms on her face, one that she desperately tries to cover her intake with a servo, poorly attempting to stifle her laughter. Yet no matter how hard she try it isn’t long until she can’t restrain her outburst of melodious laughter. Even while laughing Wild extends out an arm to the large mech which is swiftly met by one of his own, her dainty servo and wrist enveloped completely by his. Ironhide has no intention in letting her pull him up, as soon as she tries the weaponsmith gives her a firm yank causing Wild to come crashing down on top of him. Wild let’s out a surprised squeak as she comes crashing down on top of him, the femme’s laughter dying down as she moves to rest upon the large mech’s chest, her spark tugging in its casing, pulling to be closer with his own. One of Ironhide’s arms instinctively wrap around her petite frame, servo resting over the bundle of scars and dead metal that are nestled between what remains of her wing stubs. Large digits idly trace patterns over the scarring and instantly he feels the tension in her frame dissipate. He can’t help but wonder when the last time she truly relaxed was; knowing her it was a long time ago and it wasn’t for very long either. Wild’s expression softens as a frigid servo reaches up and idly begin to rub at his finial and face plating, thumb gently stroking over the scarred metal by his optic. She can’t help but smile as the weaponsmith leans into her servo, a low rumbling purr emanating from his chest as she moves closer to his helm. The medic plants a kiss on his bottom lipplate, atop the scarring from where one of his fangs were knocked out in a bar brawl. One kiss however quickly turns into a litany, each one on a different part of his helm, drawing out a deep chuckle from the mech A huff of warm air puffs from his snout, drawing out tickled laughter from the medic. For a while they just hold one another, completely content with each other’s company. No words need to be said as their EM fields entwine; the chaos of hers soothed by the calmness of his as Ironhide runs his digit over the gem laden ring that decorates Wild’s digit. It warms his spark that she still wears it, even after all this time. The weaponsmith lets out a tired exvent as he sits up amongst the flowers. Wild moves with him, sliding into his lap as she lets out a confused chirp. For a brief moment he looks down at her as she tilts her helm to the side. This is going to be much harder than he had imagined. Large servos come to rest on the femme’s hips as he lifts and pushes her away to the side, his EM field radiating unease. Wild reaches out to him, but it only prompts Ironhide to move further away, getting to his pedes and putting some distance between them. It pains him to do so when all they both want is to be together. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Wild asks. Ironhide is silent for a few moments as he tries to compose himself. He knows she isn’t going to back down without a fight, the stubborn little thing she is. “Do you trust me?” Ironhide responds. “What kind of question is that?” Wild scoffs. Does she trust him? How absurd. “Wild.” He growls, refusing to look at her. He knows if he looks into her optics he’ll give into her. She has always had him wrapped around her digit, not that he’s ever minded that. It’s just that in this moment he needs to be the one in charge. Is he serious? The femme stands up and approaches him, reaching up for his arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

 The weaponsmith recoils away, putting more space between them. “Please don’t. You’ll only make this harder than it needs to be.” He comments. Wild crosses her arms, pulling them tightly against her frame, tucking her servos as close as possible. “Harder than it needs to be?!” She snaps back. “What the frag is that supposed to mean?”  

Ignoring her outburst, Ironhide remains focused on the task at hand. “I ask again. Do you trust me?” “You’re my conjunx! Of course I trust you, with all my spark. You know this!”  She yells. “Ironhide! What is going on?” “You have unfinished business and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t finish it.. If you don’t do it then you know what Flatline is going to do.”  He explains. “.. What are you saying?” Once again Wild approaches, each of her steps prompting Ironhide to take a couple of his own. He doesn’t need to see her to know she’s upset; he can feel it. Static charging in her EM field as the molecules in the atmosphere around them shift. He needs to wrap this up. “I can’t take you with me femme. I’m sorry but I can’t.” An explosion of light erupts from behind where Ironhide is standing, forcing the small femme to raise her arms in front of her face; a poor attempt at trying to shield her optics from the blinding light. Rays of light pierce through the gaps in her digits, shining into her optics as she desperately tries to peek through not wanting to lose sight of her conjunx as he turns to walk toward the infinite white that beckons him. Despite being unable to see the femme refuses to let it stop her, bursting into a sprint towards the large mech. “Ironhide! Wait!” She pleads as gusts of winds gusts kick up out of nowhere. A ferocious gale hurtles towards the small femme, tearing blue petals from the floral field around her ankles. The wind catches her, slamming into her in a vicious take down completely knocking her to the ground amongst the flowers.

Wild finds herself rendered frozen to the spot, as if some ethereal force has wrapped itself around her, restraining her from any movement. Yet Wild refuses to give in, thrashing about in desperation, frustrated and panicked cries being drowned out by the wind. It relents enough to let her stand.

Ironhide turns to look back, the howling whirlwinds rushing past his tall frame as if they were nothing more than a gentle breeze. “Femme!”  He calls out to the small femme, his voice carried straight to her on the wind. Wild completely focusing on him, her futile attempts at escape slowing but not ceasing. Putting on a brave face Ironhide tilts his helm to the side, flashing a crooked fanged grin to the medic. The same crooked fanged grin that made her fall in love with him all those millennia ago. “Make sure you raise hell and make him suffer!”  He instructs, taking one final look at her, pushing past the pangs of sadness that makes his own spark ache. “Ta koily kimi, veihno zasoshi davsegde Umkuhalivusa.” (I love you, forever and always my frozen fire.) It takes all of his willpower to turn and walk away, ignoring Wild’s frantic cries and yells to him and much like the day he died; the last words he hears from her as he’s enveloped by the infinitely bright white light. “Please don’t go!”

“I don’t want to be alone..” Wild whimpers, barely audible to even herself. Her whole frame shaking as she writhes and thrashes. Wild has wanted nothing more than to be able to spend time with the weaponsmith after she lost him, yet here she is; losing him once again. As soon as he disappears from her sight, that ethereal force restraining her instantaneously disappears, releasing her from its grasp. Without hesitation Wild scrambles towards the light, petals pelting her frame as she fights against the direction of the wind. She stumbles a few times, yet continues to persevere, finding her footing over and over again until she’s so close she can almost touch the edge. The frigid femme thrusts her servo into the light, only to be blasted backwards as the aura explodes. Fragments of light scatter, hurtling themselves at the femme. Wild flinches as something pummels her frame repeatedly making impact after impact. For a few moments she’s simply confused, until that familiar nipping feelings begins to work its way around her frame, getting stronger with each impact. She looks herself over, watching as large clusters of snowflakes collide with her. Wild barely has time to register she’s in the middle of a blizzard when the searing pain returns in her spark chamber. Once again it quickly spreads through her frame, searing and burning flowing through her fuel lines as if her energon is molten lava.   The medic lets out an agonized screech as metal shreds itself open, energon pouring out as her frame morphs back into the state that brought her here in the first place. Temperature warnings flood her HUD, alerting and flashing over and over. Her legs are first to give out, collapsing beneath her, unable to carry her through the agony of her injuries. Exposed wiring sparks, hissing as power surges through her circuits. Her optics flicker in time with the sparking of wiring,  ‘Danger to life’ warnings flash up on her HUD as her vision fizzes out, plummeting her into darkness. All she can hear is the roaring blizzard surrounding her as her tortured frame coaxes her to succumb. If she just gives in, it’ll all be over. There will be no more pain, no more suffering, she’ll be free. Death makes a tempting offer, yet even in her anguished and agonised state Wild still refuses to give in. She will NOT be beaten by that bastard Flatline. An excruciating cry bubbles in the femme’s throat as she forces her optics to reboot. Just like before they flicker as the light from them desperately fights to stay online. She can only hope her SOS reached someone.

[thatblackravenclaw]

Match Un-Maker

Blog Details + Library

author note: i once again wrote this in class and if its bad once again let's blame it on my lack of sobriety 💀

Steve Rogers x black!fem!reader

au: matchmaking gone wrong

word count: 3.1k

warning(s): cursing, badly written training scene, unrequited love, special guest (matt murdock), sort of 4th wall break, reader is called doll, oral (fem recieving), aftercare, fluff

.

.

.

“You’ll like her, Steve.”

“Why do you keep trying to get me to go on a date?”

“Because you haven’t dated anyone since the 40s. I get irritated when I haven’t been laid in a week.” He laughs at this as he continues to wrap his knuckles.

I don’t get why he doesn’t want to date anybody. I know women now are different then the women back then, but that honestly can’t be the only reason why.

We move over to the punching bag, and I hold it from the other side.

“I actually do like someone.” My ears perk up at this.

“Who is it? Do they work here? Do I know them?” I unconsciously move my hands from the bag and almost get knocked over when he lands a punch.

“Why can’t we ever just train?”

I step to the side so he can see my face. “Because you’re the only one not dating someone. Nat is dating Bucky, Tony’s engaged to Pepper, Bruce is married to Betty, Clint is-“

“Okay, I get it.” He exasperates with an eye roll.

“Let’s take this to the ring.” I say with a smile.

He makes his way to the ring while I go over to my cubby to take my jacket off. I turn around and see him standing in the middle and it’s like a spotlight is on him. The room looks brighter in a sense. Has he always been this pretty?

I put my braids in a bun and make my way toward the ring.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, Rogers?” A smirk wipes on my face. He lets out a chuckle before taking his stance.

“You never answered my questions,” I state while dodging his lunge.

“I’m not saying, yes, and yes.” He lands a hit on my gut. I barely feel it as my brain is otherwise occupied at the hints I was just given. His left side is free, so I take this chance to force him into submission and hold his arm back.

“If you tell me, I’ll let you go.” He grunts as I’m only one step away from breaking his arm.

“I can do this all day,” he grunts out. I pull his arm back harder. He lets out a yell.

“Come on, Rogers. You either tap out and lose or say who it is and lose.”

“Sharon.”

My heart drops. I let go of his arm ad hop down. My heart hurts. Why does my heart hurt? I don’t even like Steve. His leg swoops mine and I fall. He locks my hands above me and keeps my body locked between his legs.

“Are you satisfied?” His turn to smirk. My face grows warm at his words and the position we’re in. Fuck, I have a crush on Steve.

I lift both my legs in between his arms and turn us over until my crotch is basically eye level with his face. His grip on my wrists loosen and I lean back.

“I can do this all day.” I throw back at him before standing up and lending him a hand.

“If you’re both done flirting, we have a mission.” I roll my eyes at Tony’s smart ass tone before bending under the ropes. Neither of us bothers to respond to him as we leave the gym.

.          .          .

The walk back to our rooms is silent. Not uncomfortable, but silent. That’s a half lie. I don’t know how to feel around him. We turn the corner and Sharen is right by my door. She’s a close friend of mine, but right now seeing her is making me sick.

“Hi, bitch,” I say with a smile as we reach her.

“Hi, slut. I come with good news.” I raise my eyebrows in intrigue. “You don’t have to go to today’s mission.” This actually brings a genuine smile to spread across my face.

“I don’t care how, so I’m just going to say thank you. I have good news for you too.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “I got you a date.” I see Steve’s body stiffen in the corner of my eye.

“No.”

“Hey y/n, I’ll see you later.” He waves awkwardly at Sharon before rushing off. I shrug it off as nerves and open my bedroom door.

“Come on, Shar. He’s smart and funny and a bit old fashioned.”

“Y/n, I love you, but you are the worst matchmaker.”

I feign hurt and drop my jaw in fake disbelief.

“I will have you know that I’m practically cupid. Look how happy Nat and Bucky are! Also, the only reason Tony and Pep are together is because I convinced her to get that dress to get Tony’s attention.”

“You fail to mention how Pep and Tony have been off and on for years and Bucky and Nat have been rocky ever since he saw her kissing Steve.”

“Hey! That was for a mission, and they got it cleared up. Look, if this date doesn’t work out then I won’t bother you again about your dating life.”

She stares at me, contemplating for a few seconds before agreeing. There’s that sick feeling again. We only talk for a few more minutes before she goes to do some paper work. After she leaves, I’m left alone with my thoughts. I walk around my room before going for my phone. Its only ringing for a few seconds before he answers.

“Hello?” I let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi Matty.”

.          .          .

“Why didn’t we work out, Matt?” I sadly sigh before taking another shot.

“Because you’re in love with Captain America.” I slap his arm before scolding him. “Ow, what the fuck? I’m pretty sure its frowned upon to abuse a blind person.”

“You fight the scums of the earth for a living plus you’re a vigilante. I think you’ll be fine. Besides, I didn’t realize that I have a crush,” I put emphasis on the last three words, “until earlier today.”

“That’s true, but me and the rest of society realized you love,” he puts emphasis on the last word, “a year and a half ago.”

“You’re lying.” I shake my head and signal the bartender to make me another drink.

Matt adjust himself in his seat before opening his mouth.

“He’s going on this date with Sharon, right?”

I nod my head while saying yes.

“Sharon was here last week and was talking to Karen about how annoying it is to be single in a compound full of couples, especially you and Steve, because you guys act more like a couple than anyone else.”

No we don’t. Do we? I swear we act like Clint and Natasha. Obviously not them in the comics. Or are we?

“Sounds like I’ve given you a lot to think about, so I’m going to go do my nightly duties.” He says with his famous Murdock smile.

We stand up and I wrap my arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you, Matty. You always know how to make my brain go into overdrive.” A comfortable laugh escapes the both of us. “Stay safe. You have super hearing, not super healing.”

“There you go bragging about your powers again.”

“Eh, you’re just jealous.” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” His eyes crinkle as his smile reaches his eyes.

We say our goodbyes one last time before we go our separate ways.

.          .          .

“So which power did you get first?” Nat asks while stealing one of my fries.

“Interestingly enough, it was flight. I was in like the 10th grade when my sister didn’t want to take me to get a navel piercing, so I sat there and wishes I could fly and next thing I knew, I was five feet in the air.” I lightly hit her hand as she reaches for another fry.

“So did you get it?”

“What?”

“The piercing?”

“Oh, yeah. For free too. The piercer has a crush on me.”

“I wanna see!”

“Nat, I don’t even know where that boy is. Probably arrested for being a pedophile.”

She gives me a pointed look to which I respond with a giggle. I stand up and lift my top right below my bust and pull my shorts just low enough to reveal the blue butterfly accessory.

“Oh shit. Why don’t you show it off more often?”

“Because I live at my job,” I say with a laugh. We hear voices come from the foyer and we duck down behind the bar.

“I’m sorry Sharon, but I can’t go on the date with you.” I probably shouldn’t be listening to this.

“I don’t know why you agreed. Everyone knows you like y/n. Well, everyone except her.” I look over at Nat and see her nod her head in agreement. What the fuck is going on?

I stand from behind the counter. Both of their heads snap towards me.

“Steve,” confusion clear in my tone.

I can’t quite place his emotion. Something between shock, fear, and relief.

“Well, on that note, I’m going to leave you two love birds alone.” Sharon says while making a brisk exist.

“Me too.” Nat exclaims as she goes out the other exit. My attention is still on him.

“Steven Grant Rogers. Who would’ve thought.”

“Here we go.”

“Oh no, I’m going to relish in this. America’s poster boy has a crush on me.”

“Do you really have to-“

“Captain America has a crush on me.”

“Y/n-“

“Mr. ‘I can do this all day’ has a crush on me.”

“Okay! We get it.”

I let out a laugh at his tone. He actually looks really cute all flustered and annoyed.

“Can you reject me like an adult so we can both move on with our lives.” He timidly looks down and starts fiddling with one of the couch pillows. I sit down next to him, lean back, and throw my legs over his.

“Why would I do that? Then I wouldn’t get to go around bragging that I’m dating Captain America.” He sharply looks up into my eyes.

“You’re serious,” He says between a question and a statement.

I glance to his lips and back up to his eyes. I find that his eyes are already on mine. I take a small breath before leaning in and lightly pecking him on the lips. I pull back and avoid eye contact. I can’t believe I made the first move. I never make the first move.

He takes my cheek in his palm and reconnects our lips. My heart is beating through my chest as I shift my body closer to his. His arms wrap around my waist and put me on his lap where my legs are on both of his thighs. I moan into his mouth when he thrusts his hips against mine.

“Wait,” I say startled. My eyes scan the room, looking in every corner.

“We’re being watched.” I look back at Steve and see his face completely flushed. His lips are tinted red and he’s breathing hard. Fuck. I stand up and offer him my hand. He takes it and I practically run to his room.

.          .          .

“What do you mean we’re being watched?”

“Stark has cameras up and down that room. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to end up on a porn site.”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Which website would it be on?”

I slap him chest and move over to his bed. I take a look around his room. Looks straight out of the 40s. Not in a bad way. Very picturesque. Some baseball posters are posted along the wall by the windows. Instead of a tv, he has a giant pull down projector.

“So what I’m hearing is you don’t mind getting fucked on camera.”

I open my legs as he gets closer to the bed. He positions himself in between my thighs and plays with the belt hoops of my shorts. His fingers graze over the button before unclasping it and slowly unzips my shorts, I lift my hips and he shimmy’s them off of my legs and tosses them beside the bed. I’m unable to maintain my breathing as my panties meet the same fate.

“Can I try something,” He asks while his eyes are practically begging. I nod my head yes. His face gets closer to my heat. I feel my face warm up and I lean back and close my eyes.

“Sorry doll, but I’m not gonna continue unless you keep your pretty eyes open.”

My eyes flutter open and meet his deep blue ones. Our eye contact doesn’t break as the top of his tongue meets my clit My hand reaches into his hair in reflex. His eyes close as he continues to lick clit. A wave of arousal floods through me. I feel my slick trickle out of me. His tongue goes lower until it reaches my entrance. He starts licking up my arousal and reaches his arm around my thigh so he can rub my clit. My thighs begin to quiver, and I clench around nothing.

“Please,” I whimper.

He pulls away from my pussy which in turn causes me to groan at the loss.

“Please what, doll?” I’m met with a smirk. Cocky little shit.

“Please make me cum.”

Without hesitation, his mouth is back on my clit, and he inserts his index finger in my pussy. My hips start to meet his thrusts and holds them down with his free arm. My moans fill the room, and it occurs to me that whoever is close enough can hear us, but I can’t find myself to care as Steve moans around my clit. The vibrations make me enclose Steve’s face in my thighs. He sucks harder and my band snaps as I cum all over his fingers. My shirt sticks to my skin and my body feels like it’s on fire. His head peeks up at me. His hair is stuck to his forehead and his mouth is covered in my slick. God, I wish I had a camera.

“You okay?”

I let out a contend sigh in response.

“Do you think they heard?” I ask, becoming shy all of a sudden.

“Probably.” I put my head in my hands.

“I can’t believe I’m doing the walk of shame this early in the day.”

“You can stay in there if you want. Deal with the ‘shame’ tomorrow.”

I sigh and shake my head while standing up.

“I would, but my hair stuff is in my room and I only plan to do the walk of shame once.” Where are my shorts again?

I hear shuffling from behind me as I bend down to pick up my panties. I could’ve sworn he had put them in the same spot. I hear a smack which is then filled with a wave of pain. I stand up and look at him.

“Did you just-“

“I was curious. It jiggles.”

I start to chase after him. He practically jumps out the door. I’m right on him when he suddenly stops. As we catch our breath, we look at each other and bust out laughing. I hold his arm as I’m bent over laughing. I feel the heat rush across my face.

A whistle is heard behind me, followed by a “nice ass y/n.” from Sam. I look down and realize that I never ended up finding my shorts. I hurry and let Steve and I into my room. He goes in first while I enter behind and flip Sam off before closing the door.

Steve is walking around my room looking at the decorations that adorn my walls and the books that are stacked neatly in my bookcase. I let him continue to look around while I get my stuff gathered to take a shower.

While I put my hair in a bun, I catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyebrow raises in confusion.

“I’m getting ready to take a shower. Do you want to join me?” My voice laced with innocence and seduction, knowing what’s going to happen if he says yes.

“If I ever say no to that, slap me.”

.          .          .

“What’s this for?” He asks as he picks up my foam hair lotion.

“My hair. It has somewhat of a purpose. I just use it because it feels good on my scalp.” I go to reach for it, but his grip tightens around the bottle.

“Can I do it?” My heart warms. I nod my head and turn to sit in front of my floor mirror.

“How much,” he asks as he starts spraying it in his hand.

“I usually fill my palm, but yours is bigger than mine-“ I look up at him through the mirror and see that he has already filled his hands with the substance. I giggle as he just stares at his palm.

“Too much?” He asks with a chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll die if you put a lot. Start at the top of my head and run it through the braids.”

I close my eyes as he follows my instructions. His touch sends shivers down my spine. The sound of the foam crunching reaches my ears and I almost fall asleep right then and there. This goes on for another minute or so before I feel his fingers completely leave my head. I open my eyes and notice that all the foam is gone. I turn around to thank him and find him already looking at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His smile doesn’t widen, but his eyes now have a twinkle.

He goes to wash his hands. I can’t but follow him. I sit on the counter and watch him squirt the cotton candy scented soap into his palm.

“So, how long have you had a crush on me?”

The bashful look on his face almost makes me laugh as we have been walking around my room naked for the past fifteen minutes.

“When did you?” He asks.

“I asked first.”

“I’m older.”

“AH, NO YOU are NOT! I’M OLDER, YOU WERE JUST BORN FIRST!”

“Do you hear yourself, doll?”

I do and from an outsider’s point of view, I would sound dumb, but I’m right! He was born first, but he went into the water when he was 27 so physically he’s 32 but I’m 34.

“Why can’t you answer the question?” I ask as I deflect his question.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s 6 in the evening.” I deadpan.

“I didn’t say we had to go to sleep.”

“God, you men only think with your dicks.” I hop off the counter and walk my happy as to the bed, turning off the lights before getting in.

author note 2: it's canon that he's liked her since they met.

[sassylassy123]

The Sun And The Moon

Chapter 4 - Swayamvar

"Now what shall I do. He won't follow my advice for sure." Divyanshi dumped the cloak and walked in the corridor of the palace. She bumped into a huge person, "You blind motherfu-" she looked at the man. "Oh!" It was him.

"I am sorry." he said.

"Oh no! I apologise, Angraj. I was being stupid." she tried to hide the fact that she just swore at him. She hoped he didn't hear her. She tried to leave but was stopped.

"Wait!" he held her wrist, "Do you know who does this ring belong to?" he held out a ruby ring.

She was surprised to see her ring, it must've fallen when she was stalking him. 'Oh no! Save me, Lord! He'll know.' "I-"

"Sakhi!" she heard Krishnn's sweet voice, "Here you are! I was searching for you everywhere."

"I was just wandering here." she smiled. 'Thank you for saving me.'

He smiled and turned to Karn. "What happened, Angraj?" he asked.

"I just wanted to return this ring to its owner but I can't seem to find her, Vaasudev." Karn replied.

"I know who's ring this is." Krishnn said.

'He's going to lie! He's going to lie! He's going to lie!' She hoped.

"It's her ring. Am I right, Sakhi?" he said.

It was almost a dramatic scene. Karn's gaze were fixed at her, she was staring Krishnn and then there was him, who was innocently looking at Karn. "It belongs to you?" Karn almost smiled.

'Why is he smiling?' she wondered, "Yes, it does."

"Is there a problem?" asked Krishnn.

"She came to me in disguise and 'threatened' me to not participate on behalf of Duryodhan." Karn complaint.

"Ok, it was not a threat. I just gave you a suggestion." she defended.

"And why would you 'suggest' me?" he asked. Divyanshi was glaring at him for wrong accusations. An axe was needed to break the tension between them.

"Because she knows the future." Krishnn broke the tension.

"What?" Karn asked, "How is that possible?"

"Why can't it be possible?" Krishnn smiled, "I'll leave you two here." he left.

"So you were trying to protect me? From what?" Karn inquired.

"I can't tell you yet." Divyanshi answered, "I will explain you later."

"Later? When?" he asked again.

"You ask so many question? Just give me my ring back." she tried to get her ring back but he raised it high.

"I'll return it to you when the right time comes." he smirked.

"Not funny. Give it to me!" she stood on her tip toes.

"Not happening." he turned around and walked away.

"Pathetic!" she rolled her eyes.

"You are here! I found you." Draupadi called her, "Where were you?"

"I was just roaming here but I want to talk to you about something." Divyanshi said.

"You must wait, I am sorry. The swayamvar is about to start." Draupadi took her hand and Divyanshi had to follow her.

"It's important." Divyanshi protested but no luck.

They reached, "Sit beside me." Draupadi smiled.

"That's my seat." Dhrishtadyum rebelled.

"Can't you adjust for a few hours. You can sit here as much as you want after the swayamvar." Draupadi spoke.

"I will manage but at least listen to me." Divyanshi said.

"Oh! I am sorry I left you there. I was scarred." Amruta dragged her away from Draupadi.

"Amruta, babe, I need to talk to her." Divyanshi boiling with impatience but the announcement interrupted her.

The rules were explained. Kings and Princes participated to test their luck but failed miserably. Divyanshi had to sit down, she found an empty seat beside Krishnn and joined him. Watching the Kings and Princes failing was boring, she knew what was going to happen and wished if she could record everything. She spotted five Brahmins and immediately knew who they were. She glanced at Draupadi and she caught her looking at her. Divyanshi smiled playfully and signed at the Brahmins. Draupadi was red.

"I hope he follows my advice." she wished. She looked at the sad face of Duryodhan, who looked at Karn hopefully.

"Is there no archer who has the ability to fulfill this task?" asked King Drupad.

Everyone looked down, it was Duryodhan who was smirking; he clearly was upto something. He stood up but was cut by Dhrishtadyum, "Yuvraj Duryodhan, you have already participated. You cannot participate again."

"You can say 'failed miserably'." Divyanshi muttered and Krishnn hid his laughter.

Duryodhan blabbered about the competition being biased. He wanted the competition to be about wrestling, the duo couldn't stop snickering. "Angraj Karn will be participating on my behalf and win Draupadi for me."

Divyanshi's grin disappeared when she saw Karn actually getting up. "Is he stupid? I warned him."

"He is an 'introvert'. Give him time." Krishnn said.

"Yeah, I can fix him." she glanced at Karn walking to the bow while Dhrishtadyum complained about Karn participating on behalf of Duryodhan being rubbish. Duryodhan then asked Karn to win Draupadi for himself.

"You said the same thing about Akhil." Krishnn spoke.

"Rishit was a mistake. I didn't know he would betray me." she noticed Karn picking up the bow. "Why isn't Arjun participating? Why is he not standing there? He should be here."

"Have faith and wait." he smiled.

"Stop!" yelled Draupadi before the arrow could leave the bow.

"Oh please don't do that!" Divyanshi mumbled.

"What happened, Rajkumari?" asked Karn, he was confused.

"I will not marry you." Draupadi spoke confidently.

People gasped and whispering started. They wondered why did Draupadi say such thing and some assume the reason to be about Karn's caste.

"Father, you wanted me to marry Prince Arjun. I will only marry him." she said.

"But, Prince Arjun is dead." King Drupad said and Divyanshi grinned at the statement.

"What is going on?" Duryodhan yelled.

"I will not marry Angraj." Draupadi announced.

'Great start! Now don't insult him.' Divyanshi thought.

"Why is that?" Karn snapped.

"I don't wish to marry you and I don't need to give you a reason for my decision." Draupadi spoke.

"What is going on King Drupad? Does your daughter wish to stay unmarried for life?" Duryodhan was angry.

"I am not going to marry a sutputr." Draupadi spoke and Divyanshi face palmed.

'Girl, what the hell!' Divyanshi screamed internally. She exhaled hard, "You can do this. You can do this. You have spoken in front of people before, they were double the crowd here." Divyanshi mumbled to herself.

"Yes, you can do this." Krishnn supported.

"Draupadi, if I may interject," she started and Draupadi nodded. Karn looked at her curiously, she gathered all courage and gained a smile from Krishnn. "What you said was absolutely wrong."

"But-but I am your friend." Draupadi gasped.

"Yes, that's why I am correcting you. You shouldn't have judged him based on his background. Everyone present here knows how-" she glanced at Karn, who was hiding his smile, "-brilliant he is. In fact, he is one of the greatest archer of all time."

"Thank you. Thank you for standing up for me." Karn said.

She blushed, her whole was red. She nodded and sat down. "I messed up, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. He's already looking at you." Krishnn said, "Look, he is still looking at you."

"No, I won't look. It will be obvious." she said.

"I am sorry, Angraj Karn but my daughter doesn't want to marry you." King Drupad said, "I will have to call of this event-"

"No, the swayamvar is meant to be conducted." Krishnn said.

"But how?" asked Drupad.

"If the Kshatriyas aren't able to fulfill the task, we can invite Brahmins." Krishnn suggested.

Drupad nodded and accepted. Everyone waited, Divyanshi was extremely excited to meet Arjun. Arjun stepped forward and walked to the bow. He picked the bow and aim at the fish's eye, he stared at it for a minute and the next moment the arrow had left the bow and hit the fish's eye.

"Go put the garland around you husband's neck."

Draupadi did so and everyone cheered except the Kauravs. Karn was somewhat happy looking at the person who stood up for up, he wondered if you personally meet her again to thank her again. He wondered if he should present her a gift. Divyanshi was extremely happy and secretly recorded everything with her phone.

"I am gonna miss you, Divyanshi." Draupadi said.

"It's good to hear that a gained special place in your heart in just a few hours." Divyanshi held her hands and smiled, she turned to Arjun who was in disguise. "You better take care of her and don't replace me, ok? She is my new friend and-you get it don't you?"

"Yes, I do." he said.

They left and Divyanshi's eyes were filled with tears. "Oh! Who is cutting onions?" she turned to Krishnn, wiping her tears, "So, what now?"

"We'll first meet the Kauravs and-" he smiled brightly and looked at her, "Angraj."

"You know he is not that special for me. He is not even my type." Divyanshi glanced at Karn, "He's not that bad though."

"As I was saying, we'll first meet them and go to Dwarka." Krishnn said.

"That's great! I can finally meet Rukhmini ji." she smiled.

"Here they come." he said and Shakuni greeted him.

"Pranipaat, Vaasudev. What the girl did was extremely brave. We all would love to know who she is." Shakuni asked.

Divyanshi hesitated, 'Why is he staring at my soul?'.

"She is Divyanshi." Krishnn introduced her.

"Oh! So she is the girl Karn couldn't stop talking about." Dushasan.

"What?" asked Divyanshi.

..........................

[beatriz-olivalves]

Flower Beds on Top of a Hill

He doesn’t really remember when everything went cold. It was a gradual process, though, so maybe that gives him a sort of excuse. Something like an afterthought, as if one would wonder about it after a long day of plain existence, not paying much attention to anything. 

What he does remember is feeling the unease that lingered in the air every time someone mentioned the rumors. It got worse whenever people would actually go out of their ways to talk about it, discuss it, or even argue over it. What started off as mere conspiracy whispers, which people wouldn’t even bat an eye at, then weighed down in the back of everyone’s minds in the form of desperate, hopeless wheezes. 

Aster remembers sitting by the TV in his living room and hearing the man in the news talk about the possibility of a new confrontation between nations Aster-doesn’t-care and Aster-can’t-be-bothered-to-make-an-effort-to-remember. It really was funny how, compared to how slow it took for the world to recompose itself and recover its slight sliver of hope of surviving, the people – or, should Aster say, the systems – of those two countries were so eager and fast to tear each other apart. 

Nuclear bombing was not something pleasant to be seen. Much lessen when it’s so close to home. Aster also remembers desperately grabbing his sister’s wrist and looking her straight in the eyes when he told her to flee to their parents’ house. Said it’d be safer for her there, all the way across the country. Aster remembers ignoring her claims about how it didn’t make any sense that he was sending her off when he had no intention of staying with them, but for some reason the urge to do so overcame any semblance of his critical thinking. Some nonsensical older-brotherly pride, he is now aware. He remembers receiving calls from the police after his hometown was bombarded, too. The lady over the phone spoke softly, as if she was afraid he would break after processing the news. She sounded like she might be crying, too, but maybe that was just the ringing in Aster’s ears, like air crackling with electricity. He remembers feeling empty, and he remembers being sick and staring at the remnants of yesterday’s dinner in the toilet seat. Aster remembers all of it. 

And maybe it’s good that he does. Perhaps it is the only thing that can ease his mind around the fact that he is now the only one left around. Maybe it’s good that in the last memories he has of his family, his mom, dad and sister look like real people. Healthy complexions. Functional limbs and organs. Eyes full of life. Aster reckons that he’d be more broken inside had his family been gone after exposure to the consequences of the nuclear bombs. Aster remembers telling himself to shut up, because that didn’t really matter anymore. 

If Aster let himself get back on his word from before, he does remember when everything got cold. It was around the time he started noticing the streets getting emptier. Turns out the first bombings were only the tip of the iceberg; soon after, everyone else got to feel on their skin the effects of greed, envy and thirst for power. Too bad there weren’t many people left to witness the world, much like humankind himself, crumbling to pieces. Desert streets weren’t something someone would ever dream of seeing in big cities like Wiley, and Aster knew that. Aster has started to think he didn’t know many things after all, though. 

Experiencing the death of an entire race had to be one of the most miserable things, Aster pondered one day, struggling to keep warm under all the blankets he owned and staring defeatedly at his small TV, which, with no electricity left in the country, no longer worked, not even to display static of a channel that was long ago taken off air because of the war. Aster remembers getting to the conclusion that being one of the last humans alive was also very humiliating, as if some greater force was out there, toying with his mind by showing how unimportant and ungrateful everybody had been one day. 

All Aster does is remember, as of now. Because that’s all he has left. 

Nuclear winter was a term he’d come up with to have something to call everything that was happening in the world. Or maybe it was just the country, he wouldn’t know. Nor would he survive traveling to find out. Or, he thought one day, it was maybe just Wiley, really. But Aster still doubts it to this day. He doesn’t think all the electrical storms, the acid rains, the brutal winds are all exclusive to good old Wiley. No, Aster knows at least half the globe is in shreds, not unlike Aster’s own mind. 

Eventually he had to leave his dorm, seeing as he couldn’t, for the life of him, keep himself warm, and lighting a fire inside a cramped studio apartment made up predominantly of wood wasn’t exactly the best of ideas. He was almost out of food, too, so there wasn’t much else to consider. 

Aster wandered around Wiley when the weather let him through, taking refuge whenever he could stop and think clearly about what the hell he would do next. He made it his motivation to keep going, finding ways to start fires with his bare hands, scavenging for medicine and antiseptics. Trying his damn best not to absolutely fall apart whenever he had to break into someone’s house and wipe their food cupboards clean while under the scrutiny of dead eyes that used to belong to people who breathed, cried and hyperventilated just like Aster. Robbing the gone and defenseless wasn’t something he ever planned on doing. 

Aster didn’t know why he was still there. Still doesn’t, if he’s being quite honest. It didn’t feel like being chosen by the deities to be a demonstration of power, of resistance, a whole god on Earth. It certainly did not make Aster feel special, either. To be dead must hurt, he figures, but to be the only one alive is no different than death itself, anyway. 

One day, after making it to a supermarket and getting his hands on every single item of clothing, blankets, medicine and food that was either not too long out of date or still okay-looking, Aster arrived at a massive building he recognized as being a unit of a famous chain of hotels. That was when he vaguely realized he must’ve crossed the border of the neighboring city. He didn’t know how long he had been in Lahey, but he guessed it couldn’t be that long. He couldn’t care less, either. 

After some good months walking around Wiley with nothing but the corpses of both people and the city as company, he guessed trying to give himself the slightest semblance of comfort wasn’t too much to ask for. The hotel in Lahey ended up being a true light at the end of the tunnel for Aster, and it was around sweeping dusty floors and figuring out how he would store his inventory – both brought from the outside and found in the hotel – that he started building his new routine. 

Time, as much as it was a social construct, could do terrible things to human judgment, which, if Aster stopped to really think about it, was also a social construct. He guesses it was given more importance since it was apparently more visible and insistent for the world. Aster remembers claiming to not one living soul that he would trade in a heartbeat  his ability to think straight – think at all – for having more time with his mom. But, now, all the time he had was spent moping around, investigating the infinity of the hotel rooms, crying quietly every time he came across unfortunate clients that didn’t have enough time (there it was again!) to perish at home with loved ones, or hated ones, or acquaintances, or strangers. Every single one who, once, had a life as well. Aster roamed the hotel corridors, the hotel kitchens, the hotel rooms, dragging his feet in a dance that lasted a little over two years. 

And, unsurprisingly, he was still alone. Aster still had all the time in the world to himself. 

Maintaining a sequence of actions was complex when the world was ending and one had nobody to share their frustrations with. Some days Aster woke up feeling almost normal, as if he was still able to feel anything other than aloneness and cold. Those days had him going up and down the stairs nonstop, or doing laps in the hotel pool, which was starting to get green and all gross, but it wasn’t like Aster was any better; he couldn’t remember the last time he saw his hands entirely clean. Running water was a luxury he reckoned he was only able to have access to because he was in the prestigious part of Lahey, but that didn’t mean he would waste it on unnecessary situations rather than save it for when he really needed it. 

However, there were also some days Aster couldn’t even muster up the courage to force his eyes open. He just let himself lie in his expensive king-sized bed, in what he figured was the biggest suite in the hotel, and regrettably existed. Aster would stare at the ceiling, unshed tears in his eyes, willing his covers to crawl on top of him, over his face, and just-

Just end it all. Because there were times Aster couldn’t remember what his favorite flavor of ice cream was. He couldn’t remember which of his dad’s cheeks carried this fine scar from running the razor blade over an inflamed ingrown hair repeatedly for years. One time, Aster choked on a sob because he couldn’t, for nothing that was most sacred in that forsaken world, remember his sister’s name. Aster can’t even remember, now. 

He would just suck it up and go back to sleep. Not like wallowing in his deepest sorrows would make any difference. 

About three months prior, Aster had found an analog watch inside the nightstand drawer of a fortunately empty room during one of his many expeditions. The watch, to his utter surprise, still worked perfectly, and he took finding it as a sign he should put a stopper on his idling. 

Aster started handling the watch as he would his newborn child, because now he could actually get a grasp on at least a bit of assurance that the world was, in fact, spinning. He’d found a stack of calendars in a house shortly after leaving his dorm, and had used almost three out of the fifteen or so he’d smuggled into his backpack, but, somehow, seeing the watch move its hands seemed like something magical, otherworldly even. Aster has really been the only one out there for almost three years now. 

He’s taken a liking to going to the terrace of the building these days. Religiously, every Friday afternoon he’ll get up there, wipe the acid snow from his favorite spot with a reserved rag he’d keep only for that, and sit down, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck carefully not to tangle it in his now long hair. Then he’ll answer to the skies’ callings and look up to stare at the stars. Aster had the impression they would start giving him explanations as to why everything happened so suddenly and so fast, why it all went wrong for him, in particular. But, just to make things new around Aster, he was wrong. And he got no answers whatsoever. 

Aster once remembered. He once remembered everything he deemed important enough for himself and for his family. Also the things that weren’t important at all. 

Aster misses simple things, too. He misses the taste of his grandma’s homemade pastries, the feeling of his best friend’s arms around his middle when she thought she’d done bad on one of her finals. What he misses most, some nights, is the feeling one gets on their hands or feet when they’re really cold but they manage to get warmed up, whether by clothing or pouring warm water over them. See, it’s not the finished product, when they’re nice and warm and cozy – although that feeling is also irrefutably appreciated in nuclear winter –, but the process in-between, when one can tell their hands are still cold, but touching them to other parts of the body reveals a latent warmth emanating from them. Like a reminder everything will eventually settle down and, unarguably, be okay.

Some Fridays he needs to force himself to look down from the sky, because it seems like he might never gather the courage to come back to reality from his daydreams. On nights like those, he presses his chest against the elevated edge of the building while standing on his tiptoes and just screams. Screams and cries and sobs and hiccups to his heart’s content. There was no one around to see him behave like an overgrown bratty child, after all, and that is precisely why he can’t control himself for what always felt like hours on end. 

Some other nights are lighter on his heart. He bids the stars goodbye, promising to be there again the following week, and proceeds to go back to his room on one of the highest floors. 

It is one of those tranquil nights when Aster finds himself absentmindedly humming a once familiar tune, one he used to be very fond of, but now he doesn’t remember its name or who it was by. Aster can’t remember many things nowadays. He’s been under the impression he’d had his 25th birthday some day prior, but then again, he doesn’t remember. 

The beat he reproduces matches his steps on top of the elevated edge of the terrace, which he has been used to climbing since some weeks ago. Aster stopped being scared of a lot of things lately, so he didn’t give it much thought. 

Aster mumbles a steady rhythm, gliding his eyes through the landscape: decadent, dirty, traces of an afterglow of proud grandness. The melody makes him blink furiously, overwhelmed with nostalgia of what once was and apparently would never be again. The flow of the song grows in a restless and insatiable crescendo, and Aster makes the mistake of looking at his watch, only to find that its hands are stagnant.

Just for a moment, he falters. And, in a split half second, his socked feet slip. 

It is while falling down a fifty-story high building that Aster lets himself wonder, for the very last time, why he was the one who was still there, why he was the one who was still breathing. He asks himself how insignificant it would feel to be the one human being resistant to prolonged exposure to radiation and die from falling off a building, only to realize that he does know exactly what it feels like. For he was – has been – the very last one left in this world, yet this is how he’s saying farewell to everything and everyone that has already left him long, long ago. 

And it’s like an accident.

Santo André, 24 de abril de 2020

Beatriz Moya de Carvalho Olivalves

[wh6res]

one more time | markhyuck

"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc 

warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping 

disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.

note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore​ i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore​

against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.

but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.

plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.

talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"

deflowering mark.

punishing you.

he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.

"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"

haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.

only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!

"what do you want?"

"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."

this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.

but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.

"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."

haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.

you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"

it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.

he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!

"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”

a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.

he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"

he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.

thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.

haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.

and mark, too. speaking of which…

you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."

before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"

he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.

he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.

"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.

haechan smiles.

"why don't you shut her up?"

it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.

frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.

and yet…

"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.

haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.

mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.

but he'll do no such thing.

not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.

your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"

you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.

"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"

there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.

"right, mark?"

"r – right…"

haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."

you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.

as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."

you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.

haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.

he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."

too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.

but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."

you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?

"no."

it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.

but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.

they weren't looking for you anymore.

just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.

haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."

he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.

there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.

rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.

something felt off.

the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.

"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"

this wasn't haechan.

and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.

how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.

how cruel. so, so cruel.

in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.

"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”

curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.

'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.

you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.

"i fucking hate you."

"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."

the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.

make him stop, your eyes said. please.

but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"

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jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[beth-march]

change me at all costs (starlight, star crossed)

Summary:

“Like, no pressure, you guys, but if you ever break up, I’m giving up on love,” Rue declares. “Like, I will just accept that love doesn’t exist, and I’ll try to make peace with it.”

(they get married and dance to ‘stand by me’ at their wedding that’s all)

For Fexi XOXO Party Day 7: Celebrating an anniversary

Read on Ao3 here or under the cut:

Sunshine catches on her ring, and spins sparkles around her hands.

Opalescent fragments of light flicker everywhere. Lexi thinks it’s beautiful, thinks it’s appropriate, that what it represents could capture so much brightness, reflect it.

“Are you awake?” she asks him, in a whisper.

“Tryin’ not to be,” Fez grumbles. She bursts into giggles, stifles them into his shoulder. The world upended itself, the day before, and yet nothing has changed at all. 

This is how she greets every dawn. This is the happiness she has dwelled in since she found her love, since they made the effort to entwine their lives. This is the bliss Fez has promised her for the rest of her life, sealed with the presentation of an elegant diamond ring.

“Fezco,” Lexi says, reaching up to tug on his beard, trying to rouse him. “Look at my ring.”

“I know what your ring looks like, I fuckin’ picked it…” he slurs, half asleep.

“No, look,” she insists, cupping his jaw.

Though he’s groaning, he’s nothing if not indulgent, and so Fez squints open an eye, obeying what Lexi wants. He looks at her ring, the way it sparkles with the light of dawn, and follows its lead. His smile is aglow, particularly when he takes in her face.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs, reaching to stroke the diamond.

Lexi makes her hand slack, places it in the space between them, where their pillows meet. His finger trails down from her finger, along her knuckles, brushing her wrist.

“It’s so perfect,” Lexi gushes. “It’s so me. You know me so well.”

“I fucking hope so, after all this time. Some boyfriend I’d be, not to know, right?”

There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her, the way he looks at her. In a lot of ways, Lexi still feels like a seventeen year old girl, smitten and breathless and finding any reason to spend time with him, because in all the ways they have grown, they never seem to have stopped laughing, to have stopped caring in that aching, ardent way.

She is lax with love. Overwhelmed by it. 

“Do you know why westerners wear wedding rings on this finger?” she asks.

Fez shakes his head. A glimmer of curiosity rises in his gaze, because he loves her mind, he loves to learn from her, and he never abstains from telling her as much.

“It goes all the way back to Ancient Rome,” Lexi says, squinting, trying to remember the details. “So, the Romans believed that there was a vein in the fourth finger on the left hand that ran directly to the heart.”

She places her forefinger on his ring finger, trails it up his arm, until she is touching his chest, the skin shrouding his heart. Tracing the hypothetical vein.

“They called it Vena Amoris, or the vein of love,” she finishes.

Something defeated flows in Fez. He stares at her, eyes blown with reverence.

“You gotta go easy on a man,” he says quietly. “I’m barely fuckin’ awake. I don’t got what it takes to deal with that big brain of yours at the best of times.”

“Of course you do,” she chastises him, nudging her hand up his face.

“They only believed it, you said? The vein don’t really go to the heart?”

Lexi shakes her head, crinkles her nose with disappointment.

“Fuckin’ sucks.”

“Yeah. Nothing like reality to ruin sentiment.”

“I mean, I dunno if the sentiment is ruined. That’s still the finger we use for the ring, right?”

Laughter spills helplessly from Lexi. Fez hasn’t said anything funny, but he has inspired his usual joy, and today the fervour of happiness she feels is something that bubbles, and it stretches from her stomach until it meets her lips, finding release in giddy chuckles. 

“You’re right,” she says, nuzzling close enough to kiss him, something sleepy and stale when they haven’t brushed their teeth, something neither cares about over affection.

She thinks about how the heart pumps blood all over, gives movement to hands, gives her the space to hold her love. He is right, that the sentiment is intact.

These are the hands that obey her heart, this is the finger that will bear his love.

She winds it around his ring finger, and yearns for the day that he will wear hers, too.

-

Cassie and Lexi find something truly breathtaking in a vintage store. A dress of thin ivory tulle, embroidered in lace flowers, with sheer, puffed sleeves. It is Parisienne, it is elegant, it is dimly reminiscent of the regency era. It is more than she could’ve hoped for.

She wears her hair up, weaves flowers in the braids, fluffy baby’s breath and little creamy rosebuds. They’re plucked right from her bouquet, so the look comes together neatly.

Everything seems to fall into place.

Lexi stands across from Fez, and she cannot stop beaming. She is so happy she shakes with it, feels the tremble of her shoulders, the shakiness of the flowers in her hands. He looks just as overwhelmed; there’s a glaze in the corner of his eyes, and though he doesn’t smile with teeth, like she does, the stretch of his smile is wider than she thinks she’s ever seen it.

The officiant they’ve hired prattles on, and Lexi doesn’t hear a word of it until they reach the part that matters, the exchange of the rings, the declarations of, “I do.”

On the sidelines, Suze and Cassie are crying; Ash and Rue are snickering at the Howards for being so emotional. Their family is in attendance, which makes for a somewhat unconventional elopement, and as does their insistence on a first dance.

Very early on, they had decided against having a big wedding. It isn’t their style to be so flashy. They are deeply private, and their love is something they have kept sealed away, just for them. Lexi knows the statistics, knows that people often get married for the sake of a wedding and not for a marriage, and she feels just the opposite.

Though, twirling in her dress makes for good fun. Twining herself in Fez’s arms and having their first dance to Stand By Me amidst the foliage and flowers of the gardens where they have just wed feels like the pinnacle of her life. As though this is the moment that every other moment has been leading up to, and it has been more than worth the wait.

“Darlin’, darlin’,” Fez sings in her ear, a murmur, hands curving around her waist.

In his arms, she sobs softly. She is crying just as much, with just as much vivacity, just as much affection, as she had that rainy day on his couch, when they were teenagers.

The weather is mild today. The sunlight is faint and the sky is pale. Still, Lexi can hear the rain, she can hear the ribbons it falls in, the way it paints the windows of Fez’s old house.

She clenches his jacket closer, standing on tiptoes to kiss him, as a favour to the girl who had taken such delight in him merely reaching for her hand.

Afterwards, the family convenes in a favoured restaurant. 

While they wait for their food to arrive, Ash decides to be annoying.

“So, when are y’all getting divorced?”

Lexi furrows her brow, and Fez opens his mouth, ready to protest, but Rue beats him to the punch.

“Never,” she says, firmly, glancing up at her friends with a playful smile. “Like, no pressure, you guys, but if you ever break up, I’m giving up on love. Like, I will just accept that love doesn’t exist, and I’ll try to make peace with it.”

“That’s fine,” Lexi assures her. “We’re never breaking up.”

“Straight up,” Fez agrees. “We’re gonna share a fuckin’ gravestone.”

“Shit, what’ll it say? “Fezco, beloved husband”,” Rue mocks, twirling her fingers by her face.

““And father”,” Suze coughs into her fist.

“Mom,” Lexi sighs.

But Fez only grins.

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” he says, and the table breaks out in cheers.

-

One year feels like ten. Feels like one hundred. Feels like one thousand. 

They have three anniversaries to celebrate, now. Their first meeting, their first kiss, and their wedding. Of the three, New Year’s is the least formal. Their first kiss is what led to their relationship, so that one is more important, and as is their wedding day.

The space between the first two is a matter of months, and the number of times they have celebrated these occasions piles up, because they’ve almost been together a decade, by now.

But this will only be their first time, celebrating their wedding anniversary.

“It kinda feels like we back to square fuckin’ one,” Fez says. “Like, we’ve been together eight years, but we’ve only been married one. Don’t sound as good, does it?”

“I don’t know, having a husband still seems very grown up to me,” Lexi admits, grinning.

“Sure, ’cept that your dumbass husband’s idea of an anniversary dinner is just takeout,” he says, nodding to the containers of Chinese food littering the coffee table. “You care this all we doin’?”

“No,” she says, and means it. “You’re here. I couldn’t imagine anything better.”

These days, it’s just that simple. Fez looks at her over his chopsticks, and the adoration about him is something that could swallow her whole. 

It already has, she thinks. She glosses her touch over the gold threading his ring finger, and vows to find ways to thank him for this, to devote her life to the cause.

“You got me locked down,” Fez says, turning his hand over, so their fingers entangle.

She refuses to let go of him for the rest of their anniversary.

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [two] // wanda maximoff

summary: as you spend more time with your patient's neighbour, you come to realise that your crush may be getting too much

warning/s: none, just fluff tbh

author's note: i’m so glad you guys enjoyed the first part! here’s the next bit :)

part one | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

When Sunday rolled around, I did everything in my power to make it the perfect day for Anna. We went out for breakfast at a café around the corner, a stroll around the park, then I made her lunch before she conked out afterwards, napping in her bedroom. I took that as my chance to decorate the living-area with birthday decorations. Nothing too much as I knew she'd kill me if I went overboard, but little things like a banner, some balloons and streamers.

I told Wanda to come at this time, too, and she showed up with a bag of groceries and a pretty smile on her face.

"Here, let me help," I said, already moving to take the bag off her. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, closing the door behind her and following me into the kitchen. Her smile widened when she saw the decorations. "Y/N, this is lovely! Anna is going to love it!"

"You think?" I asked, spinning around and doing a once over of the living-area. "It's not too much? I know she'll hate if I do too much."

"It's just the right amount," Wanda reassured, glancing at me. "How has she been today?"

We both began to unpack the groceries as we talked.

"Really good actually," I said with a nod. "I treated her to breakfast at that café she likes. We went to the park, fed the ducks, had a nice stroll. Then I made her some lunch and she's napping which leaves us the perfect time to crack on with dinner."

Wanda chuckled. "Great." She paused, making me look to her to see her smile fading. Nervously, she asked, "Did her granddaughter call?"

I sighed quietly and Wanda seemed to know what that meant without me saying anything further. 

"It's okay, we'll just have to make this the best meal ever," she said, not letting it get to her.

"We will," I agreed, before looking to the food on the table. "So, chef. Where do we start?"

Wanda and I spent the next hour prepping dinner, a beef stew called Solyanka, as it would require two hours to cook on the stove so we were starting early to make sure it would be ready in time.

I was chopping some onions as she prepared the beef, but I couldn't help myself from glancing at her every two seconds, still filled with concern because of her cast and minor injuries.

"You should take a picture, it'll last longer," she said teasingly, making me look up to see her watching me with a stifled smile.

"Sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head and looking back to my chopping board.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

I chewed on my lip as I glanced at her wrist again, before meeting her gaze. "How did it happen?"

"I already told you," she reminded me playfully, trying to lighten the mood, but I was still fretful. "It happened on a mission."

"Yeah, but how?" I asked again, hoping she understood what I meant.

She seemed reluctant to share, face scrunching up with thought, before looking down to her own chopping board. I thought she wouldn't tell me, but then she spoke.

"I can't tell you too much," she started, shrugging, "since it was a confidential mission. But basically, I was undercover when my target recognised me and we got into a fight."

Watching her with the utmost attention, I nodded, imagining it in my head.

"It wasn't difficult or anything, but it surprised me, y'know?" She looked to me with a smile, as if trying to make it sound less scarier than it was. "The guy, the target, he managed to get in few good hits. And he sprained my wrist. But it's alright."

I wasn't as amused as she was, wincing at the thought of her being in a fight. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She tilted her head knowingly. "I'm sure, Y/N. It's my job."

Shaking my head, I looked back down to my chopping board and continued chopping the onion. "I don't know how you can do that as a job..."

"Well, it's rewarding," she said like it was obvious. "Why do you spend most of your week caring for the elderly?"

"It's rewarding," I said without hesitation, before realising what she'd done and looking her way.

She was smiling cockily, making me roll my eyes and laugh.

"Okay, I see your point," I gave in. "But still. It's a dangerous job what you do. Just be careful, yeah?"

"Always am," she promised. And I wanted to believe her, but the cast on her wrist said otherwise.

—

"It smells like home, devochki, spasibo (girls, thank you)," Anna said from her place at the table. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?"

"We're sure, Anna," Wanda called back to her. "I'm just putting the food into a serving bowl and Y/N is grabbing some glasses. You sit and wait like the patient woman I know you are."

Anna mumbled something in Russian which I didn't understand, but it seemed to make Wanda chuckle as she rolled her eyes.

It was finally time for dinner and the stew had turned out beautifully, not that I had doubts since Wanda didn't seem like one to kid around with cooking.

As she was readying it for the table, I was setting everything up and all that was left were the glasses. But, of course (and oddly enough, since Anna was shorter than I), they were stored on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard and just out of my reach.

In hindsight, I probably could have grabbed a stool and stood on it, but I was too lazy, so I went on my tip-toes and stretched with all my might. The tips of my fingers brushed against a glass and I attempted to move it towards me, unable to see if I was actually doing anything since it was too high. After a couple of tries, I managed to bring it forward, but my stupid self flicked it too hard and it came tumbling off the shelf and towards the counter.

I braced myself for the sound of glass smashing, but instead, a wondrous red energy wrapped itself around the glass and kept it suspended mid-fall.

"Very clever," Wanda said sarcastically, appearing directly beside me. Her accent was daringly teasing.

I looked up and saw her smirking at me with amusement, right hand raised and aimed at the glass. Red tendrils of energy glowed around her hand and the glass; I widened my eyes a little, amazed at how easy she made it look. Though I knew she had powers, I'd never actually seen her use them up close and personal. It was stunning.

"I totally knew you were going to do that," I played it cool, cheeks flushing as she set the glass on the counter.

"Mhm, sure you did," she played along with a melodious laugh, before pressing her front to my back without warning and reaching to grab two more glasses. "Here, I got it."

My body tensed at the feeling of her unexpectedly so close to me. My mouth went dry, her warmth emanating from her and washing over me with the scent of her perfume. Did she always smell so good?

When she grabbed all three glasses, she didn't seem to notice the effect she had on me (unless she did and kept quiet for her own amusement).

"Think you can grab the food without dropping it?" she asked, quirking an entertained brow.

Still distracted by her perfume, I nodded and cleared my throat. "Food. Right. Yeah."

As I stirred the stew to mix everything thoroughly, I felt my heart rate return to its normal pace and told myself to chill out. Wanda just happened to be an extremely pretty individual who was kind and thoughtful and funny. It wasn't a big deal.

When I was sure I wouldn't make a fool of myself, I returned to the dining table with a pot of stew and set it down on the placemat.

"Priyatnogo appetita (enjoy your meal)," I said, trying not to stumble over my pronunciation. 

Both Anna and Wanda raised their brows with matching surprised smiles on their faces.

"You said that perfectly, Y/N!" Wanda said encouragingly, as I took a seat to the right of Anna at the head of the table.

"I see you've been practicing," Anna added, looking to me with an endearing gaze. "A present in itself. Thank you, milaya (sweetie)."

I smiled bashfully. "I have to keep up with you both somehow, right?"

Anna chuckled as Wanda gave me a brilliant smile. Something in my chest stirred as she did, and I was forced to look away, though my own smile didn't fade.

"So, Y/N and I put this together for you and I'm sure you'll know what it is," Wanda said, before serving up a bowl for Anna.

"Solyanka," Anna exclaimed with delight. "Devushki (girls), this looks and smells amazing." She paused, glancing between us both with a grateful smile. "Since you've both been here, this place... it's beginning to feel alive again."

To my surprise, she teared up and began to laugh, using her napkin to pat the corner of her eyes. I rested my hand on hers, squeezing it gently and giving her a small smile.

"I appreciate this very much," she continued, before squeezing my hand and letting go to grab her spoon. "I can't wait to try it."

The three of us dug into our stew and Anna loved it, talking about the first time she ever had it as a kid and how it was one of her favourite dishes. The rest of the meal went by wonderfully, with Anna looking as happy as ever and Wanda listening to her intently. I was listening, too, but my gaze did end up wandering to Wanda as she sat there animatedly, nodding along and smiling to Anna.

For some reason, she was ethereal tonight, though she looked like she always did. Her long brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and she wore a loose tee shirt over some jeans. Nothing fancy, but she pulled it off so well. Rings adorned her fingers as she played with them thoughtlessly, and it caught my eye before I got distracted by her cast on her left wrist.

She'd said she was okay, but it still worried me. It wasn't my right to worry, but she was my friend. I was concerned. She could take care of herself, but that wouldn't put the ache in my heart at ease.

As if she could hear my concerns, her eyes flickered to mine, a kaleidoscope of blue, green and gold. She sent me a reassuring glance before looking back to Anna with focus. I chewed on my lower lip, trying not to let my worry get the best of me, before looking back to Anna.

Towards the end of the meal, after we'd eaten and were merely conversing, Anna's landline rang in the apartment.

"I'll get it," Wanda said, already standing up to grab the phone from its cradle.

Anna and I watched as she answered the phone with a friendly 'hello', before a surprised expression appeared on her face.

"Sure, I'll pass it on now," Wanda was saying before approaching the table and stopping by Anna. Her expression softened as she said to Anna, "It's Sasha."

Anna's expression fell at the mention of her granddaughter. She nodded slightly, before standing up and grabbing her cane to balance. Accepting the phone, she began to walk away into her bedroom. Wanda and I heard her say a faint 'hello' before she closed the door behind her.

"Her granddaughter rang?" I asked with mild disbelief.

"It is her birthday," Wanda pointed out, returning to her seat.

"Bit late into the day though, isn't it?" I retorted, pulling a face. "Almost like the day is over, in fact."

"Sounding a little judgemental there, Y/N," Wanda teased, leaning forward into the palm of her hands and watching me.

"I'm not," I said with an eye roll. "I just think she should show her grandmother some respect. Who does she think she is?"

I paused as Wanda gave me a knowing look, then winced.

"Okay, I heard it that time," I admitted, making her laugh.

"I get it," she said, nodding slightly. "Maybe she's finally starting to realise though."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "I guess... For Anna's sake, I hope so."

Wanda and I talked amongst ourselves until Anna returned silently, hushing our conversation. She returned the phone to its cradle before taking a seat at the head of the table. Wanda and I exchanged looks before I decided to speak, noticing Anna wouldn't.

"Is Sasha doing okay?" I asked gently.

Anna was staring ahead, barely listening, before she glanced at me then looked down to her empty bowl. Sentences left her lips in Russian, mumbled and incoherent, at least to me. Wanda leaned forward, holding her hand and frowning with sympathy as she listened to her words. I felt horrible, sensing something was wrong, but unable to do anything to help.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I didn't mean to upset you," I said, shaking my head.

Wanda met my gaze. "It's not your fault... Anna just misses Sasha."

I frowned. "Oh."

"But I'm glad I have you both," Anna finally spoke, accent thick with emotion, as she looked between us before settling her eyes to me. "Even if you're paid to be here."

She cracked a smile, making my shoulders relax. I returned her expression, glad she still had a sense of humour.

Anna didn't mention Sasha's name for the rest of the evening. We cleaned up, had some tea, played a quick board game before I made sure she was okay for the night.

"She alright?" Wanda asked when I closed Anna's bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

"Yeah, she's tired from all of today's excitement," I said with a smile.

"So are you by the sounds of it," she joked, but stepped forward to rest a hand on my arm. "I think we should call it a night."

"I think we should," I said in agreement.

After grabbing my stuff, Wanda and I left the flat before walking to her apartment and stopping outside.

"Thanks for helping me out today," I told her with a tired smile. "I really appreciated it."

"Well, you asked so nicely... how could I resist?" she said, staring up at me through her eyelashes. I rolled my eyes playfully, making her smile. "I had fun. Thanks for inviting me."

I was going to respond, but a yawn escaped my lips, prompting me to cover my mouth as I did.

"Sorry," I said, trying to blink the fatigue away momentarily.

She chuckled, tilting her head and watching me carefully. "You're cute."

I breathed out through my nose, unsure what to say to her words, but I definitely felt my heart rate speed up a little.

"I'll let you go," she said, clearly entertained by my silence. "Get home safe, yeah?"

"And you look after yourself when saving the world, yeah?" I replied with a quirked brow, eyes glancing at her wrist.

"I promise." She grinned before moving forward to hug me.

I returned the hug, the smell of her perfume permanent in my nose by now, before pulling away with a final smile. Of course, I probably shouldn't have stared at her lips so intensely, wanting nothing more than to kiss them.

"See you tomorrow," I said, snapping back into reality and taking a step back. "Goodnight, Wanda."

"Goodnight," she said sweetly.

I turned to leave and was suddenly wide awake. Did I just think about kissing Wanda?

—

It was a few visits later when I was caring for Anna and she decided to have a dance around the living room. One minute we were flicking through different radio stations, and the next she was putting on some old records on her record player. She settled on an upbeat, 50s dance song, the music filling the apartment with joy.

"Egor and I danced to this very song when we first met," she told me, talking about her late husband with a twinkling passion in her eyes. "It was a party and he had been staring at me all night, and I him. Then finally, when this song came on, he approached me and said, 'dorogaya, okazyvayesh' mne chest' tantsevat' so mnoy?'"

I suppressed a smile as I watched her reminisce. "And that means...?"

"'Darling, would you do me the honour of dancing with me'?" she repeated in English for my benefit.

My heart melted. "Anna, that's adorable. He sounds like such a gentlemen."

"He was," she said with a sigh of agreement, smiling to herself.

Whenever she talked about her husband, I'd never seen her look more content. The mere mention of his name was enough to put a smile on her face. I could only hope to have a love like theirs some day.

I stepped forward, putting out my hand. "I'm no Egor, but I'd love to dance with you if you'd let me."

"Oh, I can't do that," she said, waving my hand away. "I can barely walk, milaya (sweetie)."

"Hey, as your carer, I am insisting that you dance with me," I said, feigning sternness.

She hesitated, before resting her hand in mine and smiling with gratitude. The two of us danced together, myself being careful to keep her upright and make sure she didn't overexert herself. She was smiling and laughing as I spun her around, dancing her all around the living room, and it warmed my heart to see her so cheery.

A knock on the door caused me to excuse myself from Anna, only to find Wanda on the other end.

"Someone's in a good mood," she said instantly, taking note of my smile.

I stepped to the side to let her in. "Yeah, well, Anna is doing good today. It's contagious, what can I say?"

Before Wanda could respond, Anna called from the living-area with excitement.

"Wanda, idi syuda i potantsuy so mnoy!" she exclaimed, already grabbing Wanda's hand and pulling her in.

It didn't take a genius to know that Anna had basically asked Wanda to dance with her. I chuckled as I followed after them, enjoying the sight of Anna and Wanda dancing together.

"What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, glancing over the short woman and to me with a helpless smile.

"No occasion," I quipped, crossing my arms and trying to hold in my laughter at Anna's speed and perseverance with a reluctant Wanda. "Just having a good time."

Wanda looked like she wanted to retort with a comment, but Anna spun her around before she could, making me laugh aloud.

"Prikhodi odin, milaya (come on, sweetie)!" Anna said, holding out a hand. "Dance!"

Unable to resist, I joined in with the two Sokovian women, appreciating how happy Anna looked and how awkward Wanda felt in the situation. She wasn't much of a dancer, but she was trying and God was that adorable.

We danced for a little while longer until Anna's back began to hurt and she took a seat. Though, she insisted that Wanda and I resume with our dancing.

Just on time, like a sign from the universe or a higher being or whatever you wanted to believe in, a slow song came on next, filling the apartment soothingly.

To my surprise, the awkward dancer that was Wanda was oddly confident as she held out her hand to me.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" she asked softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

At the familiarity of her words, I glanced to Anna, who seemed to pick up on it, too. She said nothing as she watched us with a smile of her own.

"I'd love to," I said, looking back to Wanda's eyes.

They looked blue in the light, a beautiful sky blue that put me at ease as soon as I stared into them. I slipped my hand into hers, letting her pull us closer together as she rested her other hand on my waist, the touch sending shivers up my spine. I put mine on her shoulder, allowing her to take the lead.

It was the most intimate we'd been, and as she maintained eye contact, I wondered if she could feel my hands trembling slightly, or my heart hammering loudly, or my palms turning a little sweaty. She made me nervous in the best way possible, her smile dazzling without realising and her eyes piercing without meaning to be.

She must have felt it, too, that tug in the pit of her stomach that I was feeling now. Otherwise there was something seriously wrong and I was already too deep into a crush on my patient's neighbour.

When the song ended, it feeling like mere seconds in total, she let go of me and I missed the contact and the smell of her perfume and the way she was looking at me.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Anna spoke, forcing me to tear my gaze from Wanda's lips. She smiled at me knowingly. "You ladies definitely know how to dance."

I felt a heat creeping up my neck as I smiled to myself, distracting myself with the laces on my shoes. When I finally brought myself to look up, I saw Wanda already looking my way, a calm expression on her face.

As she did most times she visited, Wanda stayed with me and Anna until I tucked Anna into bed and bid her a goodnight. We left the apartment and Wanda decided to walk me to the lift that evening, a distracted look on her face.

It was silent between us, a comfortable one, until the doors slid open and I looked to her with kind eyes.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I told her, making her look to me. "Have a nice evening, Wanda."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. I watched with amusement, wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. The lift doors began to shut, so I put my foot between them to keep them open.

"I should go," I said with an awkward laugh, before grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently since she wouldn't speak. "Goodnight."

When I turned to leave, I got, maybe, a step into the lift before I felt her fingers wrap around my wrist and tug me backwards, spinning me around. I didn't get chance to ask what was up as she stepped forward, pressing her lips to mine in an instant.

Startled, I froze at the contact, but then her hand rested on the back of my neck as her thumb caressed my jaw, and I found myself melting into her, closing my eyes at the blissful feeling.

Her other hand fell to my waist as she deepened the kiss, sending me into the lift and the wall hitting my back. I moved my lips in time with hers, revelling at how soft and delicate and gentle she was being. Kissing Wanda Maximoff wasn't something I had realised would be this good, but now that I was, I never wanted to stop.

Unfortunately, the sound of the lift doors shutting pulled us apart. I was breathless, my heart racing and my lips swollen from her spectacular kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time," she revealed, stepping back a little. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed as she watched me with mild concern. "I completely should have asked though. I'm sorry that I overstepped."

She pursed her lips, forefinger and thumb pinching her bottom lip regretfully and gaze falling to the floor.

"You didn't overstep," I said, already missing the sensation of her lips against mine. "You stepped just the right amount."

She looked back up, eyes softening as her lips curved into a radiant smile.

"You wanna, maybe, do that again?" I asked without thinking, my mind a haze as Wanda still remained so close to me.

She laughed melodiously before raising her hand and cupping my cheek. Her eyes looked between mine before falling to my lips affectionately.

"I'd love to, dorogoy (darling)."

I smiled toothlessly before closing the gap between us, secretly wishing this lift ride would go on forever if it meant I could kiss Wanda like this.

—

After making out with Wanda in the lift, she asked me out on a date and it was the best date I'd ever been on. Nothing over the top but very thoughtful as she took me for a picnic in the park before getting ice cream for dessert.

We went on a few more dates after that, taking turns to take the lead with them, and she ended up asking me to be her girlfriend which of course I said yes to.

All whilst this was going on, I still cared for Anna and Wanda paid her visits when she could, though we tried to remain as normal as possible. We didn't think it was best to tell Anna that we were together since we didn't want to startle her or make her feel uncomfortable in our presence. Of course, keeping a secret from Anna is as good as nothing when she had eyes like a hawk.

Wanda and I were putting a plate of tea and biscuits together for Anna one day, myself lining up the biscuits neatly as Wanda lingered beside me. She was about to grab a biscuit from the plate when I smacked her hand away.

"Just one," she pleaded, but I shook my head before nodding to the packet on the side.

"Help yourself to those," I told her condescendingly. "These are for Anna."

"Just get her another," she said simply, before reaching over again.

I smacked her hand away again, giving her a knowing look.

"Y/N!"

"Wanda!" I mirrored her childish smile.

She narrowed her eyes petulantly. "Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"Are you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

She pouted and I so badly wanted to lean forward and kiss it away, but Anna was sat on her recliner behind us. Wanda seemed to know this as a mischievous smile fell on her lips, eyes watching me carefully.

"You're not cute," I mumbled, before grabbing the tray and turning to leave. As I was walking to Anna, a biscuit began to float off the plate, red wisps of energy wrapped around it and bringing it to– "Wanda!"

She laughed, eyes glowing red with magic, before grabbing the biscuit from mid-air and taking a bite.

"Such a child," I said under my breath before setting the tray on the coffee table before Anna. Smiling at her, I said, "Here you go, Anna. Do you want anything else?"

As I straightened up, flipping Wanda off behind my back and encouraging her laughter further, I noticed the way Anna looked between us both curiously.

"Everything okay?" I asked, eyebrows knitting together as she continued to study us both.

"Something happened," she decided. "Between you both."

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch. "Nothing happened."

"Something definitely did," she said knowingly. "I may be old, milaya (sweetie), but I have very good eyes."

"Anna, what are you talking about?" Wanda played dumb, taking a seat beside me, biscuit in hand.

"Don't think I haven't seen the way you two steal glances when you think I'm not looking," she said, pointing between us. "Or the way you," her finger settled on Wanda, "have been helping Y/N out more often than usual."

Wanda and I flushed, embarrassed that we'd been caught out. I was so certain that we'd successfully hid it from her, but clearly we were mistaken.

"We wanted to tell you," Wanda began, cheeks still pink as she leaned forward.

Anna silenced her with a wave of her hand. "Save it. I knew I was right. You two are together."

Pursing my lips, I waited for her to say something because I wasn't really sure what to say myself. Suddenly, a smile appeared on her lips.

"I'm very happy for you both," she said to us. "Wanda here always needed somebody in her life who wasn't me. And you, Y/N, are the perfect match for her."

I chuckled, looking to the girl in question, whose face was as red as her powers that she used to torment me with. I grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently, and nudged her in the shoulder.

"You hear that? Perfect match," I teased, making her roll her eyes to distract from her flustered self.

Anna said something to her in Russian, way too fast and incomprehensible for me to understand, even with the extra effort I was making to learn it. Whatever it was, it made Wanda get even more embarrassed, her green eyes darting around the room in an effort to overcome it.

"What did you say?" I asked Anna with amusement.

"Oh, nothing Wanda hasn't heard before," she said dismissively. "It's all okay. Isn't it, Wanda?"

"Yeah," Wanda mumbled.

"I don't know what's happening here, but I'm all for someone putting Wanda in her place," I said, looking between them both with an entertained smile.

Anna chuckled as Wanda shoved me in the arm gently before pulling me close again. I smiled at how cute she looked, pink blush creeping up her neck and teeth chewing on her lower lip to contain her smile.

I'd never get sick of the sight.

[moralesispunk]

Old Guys Rule

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary: With a birthday coming up, Frankie's insecurities about the age gap in your relationship start to get the better of him

Warnings: legal age gap relationship, insecurities about said age gap, mentions of children but no mentions of how they came to be in the relationship

I found this hat in a shop in Cornwall and I had to write this!

"Are you wanting to do anything on your birthday? I was thinking about booking a table down at that Italians you like and asking your Mom to watch the girls but if you have plans with the guys I can find a different day?" you looked over your shoulder at Frankie from where you had been scrolling through the booking page of the restaurant.

"Hmm? No, dinner sounds fine," Frankie answered, his head not lifting up from his phone as his face stayed firmly unbothered.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to..." you trailed off as you turned back to the laptop that was resting on the kitchen counter, not convinced by Frankie's response.

"What?" you could tell that his head had whipped up to look at yours now you had turned around, "No, dinner sounds good, yes. Thank you."

You didn't answer, instead scrolling up and down on the page for a minute as you tried not to take his response too personally. It had been a while since you and Frankie were able to go out for dinner just the two of you, finding it more difficult to get some alone time since the new baby came along and you now had the two girls, so you thought he would like the idea of a romantic dinner alone.

You could hear Frankie's footsteps pad across the kitchen floor until he was leaning against the counter next to you. Avoiding his gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the way his ankles were now crossed over one another, you filled in the booking information before closing the laptop. Without looking at him you turned in the chair to stand but Frankie's hand fell on your wrist stopping you.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "I do want to go out for dinner with you and thank you for booking the place that I like, I just-." Frankie sighed and let you wrist go before dragging his hand down his face as he let his eyes drop to the floor, "I'm just not looking forward to this birthday. I'm in my late forties now!"

"I think you're still mid-forties."

"So much better," he rolled his eyes.

"So you're not looking forward to your birthday because... you're going to be a year older? Forty-six years and thats you just realising how birthdays work?"

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing, I'm wondering why that's upsetting you. Whether or not you're looking forward to it you can't stop it."

"You'll make fun of me if I tell you why," his foot was swinging out in front of him before crossing it back over the other again.

"Maybe, but we've been married for six years so I think I'm allowed to make fun of you."

A smile was tugging at the corner of Frankie's lips when he finally looked up to you, his head leaning slightly to the side as he met your eyes. Frankie loved everything about you but he especially loved how relaxed you made him feel. Even though he wasn't in a good mood when you started talking birthday plans, instead of giving in to it you pulled him back from it. You had done it ever since you met him. Frankie could tell you, and has told you, his deepest, darkest secrets and fears and you don't shy away. You don't pull him further into the darkness; you just listen and make him feel comfortable until you help him out the other side.

"I know there isn't a bigger gap between us now that there had been when we first started dating because thats not possible but it just feels bigger now? Like, you're still able to keep up with Sofia when she runs rings around us even after you've been up all night with the baby. You don't have to hold the menu back to read it more clearly when we got out for dinner. You don't have to think about having a sore back for a week if we fall asleep on the couch when watching a movie. You don't even fall asleep when watching movies at eight at night but somehow I do!"

You let his breathing settle a little before you pulled him to stand between your legs, resting your hands on his chest.

"Is it about all these small things or is there something bigger to it?"

You tilted your head to catch his gaze as Frankie's eyes fell to the floor again, stopping him with two fingers under his chin and lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"I just worry that you don't want to be with an old guy like me," he sighed, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I'll have you know that I love that your an old guy. I fall more in love with you every day as you get older. I love that you run around enough with Sofia until you're tired because you don't want to stop. I think you're cute when you have to squint at the menu because you're too stubborn to get glasses, even though I think you would look very handsome in them. And I like giving you back massages when it gets sore because its just an excuse to get my hands on your very sexy, super hot, handsome DILF self."

Frankie barked a laugh, his forehead falling against yours as his hands reached up to cup your face.

"I love you so much, you know that."

"I do, and I love you."

His lips found yours, pressing a soft kiss to them. Just as his mouth opened to push his tongue into yours the sound of tiny footsteps running into the kitchen pulled you both away.

"Mama, Papa!" the voice cheered as Frankie leaned down to swing Sofia up, groaning as he did so.

None of what you had said to Frankie was a lie. You truly did love him more and more every day.

As time went on it had been kind to Frankie. He had fought off his demons for the most part, nightmares only sneaking in every so often, and it showed. He carried a lightness with him, not being weighed down by his past anymore. His eyes crinkle at the side when he smiles, which he does more now than ever. His face has filled out a little more in a healthy way. His jaw is also covered in a patchy beard that now has spots of grey that you love the most even if Frankie doesn't believe you.

❀❀❀

You let Frankie lie in on the morning of his birthday, getting the girls up and ready so you could have a lazy breakfast together before you dropped them at their Gran's while you and Frankie go out for dinner. After sorting out a breakfast, having to start again after Sofia wanted to help and ended up spilling the batter over the countertop instead of in the pan, you carried it upstairs with the girls in tow.

Frankie was already waking up as you opened the door, his face lighting up with a wide grin when he spotted you balancing the baby in one arm and carefully carrying the tray in the other as Sofia carried bags of birthday presents.

"Happy birthday," you and Sofia chimed with a small gurgle coming from your side.

"My beautiful girls, thank you!"

Frankie lifted Sofia onto the bed with the presents, settling her into his side, before taking the tray of pancakes from your hands. Once it was safe on his lap he lifted his head, catching your lips in a kiss, before you sat across from him.

You managed to get through breakfast before Sofia had spoke about opening the presents again and once the tray was placed on the bedside table you got to opening the gifts. With baby girl back asleep and placed on Frankie's chest, Sofia pulled the paper off them more so than Frankie, handing him the opened presents as he thanked you all. Once all the presents that were on the bed were opened you leaned across and pulled another from your bedside.

"One more," you smiled knowingly and Frankie narrowed his eyes at you as you handed him the small bag.

He snaked his arm from around Sofia, holding baby girl close to his chest as he put his hand inside the bag and pulled out a hat.

"Oh a new hat, thanks babe I love-" he stopped when he read the front, looking at you with a grin on his face.

"What does it say?!" Sofia asked, pushing her head in front of her Dad's to see the cap he was holding.

"It says Old Guys Rule!" you exclaimed.

"Because Dad is old," Sofia flung her head back in a fake laugh that bellowed around the room.

"Is that right?" Frankie tickled her sides until she was giggling for real and her head was lying next to her sleeping sister's on Frankie's chest.

"Dad is old, but he's still cool isn't he?" you reached across and pulled Sofia onto your lap as she nodded.

"How does it look?" Frankie pulled it onto his head, a little wonky as he was only working with one hand with the other resting on the tiny body on his chest.

You and Sofia both put your thumbs up and you laughed.

"Four out of four thumbs up!"

"Thanks babe," he chuckled, lifting his hand to settle the cap a little tighter on his head.

"You're welcome, you look even more handsome today. Forty-six suits you," you winked and he smiled.

Yes, Frankie was getting older but he was becoming happier and healthier and you were falling more in love with him every single day.

//

Permanent tag// @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

What Did I Do To Deserve You?

ITS WHAT!?!

Alpha Dabi x F! Omega Reader

Words: 2.5K

Summary: Dabi finds out it’s your birthday

Soundtrack: ‘Safety Net’ by Ariana Grande ft. Ty Dolla $ign

Cuddling with your alpha, Dabi, is always the best. His smokey scent always engulfs your entire being as his strong arms keep you grounded against his chest. He always looks at you like you’re the best thing on this planet. Although, his snuggles are the least of your concern right now. 

Right now, you’re trying to figure out how you’ll survive another minute of the cuddling position he has chosen for this moment. He’s sitting on the couch with you straddling his hips, your body arched into him as he keeps on hand settled on your ass. The other hand is fumbling with a Wii controller, clumsily playing bowling. It’s actually kinda cute how much your alpha loves to play video games (you hypothesis it may be because of how he was treated as a child but, Dabi barely talks about his childhood nowadays). 

The problem, however, is that your alpha has decided to make you suffer. His hardness grinds into your core every time you try to move. You swear up and down in your mind that he does this on purpose to torture you for going to work every day. It’s pure agony laying there, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter after each second. 

Dabi, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. He enjoys the way your core radiates warmth on his dick. Plus, you’ve been at work so much lately that he’s barely had you to himself for longer than an hour before you retire to your shared bedroom and pass out from exhaustion. Your asshole boss has been keeping you in the office longer since you have a big project coming up. 

The alpha within him hates being separated from his omega but, he understands that you need your own independence. Thus, having this Thursday morning with you all to himself has made him incredibly happy. He thinks for a moment that maybe you might be sick (you only ever call out of work if you physically can’t make it) but you show no signs of illness. Then, his mind rejoices at the idea that you’ve finally agreed to quit your stupid job and allow him to provide for you; you quickly shot down this motion and told him you simply wanted to relax for once. He pouts. 

“I’m not giving up hope,” you giggle and kiss his cheek. Kissing him on the lips would be a dangerous game right now. 

“I’m sure you won’t, alpha,” Dabi’s nose flares. Glancing down at you, he runs his tongue along his teeth. Goodness, how have you survived this long in his lap? 

Your starting match with your mate is cut short by your phone ringing. You flick his nose on your way up and yelp as he swats your ass in retaliation. You look back to glare at him but he’s innocently looking at the t.v., looking up at you with puppy-dog eyes. Sometimes you truly cannot believe this same man works for the League. 

“Hello, Momma,” you sigh a bit as you answer the phone. You didn’t expect her to call you. 

“Y/N!!! Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl. How are you enjoying it?” you can hear Dabi pause his game. You silently curse your mother for finally deciding to be attentive to you.

“It’s going good, momma. I took off of work for the day,” by now, Dabi is silently staring at you. His tall figure looms over you as he mouths ‘birthday’ to you. You nod your head, wondering for a moment how the fuck his hearing is so good. 

“You deserve it. It’s such a beautiful thing to turn 17,” you sigh once again. You suppose you were asking too much for your mother to remember your age in addition to remembering the day she pushed you out of her vagina. 

“Momma, I’m turning 20,” you try not to let her ruin your mood. You try to be thankful that she’s at least making an effort. On the other hand, Dabi looks at the phone in disgust. You’ve never really told Dabi about your childhood but, he had picked up over time that you were in the same boat as himself.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. Time is flying by so fast,” you just shake your head.

“Yeah, it really is. I have to go, ma. I’m getting ready to go do some shopping. I deserve it.”

“Yes, yes you do. I love you, Y/N,” you can tell she feels bad.

“As I do you, momma,” you end the call. You know it must hurt her when you don’t tell her you love her back but, you’ve never been able to tell her that. You care for her but, it’s so hard forgiving her. 

“IT’S WHAT!?!?!” ahhh, yes, you now have to deal with Dabi. It’s actually kinda funny how your birthday has just now dawned on his mind. However, you don’t dare laugh because you already know he feels bad enough for not knowing in the first place. “Omega, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I don’t normally celebrate it. My boss normally gives me the day off no matter how much I protest. I just wanted to spend the day with you,” you relish in the warmth of his palm as he starts to stroke your cheek. You stare into his deep, cerulean eyes, feeling yourself get lost. “Don’t feel bad, alpha. It’s not that important.”

“IT IS IMPORTANT,” he snaps a bit, nuzzling your head. “It’s the day you were born to be mine. I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“You’d be the same, just a bit more aggressive,” you giggle. You have no doubt in your mind that your alpha would be single without you. It takes a special kind of person to deal with your Dabi. 

“That’s beside the point. Why didn’t you celebrate your birthday?” your eyes narrow as he speaks in the past tense.

“I DON’T celebrate it because I never got into it. I never really told you this ‘cause uh,” you rub the back of your neck in embarrassment. You know that you owe it to him to at least give him a good explanation. “Growing up, my parents were on really hard drugs. I mostly tried to avoid being in the house after things got bad so I was out working most of the time, trying to survive. I never really noticed my birthday since, you know, I was too preoccupied with taking care of myself. Then, the years started going by too fast till I just gave up trying to celebrate.”

“Y/N, Omega, look at me when I say this,” he cups your face in his hands, his nose rubbing against your, both of your eyes staring at each other. “Never feel ashamed of your past. Never feel ashamed to tell me things about yourself. I will never judge you. I love you so much, baby. Never forget that.”

“Yes, alpha,” and the matter was forgotten in your eyes. For the rest of the day, Dabi treated you like a queen (although, if you’re being honest, it didn’t really feel any different from how he normally treats you. If anything, he didn’t even let you walk). That night, he cooked you dinner and played with your hair the way you liked as he lulled you to sleep.

Once he was sure you were asleep, Dabi crept out of the bed. He watched you for a moment as you whined, hand-stretched out searching for your alpha. Your hand soon found his scented pillow and you decided it would be your ‘faux’ Dabi. It was adorable. Dabi made sure to snap a few pictures before sneaking out to the living room to make his call. 

“Dabi, this better be fucking good. It’s booty-call hours and I know you’re not calling me for that….unlesssss?”

“Giran shut the fuck up and listen. I want to use some of my money to take Y/N on a small trip for her birthday. Not too extravagant. She hates shit like that,” Dabi was already regretting calling the man. 

“When’s her birthday?” Dabi could hear Giran shuffling around with a piece of paper. He could imagine he was probably writing down information. 

“It was today. She just t-”

“What the fuck, Dabi?!?! How could you forget her FUCKING BIRTHDAY?! SHE’S THE BEST FUCKING THING YOUR SORRY ASS IS GONN-” Dabi had to cool the rage of his inner alpha.

“She just fucking told me, you old, senile bastard. She wasn’t even going to tell me. I found out because her good-for-nothing mother called,” Dabi was pinching the bridge of his nose. He was still pissed you hadn’t shared something so important with him. He was even more pissed at himself for not realizing sooner. 

“Oh...my bad. How soon do you want the plans to be made?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t care how much money it costs to get reservations and shit. I just want to treat her the way she deserves. Also, tell Shigaraki that I’ll be out of commission for the days you book. I mean it. None of you better fucking call me,” his voice dropped an octave. “This is my omega’s time. I’ll let you sorry fucks die if you’re stupid enough to get into trouble while I’m gone.”

“Geez, I get it. I’ll tell the others. If it’s for Y/N, we’ll lay low for a few days,” you had managed to weasel your way into the hearts of the group. Every time one of them had come to your home pleading, you took care of them. Hell, even Shigaraki tolerated you. 

“Thank you,” Dabi meant it. “I’ll let you get back to your sleep.”

Then, he was back in the bed with you. You knew nothing of what had happened and he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when he told you of the plans he (well, technically Giran) made. 

                                                          ***

“Hell no,” why did you have to be such a difficult omega? “I have a job, Dabi.”

“Baby, it’s only a few days. I know you have more than enough vacation days saved up. Just let your daddy take care of you,” you blushed hard. You had been getting ready for work when Dabi told you he had planned something for your birthday.

“Dabi, I can’t just not show up to work. Plus, I have work to do for this project,” you went to step around your alpha when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest.

“No, you don’t. I already asked your boss and he said you can come. It’s only for a few days babe. I promise you’ll love it,” he was giving you his pout. You turned your head to the side knowing that you would cave in to his demands the longer he looked at his face. You must resist temptation. You must...you must...you...have never seen Dabi look at you the way he is now. He seems so excited for whatever he has planned. You can’t bring yourself to deny his excitement. 

“Fine. What do I need to pack?” Dabi rejoiced in your defeat, smiling down at you. 

“I’ve already packed for you,” your alpha pulls a suitcase from underneath the bed. Ahhh, so that’s where some of your clothes had gone. “I’ve already got the car outside all gassed up, Giran said he’ll drop by to make sure the house is taken care of, and I’ve got your favorite snacks waiting to be eaten by you.”

This man truly loves you with all his being. You spend the next hours napping in the car per Dabi’s request. Even though you’d never admit it, it feels so good to have a break from working in your work cubicle. Maybe, you’ll decide to take a few more days off more often. After you wake up for your cat-nap, you eat your snacks like a good girl, giggling at any of the stupid roadtrip games Dabi comes up with. 

Every time you ask about your destination, Dabi just shoots you a conspiratorial grin and tells you to “enjoy the ride like a good girl.” You squint your eyes at him the first few times as you think about reaching over to grab his dick. You decide against it, your self-preservation telling you that idea may not be the best course of action. 

The day is slowly turning into evening but you don’t mind. The day has been immaculate at your alpha’s side. 

Eventually, Dabi tells you to close your eyes. You do so with no argument, ready to see what your surprise is (at this point, you’ve learned there is no point in trying to protest). You hear the car stop and Dabi helps you out, his hands covering your eyes as he walks you somewhere. From what you can feel, you’re somewhere with gravel. That revelation does nothing to tell you where you are. 

“How much further?” you whine. You’ve been walking for a few minutes now, every so often you stumble over a pebble, making Dabi laugh.

“How do you manage to trip and I’m literally guiding you?” you huff.

“Answer my question fool,” you yelp as Dabi gives you a quick swat to the butt. You rub the sting away and give him an imaginary glare. 

Instead of answering, he uncovers your eyes to the most beautiful thing you've seen in your life (aside from Dabi ofcourse). A log cabin stands in front of you, large windows spanning from the ground to the ceilings. It looks like it may be made of pine wood. Everything looks so polished and poised. But, that’s not even the best part. 

From where you stand, you can smell water. Walking a few steps ahead of Dabi, you can see a beautiful lake behind the cabin, the water glistening as it reflects the setting sun. Hues of magenta, tangerine, and candy apple sprays across the sky. Light is giving way to night before your very eyes and you feel yourself beginning to tear up. The sandy beach feels heavenly on your toes, the air feels calm and fresh, the lake still sparkling. 

You can still hear Dabi behind you as you wrap your arms around yourself. You try to cry silently but, you just end up full-on sobbing. No one has ever done something so thoughtful for you; no one has cared enough about you to do anything like this.

Your alpha doesn’t ask you what’s wrong. He just keeps you against his chest as he lets you deal with your emotions. By the look on your face, he can tell he’s done a good job by consulting with Giran. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for my omega,” you grin. You’ll have to start letting him care for you more often if this is what he comes up with.

You both walk along the beach, laughing at each other when either of you trip on the mounds of sand. It’s another moment of calm that is reserved for only the two of you. 

“So, you do like the beach?” Dabi looks nervous as he holds you.

“I love it.”

“Good. It’s our beach now,” and, although it sounds innocent enough, you look at him with squared eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I bought the beach,” give it some time to set in. Okay, maybe a few more moments of digestion.

“YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

—————————————————————————-

TagList💕

@sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack

[spxllcxstxr]

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

[yanderenightmare]

Hey, can I have yandere!shinsou to insult the chubby!reader bcs she really made him angry to her by being rebellious so it ended up with she is getting fuck so hard by him 🥵💦

yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, mind-control, jealousy

MISTAKES COME BEST WHEN SERVED IN THREES

She’d been bugging him all night. 

They were hauled up in his dorm-room with homework, had been so for hours. And it wouldn't have been too bad, but she wouldn't shut up.

She laid on her stomach, elbows propped up beneath her, tits mushed perfectly into his mattress, looking like a comfortable pillow fo support, squeezed like two plump balloons in her top with the way she bounced on them. She always bounced as she spoke, so bubbly, voluptuous lips sucking on her pen in those breaks where she didn't have anything to say, looking like a cute little bunny with the chubs of her cheeks, her legs kicking in the air, ass wiggling like a puppy wagging its tail, as she babbled on and on and on about her stupid crush.

Disgusting. He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled his eyes, sustained clicking his tongue in an exasperated fashion, now feeling the growing need to go puke his guts up.

“He’s got such pretty hair too, like... it’s fluffy, like a cat, like he has secrets hidden inside there or something...” He wanted to claw his eyes out, but he couldn't stop looking at her, those lips, that cheeky smile, her childish giggle. His ears bleeding, not wanting to hear another silly foolish detail about whomever the fuck had her so neatly tied around there finger. “I just want to run my hands through it, you know?” She fiddled with a lock of her own hair while she daydreamed, finger raking through the pretty shiny treads. “Tangle my fingers inside it and ride his face.” That’s when he snapped.

It took only a split second to process, perhaps because he’d imagined it so many times already. Her plush thighs hugging his face, hands grabbing the fat of her ass, setting the rhythm, not letting her go until he feels her dripping down his chin. “Who?” He sounded like an owl, looked like one too. Eyes intense as they stared at her place on his mattress. 

Such audacity she had, talking up wet-dreams of someone else in his fucking bed.

Her brows knitted, looking at him, legs stopping to rub together in the air. “Hm?” She only hummed, but it was enough.

“What’s his name?” He repeated, and this time she had no choice but to answer.

Her features blanched, eyes pooling with void, enslaved, gorgeous, pupils blown large like a black lake, like ink ready to write all her secrets, to spill her guts for him. 

“Shinso Hitoshi.”

The name dropped from her lips without hesitance, and despite the monotonous sound of it, despite lackluster at the absence of her substantial voice, her full-bodied brazen wild tone, it still managed to make his heart stop, stammer in his chest, before beating along like it usually does, like a skipping rock, picking up its pace, soon to be hammering like some war-drum, fueling war-paint through his system, spiked and frayed, making the thin hairs at the nape of his neck rise, his purple mane frizz with static. 

Thoroughly put out, enough to lose his hold on her.

“Did you...” She shook from the shock, from the shackles. “Did you just-” Her palms pushed into her temple as her eyes scrutinized, pulling her knees to curl into a sitting position on the bed. “Use your quirk on me?” 

Her frame had bled into a blurry view at the light of his bliss, his smile widened into a sneer as sharp as a knife, eyes refocusing at the sound of her voice breaking the otherwise pin-drop silence and galloping of his heart.

He scoffed at her pout, at the brimming, swirling vivid look of betrayal climbing in her eyes, almost drooling at the bashful blush that adorned her cheeks, having never seen her shy or humiliated before and finding an unparalleled sense of victory at the sight of it. 

“What?” He shrugged, sly smile nudging further up on his face, smug and victorious, uncaring of whatever feeling he must have stirred with knowing how she actually felt plain and simple and outspoken, pulled right from her chest, still echoing on the walls, ringing in his mind, dripping from his teeth. He could almost laugh. “Not the guy you thought I was?”

“This isn't funny, Toshi.” Believe him, he didn't think so either. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.” His lilac eyes shone with such sinister glee, such carnal sadistic pleasure, she felt it like a claw on her throat. “Liking me is your second.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Her voice strained, caught between being vicious to teary-wet. He could only imagine, like he’d done so many sleepless nights already, the catlike whimpers and whines she’d spill once he did like she suggested earlier.

She pushed herself off his bed with a bounce and huff and a sweet little sniffle, walking past where he still sat seated on the chair by his desk, hand drumming lean knuckled fingers on the table. “Leaving so soon, Kitten?” He didn't bother getting up. He didn't need to.

“Fuck- you.” She mumbled, her voice already a croak of suppressed cries, her heart aching in her chest as she walked to the door.

The smile cracked even farther, more salacious, more enjoyed, gorged and savored. “Fuck me? Heh, that’ll be your third...” He scoffed, laugh lacing his mocking words. “Stop.” Was all he needed to say to turn all her nerves against her and bend them to do his bidding. “Come here.” 

His hand still drummed on the table, not having bothered turning around as he heard her approach him again. Perfectly timed steps, one after the other, mechanical almost, until she stood, plain and simple, without resistance, between his legs, all up for grabs. His fingers stopped drumming.

Then there was silence again. But she would say the smirk on his face was loud, and so was the glint in those lavender orbs, warm in her head, in her cheeks, hot and heavy with how he eyed her, up and down. Hotter as those arms, lined with the muscles of a man, straining veins and fresh bruises from his training, reaching out scarred hands to touch her ample hips, pulling her closer, tighter between his thighs. Fingers, strangely confident and lax, unbothered and unhurried, soon fiddling with the clasp that kept her short school skirt together at the waist, pinching what pliable flesh he found as he explored. Other hand ascending with the same grace, working slowly as he twisted the buttons to her shirt open, popping one after the other, face buried and pushed into the welcoming warm embrace of her breasts with a heavy sigh, lips dragging up and down the valley of them, nose rubbing and cuddling into her skin, teeth soon gracing alongside his tongue licking at her. Her shirt and skirt falling to the floor, pooling around her ankles, meanwhile his hand moved to the back to pinch loose the clasp of her bra, where the other hand had made itself busy feeling up the thickness of her ass like putty between his greedy fingers.

“On the bed.” He growled, face still mushed into her skin, all clothes except her precious cotton panties left in a pile by the desk.

And off she went, Shinso getting up and out of his chair to trail after her, towering over her short frame, looking down at the back of her head and how it seemed to bob up and down as she walked, hips swaying like a feline from side to side as she stalked, until she turned on her heel and plopped down with a bounce. Always so bouncy. So plump and full of life. Juicy like a peach.

He got down on his knees quickly, hands reached out to grab her knees, prying them apart carefully, opening up for a view of soft plush doughy flesh and the valley that made her panties look like a heart just beneath her tummy, all for him to bite into. He groaned, hands curled as they raked down from grabbing at her ass, until they hooked under her knees, pushing her up and down on her back, tits bouncing from the fall, his other hand giving them the attention they deserve, kneading one breasts in his palm, fingers going from tweaking the nib to pulling at it like picking up a water-balloon by the tail, managing to wake her.

“Get off!” She gasped, whined at the harsh touch, hands coming to push at his hard abs. But he wasn't budging, hands easily and softly finding her wrists to keep them from flailing, his dark chuckle stirring that something deep within her gut.

“Get off?” He repeated, questioningly, a slight snicker playing in his tone. “What?” It was clear he was amused, that he had no regrets and no intentions of backing down. “You don't like it when I touch you?” He pushed her down, drowned her in the sheets, hiked his knee up on the bed to earn leverage and height, like a tower toppling over, pushing her wrists into the mattress, head dipping to kiss at her collarbone, nose sliding up her neck as she shook her head in slight protest were any verbal answers were sure to be taken advantage of. “Well-” He scoffed. “That’s a lie.” His words whispered at her ear, as he smoothly hooked his foot under her leg to push them open, knee fitting snugly between the tight space of her thighs, hiking her up over the tops of his own, fitting between her. “We both know you’ll love it when I touch you, Kitten.” 

He bit her earlobe with another snicker, kissed her cheek chastely, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he dunked in for one hungry sloppy kiss, loving her adorable girlish squeals beneath him, how her hands had stopped struggling, a tinge of rose blushing her cheeks once he pulled up for air. 

“There’s no need to be shy.” Pupils blown, his eyes had never seemed darker. “You belong to me.” He kissed down her neck, bit at her skin. “Every single inch of you.” His hands relieving their post, leaving two smaller hands to stay where they’d been placed. “These tits.” Lips kissing the bud of her breast, teeth rolling it on his tongue. Rough fingers grabbing like claws into the cake of her thighs again, spreading them further apart. “These thighs.” He growled, hands cupping her ass to rut his bulge into her thinly clothed sex, lips crashing onto her once again, even as she yelped against him. “This ass.” He groaned, rocking into her. “All of you. Every single curve.” He purred. “There won’t be an ounce of your being left untouched, unlicked, un-fucked once I’m done.”

[t0th3-ark]

Foreign Shadows

Karl Heisenberg x Reader: Part 1

Warnings: weapons, blood, gore, kidnapping, torture, cursing, sexual content.

"Ethan, you can't be serious?" (Y/N) calls after her friend. "I am serious. She's missing and I'm going to find her." Ethan shouts, over his shoulder, continuing into the woods. "Its getting late, you can't go out there alone." She says, stomping after him. Ethan turns suddenly. (Y/N) bumps into her chest, inhaling sharply. He looks down at her with desperation.

"Then come with me."

(Y/N) walks beside Ethan, arms crossed. They hadn't spoken to each other for at least twenty minutes. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Ethan sighs, breaking the silence. "I know this is hard for you." (Y/N) starts, feeling an uncomfortable shiver run down her spine. Someone was watching. "But this wasn't a good idea. We're out here alone, in that dark, with a only a flashlight. I mean this is classic horror story shit." (Y/N) says. "I know, I know." Ethan mumbles. What sounds like a small branch snapping under someone's foot his heard. They both fall quiet. Ethan looks at (Y/N). Shs looks back wide eyed. He glances around, suddenlt noticing lights in the distance. He pulls (Y/N) to him, whispering in her ear. "There are light down the hill. When I tap your arm, we run, got it." He explains, having a feeling of dread in his gut. (Y/N) lets out a shaky breath feeling him tap her arm. She boots.

Ethan is hot on her tail, as they both sprint down the hill. The lights get closer and closer to reveal a small village. "What the hell?" (Y/N) whispers. Ethan doesn't see her stop running and bumps into her, knocking them both to the ground. "Shit!" Ethan says, grabbing the attention of some people walking the street. (Y/N) groans, sitting up, feeling eyes on her. "Ethan." (Y/N) says, patting the ground beside her. He was gone. She stares at the spot of the ground he once was sitting on. Did he leave her? (Y/N) stands, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Ethan!" She whispers harshly. "Dammit." She mumbles, looking entirely out of place in the village. "Are you lost?" Someone asks, from behind her. She turns, quickly. "I don't- I'm not from here." (Y/N) stutters watching the woman's face light up. "A foreigner! How lovely." She starts. (Y/N) doesn't let her finish. "Have you seen a guy, about this tall," She gestures with her hands, "Blonde hair? He was wearing a green jack-" The woman stops her. "I've seen no man. Please come, inside!" She says ushering (Y/N) inside her home. "Wait, but-" The woman sushes her. "I insist! We never get foreigners nowadays." The woman laughs, eerily. (Y/N) swallows, thickly. "Let me go find my husband, and I'll be right back." The woman says, giving her a creepy grin. (Y/N) shutters as the woman leaves. She rushes to the door, opening it. It slams on the wall as she bolts out of the woman's house and into the square. Where the hell was she? What was going on? Where did Ethan go? What was in the wood? Her breath quickens and she glances frantically around the village for an escape. Villagers stop in their tracks, staring at her as if she were a digusting creature. A dull pain, resonates on the back of her skull. She grunts, falling to the ground from the impact. She turns, seeing villager with some heavy object in hand. (Y/N)'s head pounds. Her adrenaline begins to kick in. The man raises his weapon to strike again and she rolls to the side hearing it clank on the brick below her. She kicks the man in the shin, pulling herself up. "Oh no you don't!" The man yells, aiming a shotgun at her. Where did her get that from? "What do you want? What's going on?" (Y/N) roars, anger filling her. "Where is my friend? What did you do to him-" The gun goes off, the bullets piercing her thigh. (Y/N) falls on her back, crying out in pain. Her hands shoot to her injured leg, holding it. Blood seeps onto her hands. She sobs, looking up through her tears at the man. "Mother Miranda will be very pleased to see you." The man says, confusing the hell out of (Y/N). "Please-" The barrel of the gun comes down the hit (Y/N)'s head. 

Darkness.

"Oh, please, that is utter nonsense!" A female's voice booms. (Y/N) winces, feeling cold metal around her wrists. Her thigh is numb and pulsates with her heart. Her head hurts. It's throbbing, aching. She turns to lie on her back. "(Y/N)!" Someone hisses, from beside her. "Ethan?" (Y/N) croaks, quietly. "Thank God. I thought you wouldn't wake up." Ethan says. He's bloody and dirty. "What's going on? Ethan, please tell me this isn't real." (Y/N) whispers. "Ah!" The same female voice says. "They're awake." She chuckles. (Y/N) props herself up against a wall. Oh god. A woman looms above her. She's enormous. She towers over (Y/N) like a tree. She has to crane her neck to see the woman's face. She glances around the room seeing several other figures. Her eyes widen. What the fuck was happening? "Oh, don't be alarmed, darling." The woman, grins. "The worst is yet to come." She says. Someone snorts and (Y/N)'s head turns to see a gruff looking man, smoking a cigar. "What the fuck is going on?" (Y/N) projects, taking all of the strange people by surprise. Ethan feels anxiety bubble in him. "Who are you? What are we doing here?" (Y/N) drills. No one answers. "Answer me, goddammit!" (Y/N) shouts. Cigar man let's out a laugh. It sounded like it came from deep within her gut.

"What's so funny, cigar man?" (Y/N) growls, making Ethan kick her uninjured leg. "Dont provoke them." He mumbles. "Cigar man." The scruffy man repeats. "Don't provoke them?" (Y/N) says lowly. The strange people watch the two humans interact. "Don't fucking provoke them?" She shouts at Ethan, making him flinch. "Some dumbass shot me in the leg and all I was trying to do was get some answers." (Y/N) rants. "You're the one who dragged me out here to find you're precious daughter!" She says raising her hands mockingly. Ethan's face contorts. "Oh so it's my fault?" He says, laughing bitterly. "Obviously! We're in this situation because of you!" She argues, shoving her index finger into his chest. "Me? I'm not the one who-" The tall woman becomes tired of their bickering. "Enough!" She booms, shutting them both up. "Mother Miranda is on her way and she will decide what to do with both of you." She says, obviously annoyed. "I like her." The man says, pointing his cigar at (Y/N). "She's got spunk. Now him," He pauses, pointing to Ethan, "He seems like a pain in the ass, if I'm being blunt with you." He says, ignoring that the two humans were even there, talking to the tall lady. The large woman, sighs heavily. "It isn't your decision, Heisenberg." She says, sitting down. "Now hang on just a minute," (Y/N) says squinting. "Since when am I property?" She glares at all of them. Ethan swallows. "Since you set foot here." A new voice says. It's filled with power. It was quite intimidating. A female figure covered in feathers enters the room. "What the fuck." (Y/N) whispers, eyes trailing her as she walks. The Heisenberg man snorts. Ethan  cowers to the wall behind him. Idiot. 

Miranda stops at the center of the room. "We will decide your fate, from now, forward." She says, speaking with a kind of grace. "So we don't get a fucking say in this?" (Y/N) fumes. "(Y/N)." Ethan says, weakly. "Don't '(Y/N)' me. I don't want anything to do with this! This is insane. It this a joke? Did my mom set this shit up? She's been after me for years. I knew-" (Y/N) is silenced. "Shut your fucking hole and let the woman speak. Damn." Heisenberg snaps. "I thought you liked me, cigar boy." (Y/N) sneers. Heisenberg rises from his seat, suddenly, making her jump. Mother Miranda sighs. "Now you listen to me, princess." Heisenberg growls, stalking over to her. (Y/N) stands her ground, rolling her shoulders back. Ethan starts to shake in fear. He grabs her jaw, roughly.

"You ain't making the fucking decisions around here." He says. (Y/N) tries to pull her head out of his grasp, but he simply tightens it. "Your fate is already layed out for you. So I suggest to cooperate or you will face the consequences." Heisenberg grins. "Get your hands off me you pig!" (Y/N) says, lowly. A loud crack echos inside the room. (Y/N) falls back against the wall, hand to her face. He just hit her. "Learn your place or you won't survive." Heisenberg whimpers. (Y/N)'s eyes sting with tears. Everything hurt and nothing made sense. "Go to hell." She mumbles. "What did I just say-" heisenberg starts raising his voice. "That's a great show you put on for us, dear, but I think that's enough." The tall woman says, boredom in her tone. (Y/N) slumps back against the wall, defeated. It was no use. 

"Ethan Winters." Mother Miranda says. "Your fate has been decided." She speaks with authority. There's a pause. "Lady Dimitrescu will have you." She states. The tall woman grins wildly. Ethan shrinks back against the wall. (Y/N) sits there, a cut on her cheek from something Heisenberg hand on his hand. Possibly a ring. She didn't care. Ethan is carried away by the tall lady she had learned to be Alcina Dimitrescu. "Good fucking ridens." (Y/N) mumbles to herself, watching Ethan struggle. "(Y/N) (L/N). Your fate has been decided." Mother Miranda repeats. "Oh, great." (Y/N) says, voice dripping in hate. "Lord Heisenberg will take you." She says. (Y/N) feels anger filling her. "I'm not going with that idiot." She says, looking at Miranda while referring to him. She hears him stand. Goosebumps rise on her skin, seeing his shadow on the ground as he looms above her. "Get up." He orders. "Fuck off." (Y/N) retorts, still looking at Miranda. "Get the fuck up!" Heisenberg booms. (Y/N) glares up at him. "I said, fuck off!" She yells back. Heisenberg smiles, adjusting his hat. "You're in for a ride, pretty girl." He growls, grabbing her forearm, forcing her to stand on her bad leg. (Y/N) yelps, numbing pain shooting through her ankle to her hip. She pants, pulling at the chains surrounding her wrist. She would glady, for no money at all, kick him in the balls, if her leg was healed.

"Well? C'mon walk." Heisenberg says, in a teasing manner. "I got shot, dumbass! I can't walk." (Y/N) spits. "Guess I'll either have to drag you or throw you over my shoulder. What'll it be?" He says, a glint in his eyes. (Y/N) remains silent. He grabs her by the middle, hosting her over his shoulder. "Put me down!" (Y/N) shouts as he begins to walk. "Oh! I see. You'd rather be dragged on the ground, huh?" Heisenberg says, stopping. "No." (Y/N) says, quickly. "That's what I fuckin' thought." He says, hand resting on the bad of her thighs. It didn't seem like he really cared about the wound on her thigh.(Y/N) starts to feel blood rush to her head. The man was carrying her at an uncomfortable angle. She grunts, wiggling to adjust herself. "Quit movin'." Heisenberg barks, slapping the back of her injured thigh. (Y/N) flinches letting out a pained sound. She dangles from his shoulder like a ragdoll. This was embarrassing to say the least. He was treating her like a sack of potatoes. 

After what felt like a month, they reached some sort of plant. A factory maybe? This was all surreal. A whirring sound is heard and (Y/N) is walked through a door. "Welcome to your new home." Heisenberg chuckles. "This isn't my home." She snaps, hitting his back with her chained wrists. "Now you've done it." He says, before throwing her down on the floor. (Y/N) hisses, her leg aching. "Look, this us how it's gonna be." He starts, kneeling down to an eye level stance. "You ain't gonna cause trouble and your gonna do what I say. You hear?" He says. "You may need some trainin'," He pauses, eyes hinting some darkness,

"But you'll fuckin' learn."