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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years ago

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The Roommate and The Best Friend (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Long time, no post, guys! I do apologize for going silent on the fic front--I’ve just been so tired lately, I haven’t had the motivation to really edit anything I’ve written. BUT, my sweet baby angels, this is the longest stand alone fic I’ve ever done! It also took forever to edit, lol. I really hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: You’ve been Foggy’s best friend since you two could walk. Matt’s been Foggy’s best friend since he moved in at Columbia. After three years at law school all together, you’re all as thick as thieves. When Foggy doesn’t show up one day to a study session, something blossoms between you and Matt that will change the ecosystem of your friendship trio forever.

Warnings: Fluff (friends to lovers, cuteness, cuddles, kisses), angst (shouting, friendship fights, hurt feelings), smut (p in v, protected sex, blowjob, handjob, being cute dorks when a matching set is involved), swearing

Other Characters: College!Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 8.081

“At what point do you think we can officially say Foggy isn’t coming?” you sigh, flipping the page in your notebook and highlighting what is written in accordance to your study system.

Matt lets out a breath through his nose as his fingers move to feel at the braille surface of his watch. “An hour ago?” he smirks, resuming his own work.

“Eh, I guess I should have seen that coming.”

“How so?”

“All boys are the same when they start relationships, especially when they reengage the on-again. Knowing Foggy and Marci, they’re doing some weird sort of sex-study review game.” You shudder at the memory. “You’re lucky you’re blind, Matty. You can’t unsee that.”

“Trust me, I think it’s worse to only hear,” he chuckles.

“Ew, don’t even remind me of the sound!”

Matt just laughs, his fingers sliding across the page.

“Hey, get back to studying, Chuckles,” you chastise, smiling big yourself as you move back to your notes. “Rule 24 of Federal Civil Procedure won’t learn itself.”

“Rule 24. Intervention. Intervention of Right: On a timely motion, the court must permit anyone to intervene who—.”

“Shut up,” you scoff playfully, hitting his shin underneath the table. “Show off.”

You go back and forth, quizzing one another on the rules of civil procedure in the unit, adjusting in the library chairs until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder going over material, Matt having abandoned his braille textbooks to listen to you read to him.

“You have a really beautiful voice, you know that?” Matt hums, his voice dipping into a velvety timbre.

“You’re just lazy,” you chuckle as you tilt your head and gaze over at him. “Getting me to do all the work.”

“Delegating,” he attempts.

“Laziness,” you counter.

“You do better when do explain things. You’ve said so yourself. And I’m a great listener.”

You purse your lips and let out a little sigh. “I do do better when I talk out loud,” you admit.

“You also always find your answer when you do.”

“And I do like talking to you.”

“I rest my case,” he says with a satisfied smile.

“Asshole.”

You laugh in your little secluded spot in the library, your shoulders shaking against one another’s as you do. You tilt your head to face him, Matt doing the same thing at the same time, his dark rectangular glasses long abandoned, letting you look into the honey hazel galaxy of his irises.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice making a warmth spread all over your body.

“Hey yourself, Murdock,” you counter.

“You’re gonna be a really great lawyer, you know that?”

You feel yourself blush. If it’s from the sentiment of his words, the pitch that he says it, or your proximity, you’ll never know. Maybe it’s all three. You’re just glad he can’t see the full extent of how his words make you feel.

“Thanks, Matty. You’re gonna be great, too. I pity whoever will have to go against you in court.”

“You are so extraordinary, (Y/N),” he whispers, his thumb and forefinger taking ahold of your chin, the space between the two of you smaller than you remember.

“So are you,” you breathe.

“(Y/N), I—."

“I think we’re just getting tired,” you breathe as his lips hover centimeters from yours.

“No, I think we’re picking up on something that’s been here for a bit,” he counters, his voice at such a low pitch it does things to the heart in your chest and the heart between your legs.

But this is Matt you’re talking about. He’s your friend. He’s Foggy’s friend, his roommate. Sure, people can bond with their roommates, but it was almost like something out of a buddy-comedy with what happened with those two, and it was instantaneous.

You shuffle and maneuver around everyone in the hallway, moving furniture and supplies into their homes for the next year as you track down the number that is your best friend’s new address.

“Alright, Foghorn, boxes have been unpacked, and liquor needs to be poured!” you call as you glide through the entryway, the door left ajar. When you enter, you don’t see anyone in sight. Did you get the wrong number? No, that’s not it: unless someone else has some interest in really niche bands and the same quilt his mother knit him for Christmas in undergrad, you’re definitely in the right place. The social butterfly of a teddy bear man probably bonding with his roommate or something.

Just as you flop down on what his definitely Foggy’s bed, you hear his laugh and the tapping of something growing closer to the dorm.

“ . . . and I said, ‘No, Mom and Dad. I love you guys, but I don’t want to be a butcher, I want to be a lawyer,” Foggy recalls his infamous butcher story, his words becoming clear as they enter.

“Not the butcher story!” you interrupt, sitting right back up like a vampire in its casket, watching Foggy enter with a handsome man next to him, his brown hair floppy and shiny, dark rectangular glasses perched on his nose and a white cane in the hand that isn’t holding his coffee. “You got coffee without me? Rude.”

“Jesus, (Y/N)!” Foggy hisses, almost slipping his to go cup of coffee in the process.

“Sounds like a pretty famous tale,” the man next to him says with an amused smirk pulling across some particularly pouty lips. Really pretty pouty lips.

“Matt, this is (Y/N), my best friend since toddledom,” Foggy introduces, licking some of the roast that escaped the sip hole of the lid. “(Y/N), this is my roommate, Matt. His dad was Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

Getting up, you move over to in front of where he stands by Foggy, watching how he adjusts the cane in his grip to under his arm, extending his hand just enough where it looks expectant for yours.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt,” you tell him with a soft smile.

“Likewise,” he says with a little nod.

“I have to say, my gram was a big fan of your dad. She loved watching his matches.” He acknowledges your comment with a nod of his head and a little, soft smile. “You know, you lucked out on your roommate. Foggy’s the best friend you could ever ask for. You might need to get some earplugs, though, he snores like a Foghorn.”

“Do not!” Foggy interjects.

“He’s still in phase one denial of the whole thing. Really, sometimes, I think he could wake the dead with that sound.”

Matt’s lips curl into an incredibly large smile with a warm laugh that matches the expression.

And, well, the rest his history, with the three of you being thick as thieves since that day.

“This can’t happen,” you breathe, swallowing hard while your head and heart race a million miles a minute. “Foggy is my best friend—he’s your best friend. We can’t.”

“I know,” he breathes. “That doesn’t mean I want to, though. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you want to, too.” He pushes some hair that has fallen out of your clip behind your ear. “Would it . . . Would it really be the worst thing?”

Your eyes flick down to his lips and how is tongue peeks out ever so slightly to moisten the plush skin before back up to his honey hazel eyes and their off-center gaze, his face softer and more vulnerable without the dark specks resting on his nose.

“This kind of stuff can ruin friendships. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to hurt Foggy.”

“I don’t want any of that either. But I also know that I don’t want to go another moment without kissing you.”

It’s unclear if you’re the one that closes the gap between you or if it’s Matt, but before you know it, you’re kissing in your little corner of the library. His lips are as soft as they look, perhaps even more so, and his aftershave floods your nose—crisp and fresh, a subtle blend of sandalwood, vanilla, and coffee pulling you closer and closer into him. His large hands slide down the sides of your body, squeezing your waist, making you moan into his mouth. The sound encourages him to lift you up, placing you so you straddle one of his legs. As the kiss grows more heated, your fingers running through his incredibly soft hair, you pull back, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks softly, his hands running up and down your body soothingly.

“Extremely,” you breathe with a bright smile.

Matt smiles so bright he could outshine the sun, lines of happiness etching themselves into the skin by his eyes as he leans back in for a kiss. His hands continue to move mindlessly along your waist and your back, his fingers grazing the hem of your shirt and sneaking underneath the soft fabric, making goosebumps break out over your body with a shudder.

“Isn’t it a bit of a cliché to do that in the library, Matthew?” you whisper in his ear as he trails wet kisses along your neck, your entire body tingling at your position and the way he moves against your body.

“Only if we get caught,” he smirks, moving his face back so it’s focused in your direction.

“I’m taking that as code for you can attest to that from experience?”

“It was a close call, never a red-handed situation.”

“Mm, you true gentleman.”

You watch as Matt’s brows shoot up and furrow, some of the energy leaving him as his demeanor beings to change. “Do you not want to? We don’t have to. I—.”

“I want to, Matt,” you tell him, your cheeks burning hot at your own admission. “Do you?”

“I do. I wouldn’t have kissed you like that if I didn’t want to. Unfortunately, I didn’t think it through all the way—we can’t go back to my dorm. Foggy is probably there.”

“We could go back to mine?” you suggest, your heart now fully racing like a marathon runner. “I have a dingle.”

“Dingle?” Matt repeats with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips.

“A double that’s now a single since my roommate dropped out.”

“A dingle.”

“A dingle, yeah.”

Matt brings his lips back to your, his kisses needily and tenderly in your isolated corner of the library.

“So, is that a yes, Murdock?”

The wicked grin that pulls as his lips tell you everything you need to know, and he doesn’t even bothering to use his cane as you lead him to your dorm on campus.

As soon as the door to your place is closed, your lips reattach and your hands work in a frenzy against one another’s bodies, desperately trying to get the clothes off of one another. Your hands slide over his muscular arms and torso until they are buried in his hair, the only thought in your brain is that you need to get him deeper and closer—a thought that continues on loop for the time you’re together.

The feeling of Matt’s lips on yours is made so much better after the orgasms that he has pulled from your body over and over during the night, but you’ll be damned if he stops now. A thin sheen of sweat covers your bodies as Matt continues to rut into you, one hand on your waist while the other supports his body weight on the mattress, kissing your shoulders and neck while his little wooden crucifix swings back and forth around his neck.

“Matt,” you groan before you pull him up for a kiss, his hair an absolute disheveled mess. It’s sloppy and filled with need, but damn if it isn’t absolutely impeccable.

“Do you have one more in there for me, angel?” he pants as he moves his kisses across your cheek to the sweet spot of your neck. “Come on, angel, you can cum one more time, can’t you?” All you can do is whimper as Matt continues to wind up that special knot in your stomach. “You’re doing so good. One more, I promise. Just one more.”

Hiking up your legs around his waist, you make sure the Matt’s hips stay as close to yours as possible, selfishly letting him rub up against your swollen, overstimulated clit, and ensuring that he’s nice and deep in you. The little grunts and groans that fall from Matt’s lips are angelic, the parted, plush lips and scrunched look of bliss on his face making your heart race more than it already is from exertion.

“Matty,” you whine. “Fuck!”

“Doin’ good, angel. Fuck, so good.”

Biting your lip and closing your eyes, you let the feeling wash over you while you dig your fingers into his toned muscles.

“I’m gonna . . . I—.”

“M-Me too,” he moans, dropping to his forearm to come closer to you as you try to hold your legs back higher. The newfound closeness and the new position let’s Matt reach a new angle, and it’s enough for the both of you to fall over the edge together. Matt does his best to try and fuck you through both of your orgasms, but it’s too much, and he stills, his hand running all over your body as he dips his head and presses soft kisses to your neck and lips. You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls out, feeling hollow without him in you, the drag of his length along your walls enticing. Tying up the condom, he tosses it in the trash while you get up and pad over to the bathroom. When you get back, you see him waiting with a dopey smile on his face, the sheets draping over his hips like some kind of adonis. When you get close enough, he pulls back your sheets and you happily slide in, snuggling close as he wraps an arm around you.

“You’re good at that,” you hum. “I think you’d gold medal.”

Matt laughs as his fingers trace patterns into your skin. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“We can’t go back from that, you know,” you say softly.

“Who says I want to go back from it?” He shifts his head down in an effort to look at your face. You look back at him with furrowed brows. “I want to be more, (Y/N).”

“Matt,” you start. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to lose you or Foggy. If we do this and it doesn’t work . . . I lose the two most important people in my life.”

“I swear to you, (Y/N), you won’t lose either of us.”

You snuggle down on him, listening to his heartbeat before you peck a quick kiss to his chest. “I want more, too.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Matt runs a soothing hand up and down the line of your back.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

You let out a little sigh. “Just that I thought I was supposed to be wined and dined before I was sixty-nine’d.”

Matt lets out a chuckle that radiates throughout your body. “We didn’t—.”

Before he can finish, you tilt your head up to look at his face, witnessing the moment that it clicks in his brain. “Classy,” he laughs.

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I can order pizza? I just don’t think I can do booze to go.”

“Who says you need to bring the booze?” Rolling over, you reach into the bottom drawer of your nightstand and pull out a bottle of wine. “From the special movie night reserve.”

Matt’s lips turn into a big smile, making adorable lines appear again at the corners of he eyes as he leans forward for another kiss, making you loose grip on your bottle of wine. He catches it with ease, placing it to the side of the bed as he chases your lips, and the way he captures your body beneath his lets you know that he doesn’t plan for the night to end any time soon.

Your leg bounces and your heart races as your eyes keep flicking towards the clock on the desk, watching the second hand move painfully slow across the timepiece as you await Matt’s arrival like you do several times a week, except this time, you have a surprise for him. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you hear a gentle knock at the door. There’s no special pattern to it, but the pressure and rhythm lets you know that Matt is on the other side. His handsome smile greets you when you swing your door open.

“Hey,” you smile as Matt enters your dorm, his bag sliding off his broad shoulders to the ground, cane leaning up against the wall, and glasses coming off of his face as he toes off his shoes.

“Hey yourself,” he hums as his plush lips curl upward into a smile, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. The way his tongue slides into your mouth sends goosebumps all throughout your body; if anyone else tried to kiss you like this, you would consider it absolutely gross. But the way Matt does is? That’s how a man kisses—a man that’s on the cover of a romance novel that is dominant but tender, passionate yet gentle. A shudder of pleasure moves through you like shockwaves as he moves his hands up from your waist and up to your neck, helping him set the pace and motions of the kiss.

“I have a surprise for you,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, getting the sentence out just before he begins to eagerly move back in.

His eyebrows quirk up. “Do you, now?” Cocky bastard.

“I do. Now, sit on the bed.”

With a gentle push on his shoulder, he falls back on the mattress, making him coo in delight as he bounces slightly and causes the springs to squeak. With a little exhale to pump yourself up, you pull off your shirt and slide down your jeans, standing in nothing but your underwear.

“You know I can’t see it, angel,” Matt says with a tilt of his head. “But I do like what I just heard.”

“You don’t need to see it to appreciate it, Matty,” you inform, taking a step forward, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your shoulders. “Now, feel.”

This fingers glide over the soft lace that flutters off of the straps, down to the smooth mesh cups, and over the sides, tracing the lace and the pseudo-boning that decorate the bustier. His fingertips trace between the valley of your breasts, feeling a little criss-cross pattern that adorns the fabric before gliding his fingers down the the mesh panties and feeling the same soft lace that decorated it. A tiny moan escapes your lips when he brushes his fingers down between your legs, his digits lingering before they come to rest on your hips.

“You got a matching set for me?” he asks, his expression and tone one that you can’t quite read.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Murdock, it’s from Target,” you hum as his hands trace the hemline of your panties. “But yeah. I thought you’d like the textures being consistent. And, I could afford it, so, that was a perk.”

“You got lingerie for me,” he smirks, his lopsided grin telling you that you’ve only inflated his ego. “That’s so—.” His sentence his halted when his fingers trail to the back of the underwear, just below the small of your back. “Angel, I think you’re missing part of these panties.”

Now it’s your turn to smirk. “Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’. “It’s got a little keyhole back. It’s not quite easy access, but—mm, Matty.”

“I say, it gives me a good idea,” he says as one hand squeezes the flesh of your ass as the fingers on the other slip into the keyhole and tease you. Pulling you back onto the bed with him, you straddle him as you mimic the kind of kiss he greeted you with upon arriving. Moans and puckering quickly fill the room as you grind your hips on his jeans, opting to tease him through his light layers before attempting to shed them.

“You are such a fucking tease,” he murmurs in between kisses.

“Hi pot, it’s kettle,” you quip as you mark up his neck before pulling off his shirt. If you didn’t right this second, you’d never hear the end of it.

“Objection—badgering!”

“Overruled.”

With a light shove, you push him down so you are now fully on top of him, kissing all over his beautiful chest and soft skin as you grind into him.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“You’ve helped me perfect my technique,” you hum into his skin, moving your kisses back up to his neck and lips. “Gotta get you nice and hard for me, Matty.”

As you continue to grind down on him, his hands guide your hips, setting the pace and pressure just so in an effort to make you both feel good. When his hands begin to travel up on your body along the line of your spine, you gently take hold of them and bring them back down.

“I got the matching set for you—it’s staying on during this entire thing,” you smirk, dragging his fingers along the mesh and lace of your panties. “Now, I can’t say the same thing about these jeans.”

Moving off of him, you undo his belt and pants, shimmying off the denim with some help from his hands, allowing you to take hold of his painfully hard cock, pumping it in your hand before you bend down, your knees digging into the thin mattress so you can start to take him in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” he moans. “Fuck . . . So nice, baby.”

“Mm,” you giggle, dragging your lips back and forth along his length, licking him here and there. “Your cock is so pretty, Matty. I love putting it in my mouth.” Slowly going down on his length, you wiggle your head side to side lightly until you’re all the way down on his length with your cheeks hollowed out. You look up at him through your lashes, feeling a sense of pride at how is face is contorted in pleasure and how long his lashes look resting on his cheeks. Moving off of him, you gasp and catch your breath, hungrily kissing up his length while one of his hands cradle the side of your face. His hand doesn’t set a pace as you bob your head, repeatedly taking his thick cock into your mouth over and over, but rather as a silent show of encouragement and affection as you work him. Careful to not get too lost in it all with Matt in your mouth, you reluctantly pull off, leaving soft pecks all the way up his body until you meet his lips.

“Are you ready to fuck me with my panties on, Matty?” you coo.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs with his lips against your. Taking you by surprise, he quickly grabs you by your hips and flips your positions, making you giggle and bring his lips back to yours for a deep kiss. Like a rehearsed routine, he extends his arm to the side and opens your nightstand drawer, rummaging around for the box of condoms you keep there. “Angel,” he pants, “I hate to break it to you, but there are no more condoms in this box.”

“What?” you say practically whining as you adjust your position under Matt, taking the investigation into your own hands. Just as Matt said, the box of contraceptives is completely empty. This time, you do whine. “No!”

“I told you.”

“I could have sworn I had plenty.”

“You know what it was?” he says, something clicking in his brain. “Moot court championship.”

Thinking back to a couple of weeks ago, you remember exactly how you celebrated the travel team winning your championship over Yale—you and Matt being the two that secured the victory, which only provided extra cause to celebrate.

“Damn, you’re right,” you sigh.

“I could always run out and get some more? I’d be quick.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you joke, only for Matt to roll his eyes, licking his lips and tilting his head back in playful annoyance. Damn, he’s got a beautiful neck. “No, Matty. I don’t want you going out this late.

“It’s not too late, sweetheart.”

“I’d be worried about you going out in the dark.”

“That’s sweet—you worry about me.” Nothing in his words are condescending—they’re filled with pure affection. “Trust me, (Y/N). I’m a big boy. I can handle myself.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you going out.”

Matt kisses your forehead before resting his on yours. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you say, knowing immediately where he is going with his sentence.

“Well, since you don’t want me to go out and get some more and I really, really need to be inside the smart and talented woman that bought a matching set for me, we’re in a pickle.”

You let out a huff, your hands sliding down Matt’s furry arms.

“Foggy isn’t there?” you check.

“Out with Marci.”

“And you’re sure there’s no way he’d be back?”

“I can say it’s highly likely he won’t be back. Even if he does—.”

“Matt—.”

“Even if he does,” he repeats. “He’s gonna leave almost immediately because his roommate is having sex.”

“And if he asks with who after? Actually, better yet, what if he tries to come and hang out with me?”

“Tell him you’re out shopping. You and I both know that while he’s a man of unique fashion, he treats shopping like a mission. Trust me, that should work.”

You look up at him, licking your lips in hesitation before you pull him down for a kiss. “Okay. But first . . .” Maneuvering him on the two pushed together mattresses of your dingle so you’re on top, you run your hands down his body, wrapping your digits around his rock hard length and pumping him a few times. “You’re not going anywhere with a boner that big.”

“Matt,” you breathe as he glides into me so incredibly effortlessly, hitting deep over and over. “Oh God, Matt.”

“Angel,” he grunts, a delicious blush spreading up and across his chest and neck. “Fuck, I needed you.”

“You’ve got me,” you smile, taking one of his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together while he thrusts into you. “Mm, you’ve got me, Matty. I’m yours. Only yours. ’m not going anywhere.”

The softest smile spreads across his features when he rests his forehead on yours. “My girl,” he whispers before bringing his lips to yours.

Dipping his lips to your neck, his holds your hips up so your back arches slightly off of the bed while he thrusts into you.

“Matty,” you whimper. “I lo—mm! Matt!”

Matt places wet kisses all over your chest and neck before he brings his lips back to yours.

“So perfect,” he mutters in between kisses, and it’s then that you hear the twist and jiggle of the doorknob.

Matt abruptly breaks your embrace, frantically moving to cover your body with his, and you curl inward and down to the mattress, facing the wall so Foggy won’t be able to see your face.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Foggy says, and you can hear his hurried movements to grab what he needs. “Inopportune timing, I know, but Marci invited me on a weekend getaway, and I need some things.”

“Just hurry,” Matt urges him, and you can tell that the rapid way that his chest rises and falls isn’t from your interrupted exertion. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I am out of—,” Foggy starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. “Those are (Y/N)’s shoes.”

“What would her shoes be doing in our room, Foggy? She can’t just leave them places —she kind of needs them. Besides, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

You hear Foggy’s bag fall to the floor with a thud.

Shit.

“Matt, who’s with you?”

“Foggy—.”

“You know, I think I might just give (Y/N) a call. Check up on her.”

“Fog—.”

“Wait,” you sigh, closing your eyes in distress and defeat as you break your silence. Adjusting from under Matt, you turn to look at your friend. The look of pure betrayal and hurt is one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. But what’s even scarier, is how quickly the hurt in his eyes turns to pure, red-hot anger.

“Get away from them!” Foggy shouts, pulling Matt off the bed, Matt barely having enough time to react and keep his sheets around his hips. “Don’t you dare touch them!” You hop down from the mattress, standing between the two best friends and roommates, sticking your arms out to create extra distance in the tiny dorm so Foggy doesn’t absolutely jump Matt.

“Stop it!” you urge.

“I can’t believe you!” Foggy continues.

“Foggy, believe me, we didn’t mean for this to happen, it just did—,” Matt tries.

“You know how much they mean to me, and you just decided to ignore it and drop your pants for a quick fuck—!”

“Hey, whoa, out of line, Foggy!” you interrupt. “Don’t put this on Matt like that, we both—.”

“I’m not talking to him, I’m talking to you!” he clarifies. “You know that Matt is my best friend, and you go and do this? How could you? I can’t believe you! After all the things I’ve told you, about how his is with women—.”

“Hey!”

“—how could you be so careless and reckless?”

“Excuse me—.”

“I thought you were smarter than this! I can’t believe you!”

“Foggy—.”

“I can’t even look at you. Just get out of here!”

Tears burn at my lash line as I let his words absorb into me.

“Get out!” he repeats, the level and tone of his voice something I am thoroughly unused to. “I never want to see you again.”

You would’ve rather he just sent an open-faced slap across your face. His words and his tone cut you like a knife and are worse than any other pain you have or could ever experience. Mixed with his glare more than confirm that my best and oldest friendship has now been severed in half with no chance of reconciliation.

“Fog—,” Matt starts quietly, breaking the deathly silence in the room.

“I’m going,” you say after a moment, grabbing the clothes you can find. You don’t really care that they are Matt’s sweats—you just want to get out as fast as you can. Throwing them on and grabbing your bag, you begin to rush out of the room, only for Matt to take a few steps out to follow you.

“(Y/N)—,” he says softly, his beautiful hazel eyes desperately trying to focus on your face as his tongue darts out ever so slightly on his lips.

“I’ll see you later, Matty,” you tell him with a kiss to his cheek, as he holds your hand feet away from his door in the empty hallway.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

You squeeze it back. “No. It won’t.”

“How mad is he still?” you ask quietly as lie with Matt in bed, unable to stand the silence in the room that allows your thoughts to run wild, ramping up your anxiety over the friendship that you lost. Foggy was true to his words when he said he never wanted to see you again—he has cut you off cold in every way imaginable, from changing his route from dorm to class, to finding a new coffee shop and time to eat in the mess hall, to changing his seat in class to the other side of the room, and even going as far as to request a new partner for a project, erasing every possible venue where you could interact.

“He’s still really upset about it all,” Matt sighs. “He’s talking to me. It’s not exactly the same degree as it was, but it’s enough where we are moving back to what we were. It’s still awkward sometimes, though.”

“Does he know that we’re still together?”

“He does.” Matt pauses for a long while, his arm rubbing up and down your arm as if he’s listening to your silent question that screams through the dorm room. “We don’t talk about relationships, though.”

You let your breath hitch in your chest while your jaw tightens, a fresh wave of guilt that you haven’t felt in a long time washing over you. “I’m sorry that I’ve made things weird between you guys,” you whisper on the verge of tears.

“It’s not your fault, (Y/N).”

You snuggle down into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Sure as hell feels like it.”

“He’ll move past it. It’s just gonna take time. Before you know it, it’ll be back to how it was.”

“It won’t be the same, Matt. You know that it won’t. Especially after all these months . . . it’s dead and gone and buried.”

“It will be okay, (Y/N).” When you don’t respond, Matt moves his hands down your body and situates you so you’re sitting on top of him, the covers pooling around your waist and leaving you exposed to the cold winter air that seeps in through the old windows of the dorm. “I promise you, (Y/N), that it will all be okay. And you know how I know? You and Foggy have the biggest hearts of everyone I know. There’s so much love in there, and there’s so much love that you have for one another. So when I tell you that it’s going to be okay, it will be okay.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down and taking his face in your hands, giving him a soft and sweet kiss.

“Thanks, Matt,” you whisper, brushing his hair off of his forehead.

“Hey, I know what will get that smile to grow.” With his hands on your hips, he begins to rock you back and forth along his leg, holding you down, placing just the right amount of pressure down on your hips to create the friction that you need between your legs.

“Dick,” you chuckle as he guides you along his strong, muscular leg.

“You gotta give him a minute before it’s good for either of us,” he hums, only making you laugh more. “But I got you to smile.”

“You always make me smile, Matty.”

“Ditto, angel.”

Your room fills with the slick sound of your core against his leg and your heavy breathing, the sounds only getting louder as your pace increases.

“Right there,” you breathe as he guides your hips on his thigh, soaking the skin that’s there and creating a mess between your legs. “Fuck, Matty. It’s so fucking good, baby.”

“Grab a condom, angel,” he moans. “Fuck, I gotta get in you soon. Need you, angel.”

Twisting around quickly, you go to reach for the box in your nightstand. However, you twist too quick, losing your balance and teetering off of Matt’s thigh, crashing down on the concrete floor of your dorm, your arm breaking the fall. You groan in pain, muffling the sound by keeping your mouth shut as it tries to escape your lungs, and you hold onto your forearm, a throbbing pain radiating from deep down.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Matt asks you as he gets out of the bed and helps you up.

“Fine,” you grit through your teeth. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.” You wince when his hand grazes your arm. “(Y/N)—.”

“I’m okay. I just whacked my arm real good.”

“It sounded like more than that. Take the word of a blind man with really good hearing. It’s more than a whack.”

“Matty, it’s okay.”

“You really should get it checked out. It might be broken.”

“It’s not broken, Matt, trust me. Nothing Advil and ice can’t fix.”

“Sweetheart, please. That way, we can know for sure.”

“Matty—.”

“I’ll foot the bill.”

“It’s not about money, I—.”

“Go for me. It’ll make me feel better to know that a medical professional says you’re fine,” he continues. “Please, angel.”

You let out a sigh, taking in how concerned he is and how soft his features are.

“You’re gonna have to help me get dressed,” you concede.

“It’s gonna be a while,” you tell Matt as you sit back down next to him in the waiting room.

“But the forms are filled out,” he says with a little smirk. “One step down.”

“I’m telling you, Matt, it’s probably nothing.”

“And then you can rub it in my face. But at least I’ll feel better knowing you’re all right.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have an uncomfortably sore back.”

“C’mere,” he whispers, having you adjust and snuggle into his chest as you sit in the stiff, flat seats. “I always feel better when you’re on me—it’ll cancel out the shitty chairs.”

You chuckle softly, finding the sweet spot that you love to curl into. “You’re a good pillow, you know that?”

“You might have told me once or twice before.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head while he throws his coat over you like a blanket. The motion immediately brings the sleep creeping at the edge of your consciousness to the forefront, slowly taking over. “Try and sleep, angel. I’ll wake you up when they call.”

“No sleep til Brooklyn,” you smile.

“You’re hilarious,” he sighs, lightly resting his head on yours. “You still need to sleep. You were up late studying for your last final, got, what, maybe three hours of sleep? And you’ve been going all day. I’ll wake you up when they want to take you back, I promise.”

You yawn wide and snuggle into him, closing your eyes and feeling just how heavy they are. “Kay, Matty. Love you.”

You feel his hand slip into yours on on good arm. “Love you, too, angel.”

When you feel Matt gently shake you awake, you’re sure you must have only closed your eyes for a short while, but when Matt helps me up, your watch tells you that it’s several hours later.

“Want help, angel?” he asks as you slide his jacket back over to him.

“I’ve got it, Matty,” you hum, giving his lips a quick peck. “Besides, I got to prove to you that it’s all fine.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, giving the hand on your good arm a squeeze. “See you soon.”

After he listens to you get led back, Matt tunes into the orchestra of the waiting room, listening to anything and everything for a long while before something catches him off guard.

“What happened?” a familiar voice rings in Matt’s ears in the quieting ER.

“Foggy? What are you doing here?” Matt asks, standing up.

“Marci was visiting her cousin that had a baby. She saw you guys come in, said that something looked wrong.”

“(Y/N) hurt her arm. She didn’t want to come, but she was in a lot of pain. I almost had to drag her here.”

“What happened? How’d she hurt it?”

“She was trying to reach for something and overestimated the stretch. She fell off the mattress and landed hard on her arm.”

“Is it broken?” Foggy asks as he sits in your empty seat.

“I think it is,” Matt sighs, mirroring his friend’s movements. “She’s convinced she’s fine, though.”

“Of course she thinks she’s fine. She never wants to admit when she’s hurt. It’s like when she gets a cold, it’s always just—.

“Allergies’,” Matt finishes with a smirk. “Yeah. You know, she got a really bad cold about a month ago, and she would swear a blue streak that she was okay. I had to keep a bag of lozenges in my bag with a to-go Tylenol so when her fever spiked, I could give her some with some water or get her a tea from the coffee cart. I don’t know how she muscled through it. It was really bad.”

He can hear how his friend turns to look at him. “You really care about her, huh?”

“I love her, Foggy,” Matt tells him. “When I was with Elektra, I thought that was love. But being with (Y/N) . . . I know she’ll always be there. She makes me better. She helps me be who I want to be. And I’d do absolutely anything for her. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” He tilts his head to his friend. “You know she didn’t want to date me at first? She was afraid it’d ruin our friendship, but she was more worried about how you would take it. She didn’t want to hurt your feelings. After everything . . . Fog, (Y/N)’s absolutely torn up about it.”

“You know, I’ve thought a lot about what I said to her and how I said it,” Foggy starts. “The look on her face . . . The worst thing about it all is that when I said those words, I wanted them to hurt her, and I did exactly that, and I felt good that I did. She looked so broken. By the time I wanted to try and talk to her, I burned that bridge so much I couldn’t reach her. I feel like the biggest piece of shit that there is.”

“If I know anything, it’s that (Y/N) loves you, and you and your friendship means the world to her. That bridge isn’t gone. If anything . . . The map was lost. And just because the map is lost doesn’t mean that the path over that bridge is gone for good.”

“You think so?” Foggy asks hesitantly.

“I know so. And if I know you and (Y/N) even a fraction of how well I do, things will be okay.”

“Thanks, Matt.”

“I’m just telling you the truth, man.”

As they talk in the waiting room, everything starts to feel like it used to—the ease, the comfort, the flow of conversation. After about ninety minutes, Foggy declares a quest for coffee, groaning as he stands, bemoaning just how uncomfortable the ER seats are. Shortly after Foggy disappears, Matt hears your heartbeat grow closer to the double doors you went through, the nurse giving you a list of care instructions. Matt smirks to himself while he can, taking some pride in the fact that he convinced you to get some help and prevent it from becoming worse, but willing to play none the wiser for when you come out.

“I’m not saying that you were right, only that I underestimated the severity,” you sigh as you meet Matt in the waiting room.

“What was it?” Matt asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek, but you wince when his hand is on your arm. “(Y/N), this feels like a cast.”

“Well, yes, it is. My radius and ulna are broken. But I was right, I’m fine. I’ll survive.”

“You are absolutely fit to be a lawyer,” he chuckles, kissing you once more. “When can the cast come off?”

“It’ll be off just in time for the start of the semester. No kinky sex stuff, though.”

“I’m sure we can find some kinky stuff to do that won’t hurt it. Trust me, I can get very creative.”

You laugh as he leans in for a kiss, your lips still turned into a smile as you embrace. When you pull back, you see Foggy approaching with a coffee travel tray. You immediately dip your head and avoid looking at him, unable to fight the feeling of tears that instantly bloom in your chest.

“You still like cinnamon in your coffee, right?” Foggy asks, making you tilt your head up to look at him, his other hand extending the hot cup to you.

“Two sugars?” you ask softly.

“No cream,” he says with a little smile.

Taking it with your good hand, you let the cup warm you up. “Thanks, Foggy.”

“I’ll hail a taxi for us,” Matt says, pressing a kiss into your hair and then patting Foggy on the shoulder, leaving nothing but thick air between you and the person you’ve known your whole life.

“Listen, (Y/N)—.”

“I’m sorry, Foggy,” you blurt, unable to contain it. “With Matt, we just kissed, and I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but I really didn’t want to hurt you. It was head and heart and I just froze, and I lost my best friend because of it. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, (Y/N),” Foggy says softly, looking like he just saw a puppy get kicked. “I thoroughly overreacted. I should have been happy that my two friends were together and happy. Instead, I turned into a big brother and treated both of you like you didn’t know what you’re doing. I dunno . . . I guess I had just wished you would’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad. And the longer I waited, well, it felt like I couldn’t tell you,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You love him?” is all that Foggy asks.

“I really do,” you nod. “He loves me, too. He hasn’t said it, but I just have a feeling, you know?”

“Something tells me that he does, too.” His brows furrow in concern. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Fog. Do you forgive me?”

“I’d wrap you in a big hug as a silent ‘You bet your bottom, I do’, but then I’d hurt your arm even more than it already is.”

“You still can,” you say with a small smile. “I’m a tough cookie. I can handle it.”

“How about when the two of you aren’t holding hot beverages?” Matt interjects as he reapproaches you.

“Attention to detail—that’s why you’ll be an excellent lawyer,” Foggy teases.

“Thanks, man,” Matt tells him, putting his jacket around your shoulders. “Good to go, angel?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you hum.

“I say let’s go to Josie’s. Drinks on me,” Foggy says as you move to the cab. “I’ve got my best friends back—if that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.

“You think we’ll have time?” Matt asks, feeling at his watch as you guide him into the taxi.

“I’m sure she’d keep the bar open just a little longer for her favorite patrons and retainered legal council.”

“None of us are lawyers yet, Fog,” you chuckle as Foggy tells the cabbie the address for the bar.

“But we will be after we pass the Bar, and once we are, we’ll be her lawyers. Bingo, bango, bongo. She’ll let us have a tab and everything.”

“Dreaming big, aren’t you?” Matt laughs.

“Oh yeah, once we get that tab, we’ll be able to take over the world.”

“How about save the world?” you offer.

“Matt’s big humanitarian heart has gotten to you, I see.”

“C’mon, Fog. Who better to stick up for the little guys than three little guys from the Kitchen?”

“You make a good point. But I do counter—big office space with nice big windows and a view.”

“Well, a big office space would be nice. Windows and a view isn’t a deal breaker for me,” Matt smirks.

“We’ve got a real comedian over here.”

“All I’m saying is that if we’re helping people, does it really matter what the space is like?”

“Well, it’d be nice to have walls, floors, WiFi—ooh, no lead paint . . .”

“Okay, the space matters a little bit,” Matt and Foggy laugh as the cab comes to a halt, Matt beating you to the punch and paying the driver before you can unzip your bag.

“Regardless of its size, the space has to be in the Kitchen,” you settle. “If we’re gonna help the people, we need to be with the people.”

“Amen,” Foggy agrees, followed by Matt’s, “Here, here!” as we walk in.

“Sounds like we’ve got a future to plan,” you smile as you sit between them at the bar.

“Josie—the eel, please!” Foggy asks. “And several napkins: I’ve got some designing to do.”

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maldito-arbol · 1 year ago

Note

I really liked the new chapter! I was super excited when I found that you’ve updated the story!

First of all, Marcy’s struggles and recovery after the traumatic incident at the castle. Poor girl. She’s dealing with a lot of stuff and it never seems to be enough because new problems and questions emerge and she is so done with the tons of responsibilities. I think her argument with Olivia and Yunan was excellent to show that their newt guardians were in the wrong to think they were hurting her just because they were still with each other despite their issues while Marcy has Anne in a coma and she doesn’t even know Sasha is in danger too. She felt as if all this unwanted attention was their way to make amends when they could’ve talked things through without involving her. At least Marcy was a good advisor about relationships with Yunan, let’s hope she and Olivia can get along better for Marcy’s sake.

Marcy and Sprig’s bonding time was so sweet. It was nice that both could understand each other and their frustrations for being expected to feel better when they just want to sulk and let all those negative emotions out. To feel them to not be repressed by them. Poor kids, they have gone through a lot.

Another thing I liked about this Marcy-centered chapter is that despite the rift between her and Sasha, she still loves her and tells Witney that people that love each other sometimes makes mistakes but that doesn’t end their love for one another. That there is still time to fix things between them and be together again. And she wants to believe Sasha will come back eventually. Oh boy, who’s going to tell her that Barrel is taking the wheel of Sasha’s body and schemed Grime’s death?

There is also Marcy’s interactions with Wit, Heart, and the Plantars and Sundews, even if the last ones are a bit shorter. I super loved the scene with the memory libraries and how different is Marcy’s from the others because she deeply loves Anne and Sasha, that’s her center. And being trusted to read the memories of Wit who’s so adverse to talk about her past, Wit is making a lot of progress in being more honest and thoughtful with Marcy which is great though she still has some obstacles to overcome like the deep issues with her past and her relationship with the gems. Talking about relationships, it was surprising that Marcy gave Heart of all people some advise. I was even surprised that instead of Anne waking up it was Heart possessing her body to stretch her muscles and kept it in good shape. At least Heart is sincere with their apologies and accepting the consequences of their actions; they are growing so fast :,). I love that you have given also space for Marcy-Maddie and Marcy-Ivy relationships to develop. Even when Maddie and Marcy have more in common, it was nice seeing Ivy and Maddie getting along with her and helping her as much as they could. I bet Marcy will see some similarities between Sprig, Maddie, and Ivy with her relationship with Sasha and Anne. These three frogs are their Wartwood companions if they had landed on the town from the start.

Last but not least, the mystery! Maddie now is involved in the mess that is the ominous past life of the gems! Wish you luck, Maddie. You will need it. Who knows what her ancestor and Leif have done that has had huge repercussions on Heart’s life. I bet more surprising encounters and truths will be revealed once Marcy gets Heart to speak and to help her find Wit. And the journal of Barrel is also important in this mess too. Oh boy, the chaos Anne will find once she wakes up. Though that will be nothing compared to what she and Marcy will find when they return to Newtopia.

Guess who’s finally answering these

Yes! Marcy is going through a lot still, which was the whole point of settling her back into Wartwood where she can take some time to process by herself. Yunan and Olivia unfortunately didn’t seem to get the memo, as they are too focused on how their own presence can affect Marcy rather than realizing maybe she just wants to be left alone. What she needs is support, not interference. She’s smart enough to understand that this pain will not go away so easily and take steps to deal with it as is. She’ll get back on her feet, and she knows this, but her Newt parents don’t. They think they need to stick their hands in everything she needs so they can be good parents, but clearly it isn’t working. Worse yet, they’re acting this way when they’re having troubles in their relationship too, which is the most awful combination imaginable for Marcy right now. Props to her for actually nudging their relationship in a good direction though, she could have made the problem worse so, so easily. And I wouldn’t even blame her either—but Marcy is too kind of a person to sabotage her friends’ relationship because she’s a little sad. Last fun fact is that this was one of the sections of chapter 7 that took the longest to write because I was struggling so hard on where to go with it. The only way I was able to push through was to make the situation Worse than it originally was. Oops.

I was super excited to give Marcy and Sprig a moment, as they haven’t really had the time to talk one on one since like, IBYBF 1. They’re in about exactly the same position right now, missing their loved one and attempting to grapple with all the different feelings about her comatose state. Sprig was a major player in confronting Anne’s breakdown during Heart’s torment and her recovery afterwards, so you can see why he’s beyond frustrated with the world for cutting that progress short and possibly sending it backward a thousand steps. He has no idea how this whole ordeal will affect Anne going forward, and he won’t know until she wakes up, so it’s just some waiting game. Meanwhile Marcy sees this whole coma thing as a blessing in disguise, purely because being asleep means Anne didn’t have to deal with any of the shitstorm that happened in Newtopia. And though she misses her very much, she understands that waking up there might’ve actually been a worst-case-scenario. I have mulled over this whole coma plot point for months upon months because it is such a massive detour from the original version of the story I had outlined. Like Marcy’s thoughts on the situation, I have also found it to be something of a blessing in disguise. I needed some kind of way to bar Anne from interfering with the regression of Sasha and Marcy’s relationship. Had she been present, or had she been absent in some different way, then this storyline would have looked much different. As the sasharcy downfall is kind of their own issue, between just them two, it helped that Anne could have a completely different set of troubles she’d need to face by herself. And you’ll see how it goes when she tries to involve herself with Sasha and Marcy’s issue later. Maybe you should stay asleep, Anne.

Marcy at her core is a character that loves Anne and Sasha. That’s who she is. Who she’s always been. You can see a little bit of her losing sight of who she is when she starts resenting Sasha during the whole Core incident, but she regains herself when she really stops and thinks. Yeah, sometimes big fights can make you think you really hate someone for that brief moment. But if you love them, if you love them like Marcy loves Sasha and Anne, you can work things out and grow together. Marcy realizes that Sasha’s very much in the wrong here, which is why it’s not her own responsibility to bring Sasha back. But her arms are always open for Sasha to return. This is something Witney has been grappling with for a while. Ever since Marcy suggested that the lava leaks may not be intentional, she’s had to reevaluate her entire relationship with Strength. Was it solely responsible for all the problems that exist between the three gems now? Is he being too unfair to Strength when Heart has done their fair share of awful things? Witney is also a character that loves her fellow gems, and he’s lost sight of that because Heart has poisoned her view on Strength with their own resentments. If she can forgive Heart, then by god he must reconsider the way he treats Strength. Perhaps holding her arms open for it to return is just what they all need.

While Witney and Marcy’s relationship has developed to a more trusting level over the course of CMTO in general, I kinda feel like the biggest factor for Witney being more open with her is that Marcy has escaped the clutches of the collar that previously took all her amphibian vessels, and she did it twice. Witney’s like, “wow you really must not like to die. Guess I should tell you my life story then.” They’ve largely broken away from the whole ‘vessel’ and ‘gem’ separation and are now becoming genuine friends, which is the wonderful progression that resulted from Marcy insisting that Witney is, in fact, a person. Obviously there’s still a ways to go, but we’re getting there!

Oh my GOD I was SO excited to include the Marcy and Heart interactions! The whole “needing to stretch Anne’s muscles” is very much an excuse for this but if it works it works. I NEEDED there to be some kind of resolution between Heart and Marcy in order for Heart to truly step into the start of their redemption arc. Apart from Anne, Marcy has been dealt the most suffering at the hands of the blue gem (out of the non-gems at least). She’s been choked half to death three times by this motherfucker, to say nothing of how she lost her whole eye to them. Obviously Marcy’s not going to forgive them for what they did to her or Anne, but she also understands that these gems are part of them now, and she’ll have to deal with Heart perhaps until the end of her life, and she’d rather it be a tolerable companionship. Heart on the other hand wants to make things up to Anne, so getting along with Marcy is a huge part of that. While they may have different reasons for needing to be on good terms, they have that in common—it is entirely beneficial to both of them to be on good terms. But, that doesn’t mean it won’t be rocky. Marcy still harbors resentment towards Heart for their previous actions, and Heart still has a lot of terrible mindsets they need to correct, and that’s fine. They’re trying their best.

The Ivy-Maddie-Sprig interactions with Marcy were also such fun! I realized Marcy and Maddie haven’t really had a chance to develop their friendship more in a while, so I decided to bring that back. Marcy and Ivy getting close too was simply a byproduct of where Marcy is staying currently, but one that is very welcome! I liked that Marcy has some people to hang out with in Sasha and Anne’s absence, and more than that, that they’re kids. Not that there’s anything wrong with the adults in Wartwood but Marcy needs some friends closer to her own age. I haven’t forgotten that Maddie visited Marcy and brought her get-well gifts during her recovery time from her eye, or that Ivy was present for a good majority of that time as well. These guys deserve the chance to have silly adventures that don’t end well and serious talks over a breakfast table without any adults together. I also found it hilarious that Ivy decided she HAD to go wake up Maddie for sleep potions instead of just putting Marcy back to bed. She was like “wait I need my girlfriend for this”.

HAHA! The Maddie Mystery! That was one of the things that I originally hadn’t intended on including in this chapter, but since it’s the first time Heart and Maddie meet face to face, I felt it was the best time to talk about it. If you recall early in the Heart chapter, they vaguely mention someone they can’t quite remember, which was the very first tease for this plot point. Here, I’ll give you the entire passage—

It is a question Heart is unsure how to tackle. Their own origins are fuzzy even to them, but they remember a familiar face, a soft voice, the sharp curve of a long stick. They also remember large hands. A sense that they have missed something. A dark void that seems inhabited by more than just them. Green. Pink. And they are blue, they think, as they gaze out to the ocean around them. They are water too, perhaps, but they have never known until now. They had not seen snow melt so much until it happened.

Heart’s memories are beyond fuzzy, even moreso than Witney’s, but seeing Maddie’s face triggered something in them they haven’t felt for a thousand years. Pay attention to that passage, it is literally the most important thing to remember when we start unpacking where the gems came from and what happened to them in the era before the Calamity Box.

Anyway who wants a concept sketch for Miss Maddie Ancestor that I made back in 2022?

And I know this whole thing has made people question exactly what role Valeriana plays in the gems’ past, but don’t worry about it right now <3 I have nothing planned for her, nope, nothing at all, what are you talking about?

#ask mal #CMTO #CMTO 7 #are you proud of me guys I answered an ask in my inbox #also I think I’m gonna start tagging these with their respective chap number so it’s easier to find stuff #the ‘ask mal’ tag is so overpopulated already #anyway thank your for the ask! i appreciate them very much even though I have become terrible at answering in a timely manner <3

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eemarose · 1 year ago

Text

Apocalypse AU

Max’s p.o.v

My eyes open. I look around and see a burnt down house. My eyes narrow as I wonder what happened here. I walk around and try to figure out where I am. It’s definitely not home, anyways I hope it’s not.

I step over a cracked floor board then look down at a burnt stack of paper. I squat down and look through them. My eyes glue to the date that reads “2035” My body begins shaking. How am I in the future? Is this what our future looks like?

I look up as I hear tiles on gravel. I stand up and walk over to a hole burnt into the wall. The town outside is almost unfamiliar to me. The road is broken up into a million pieces. Most of the trees are burnt down, there’s smoke in the air much like when Reaper died in my timeline.

“Hey! You can’t be in there!” A low voice shouts from outside.

I look over and see a soldier, “Where am I?”

He growls, “What are you dumb? You’re in Sidus, dumbie, now get out.”

I slowly walk out of the house. This is Sidus? I frown at the gloomy town. What happened to it?

I look around as I walk onto the street. There’s not many people around but the ones I see aren’t familiar. They look scared and paranoid like someone’s gonna jump out the corner and kill them.

One of the guards stopped me, “Hey! If you’re new here, you should head to the Fury.”

I stare at him and nod, “That’s on Pointridge st?”

He nods, “Just up ahead from here, they can inform you of everything that’s going on, and get you a home.”

I nod and start jogging towards it. Maybe I’ll even see some people I know. I wonder if Marcy’s here.

As I enter the building, I realize how many people are here. Some people look familiar but no one that’ll recognize me. Another guard walks over to me, I smile at his face, Jefferson.

He stares at his clipboard, “Name?”

I look down, Should I say it? I don’t see what could be wrong. Wait- what if I’m a villain here?! What if they try to kill me!? Okay okay, new name..

I look around, “Um.. A-Andrew..?”

Your brother’s name? Really!?

Jefferson nods, “Last name? Age? Where are you coming from? What are your intentions here?”

I put my head back, That’s a lot of questions, they must have been under attack or something.

I cleared my throat, “Sedrick, I came from SolisHold, and I just wanted to see what was going on, I saw the smoke.”

Jefferson sighs, “Another person from SolisHold? Tell me something Sedrick, why do your people think they can save everyone?”

I shrug, “I-I don’t know, sir.” I laugh a little

He steps aside to let me through. He didn’t see my face but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be careful. Of all people, it’ll definitely be Jefferson who’d rat me out.

I walk down the hall that I know leads to the arena. The guards push the doors open, I walk in and see a crowded room. They removed the rows of chairs and the stage. There’s a couple of tables with clothes and blankets on them.

Someone walks over to me, “Name?”

I clear my throat, “A-Andrew Sedrick..” I glance behind me, “That guard let me in”

She nods, “Okay, go down with the others, we’ll get you someone to stay.”

I nod and walk down the stairs. People stare at me as I walk down the stairs. I quickly walk over to one of the tables and grab one of the cloaks. I put it on and lift my hood. I must be some sort of villain here..

I look over by where the stage once stood. I see Carrie Collins talking to Haley Collins. I narrow my brows and walk a little closer until I hear them.

“We can’t let our suspicions get the best of us, we should wait until the group comes back, they can decide what we do with him” Carrie Whispers.

I squint, Do they know who I am? Did Jefferson actually recognize me? Are they gonna kill me?

“They’re not gonna return till tomorrow, We don’t even know where they went” Haley replies hushedly.

I wonder who the group is..

Carrie nods, “We’ll just have to wait, just ignore him for now, okay?”

Haley nods then walks to a crowd of people. I walk to the door that leads backstage. Not a lot of people are in here.

At least I know this building like the back of my hand.

I walk over to the back door and walk outside. I need to get out of here.. How do I get out? I don’t even know how I got in.

I begin running towards the woods. I stop to pant as I reach one of the meadows. I narrow my brows as I see a blonde boy sitting on one of the fallen logs.

I go to walk over then stop as someone runs over. It’s Jefferson.

“They want you back at the Fury, They found suspicions on one of the new arrivals” Jefferson explains.

The blonde stands. He’s wearing a gray collared tank top with black pants. His forearms are completely covered with black fingerless gloves. He looks.. Different. I squinted at his right shoulder, He has a tattoo.. Feathers, it looks like a wing of some sort. And under that one is a phoenix.. Like me.

“Suspicions? What do you mean?” He asks while grabbing something from the log.

I look at his hand and see him holding a black mask. A mask? Why would he ever need a mask?

Jefferson shakes his head, “I don’t know, just come, the others are coming too.”

Jefferson begins walking back to the Fury. I stare at the blonde boy. Something about him feels familiar to me. Part of me wonders if he’s my cousin Crew, or maybe my friend James. This boy is too short to be James, and he’s still hidden to be Crew, not even to mention Crew has blue tips now.

The boy walks over to the log and grabs a bow n’ arrow and then everything lines up in my head.

I step forward, “Dan?”

He lifts his head then looks over his shoulder. My eyes widen as he meets my eyes. I stare at him, his eyes get glossy the more he stares at me.

“Dan! You coming or what!?” I hear a female voice.

Dan turns to the voice. I run away before he can see me again. I can’t believe that was Dan. He looked so.. Guarded. Like he was hiding from someone.

I trip over a root and tumble down a hill before I fall into a crater. The last thing I hear is the whistle of a bird.. A robin.

#original character #original book #oneshot #one shot book

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owlfacenightkit · 2 years ago

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I love it when characters have a possession arc.

But after they are released from being possessed, does anyone ever think about how violated they must feel? I mean, the thing that possessed them took control of their body and used it for their own purposes. No matter what those purposes are, I would imagine that character would have a hard time feeling secure in their own body for a very long time.

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sepublic · 3 years ago

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What fucking breaks me is the dawning realization on Marcy’s face when she’s stabbed… The growing horror, that she’s going to die. That she’s dead. That her life is over, in the literal sense- She DIED. She was murdered, and it’s all gone and finished. She’s finished…

…This is a hopeless CHILD realizing, without a doubt or any take-backs or what-ifs, that she’s dead and all she can do is sob and apologize in despair, realizing it was all for naught, that everything she did to survive in this world, to survive in her life, was for nothing- That she’s DEAD now. This is no longer a fantasy, this is no longer a game, this is REAL LIFE with stakes and perils and consequences, where people actually get hurt… And she was one of them.

No more games. No more fun. No more friends, or getting to feel the thrill of a new hyperfixation or game, no more exploration or new things. No sun on her face as she chills besides her best friends who made life worthwhile. All the big and small things, all of them, no more of it. So much left to do, and she never got a chance... So much unfinished or never even started to begin with, it’s regret at what could and should have been, mourning that.

Marcy died, and she died thinking she brought this on herself. That all she did was make her friends hate her even more, that all of her efforts just worsened it all, and she should’ve just shut and accepted the cold hard reality. How nihilistic, cold, fatalistic, and outright cruel is that, this type of realization, for a kid to realize, and for that to be the ONLY thing she’s thinking of as she lets the pain flow through her and just… Gives up.

Because she lost it all. The only two things keeping her alive, her only two friends… Gone; She worked so hard to not be alone, yet here she is. If all that effort can’t change reality, then… Why keep on going at that point? Marcy’s sorry, she really is… But what more point is there to living, now? Why try to keep living against his clearly mortal wound- The last time she struggled against the cold reality of things, it led to all this. So for once… Marcy is going to do the ‘right’ thing, and just give up, resign herself into despair, and let it take over… Just passively be swallowed into the cold, black void, because she doesn’t matter, never did, and never will. It was all a lie and a delusion and she was just another… Stupid… child.

Marcy was too far in her delusions and need for a fantasy as her only way to cope… And now she’s gone too far to the other end, and lost any and all hope entirely, her dreams are shattered. Any belief in agency, in initiative, in things changing for the better. Because why believe when you can’t even think… Because who can hope when they’re nothing but dead? She died apologizing for who she is, for her life, for her existence, because she really was meaningless and stupid and unloved in the end, unimportant and disposable, and now she gets to see how expandable she is through her own death.

Marcy has to go through the unimaginably traumatic and cruel experience of not just dying, but realizing it. Feeling it. Processing it and realizing exactly what it means and all of the dread and despair that comes with that. The shock could’ve worn off and forced Marcy to feel the literal agony of a burning sword through her body- It hurts so much and that’s another reason why she gives up, not just the physical but emotional pain, because at least when she’s dead it’s over. This wasn’t a quick and instant death, this was slow and painful for her; It was not enough to die, she was made to relish in the experience of death.

…She’s so scared. Marcy desperately wants to call out, to cry out, for someone to help- But she thinks that’s impossible and that they never would reply. No coping mechanism will work this time; This is real life, and now, death. She just wanted it to last longer and it was all so short and unfair and taken from her... She thought she had a whole future ahead of her, she WANTED and was owed it! This is a kid and they’re terrified because they’re dead and they don’t know what to do, and the worst part is that asking for help wouldn’t make a difference; Because NOBODY knows what to do in that situation. She’s still alone, and will be forever.

...But at least it’s over. It may ALL be over, the fun, but at least Marcy ensured that the pain was over, too. If she was still alive, that wouldn’t be the case. The end of things was what Marcy dreaded, but it seems it was the end that gave her final solace- She never considered how Death would at least end her pain, unlike staying with her parents, who would end only her happiness at that.

Because why be happy if it’s all ruined in the end anyway? Why be happy, why start or continue, if it’ll end? Why not just... end? End it all and get it over with, don’t get hurt if you never began to begin with. Good god what pushed a CHILD to this mindset?! What we’ve seen already explains a lot, but the possibility that there was even more... To see a kid break like that, the entire process of her heart tearing apart, having to turn to Death, the only thing she can count on at the end, as it’s always been. You can see the exact moment on her face when the illusion of it all just being a game is permanently shattered, what last vestiges of hope are torn away.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #spoilers #amphibia marcy #marcy wu #amphibia marcy wu #true colors #angst #child death tw

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romanarose · 2 years ago

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Tummy Hurty

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

Summary: Marc has a stomachache and tries to pretend he's fine, but Sam see's right through it.

A/N This is specifically designed to exist in the universe of Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside, but it can be read separately. This takes lace before Sam and Marc confess their feelings. All you need to know you need to know if you are not a SSSB reader is that Sam is dating Steven, not Marc yet, but Marc and Sam hang out sometimes. Would love if you came and checked out Sunshine, I'm 6 chapters away from the end!

Written bc my tummy hurt :(

For those following along with Sunshine, next is chapter 11

*********************************

Marc winced. He fucking winced.

Marc Spector, who had been a marine, a mercenary, and Moon Knight winced while watching Bobs Burgers.

“What the fuck was that?” Sam asked, immediately concerned he was sick and pretending he was fine.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled

“No you’re not, grumpy pants. Come on, tell me.”

“I”m fine, Brightside.” Marc insisted, eyes glued to the stupid cartoon he insisted he didn’t like, but that Sam found him laughing to.

Marc tried his best to ignore the pain in his stomach and ignore the concerned girl next to him, hoping she’d move on. He should’ve known when it came to his health, she was going to latch on. Marc convinced himself it was because he shared Steven’s body and she cared about Steven. It was easier than believing Sam cared about Marc.

Sam sat up straight on the couch. She was sitting on the opposite end as Marc, Marc subconsciously sitting as far away as possible. “Do you need to lie down?”

“No,” Marc replied, perhaps too quickly. His time with Sam was limited and although it might have seemed like Sam was forcing him into quality time, the reality was that Marc always looked forward to these nights.

Trying to catch his gaze, her worried face scanned over him. “Don’t make me get Steven, he’ll let me baby him.”

“No!” Marc turned to her, slightly panicked. Sam was a tad startled, surprised by Marc’s reaction.

“Okay, Starlight.” She spoke softly, not wanting him to think she was trying to get rid of him. Sam valued her time with Marc, and she always found herself craving more. She was delighted that Marc and her had these simple tv nights. Sometimes she worked on homework, sometimes they made light chit chat, sometimes they sat in silence watching tv, but they were always comfortable in each other's company. She never wanted either of them to think she preferred one over the other. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Sam spoke in a gentle tone, the voice she always used when she wanted something from Marc, her eyes always large and blue and pleading. He was powerless when she gave him those eyes.

“It’s just my stomach, it’s fine.” He mumbled, turning back to the TV.

Sam couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to say I told you so… “I told you not to eat that alfredo, Marcy Marc.”

“I’m not lactose intolerant, Sam. Steven is, not me.”

“You have the same body, dumbass.” She laughed. “And Steven Steven doesn’t eat dairy, your stomach isn’t used to processing it. Do you know how alfredo is made? It’s cheese on cheese on milk on heavy cream on cheese. Your stomach is fighting god right now” Sam stood up, going over to the medicine bag her mom always sent her back with after a visit. Benefits of having a nurse for a mother. “Here” She handed him a white tablet. “Lactaid.” She clarified.

He muttered something about being fine, but took it nonetheless, frowning at the chalky taste.

She sat down again, grabbing a throw pillow and propping it up on her lap against the couch arm. “If you take lactaid before eating or drinking milk, it’ll help.” Sam made a mental note to always keep it with her, knowing full well Marc wouldn’t take it on his own. “C’mere” she becockened.

Marc looked at her, apprehensive.

Sam patted the pillow. “Lay down, Starlight.” she coaxed him over.

Marc shook his head, thinking this was a boundary he shouldn’t cross. “I’m fine.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Listen, I’m not gonna make you if you’re uncomfortable, and I’m not judging you but… you watch Steven and I have sex, but laying down is the line you draw?”

Marc whipped his head to her so fast his neck cracked. Sam knew he watched sometimes, and he knew Sam knew, Steven knew. Sam and Steven even encouraged it. It wasn’t a secret, but it was something none of them ever talked about. When his eyes found hers, she was softly smiling at him; it comforted him. “You’re always so worried about me and about Steven and what Steven thinks of us…” It was like Sam could read his mind. “I promise you, Steven wants me to take care of you the way you take care of me… If you’ll let me…” She wasn’t giving her pleading eyes, she wasn’t begging him for this. It was his choice, it was what he was comfortable with. Her eyes were warm and inviting, telling him it was his choice.

Wordlessly, hesitantly, Marc scooted ever to where Sam was sitting, tentatively laying his on the pillow. His head was partially on the couch, not fully on her lap, but it still felt intimate. Not sexual, but emotionally initmate; like she trusted him. That was the most comforting feeling. In return, he decided to trust her with his pain. Just a little anyway. “My stomach feels like a warzone” it was a bit hyperbolic, but it got the point across.

Sam put a warm hand on his stomach. “Where does it hurt, Starlight.”

Marc took her hand and guided it to his upper stomach.

She began rubbing his stomach, like he was a child. Marc mom wasn’t always the woman she was after Randall’s death, there were a few years where she was a good mom. Great even. She used to rub his stomach when it hurt. Marc stiffened at the though of his childhood, something he tried so hard to push away.

Sam noticed his tension and stopped. “Do you want me to stop? I can get a heating pad if you pref-”

“No.” He stopped her. “I mean, if you want to, you can keep going.”

Sam smiled at him and his attempt to act like this was for Sam’s benefit. “Yeah, I want to, Starlight” She continued rubbing his stomach over his shirt. It was the body she knew so well, that she was so familiar with and her hands had memorized as they ran over sweaty skin. But this…. This was somehow new. Her other hand played with his beautiful, thick, curls as they watched Bob’s Burgers, slowly feeling Marc relax to her touch. When he fell asleep in her arms (a rare show of vulnerability from him) she looked over his strangely peaceful face. She could still tell it was Marc. Steven slept more fully; Marc looked like he was still aware of everything.

He was beautiful. This wasn’t news, from the first time she met them, Sam thought he was just stunningly pretty. But there was something different about the way Marc looked right now. Steven and her had fallen in love so fast, so intensely… There was something pure and gorgeous and innocent in their love. Marc had come as a challenge. Marc pushed her buttons, Marc pushed her away from him and further to Steven. Marc was sarcastic and blunt and observant. Marc’s traits were things that he assumed Sam didn’t want or need, just because they were different from Steven. But different wasn’t bad, they complimented each other. That’s why she loved them so much. Sam softly, carefully felt Marc’s face with the back of her hand.

Yeah, yeah she loved him.

*********

Worlds stupidest fic title but when I’m sick I tell my mom my tummy hurty or that I’m sicky wicky

I’ll make a sick Jake fic if I catch the flu this winter, how bout that

@ahookedheroespureheart @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kr-mlk @mt2sssss @cherryvalentine1 @tippycakes26 @missdictatorme @nicepeony

#sunshine starlight sweetheart brightside #marc spector #marc spector needs a hug #soft marc spector #marc spector oc #marc spector fem!oc #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #marc spector fluff #moon knight imagine #marc spector imagine #moon knight #oscar isaac

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princessbatears · 2 years ago

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Alternative Education - Chapter 9

Casa Werewolf Series #9

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Werewolf Single Mom f!Reader Summary: Another bullying incident causes all three kids to run away from school this time Warnings: sexual thoughts/arousal, implication of human/werewolf sex, parental fear/panic, description of child against child bullying including name calling and violence, children running away, injury, small amount of blood Words: 3.8k

In the early morning, Javi’s alarm goes off. Normally, he wouldn’t have it set on a Saturday, but he wants to make sure to get up before the kids do.

He allows himself a moment to grin over the incredible time he had with you last night. Making love was more delicious, sweet and fulfilling than he could have dreamed—and he’d dreamed about it a lot.

Damn, now he’s horny again.

After a quick shower to cool his jets, Javi goes to the guest suite. The sitting room that leads to bathroom and bedrooms is dark and empty. He turns on a lamp, grabs a sheet of paper and pen off the little desk in the corner, and writes: ‘When you wake up, come find me with Marci. Leave Mama to sleep. -Javi’.

He sets the note on the bathroom counter, hoping the kids will use it before they disturb you. He wants you to get as much rest as you possibly can while there’s someone else around for them.

Then, he lets Nina know about the unexpected guests who will need breakfast and settles on a sofa with a cup of coffee to wait. Marci glowers at him from her tank, miffed she hasn’t been fed yet. “I’m going to let the niños feed you,” he tells her.

It’s not long before Tallulah and Astrid appear, looking rested in a way that makes him wish he was a child again. “How was your night?” he asks as they plop beside him.

Tallulah stretches. “Good.”

“The bed is too big. I kept getting lost,” Astrid pouts.

Javi runs a hand over her hair, bemused. “Lost?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find the edges. I was lost in the middle.”

He bites back a laugh. “It is a big bed.”

“Can we feed Marci?” Tallulah asks, waving hello to the fish, who angrily pushes a pebble around in protest of her starvation.

“She’d be very appreciative. Do you want to go get her food from the fridge?”

Tallulah immediately dashes off.

Astrid doesn’t follow, instead snuggling up to Javi. He kisses the top of her head, unease overtaking him. When you wake up, the two of you will tell the children about your romance.

Last night, you prepped him for positive reactions, negative reactions, and in-between. But he’s still worried he’ll screw it up and harm the precious relationships he’s cultivating with them.

Before he has time to obsess, Tallulah returns. Marci is fed and then Bo arrives downstairs. Nina gets an incredible breakfast spread out in record time, and Javi shepherds the kids to the table.

“Thank you, Nina!” they chorus with a sincerity that would make you proud.

“If you need anything else, you call,” Nina smiles.

“When’s Mama getting up?” Bo asks between bites of bacon, still speaking in Spanish.

Nina, who is putting the toast out, says smoothly, ”When her body is done resting. Sometimes mothers don’t get enough sleep, so they need to stay in bed later.” Her eyes travel to Javi and the corners of her mouth tip up slightly in a knowing smile.

His face burns and he quickly shoves some omelette in his mouth, feeling like a little kid who got caught doing something he shouldn’t. She leaves without another word, but he’s sure she’s laughing to herself over how guilty he looks.

Astrid gulps juice, then lets out a satisfied sigh. “Are we staying here all day?”

“I’m not sure what your mama’s going to want to do,” Javi says, grateful for the change in topic.

“I wanna finish the movie. I didn’t see the end.”

“Me, too,” Bo agrees.

Unwilling to promise anything until after the kids learn the truth of your relationship, Javi repeats, “We’ll find out what your mama’s got planned for the day.”

When you do appear in the dining room, you look breathtakingly beautiful in your sleepy state. He desperately wants to kiss you, but contents himself with pulling out your chair. “Good morning. Come, sit and eat.”

“I’m sorry I slept so late,” you grimace as you sit in the chair.

“Nina said mamas need extra sleep sometimes,” Bo replies, dishing sliced pears onto his plate.

“It was very nice to sleep,” you admit, giving Javi a grateful smile.

He winks.

Tallulah rounds on you hopefully. “Can we stay here today? Finish the movie and go swimming and stuff?”

You pause, studying your children, then raise your eyebrows slightly at him in question. Assuming you want to know if he’s ready to broach the topic of your relationship, he nods, his throat going dry.

“Before we do anything else, Javi and I have something we want to talk to you about.”

The triplets look between the two of you curiously.

You continue, tone upbeat and a warm smile on your face, “We’ve been spending a lot of time with Javi over the last several weeks. During which, he’s become very special to me and me to him.”

Tallulah catches on first. “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Astrid’s eyes go round as saucers and Bo looks a little startled, too.

“Yes, we are.”

Javi jumps in with what he wants them to internalize, “I love you three very much and I am here to support and care for you. But I’m not trying to replace your father, okay?”

They sit still, working on processing this information.

You clasp one of each of their hands in your own. “I love you all just as much as I always have, and me having a romantic partner won’t change that. Do you have any questions or feelings?”

Bo’s the first to speak, expression hopeful. “Are we gonna live here now?”

“No, we’re still living in the apartment,” you chuckle. “But we might stay here sometimes.”

“Will you come to our fútbol games?” Tallulah asks Javi excitedly.

He relaxes, having been most concerned about her reaction. “Of course, mi amor.”

“Astrid, sweetheart, do you want to tell us how you feel or do you need some time?”

Your voice draws his attention to the littlest child, who is staring at her place, eyes swimming with tears. This was not the response he’d expected from his snuggle buddy, but he supposes he should have since most change tends to upset her at first.

He reaches out to touch her head. “It’s a lot, huh?”

Instead of answering, she bolts from the table and out of the room.

Quickly, you move to go after her, but Javi catches your hand. “Let me. Please.” If he’s going to be a partner to you and a parent-figure for the kids, he needs to step up.

You smile encouragingly, squeezing his fingers. “You’ve got this,” you mouth.

“Astrid,” he calls, jogging after her.

Her tiny form runs up the staircase, shouting, “Leave me alone!”

Although he could catch her, he chooses to follow her to a destination she feels safe in, which ends up being the guest suite. She tries to slam the door, but he catches it.

“Go away!” she shrieks before collapsing onto the sofa in the sitting room.

Javi sits on the floor next to the sofa and rests a hand on her back. “I know this is a lot to absorb,” he sighs. “It’s just been you, your sister and brother, and your mama for a long time. Having someone else join your family is naturally unsettling.”

Astrid whips her head to look at him, eyes flashing with flecks of gold. “You don’t want to be our family!”

“What do you mean?” He’s not sure where she could have gotten such an idea.

“You said you don’t want to be our daddy!” The sentence ends in a keening that has her face down on the cushion again.

She must have mistook him saying he wasn’t going to replace Ivan as a rejection. He’s torn between sadness that she’s hurt and a joy that she wants him as a father.

“Oh, nenita,” he coos, rubbing her back. “I meant to reassure you that I did not expect you forget your birth father. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your papa, too.”

She peeks at him, hiccuping.

“I love you so, so much. More than I can possibly describe.” He wipes the tears on her hot cheeks with his thumb.

Astrid slips off the sofa into his lap, where she clutches at his neck, face buried in his chest. “I love you, too.”

He exhales, closing his eyes, as he cradles her to him. Hearing those words from her brings a different kind of peace than hearing them from you does, and it’s just as powerful and sweet.

After kissing her head, he asks, “Do you want some more breakfast or to stay up here for a bit?”

“Will you carry me down?” she asks slyly.

Javi bites back a smile. “Carry you, huh?” He gets to his feet, her in his arms, and starts out of the room. She grins gleefully, tears forgotten, as she clings to him like a koala bear.

- - -

Weeks turn into months, autumn into winter. Javi’s never experienced a love like he has with you and the children. Your lives integrated to where you spend more time together than apart.

One day in early February, the two of you are laying in his bed after a morning romp, you in Wolf form. He’s nestled against the soft fur of your chest and belly.

“Do you need any water?” he asks, stroking your muzzle.

Shaking your head, you nuzzle your head against his. Then, your tongue caresses his neck affectionately.

“That tickles!” But he doesn’t shift away, loving that you groom him as a member of your pack. You hold him even closer in your front paws, licking the sweat from his shoulders and back. He closes his eyes, petting your coat.

The tender moment is interrupted by your phone ringing from the bedside table. Javi groans, reluctantly disentangling himself enough that he can reach it. He sees it’s the children’s primary school calling. “It’s the school,” he tells you.

You shift back into human instantly, your body changing shape, color and texture in the blink of an eye. Worry creases your face as you take the phone and answer.

He watches as you listen to the faint male voice on the other end of the line. Concern morphs into fear, and you scramble off the bed, saying, “I’m going to go search right now. If anyone finds them first, call me immediately.”

Javi already has a suspicion of what’s going on and is throwing himself at his discarded clothes.

You hang up. “There was a fight at school between Bo, Tallulah and that little monster who’s bullied Astrid before,” you snarl, going for your own clothes. “And all three of them took off.”

“Shit!” Javi yanks on his shoes. “I’m coming with you to look for them.”

“We should split up, cover more ground,” you say, your eyes wild and flecked with yellow. “The school’s called the police, but we need to find them first. Anyone from the government will just scare them more.”

He grabs you in a quick hug, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll find them. I’ll ask Placido to help, too. And have my security team watch for them here on the compound. You’re not alone in this.”

You breathe out, the reminder causing your eyes to soften. “Yeah.” Then, you say with more conviction, “I’m going to go to the school and drive in the direction of the apartment. You and Placido search in the other directions.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles. “We’ll find them.”

Moments later, he’s rushing to the security room, where Placido is watching the monitors.

“The triplets ran away from school.” Javi’s own panic is starting to rise now that he’s not comforting you. “I need help finding them!”

Placido is immediately on his feet. “Has the school called the police?”

“Yes, but we want to find them first.”

Thankfully, the head of security doesn’t ask questions. He grabs his radio instead and barks into it, “The children have run away from school. They might be headed to the compound. I want three units outside the east border, watching for them. Sanchez, come watch the monitors. I’m going to go with Señor Gutierrez to look elsewhere.”

There’s a reason the Gutierrez family has done everything in their power to keep Placido with them for over twenty years. He knows what he’s doing and wastes no time.

“Their mother has already gone to look for them, yes?” he asks Javi.

“Yes. She went west. We’re splitting up to cover more ground.”

Placido nods, a determined set to his job. “I’ll take north and you take south. If we don’t find them in 30 minutes, I’ll get more men out there to look.”

Javi spends the next twenty minutes driving around the south part of the town, praying that the kids are safe and that they’re still in human form. It’s close to the full moon and it’d be easy for them in their heightened state to accidentally turn. Especially Astrid.

His phone rings through his car’s bluetooth, flashing Placido’s number, and he nearly sprains his finger punching the answer button in his desperation. “Have you found them?”

“I’ve got them, Javi, and they’re okay,” Placido’s confident voice says. “I’m bringing them back to the compound now. Will you call their mama?”

“Yes. See you soon.”

Quickly, he calls you to relay the news before turning his car towards home. Gratitude gives way to upset. Why didn’t they call you? Or him? Why would they run like that? They all know how worried you were the first time Bo did it!

Javi arrives before you do and finds Tallulah, Bo and Astrid seated in the entertainment room with Placido and some snacks. Bo’s holding an ice pack to his left eye. The front of Astrid’s floral dress is caked in mud.

Sighing, Javi walks over to the couch and pulls all of them into a tight hug. “You scared us very badly.” He keeps his voice low, but the emotion still seeps through.

“We had to!” Bo says defiantly, although his words warble with the threat of tears.

Javi lifts the ice pack to look at the injury. Bo’s eye is swollen shut and a nasty purple color. “When your mama gets here, you can tell us all about it.” He looks at the girls. “Are either of you hurt?”

Astrid’s eyes fill, yanking her dress up above her knees. Both of them are skinned and muddy. “Arlo pushed me and ruined my dress!” she wails.

Placido is on his feet, eyes concerned, and then out of the room. Astrid had obviously not told him about her wounds, probably not feeling comfortable enough without her preferred adults.

Javi kisses her forehead. “We’ll get you cleaned up and Reina can work wonders with stains,” he soothes. “Luls? What about you?”

Tallulah shakes her head. “Nobody hurt me,” she whispers. “Are we gonna be expelled?”

Honestly, Javi has no idea what will happen. Bo is already on his final warning with the school, but, to his knowledge, the girls don’t have any strikes against them. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises.

Placido returns with a first aid kit and a damp washcloth. He knees down in front of Astrid. “Let’s take care of those knees,” he says gently.

She looks to Javi and he smiles reassuringly. It’s good for her to know she can trust Placido.

She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, watching as he cleans the dirt with the cloth first, then with an antiseptic wipe. She doesn’t even flinch as it connects with her ripped flesh.

“You’re a very brave girl,” he smiles. “We’re almost done.”

You rush into the room, gasping, “Oh my god!” Your expression of relief-induced fury is the exact same one you were wearing when Javi first set eyes on you. Despite the situation, he can’t help smiling at the memory.

“They’re safe,” Placido reassures. “Only minor hurts.” He sticks colorful bandages on Astrid’s knees.

You do exactly what Javi did and crush your children to you. “Why didn’t you call me if there was a problem?” you demand.

All three kids begin mounting their defense at the same time, resulting in nobody being understandable.

“Enough,” you say firmly, holding up a hand. “One at a time.”

Placido grabs the wash cloth, first aid kit, and trash. He’s on his way out of the room when you call after him, “Placido, thank you so, so much for finding and caring for them!”

The older man turns to you with a kind smile. “It’s my pleasure, miss.” Then, he disappears.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to the kids. “What happened?”

Tallulah, a tightly coiled spring of nerves, rushes to explain. “We were at recess. Bo and I were playing fútbol when I saw Arlo talking to Astrid across the field, looking all mean. Then, he pushed her into the mud!”

Astrid jumps in, “I was looking at the worms and he came over and said I was a worm, too. I said I wasn’t and he doesn’t get to pick on me just ‘cause he doesn’t like me. He got mad and that’s when he shoved me. I tried to get up, but held me down in the dirt.”

You look as upset as Javi feels, but you remain quiet.

“The teachers were far away, they didn’t see,” Tallulah continues, eyes a vivid yellow. “He was squishing her and she couldn’t get him off!”

“I tried!” Astrid whimpered.

Stroking her hair, you murmur, “I’m sure you did, sweetheart.”

“We ran over and pulled him off,” Bo growls. “I wasn’t gonna fight him, I was gonna go make him see a teacher, but then he hit me in the eye.”

“So I kicked him in the back.” Tallulah’s canines have lengthened slightly and the rest of her teeth are sharpening.

Javi has never seen her like this before, but he can hardly blame her. His own rage is rising, although he follows your lead by not reacting passionately. Instead, he takes Tallulah’s hands, massaging them lightly.

The touch seems to stall the imminent transformation. Her eyes dim a little.

“I went to get a teacher,” Astrid says. “But when I told her and she looked, she saw Bo hitting Arlo and got really mad, yelling that Bo was going to be expelled.”

“Arlo was trying to hurt Tallulah!” Bo says in frustration.

Astrid clutches the dirty hem of her skirt. “The teacher started screaming about the police coming if they didn’t stop.”

“And that’s when you decided to run?” you ask, sadness tinging your voice.

They all nod.

“Are we gonna get expelled, Mama?” Tallulah asks anxiously, once again reminded of her potential horrible fate.

You exhale slowly. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen yet. I’m waiting for the headmaster to call me back.”

Astrid bites her lip. “Are you mad?”

“I was very scared when I heard you ran off, but we’ll talk more about that later. For now, I want you to know that I’m proud of you, Astrid, for standing up for yourself and for telling a teacher what was happening, even though she let you down. Bo and Tallulah, I’m proud of you for protecting your sister and each other when an adult wouldn’t do it.” You give each of them a kiss. “We’re going to figure out a way to make sure this doesn’t happen again, okay?”

You send the kids up to their rooms with the promise you’ll be up shortly to help Astrid clean up and talk more. Once they’re gone, your head falls into your hands.

Javi rubs your back lightly. “It’s going to be okay.”

When you look at him, your eyes are yellow and jaw tight. “How is it going to be okay, Javi? My children are bullied and the school does nothing but blame them! Bo is most certainly going to be expelled and I have no idea if another school will accept him. I’d consider homeschooling, but even petitioning to do so would bring the government to my doorstep. What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, there is the private school David and I attended.”

You scoff. “I could barely afford tuition for one child, let alone three. And separating them is not an option.”

He continues to knead your tense muscles. “But I could.”

Your voice softens. ��Honey, you’re so sweet, but I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? That school can offer small class sizes, individual attention, sports, fine arts, better academics, and teachers have the administration support to stop bullying in its tracks. I already donate a sizable amount every year, so they will be quite willing to let the niños start mid-semester and get them up to speed.”

There’s a long beat of silence. You look torn between discomfort and hope. Finally, you say, “We’ve been together for less than six months. I know we’re not exactly going slow, but you supporting them so much financially… What if… what will happen if we…”

Javi hates thinking about a break-up as much as you hate bringing it up. It’s a fair concern, though, even if he’s determined to do everything in his power to keep it from happening. “What if I put enough money in a trust to cover their tuition through primary school? Only you or their guardian can draw from it. Then, you’re not dependent on me every semester.”

You visibly unwind at this suggestion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Or that I don’t think we’re in it for the long-haul.”

He gives you a soft kiss. “It’s as important to me as it is to you that my money doesn’t give me extra power in this relationship.”

“I love you.” You press your cheek to his.

He nuzzles your hair. “I love you. Now, I’m going to go call the headmistress of the school and let her know we’re transferring three very bright young students to her care.” He grins, getting up.

As Javi heads to his study, Placido catches him in the hallway. “May we speak privately?” he asks.

Javi nods curiously. “Let’s go to the study.”

They enter and shut the door. Placido opens his mouth, but hesitates. This is so unlike him that Javi’s concerned.

“What is it?”

Placido takes a bracing breath. “Considering the incident with the children today, I feel it is not in anyone’s best interest for me to continue hiding the fact I know they and their mother are werewolves.”

- - -

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I’d love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Spanish Translations/Notes: chiquito - term of affection for a child nenita - baby girl mi luz - my light fútbol - soccer/football

Javi Gutierrez Masterlist

Werewolf Masterlist

#javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x reader #tuwomt fan fic #javi g #the unbearable weight of massive talent fan fic #werewolf au #werewolf reader #casa werewolf series

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sterecs-sterek-fic-recs · 3 years ago

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Sterek ‘Magic Made Them Do It’ Fic Recs

We hope you’re all having a magical start to 2022! Here is our second themed rec list ~ Magic Made Them Do It! Magic is a popular theme in fics featuring our boys, and this trope is an interesting one to explore. Wolfsbane! Sex Pollen! Fairies! Magic Spells! Sometimes Sterek just need a little push ;)

*Please be mindful to read the tags on these recs, as there will always be an element of dub-con with this trope*

Enjoy!!

-Mods @thisgirlsays22 & @snarkatthemoon

✸ Making Love Out Of Nothing At All series | silverlining99 | 28k | E

Derek has a problem. Stiles is a solution.

✸ I'm Not Immune | moodwriter | 6k | E

“Did they inject anything into you? You can hold me back. You can stop me. I can’t stop you.” Stiles is in full blown panic mode now.

The one where Stiles and Derek get kidnapped, and sex needs to happen for reasons.

✸ The Perils of Fungi | the_deep_magic | 4k | E

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Derek says evenly, hoping Scott is too freaked out to sense that it’s at least two-thirds of a lie because Derek probably knows what this is and Stiles is probably going to be just fine, but poking purple mushrooms with sticks has consequences, dammit.

✸ The beast you've made of me | MemeKon | 5k | E

“Just stay still.” Derek says, almost snarling, teeth elongated into pointy fangs. “I can control it.”

Stiles shudders as Derek rests his face on his chest, clawed hands coming up to grip his sides; he can hear Derek's agitated breathing, can feel the way he's pressing Stiles harder, harder, against the wall.

“Sure, big guy,” he breathes out, tapping the fingers of his left hand on his own leg nervously, biting at his lip until the sensitive skin there feels sore, and the cold air coming through the open window makes his lips tingle, wet and abused.

✸ Touch My Body | bleep0bleep | 7k | E

Stiles. Don’t leave the loft no matter what. I’m sorry. We’re tracking down the incubus right now. Don’t leave. Please. Just. I’m sorry it had to be you. Just. Stiles, don’t leave, okay?

It’s Derek’s voice, broken and wretched, pleading in a way Stiles has never heard before. He doesn't know what has happened, or what the incubus has done, but something in that tone of voice cuts him deep inside— makes him wonder— what happened?

✸ It's In Our Lungs, Our Blood | xxjinchuurikixx | 10k | E

“It’s… it’s amplifying urges. Primal urges influenced by thoughts my wolf has already had.”

“So… so, do you want me? Did you… before?”

“Yes, Stiles. Always.”

“Then let me help.”

Derek gets hit by some sex pollen, and only Stiles can work it out of his system.

✸ That Time Derek and Stiles Had to Get Gay Werewolf Faerie Married, and Lived to Tell About it (not that they will) | lupinus & uraneia | 5k | T

To build an alliance with the fae, Derek has to prove he's willing to make a commitment. And that he's capable of satisfying the party he commits to.

Fae marriages don't always take the same way other marriages do anyway, so it's totally fine. Derek can get this over with and then pretend it never happened.

Except the faeries want him to marry Stiles.

✸ Patterns of Intention | drunktuesdays | 17k | E

Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

✸ Like a Marcy Playground Song | eeyore9990 | 1k | M

Derek is turned into a vending machine by a witch. The only way to get him back is to sex him up.

✸ come to me with bad intentions | allourheroes | 5.5k | E

Like a lot of things, magic is all about intent.

Stiles hadn't intended to knock over the jar. And Derek had intended only to help.

Intentions aren't always what they seem.

✸ Famous Last Words series | JenNova | 63k | E

“So, Stiles says, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his hands. “Hypothetical then: one of you guys gets dosed with some sex wolfsbane – how do we deal with it?”

✸ It’s About to Get Hectic | nymphe | 9k | E

“Don’t let that get on your skin,” Deaton says, and, woops, too late.

✸ Climb | hiasobi_writes | 3k | E

They stare at each other from across the entryway, equally stunned, before Derek's eyes dilate and Stiles realizes just how monumental a bad idea this may have been.

(Or, the one where Stiles plays with wolfsbane and it doesn't do what he expected it to.)

✸ Something in the Water | Piscaria | 2.8k | E

After being tortured by a group of hunters, Derek goes into heat. Stiles helps him through it.

Written for the 24-hour porn challenge community, Stop, Drop, and Howl.

✸ Heatwave | Jerakeen E | 2.8k

The drug is called heatwave. It supposedly emulates werewolf heats on humans. And yes, Stiles is stupid enough to take it on a dare.

#sterek #eternal sterek #sterek fics #sterek fic recs #teen wolf

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paper-sunflower-lane · 3 years ago

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More Amphibia Ramblings

Look I might just be reading to much into this, but did anyone else notice that when Marcy first meets Andrias that he picks her up and holds her with his real hand instead of the robotic one?

Later on in the episode when we see Andrias’ broken body we learn that most of him was robotic, but we’re led to believe that his remaining arm and leg are still flesh and bone since they didn’t break apart like everything else.

Through out the entire scene of Marcy and Andrias meeting he never once uses his robotic hand to hold or touch her, not even to catch her when she walked off his hand which would have been an easier option then grabbing her with the hand she was just standing in.

I don’t know why, but I feel like this is a way of showing that Andrias truly did care for Marcy in someway from the very first moment he met her. We were shown later on in the very same episode that he always did care about her, but we didn’t know to what extent. It’s only when he’s reading Lief’s letter we see a flash of Marcy smiling up at him with so much joy, and then later on when he tells Anne that she has to go save Marcy, we see how much he actually cares for her once again with those simple words.

He showed her a version of himself that no one not even Andrias himself had seen in a thousand years, the version that he himself had thought had died the day Lief left and the day he sent Barrel away. He did something that he never thought he would ever do again, he let himself love someone again, he let himself love Marcy like the child he never had.

Now please don’t take this as me standing up for him, because I’m not, he still killed a child, and enslaved her in her own mind when she was brought back to life. He also tried to destroy two different worlds and he also tried to kill multiple people. Letting Anne blast a hole through his chest was a noble thing, and it did help them win the battle even though there is a war still to come, but that doesn’t erase everything he’s done.

So this brings me to my next rambling point, the next episodes title is “The Hardest Thing” which is probably going to lead to a lot of tough choices for all of these characters, but if what I’m thinking is true, and someone has to give up their life, I don’t think it will be a hard choice for one person.

Andrias has already lost so much, because of his actions, and because of the Core. It’s clear he’s very willing to die, we saw from how he removed his armor at the last second of his and Anne’s fight in hopes that she would finish him off but we all saw because of his robotic parts that that didn’t work to well.

If someone has to die it will be Andrias who will make it so he’s the one that has to. And if that’s the case then we already know that he will apologize to Marcy for what he’s done, and he’ll tell her that he truly did love her like she was his own, and maybe we’ll get a scene after all is said and done, when he’s finally crossing over to the afterlife after the war, maybe there will be Lief and Barrel there waiting for him, and we’ll get to see just how happy they are to see him.

This entire show is about hope, forgiveness, and redemption, showing that people can change, and with that being said, I don’t know if they’ll have Marcy forgive him for what he’s done, but if they’re trying to redeem Andrias then having him sacrifice himself for both worlds he tried to destroy, and for the girl he saw as his own, but literally stabbed in the back, then this is the way they’re going to do it.

And, I’m really sorry that I rambled for so long, but I just needed to get this all out of my system.

I hope you all enjoyed me going a little crazy over these details and ideas.

#amphibia #amphibia all in #amphibia the hardest thing #the calamity trio #king andrias #Marcy wu #anne bounchoy #sasha waybright #i've made myself cry a little #amphibia series finale #amphibia theory #amphibia thoughts #the core and the king #the core #darcy #the final war

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hey-its-puddlesock · 3 years ago

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And Puddles said, "let there be Sasha angst" and it was done

Taglist: @aldriix, @happi-tree, @elle-cosmic-chaos, @darcysd20, @monarch2800, @yourpersonaltimebomb, @sylsoddsandends,@your-local-hurt-comfort-junkie-1, @reyraccoon, @useless-space-rock-lesbians, @watermelon-converse

Send an ask if you'd like to be added!

“Me and Grime will hold him! Just go!”

Sasha knew as she said it that it was a futile effort. The king stood towering above the both of them, his sword swinging wildly in a blind fury. But she could give them time. She could get her girls home.

As she charged the leviathan, she was vaguely aware of Anne and the frogs stumbling over to where Marcy knelt on the ground, box in hand. Andrias whipped around, his tail colliding with her chest and throwing her against the palace wall. She felt ribs crack as her head whipped back into the concrete with the impact, making her vision go fuzzy. The scrap of logic left in her adrenaline-fueled body told her to stay down, to give herself a moment to recover. But logic has no place on the battlefield.

Instead she shoved herself off of the ground, swords gleaming at her sides as she ran towards the king. As her vision cleared she realized with horror that Andrias was charging Marcy; that his sword was pointed directly at her back, that she couldn’t see him coming…

“NO!” with an inhuman burst of strength and speed, Sasha closed the distance between her and her friend. She tackled Marcy out of the way, sending her sprawling as the box skittered across the floor. For a moment she stood triumphant, proud to have done something right for once.

But the moment didn’t last. As soon as she’d pushed Marcy out of danger Sasha’s vision went gold. A searing pain in her chest made her look down, her confused mind taking a few moments to register the glowing sword sticking through the side of her ribcage. She looked up again, her eyes meeting Marcy’s before panning over to Anne’s. They both stood in horrified shock, mouths agape as they watched Andrias pull the sword back out through Sasha’s armor, leaving a charred hole through the side of her body. She looked pleadingly at Anne, hoping that her sacrifice could at least begin to make up for the hurt she’d caused.

“…stay safe,” was all she managed to choke out before her legs collapsed underneath her, her ears barely processing two panicked voices screaming her name.

“This is not the host we asked for,” his master’s voice echoed in his mind, vibrating impossibly loud in his skull even though no words were spoken out loud.

“Apologies, my lord, there were… complications.”

Between them sat an upright cylindrical tank filled with translucent pink liquid. Inside slept a girl dressed in a tight black bodysuit, her long blonde hair free of its usual ponytail and floating freely above her head. Tubes and wires connected to her body at various points, a mask over her face artificially filling her lungs with air.

“This vessel is pathetic,” the Core snarled, its voice dripping with disgust. “You cannot expect us to inhabit a host that doesn’t even know the difference between a pawn and a wart. Her mind would be an embarrassment to add to our collected consciousness.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” Andrias knelt before his master, head bowed as he pled his case. “Do you really need another mind? I know that the other host would have been preferable, but this one is much more physically capable. Her heightened strength and speed could be an asset to you.”

The Core pondered for a moment. “You are correct in your observation that we do not need another mind, but for the greatest minds of history to be contained in the bearer of Strength…”

“I understand, my lord,” Andrias sighed.

“What happened to Wit?” the Core’s voice was sharp, accusatory.

Andrias kept his head low, fighting to keep the anger and shame rising in his chest from showing. “She escaped, my lord. After Strength fell the toad commander went on a rampage. He tore through the majority of my defenses before Wit was able to calm him enough for the both of them to escape on her bird mount. But I have a feeling I know where they’re headed.”

“Hmm…” the core stirred in its alcove, reaching a mechanical feeler out and running it along the glass of the rejuvenation tank. “Your mistakes have cost us, but the plan will continue. Seek out the Wit bearer. If you cannot find her before it is time for the transfer we will proceed with Strength.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Andrias bowed deeply to the ground before pushing his enormous frame up and heading toward the stairs. He spared one last glance at Sasha, lips curling in disgust as he watched her unconscious form floating in the pink-orange glow of the basement. “A would-be usurper who betrayed her friends for power. I’m glad it was you instead of Marcy,” he murmured as he turned again to leave. “This is no less than you deserve.”

Inside the tank, unnoticed through the pink liquid surrounding her, a single tear slipped down Sasha’s cheek.

Joe Sparrow touched down softly on the castle balcony, his feathers stirring up soot and ash as he deposited his passengers. Marcy and Grime dismounted with trepidation, the lack of robot guards around the entrance unsettling.

“Do you think this is a trap?” Marcy whispered, scanning the horizon for any sign of pursuers.

“I don’t care if it is, we’re getting her out,” Grime whispered back, his face set with grim determination.

Marcy had noticed a lot of changes in the toad commander over the last few months. Ever since that day when Sasha fell cold and lifeless to the palace floor, he’d become much more reserved and calculating. She could tell there was still white-hot rage burning behind his eyes, but it was concentrated toward a single goal. A couple weeks prior she’d found him sprawled in a backroom of the resistance headquarters, surrounded by empty cans of bog grog and sobbing for his lost tadpole. She’d never told a single soul how she’d helped him up and carried him to his quarters, and if Grime remembered the incident he hadn’t said a word.

The two of them crept through hallways that seemed to be untouched since the day they’d escaped the palace. Thick layers of dust coated everything, and the light filtering through once-beautiful stained glass was blocked by a heavy coating of soot.

The odd pair made their way deeper into the bowels of the castle, both on constant alert for guards that never came. The eerie quiet persisted until they made it to the basement trapdoor that Marcy remembered from her sleepover with Anne all those months ago.

Marcy silently motioned to Grime to follow her, the both of them carefully picking their way down the unlit staircase. Marcy didn’t dare pull out her phone flashlight for fear of alerting someone to their presence, so she steadied herself on Grime’s shoulder pauldron and silently begged whatever god was out there that she wouldn’t fall down the stairs again and give away their position.

They made it to the bottom without incident, the eerie hallways illuminated with the glow of shadowfish as they made their way to the vaultlike door on the far end of the basement.

“According to the info Olivia and Yunan gave us this should be it,” Marcy whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She hastily flipped through her notebook, scanning over the instructions that she had long since memorized. “You ready, captain?”

Grime gave a grim nod before leaning his considerable weight against the stone at the door, pushing it aside to reveal a chamber bathed in an eerie pink-orange glow.

“Sasha,” Marcy breathed, all but forgetting the stealth their mission required as she stumbled across the room to her friend. She ran a hand along the glass tube, Sasha’s unconscious form and too-pale skin making her breath hitch in her throat. “Grime, help me get her out of here,” she pleaded across the room, keeping her voice as quiet as emotion allowed.

With the toad’s help they were able to life Sasha out of the tank, resting her gently on the floor before Marcy carefully began removing her tubes and oxygen mask.

Sasha coughed, viscous pink liquid dripping from her mouth as she blearily opened her eyes. “Mar-Mar? Annie?” she mumbled. “Hey girlfriends, good to see youuu…” her tired voice dropping off as her eyes closed once more and she collapsed onto Grime’s shoulder.

“We’ve got to get her out of here,” Marcy whispered, unpinning her cloak from around her neck and gently draping it over Sasha’s shoulders. “Who knows when Andrias could—“

“When I could what, exactly?” A deep baritone voice coming from a figure in the doorway made Marcy’s blood turn to ice. Andrias stood with his arms folded behind his back, face pulled taut in an unamused smirk. “Really, Marcy, for someone so smart you’re lamentably predictable.”

Marcy tightened her grip around Sasha’s shoulders, who was starting to wake up again and looking dazedly around her. “How—” was all Marcy could manage to choke out.

“Simple. We’ve been watching you this whole time.” As he spoke, an enormous mechanical monster emerged from the shadows, all ten of its eyes glowing poisonous orange.

Sasha was finally beginning to become coherent. “What the heck is that thing?” she mumbled, staring at the abomination with unfocused eyes. The monster let out a roar like grinding gears and squealing metal, claw-tipped tentacles reaching for the air.

“My lord, are you certain?” Andrias said, responding to a voice unheard by the others in the room. “We have Wit here, is this not what you—okay, yes. Yes, I understand.” He looked back to the two humans and toad who sat huddled together on the basement floor. With a snap of his finger, two robot guards appeared from unseen hiding places in the wings, restraining Marcy and Grime and pulling them away.

“Sasha!” Marcy cried, struggling in vain against the robotic arms that held her pinned in place. Sasha looked to her with a small pout, no doubt still in a haze of groggy confusion. Before the blonde could reach out for her friend, the mechanical beast shot out one of its claws, grasping her tightly by the chest and yanking her towards it.

Grime and Marcy both screamed Sasha’s name as the girl was deposited on a raised coral throne, ankles and wrists shackled before she could even begin to struggle. She pulled against the restraints, grunting with the effort. “Let me go!” she screamed, a bit of lucidity finally returning to her voice.

Andrias’s face twisted into something between a smug grin and a grimace. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sashy,” he drew out the nickname like he was reciting the name of a deadly disease. “My master needs a host, and under current circumstances you’re the best option.”

“Host? Wha—” before Sasha could continue snakelike wires shot out from the throne, connecting to nodes on her arms and legs. “What—Andrias you bastard, what are you—” she writhed in a violent struggle against her restraints as the king looked on apathetically.

Marcy likewise squirmed against the frobot’s grasp, but the machine was much stronger than her, and with her arms pinned she couldn’t do anything to level the playing field. She was forced to watch in horror as a polished black helmet descended from a hatch in the ceiling towards Sasha’s head.

As the helmet came down, Sasha looked to Marcy with an unfamiliar expression. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, her pupils constricted. Her mouth was slightly agape and Marcy could tell from her movements that her breathing was quick and shallow. For the first time in their lives, Marcy could tell that Sasha was afraid. They locked eyes for a single moment before the helmet completely covered her vision.

And then the screaming began.

Marcy had heard Sasha scream before. She’d heard her faux-enthusiastic cries from the sides of the football field when she cheered at school games. She’d heard her short, startled yell when one of the girls caught her off guard. She’d heard the horror movie scream imitation that Sasha had practiced to perfection. She’d never heard this. Sasha’s scream was terrifying and heartbreaking all at the same time. The raw, painful screech made Marcy almost sick to listen to, and yet she looked on.

The mechanical creature behind Sasha slowly drained of power and energy as long lines of binary code transferred down the wires and into her body. The screams quieted, and then completely stopped as the machinery around her went dead. Sasha slumped forward in the throne, more still than the day she had fallen in the throne room.

Andrias snapped his fingers, prompting the frobots to release their grasps on Grime and Marcy. Marcy stood frozen in place, her mind wanted desperately to go to her friend but her trembling limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Grime had no such inhibitions. The second his feet touched stone he dashed up to the podium where Sasha lay limp and placed a firm hand on her shoulder as the shackled on her ankles and wrists unlocked.

“Lieutenant,” he begged. “Sasha, wake up,” Marcy could hear a hint of panic in the old toad’s voice as he shook the girl by the shoulders. “Sasha pleas—”

Grime was suddenly cut off when Sasha’s body snapped upright, her fist seizing the toad by the neck before he could react. She held him aloft, a wicked smile stretched along her face. The helmet glowed a sinister orange as ten eyes regarded him maliciously. “You were right, Andrias,” she said, her voice overlayed with an unfamiliar robotic chorus. “This vessel is strong. We’ve made a wise decision.”

The thing puppeting Sasha’s body tossed Grime to the side, descending from the coral throne as he crashed into the wall with a sickening crunch. He lay unmoving as Sasha stepped down, the helmet’s eyes darting back and forth to take in the room. Suddenly her head swiveled and Marcy felt the heat of ten eyes boring into her.

“Why, hello there,” Sasha grinned.

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #sasha waybright #marcy wu #grime amphibia #role reversal au #it's angst time boys #ask me about the title on this one #i'm really proud of it i think it's very clever #girl help sasha got stuck in the strawberry lemonade again #amphibia fanfiction #amphibia fic

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mythicandco · 3 years ago

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No one asked me to write this but fuck it I’m writing it anyways

Tendrils of blue still clinging to her hair, Anne’s eyes darted from where her friends were fighting to the now-revealed staircase into the dark.

“Find Sasha and Marcy!” Yunan yelled, swiping at a toad robot and slicing it cleanly in half. Toadbot? Automatoad? “We can’t hold them off for much longer!”

But Anne couldn’t move. Her lungs stopped working, and everything blurred for a few moments. Then she was running - down the steps, almost tripping over herself, her hair glowing more than it was before to illuminate the way.

She stopped, panting for breath, at the bottom of the staircase. She could hear her own heart hammering in her chest, pounding through her brain, making everything spin. It was dark, even with a blue glow surrounding her.

Blue light meets pink and Anne picks up the small piece of coral-shaped rock Sasha used... back before they knew about Andrias’ plans, or Marcy’s secrets, or anything, really. It made her guitar louder, if Anne remembers correctly.

It’s no big deal, yeah, no big deal~!

It’s almost a laughable memory, except it’s Anne’s last pleasant one involving her gir friends.

(That was a typo. “G” and “F” are very close to each other on the keyboard, and I mixed up the “R” and the “I” in “friends”.)

That’s when she hears the sobs.

A nondescript lump on the floor, wrapped in a tattered, dark red cloak. Her blonde hair has been messily cut to more than half it’s length, and a green hair pin is clearly visible even though her face isn’t.

“...Sasha?”

Anne takes a step forward, suddenly aware of how loud her footsteps are. She’s... never seen Sasha cry like this before.

“I can’t do anything, Anne.” It’s mixed with tears, and her voice sounds so hoarse, so dry, like she’s been screaming yelling at something. “I’m absolutely useless.”

The girl was suddenly aware of how cold the room was, the clamminess clinging to her skin like cobwebs, the smooth, frigidness of the floor she could feel even through her sneakers. Sasha looked up at her, bleeding from her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was red. She’d been crying for a while.

“Sasha, what happened?” Anne’s voice was louder than she thought it’d be. She inhaled and tried again, quieter this time. “Where’s Marcy?”

A bitter, dry laugh escaped Sasha’s throat, tears brimming in her eyes again. They seemed to flicker reddish-pink for a second, but Anne realized it was just the rock-coral guitar thing she was holding in her hand. It was warm, and rough, but also weirdly smooth where the edges cut clearly into little geometric angles in her palm. She squeezed it tightly, aware of her knuckles turning white. Anne’s ears started ringing and her heartbeat increased.

“She’s gone. It’s hopeless,” the blonde somehow sank lower to the floor without straight-up laying down and pressing her face into it. She looked just about ready to dig herself a hole and never come out, with her hair a mess and the gleam in her eyes a desperate hysteria.

And then Anne is aware of how everything smells - like burnt flesh, and blood, and salt, and... mint-chocolate chip ice cream?

A dim orange glow appears behind Sasha. The blonde either doesn’t notice or has given up and doesn’t care. Interweaving wires and tubes appear around the walls of the room, and Anne’s stomach flips upside down. She’s pretty sure her lungs stop working again, too.

The glow intensifies, and finally the silhouette of someone appears, sitting on a throne with tubes connected to it like puppet strings to a lifeless doll. Anne freezes, the chill of the room reaching her bones. She can’t move.

For real this time.

Eyes - too many eyes, TOO MANY EYES - open, one after the other, only serving to make the silhouette more defined. It’s face is illuminated just enough to make out human features - however everything above it’s mouth is covered in a shiny, dome-like helmet.

No.

NO.

Anne finally understands why Sasha - the bravest, strongest, most ruthless, apathetic person she knows - is a sobbing mess on the floor.

“So you’re the Heart. Marcy had such fond memories of you.”

And then there are more eyes, but these are in the wrong place because Marcy doesn’t have that many eyes and they were never that color but

THIS ISN’T MARCY ANYMORE.

Anne chokes on whatever she was going to say. Green flashes in her vision, and then blue. Blue, the color of sadness and the hottest of fires. Blue, the only color Anne can feel.

There’s a shout, which is probably Sasha, but all Anne can see are those glowing orange eyes and that smile that doesn’t belong here, it belongs back home where they were all safe and in love, a smile that should never in a million years be attached to this thing that isn’t Marcy.

“Go ahead.”

Something slams into her, and Anne and Sasha go sprawling across the floor.

“What are you doing?” the blonde screams right in Anne’s ear, and she winces. A laugh that isn’t either of the girl’s (but sounds just a bit too familiar) booms across the space.

“Cute, but really. Neither of you would let the other harm this precious human body.”

Anne looks into Sasha’s wide eyes and knows that’s true. She stands up and wobbly legs, and reaches out to help the other girl to her feet. Sasha stares up at her, but accepts the help.

“What did you do to her?” Anne says, her voice sounding a lot closer to tears than she thought it would. There are wet lines on her face - when did she start crying?

When did she stop crying?

“Exactly what it’s intended purpose was. Andrias was, admittedly... more excited and caught in the heat of the moment than he should’ve been, but this vessel has been far more useful than anticipated.”

It’s Sasha’s turn to shout. “Give her back!”

Anne hears the echo of her own words in her friend’s voice more than she hears just how hollow Sasha sounds, like she’s just talking normally with the volume turned way up.

The thing inside of Marcy tilts it’s head at the girls, the cheeky smile gone in an instant.

“I’ve waited for this for hundreds of thousands of years. I’m certainly not going to give it up just because you want me to.”

Anne feels blue again, and this time is too fast for Sasha to stop her. A loud crack breaks the stifling, suffocating cold of the room and the orange eyes stop glowing.

The room goes dark. A heartbeat passes.

A scream - if that’s even the right word to describe it - goes off, and the whole room shakes. Anne swears she’s bleeding from her ears as she claps her hands over them in an ultimately useless attempt to block out the sound of a million smoke detectors going off and a thousand microwaves exploding.

As soon as it starts, it stops. Sasha lets out a groan, and Anne’s hands curl into fists against the ground. When did she crumple to the floor?

The room is one again illuminated only by Anne’s receding blue flames and the partially-crushed rock-coral in her hand.

“Anne...”

It’s not Sasha’s voice.

The helmet is cracked, and it’s wearer is bleeding from a gash above their eye. Anne can’t really see anything from her angle, but it’s forcing Marcy to keep one of their eyes closed in order to prevent the blood from pouring into it.

Anne hopes beyond hope, and fears beyond fear. Her voice is small, so quiet she can barely hear it in the dead silent room.

“...Marcy?”

#amphibia #no one asked for this but I wanted to write something before I go to sleep #marcy wu #the night amphibia #possessed marcy wu #angst #amphibia angst #amphibia fanfiction #fanfiction #alternate universe #amphibia au #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #general yunan #I'm sleep deprived blame the grammatical errors on my half-dead state #probably gonna get a part two but now that I say it probably not #I hope andrias dies in a fucking pit #andrias is a fucking asshole #pAin

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waybrights · 3 years ago

Note

Sats au

Marcy, after a whole day of nonstop writing: *sleepily/aimlessly walks around the studio*

Sasha, sipping her her coffee in the dark: "You know it's midnight, right?"

Marcy, going completely still: *looks around confused*

okay i wrote smth for this and ik it doesn't fit the prompt exactly i hope u enjoy it anyway!!!

There was something strangely comforting about the studio, especially when the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner and there was no one around. Well, no one but Marcy. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but it's not like anyone was going to kick them out. Besides, she was certain no one knew she was still there. And if they did, no one had come for them yet, so they couldn't get mad when they found her asleep on the couch in the morning.

Besides, the studio was probably one of the only places Marcy could actually focus on what she was doing. Their house was too noisy, especially since Sprig and Polly were over for the week whilst Hop Pop was away on some important trip, and her phone and laptop were there too, all easy distractions from the music she was meant to be going over. So she stayed behind, in the dark studio that had really, really, shitty wifi and an air-con that was stuck blowing cold wind into the building.

Sure, it wasn't the best and they could afford to rent out a new one, but all three of them liked the studio enough to stay, even if the couch was starting to fall apart and it was constantly just above freezing.

On one particular night, Marcy was sitting on the cold floor, one of Sasha's guitars in her lap as she tried to figure out a chord progression. No matter how many combinations she tried, it never sounded right. Sure, they could always just ask Sasha to play something for her, but Marcy knew how tired she'd been recently, and didn't want to bother her with something as trivial as a chord progression. Plus, figuring out herself might make Sasha less stressed about having to do a whole tour after not playing for months due to an injury.

She hadn't meant to stay up so late, but then again, this stupid chord progression was meant to be easy. Luckily, the coffee machine had been fixed just the day before and restocked with just about everything Marcy needed to keep her awake for an extra ten hours and she was absolutely going to take full advantage of it.

---

Marcy wasn't sure how long she'd been sat there, staring down at those stupid lines, but the notes were starting to blur together, making it all the more harder to actually figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Their fingers hurt from playing and the song was rattling around in her head, the same three lines playing on a loop, bringing Marcy closer and closer to just tearing up the sheets surrounding her.

She hadn't realised she'd been crying until a single tear fell onto the paper, it only smudged one note, but it was enough for the frustration that had been building up for the past however long to boil over.

Biting her lip to stop herself crying even more, she stood up and made a beeline for the door, because if she stayed in this stupid recording booth for any longer, Sasha would come in finding her guitar in pieces.

Swiping up the half finished coffee, Marcy stomped out of the room, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears pooling in their eyes. God this is so stupid, she thought to herself as she slammed the door open. In the back of her mind, she knew it would mark the wall, but she didn't have it in her to care. She'd probably just let everyone down. It was a simple chord progression and she couldn't even figure it out. So much for one of the best songwriters, she huffed, practically slamming the cup onto the desk.

Only, she slammed it too hard and the handle came clean off. Marcy stared at it for a few seconds, their eyes flitting between the handle closed in their fist and the mug Anne had got for her birthday on the table. "Fuck," she mumbled, pressing the handle back onto the mug as if that would magically mend it. For a moment, it looked like it was balanced, and Marcy slowly pulled her hand away, only for the handle to clatter against the desk a second later.

For the next ten minutes, Marcy tried to reattach the handle, each with less success than the last. It was pathetic really, but she was so caught up in the fact that she broke Anne's gift to her, that she didn't really have the mental capacity to care about it. So what if everyone saw her breakdown the next time they checked the security footage? That didn't matter when she'd just ruined something Anne gave her.

It was the feeling of warm hands on her own that finally got Marcy to stop. Everything seemed to drain out of her as the mug and handle were pried away from her. Vaguely, she wondered who was in the studio so late, although there was a chance she'd just spent several hours trying to force a cup back together and everyone had arrived for their final session. Either way, they didn't object as someone wrapped their arms around her waist and picked them up.

"I'm sorry," Marcy mumbled after a few minutes. It hadn't been part of her plan when she opted to stay behind to have some sort of breakdown and then cry in someone's arms, and she couldn't help feeling like she should apologise.

"Don't worry 'bout it, you looked like you needed this," Sasha's voice was a mere whisper in her ear, but it still sent Marcy's heart racing.

"Sasha?" Marcy asked, her eyes snapping open as she stared up into her band-mate's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sasha said, a small frown on her face.

"I was," they paused and looked down, resting their head against Sasha's chest. "I was trying to figure out that chord progression you were complaining about. You've been so stressed recently, and it doesn't help we're going back on tour soon and you haven't played in a while, so I thought that, maybe, if I fixed it for you, it would make you slightly less stressed," saying it out loud, she realised that maybe it wasn't her best idea, but she wanted to do something for her friends. They both did so much for her, it was high time she did something for them.

“You… you didn’t have to do that, mar-mar,” Sasha said gently, and even though she wasn’t looking, Marcy could see the smile on her face. The way Sasha’s lips twitched up and her eyes would crinkle ever so slightly, because she didn’t usually smile and when she did it was a sight to behold. “But if that’s what got you so upset…”

“No, it wasn’t that,” well, not entirely, “I just got stressed.”

“That, or you haven’t slept properly in about a week and keep sneaking off here when you think Anne and I are asleep,” Sasha said, though her voice held no anger.

Marcy felt themself go still as Sasha spoke. How did she know? Were they that obvious? No, no she couldn’t be because no one had even asked her about it before! “That’s stupid,” Marcy scoffed instead, “I’ve been sleeping perfectly fine.”

“Marce…” Sasha mumbled, her arms coming up to gently squeeze their shoulders. “You don’t have to lie to me. I won’t force you to tell me, but if you think it’ll help to get it off your shoulders I’m-” she swallowed, almost like it was hard to admit that she was there for Marcy. “I’m always here, whenever you need. Even if it is 1 am on the shitty studio couch,” she ended lightly. Marcy giggled and moved slightly to bring a hand up to where Sasha was drawing random shapes on their bicep.

“Thank you, Sash, seriously,” they said, threading their fingers together. “And I will tell you, both of you, just not right now.”

“It’s okay,” Sasha whispered, very obviously trying to hold back a yawn, “I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

Marcy smiled and pressed the pad of her thumb against Sasha’s. “Are you excited? For next week?”

“Hmm?” Sasha hummed, her body jerking ever so slightly as she woke up. “Yeah, but I’m also nervous, y’know?” she mumbled, slowly waving her lightly bandaged hand around. “I haven’t played in a while, so I don’t want to mess up or anything.”

“You won’t,” Marcy mumbled, her eyes growing heavy as they sat there, Sasha’s warmth creating a bubble of sorts, where nothing could get to her. “You’re really great, Sash, you’ll be amazing.”

When no response came, Marcy slowly lifted her head, only to find Sasha fast asleep against the arm of the couch. It looked uncomfortable, and they knew she would complain in the morning, but she looked so relaxed and Marcy didn’t want to ruin that for anything. So she slowly shifted so she was laying down, their head on Sasha’s lap and her arms wrapped tightly around Sasha’s waist. “Night, Sash.”

#sasharcy brainrot coming back fast <333 #I JUST THINK THEY GET RLLY CLOSE OKAY!!!#and yh maybe this is slightly angsty but it ends in cuddles so <33 #amphibia #amphibia fic #sasha and the sharps au #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sasharcy #anon #you ask i answer #marie.txt

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space-lynn · 3 years ago

Note

What if Marcy just smacks some sense into Sasha? Or the other way around?

Sorry this took so long, school's kept me busy. Thank you so much for this idea! Enjoy reading this.

~~~~~

Marcy tackled Sasha onto the ground behind a group of rocks, saving her from getting shot by a robot. It was the fifth time the blonde had thrown herself into danger to protect her allies, with no regards whatsoever to personal safety, and the ranger was starting to see a pattern she didn’t like.

The first time it had happened, Sasha shielded a Toad from a blade with her body, leaving a nasty gash on her side.

The second and the third, she’d taken blows dealt by metallic fists to protect the intended targets.

The fourth, she was slammed into the ground after pushing a newt of the way.

And the fifth, the blonde jumped in front of a laser beam blasted in Bufo’s direction, but the Toad saw it coming and jumped out of the way, so Marcy took it upon herself to tackle Sasha onto the ground behind some rocks.

Yep… She did not like where this was going.

“You okay?”

No response. All the blonde did was peek around the corner of their hiding place, taking note of Grime and the other Amphibians fighting against the robots. Marcy frowned as Sasha tightly gripped her swords and took one step forward, so the raven-haired girl grabbed onto the lieutenant’s arm, stopping her from running back into battle.

The blonde tugged, a growl in her throat. “Marcy, let go.”

She didn’t let up. She wasn’t going to let Sasha leave.

“Marcy, if you don’t let me go, our friends are going to get hurt.”

Another tug, but Marcy still didn’t let go.

“No.”

Sasha whirled around to face her. “What?”

“Why should I let you leave, Sasha? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

The warrior’s eyes widened for a moment, before it narrowed down.

“It doesn’t matter,” she hissed, yanking her arm out of Marcy’s grasp.

The ranger paled, stammering, “Do-Doesn’t ma-- What?”

Anger surged from within, and she grabbed Sasha’s arm once more. “You're throwing yourself in front of danger without considering the consequences! Why are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

The soldier faced her again and snapped, “Because between my worthless ass and our friends, I’d rather it be me than them! Alright? One pathetic asshole’s life doesn’t fucking matter when there are others involved. So, let go of me ri--”

SMACK!

…

“Seriously?” Marcy asked. Her palm stung with the hit and her eyes stung with tears, but she didn’t care. “Are you fucking serious!?”

The blonde could only stare, surprised by the slap.

“Have you considered how I would feel if you were gone? Have you considered what Grime would think? Percy? Braddock?” -- a shaky exhale -- “A-Anne?”

“I--”

“I won’t let you do this. After everything that’s happened, I won’t let you kill yourself like this.”

Tears dripped down her face. “Not like this.”

A pained look crossed over Sasha’s face.

In the background, the sounds of battle dwindled. The clangs of metal against metal, the shrill noise of lasers powering up, the war cries of Amphibians, and the heavy thuds of iron bodies hitting the ground were no more.

Yunan gruffly called out, “Marcy! Are the two of you okay?”

When it seemed apparent that the mentioned couldn’t speak, Sasha took over. “Yeah! We’re fine.”

She glanced at Marcy and paused, before she spoke softly, “We should go.”

Marcy’s grip on the soldier’s arm tightened for a moment. She released her hold on Sasha’s limb and surprised her with a tight hug.

“Marcy?”

“Promise me,” she whispered.

“What?” Sasha said dumbly.

“That you won’t throw your life away. That you won’t think you're worthless.”

There were a couple beats of silence. A couple beats that left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Marcy’s stomach.

Then a sigh escaped the blonde. “I’ll try.”

I’ll try.

Not a promise, but Marcy could deal with that. If she had to convince Sasha that she had more worth than she let on, then fine.

“That’s good enough for me.”

~~~~~

I might make a part 2 of this where Sasha convinces Marcy that she has worth. I hope all of you enjoyed reading this! Have a wonderful and amazing morning, afternoon or evening! Until the next snippet. :3

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #fanfic snippet #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sasharcy #angst #self-worth #marcy needs to convince her gf that she's worth it #general yunan #but briefly #sorry this took so long #exams are coming up #asks #anonymous #requests

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passionfruitbowls · 3 years ago

Text

through thick and thin, i’ll be at your side

written for Sasharcy Week days 3 and 5 (sun + moon and memories)

Rated: T Word count: 1.5k Warnings: A brief fight scene - no deaths, injuries aren’t described in detail

Read on AO3

—————————

When Marcy learns about Sasha’s biggest secret, it’s rather awkward, or more accurately, painful for her. Although Sasha remains silent at first, hunched forward with her head facing the ground and her fists curled up at her sides, Marcy can see the look of anguish in her eyes, too. What should have been a fleeting moment in their usual after school catch-up now feels far too prolonged and uncomfortable - Marcy can’t think of anything to do other than apologise and hope Sasha won’t be too hard on her.

“I’m really sorry for upsetting you, Sash.”

It had all started out fine: the pair of them sat next to one another on the school swings, chatting about anything and everything, as eight year olds often do. Then Marcy had taken notice of Sasha’s change in demeanour - she seemed less talkative, less energetic - and decided to see what she could do to cheer her up.

“Hey, Sasha, are you okay?” She had asked, offering her hand as if to say ‘I’m here for you, let me help, it’s gonna be alright.’ .

“I’m fine, Marcy,” Sasha snapped as she averted her gaze, her grip on the swing chains tightening. “Just leave me alone…please.”

Stung by Sasha’s words, plus her feelings of disappointment in herself, Marcy lowered her hand and looked away. Silence quickly befell them, but it wasn’t the type of silence that follows a round of joyous laughter amongst friends. Rather, it was the type of silence that usually comes after hearing bad news, that tense period where everyone scrambles to think of the right thing to say. It’s torture, and Marcy hates it.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed when she finally builds up the courage to speak to Sasha again.

“Are you… sure you don’t want to talk about it?” She whispers.

No answer.

Maybe she didn’t hear me, Marcy thinks to herself, but just as she opens her mouth to speak again, a loud sob interrupts her, catching her by surprise.

Turning round, she sees that Sasha has her face buried in her hands, and as she slowly rocks back and forth in the swing her shoulders begin to shake. Marcy then jumps off her own swing before approaching her.

“Hey.” She says, her voice warm and gentle, placing a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Bloodshot, watery eyes gaze up at her as Sasha tries to compose herself, but to no avail.

“It’s-” She begins, sniffling between pauses. “It’s my parents. They’re splitting up.”

Marcy’s heart sinks, and while Sasha puts her head in her hands again she frantically tries to come up with something, anything, she can say to reassure her.

To Marcy, Sasha has always been a bit like the sun. She could light up a room with her vibrant energy, her charm and wit, and her carefree attitude. If the mood was somber, she would immediately be off concocting some wacky scheme to brighten it. There was also her… strong dislike of teachers and their rule-imposing ways, but you’d be better off to not mention that on school grounds. It’s clear that she enjoys living on the edge a little, and while it isn’t exactly Marcy’s style, it’d be a lie to say she didn’t enjoy the adrenaline rush from time to time.

So seeing Sasha reduced to this state of complete and utter despair, all while knowing there’s not much Anne or her can do to help, is more than Marcy can bear.

Deciding to go with something simple and heartfelt, Marcy does what all eight year olds do best: she pulls Sasha in for a long, tight hug, and simply holds her as she cries.

—————

The passage of time is a funny thing, as Marcy has come to learn over the past few�� well, she doesn’t actually know how long she’s been like this. Days? Weeks? Months? Years, even?

At least one thing’s for sure: she absolutely hates it. Who would’ve known that being trapped in your own subconscious while your body is possessed by an Eldritch horror-like creature could be so terrible?

Although, she’s gradually starting to get used to it. Sort of. All this time spent in an endless black void with only her thoughts for company has made her accustomed to the deafening silence, which is broken only occasionally by her quiet sobbing. She feels… not at peace, those aren’t the words she’s looking for… tired, that’s it. She feels so, so tired.

Sometimes, if she closes her eyes and blocks out the flurry of anxious thoughts in her head, she can focus enough to feel her body’s movements. It’s never anything major - a shake of the head, fingers drumming against a hard surface, that sort of thing - but it still makes her feel a little more alive.

One day, however, Marcy feels something so strong it actually knocks the wind out of her. It’s a hard blow to her chest, and as she staggers backwards from the impact, she starts to wonder whether the thing that touched her was some kind of weapon or a clenched fist.

She lets out a quiet groan before lifting a hand to her head, which is already throbbing in pain.

Then Marcy’s unknown attacker strikes again, only much, much harder this time, and suddenly she realises that she can’t feel the ground beneath her feet anymore. For a split second, she’s floating in mid air, still and quiet and accepting of her fate, as she anticipates the final blow.

She just wishes that she got the chance to say goodbye to Anne and Sasha.

The punch is painful, but swift - at least her opponent is merciful enough to end things quickly. Marcy sighs to herself, and closes her eyes as she plummets downward. There comes a loud crack, followed by an incessant ringing in her ears, then silence.

—————

At first, Marcy isn’t sure what caused her to stir awake. Then, very faintly, she hears it. A voice. No, two voices, both very familiar. They seem to be talking to each other, but Marcy can only make out bits and pieces of what they’re saying.

“ ...hope she’s alright…”

“...all my fault!”

“...nothing we can do.”

“Come on… wake up… please...”

When Marcy finally opens her eyes with a cough, the sheer brightness of everything is enough to make her wince. Her entire body hurts like hell (which is sort of a relief, since it must mean that the Core is gone), but her pain is soon forgotten when she feels someone run a hand through her hair and cup her cheek.

“Anne! She’s awake!” The voice from before says, only now it sounds closer, and clear enough that Marcy can recognise it. A small smile creeps across her face, and she musters up just enough energy to speak.

“Sasha.” She croaks, looking up to see her friend smiling at her. Tears stream down Sasha’s cheeks, but she’s happy and laughing nonetheless; it’s enough to give Marcy butterflies.

“Oh, Marcy.” Sasha says, her voice trembling. “I- I’m sorry. This should never have happened, I was just… I was so reckless!”

Marcy chuckles quietly and places her hand on top of Sasha’s.

“I think we were both a little reckless.” She whispers, tucking her head beneath Sasha’s chin. She hears Sasha laugh breathlessly, and feels her shake her head in disbelief.

“Yeah,” She says, “I guess you’re right. But still… the music box… what happened in Newtopia, it- it wasn’t fair of me. I let you down, Marcy.”

Pulling away for a moment, Marcy locks eyes with Sasha, smiles, then pulls her in for a hug as she begins to cry again.

“Thank you.” Marcy whispers as she rubs soothing circles on Sasha’s back. “I forgive you, Sashy.”

They’re in no rush to be somewhere (at least, Marcy hopes not, seeing as she technically missed the fight), and so for a few minutes they stay like that, content and wrapped in each other’s arms. Eventually Sasha’s breathing evens out, and when they do pull away, an unusual thought pops in Marcy’s head, one that she’s sure she’s had before.

“You know,” She says, “I think the two of us are kind of like the sun and moon.

Sasha frowns in confusion.

“...What?”

“We balance each other out! You’re the fun, popular girl who catches everyone’s eye, while I’m the awkward girl who nobody really sees or pays attention to because I’m usually hiding away.”

Giving Marcy a sympathetic smile, Sasha pats her on the shoulder and shakes her head.

“I think you might still be a little bit out of it,” She says, “because I don’t think that sounds like you at all.”

“Pfft! C’mon, don’t be silly! I’m an expert when it comes to this sort of thing.” Marcy insists, tilting her head to the side, practically begging for Sasha to agree with her.

For the sake of keeping her friend happy, Sasha nods.

“Alright, whatever you say, Mar-Mar. But you’ll always be like the sun to me.” She whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to Marcy’s forehead.

Neither one of them moves for another moment or two, choosing instead to look into each other’s eyes a little longer, until Anne comes running over and just about crashes into them, desperate to join in. More hugs are exchanged, more happy tears are shed, and for the first time in a long time, Marcy feels like everything is going to be alright.

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #amphibia fanfiction #sasharcyweek #sasharcy week #sasharcy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #my writing #i have been painstakingly working on this for the past two days lmfao it’s kind of ridiculous #anyways feels good to finally post it!!#now at long last i can sleep lolol

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holylulusworld · 4 years ago

Text

The Roommate (5) - Happy together

Summary: You and John belong together.

Pairing: AU John Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, OFC Sharon

Warnings: language, angst, plus sized reader, mentions of sex, flirty John, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, implied smut

A/N: The idea for plot and some details came from @shooterere per request.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The Roommate masterlist

“So, are you healthy again,” Dean sits on your desk, to watch you hastily thumb through a few contracts. “Y/N, I asked you a question.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes drifting toward John walk into your office, smirking like someone who stole your virginity not days ago. “Perfectly fine.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” muttering John’s eldest son gets up from your desk to warily watch his father round your desk to hand you another contract. “You fucked!”

“What?” you choke on air, looking at John with wide, fearful eyes.

“I can smell the tension and you look like dad marked your whole body with his teeth,” pointing at the bite mark on your neck, the one you tried to poorly hide with a scarf Dean smirks.

“I got no clue what you are talking about,” John grumbles, sitting on your desk, fingers dancing over your thigh. “And if I tasted her sweetness, it’s mine from now on.”

“Naughty girl got her hands on my dad. Good job, sweetheart,” Dean offers you a high-five. “Don’t let him get away with stealing your sweetness, keep him at your house and never stop riding his dick.”

“Dean!” you tut. “Not so loud. I-I didn’t ride his dick!”

“Dad,” Dean gives his father a stern look, but his lips curve into a dirty grin. “Let that girl ride dick. Give her what she needs.”

“Son, I swear I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident if you don’t stop right now,” threatening his son John watches you intensely.

You burst into laughter when Dean looks at you like a kicked puppy. “Aw, don’t hurt Dean. He’s lonely and begs for attention.”

“’m not,” Dean protests. “Maybe I’m simply happy my father finally got laid. He won’t be grumpy anymore, lucky bastard.” ushering out of the room before his father can fulfill his promise to kill him, Dean smirks. “I’m gonna tell Sammy I won the bet. Thank you for fifty bucks.”

“Bet?” you cock your head to look at Dean.

“Yeah, I said dad won’t make it another week. Sammy said he’ll wait two more weeks. Bobby grumbled something about that this is none of our fucking business but lost anyway.”

“That fucker,” John groans when you giggle again. “That’s not funny. My son’s made bets on my sex life.”

“What’s all this?” looking at the bouquet of red roses you wonder why John smiles at you. “John?”

“It’s our three months anniversary,” he explains. “I know it’s not an anniversary people usually celebrate but I felt like bringing you flowers today, doll.”

“John, the flowers are beautiful, but you didn’t have to buy them for me,” your heart flutters when John exclaims he couldn’t stop thinking about you when he saw the roses. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, doll,” John pecks your cheek, groaning when he hears Dean clear his throat behind his back.

“Sorry to disturb your quickie at Y/N’s office but I need help with the new customer. That guy drives me nuts. He refuses to let me open the hood. I tried to explain to him that I can’t find out what’s wrong with his car without having a look at the engine.”

“Fine, give me a few minutes and I’ll talk to that douche. What’s wrong with people lately. Who comes to a mechanic only to refuse to let them open the hood of his car?”

“Sir, if you don’t want us to repair your car, you are free to go and look for someone else,” John grunts. For half an hour he tried to convince his latest customer to open the hood of his car for Dean or Bobby.

“I came out here,” the man retorts, “only for you to not knowing how to find out what's wrong with my car.”

“I told you an hour ago that your car sounds like there is nothing wrong with the engine. The noises it makes tells me all I need to know, but I can’t repair it without opening the hood,” Dean lost his patience minutes ago and only wants to get rid of the annoying customer.

“Boss, there’s someone called Jim on the phone, he says his car is broken,” you poke your head out of the window to call for your boss. “Do you have a minute, John?”

“What did you say?” John looks in your direction, furrowing his brows as he didn’t get what you said. “Can you come out, doll?”

“Just a minute, boss,” you give John a thumb up before closing the window.

“Pastor Jim said it looks like the engine overheated,” you explain. “Shall I call him back and tell him you’ve got no time.” glancing at the customer you furrow your brows. “That guy, I know him.”

“You do?” John wonders, looking over his shoulder before he leads you a few steps away. “How come that you know him?”

“That guy, he’s an asshole,” you huff. “Marcy, one of my colleagues, kicked him out once. He came to our library every Thursday only to walk around, sneering at anyone who wanted to help him, and then, he just left, slamming the door shut.”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean yells, throwing his hands up in surrender and you snicker at his outburst.

“Kathy from the shop around the corner told us he came to her shop, looked around, grunted at her employees, and told her she should fire them as they tried to help him.”

“Fine, that is enough. I will kick that bastard out and we can have a lunch break,” John walks toward the customer.

“Dad, that was freaking awesome when you threatened to demolish his car,” Dean laughs, stealing another slice of pizza. “I never saw a guy run faster toward his car.”

“Seems like he gets off by treating people like shit,” Bobby explains. “Must be one lonely bastard.”

“Loneliness is awful, Mr. Singer,” you say, smiling when John grasps for your hand to squeeze it tightly. “Maybe he tried to get attention or something.”

“I want to talk to Johnny,” Sharon complains, pushing against the door. “Let me inside.”

“Listen, this is my house, and I don’t want you to enter it. If you want to talk to John, call him. I want you to leave my property or I’ll call the cops and you’ll get arrested,” you stand your ground. “But you shouldn’t waste your time, John doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How do you wanna know, bitch?” she just doesn’t get the message. Sharon throws insults at you, not caring you flinch when she called you fat and ugly.

“What the fuck, Sharon!” John growls. He slams the door in her face to check on you. “Doll, I want you to go to bed as planned. I’ll take care of Sharon. Don’t worry,” he pecks your hair softly,” she won’t come back.

“O-okay,” you nod, giving John a pained smile. “I’ll be waiting for you, John. Do you still want to watch that movie?”

“Sure thing, doll,” he smirks, eyes shamelessly roaming your body. “And later I’m gonna devour that sweet pussy of yours again…”

You giggle at his words, eyes no longer filled with tears. “Catch me if you can, Winchester.”

“Aw, my girl tries to play hard to get,” John growls. “Give me five to get rid of Sharon and I’ll rock your world…”

“No, you will let me speak first,” John says, raising one hand to stop Sharon. “Before you broke up with me for a boy half my age, I already knew we are over. We never matched but I stayed with you, too afraid to end up alone.”

“You need me, John,” Sharon purrs, batting her eyelashes. She pouts, hoping John will change his mind.

“I don’t know why you keep on coming back to me, Sharon. It was you ending our relationship. I’m going to tell you this one last time. WE. ARE. OVER. I don’t want you to ever come back here.”

“Is it because of that chick? She can’t give you what I can give you, Johnny,” she coos.

“True,” Sharon smirks, believing she got one step closer to her goal. “Y/N gives me so much more. A home. Warmth. Love. I love that girl,” John slams the door in Sharon’s face before she can say another word. “Now move your ass off her property before she calls the cops.”

“Damn me, you are killing this poor old man,” John pants. He runs one hand over your sweaty back, laughing when you lazily lift your head. “Dean was right, I should’ve let you ride me first thing when we got home.”

“Don’t tell him,” you laugh, patting John’s chest. “I liked it, though.”

“Sharon will never bug you again, doll. I made sure she got the message,” you smile to yourself. “I love you too, John.”

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he groans. “I’m not good at admitting feelings but it’s true, I love you, Y/N.”

“You’re cute when you admit your feelings, John Winchester. I’m glad it was you who moved into my house. You’re the best roommate ever…”

The End...

The roommate tags

@boogiewoogiebutt; @thebookisbtr

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SPN Forever Tags

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#The Roommate (5) - Happy together #AU John #john winchester #au john winchester #au john x reader #au john Winchester x reader #plus size reader #angst #fluff

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