#like this scene was the moment where I was like “oh yeah. yeah I get it

[deathofacupid]

opposites attract, they say. they attract, but they don't last. at least, not satoru and you.

"'toru," you tug on his sleeve, the silk cool against your clammy skin. he glances away from the gaggle of people surrounding him, a practiced smile flashing across his face. it doesn't reach his eyes.

"yeah, baby?"

you inhale, the bass of the music vibrating through your chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. "can we — could you…" the words catch in your throat. what were you asking for? sanity? a moment of quiet? "um," you stammer, "when's this going to be over?"

"over?" he echoes, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, as if the very concept is absurd. "babe, the party just started."

your party. the party you hadn't asked for, the party you dreaded.

"i know," you say, treading carefully. you knew he'd put effort into this. it's just… the room felt like it was closing in. it wasn't his fault, not really. he thrived in this environment, the center of attention, radiating that effortless charisma. people were drawn to him like moths to a flame. and tonight, the flame was burning too bright.

"but… it's just really, um," suffocating is the word that claws at your throat, but it feels too dramatic, too needy. "it's just kind of a lot."

he laughs, a booming sound that seems to amplify the noise around you, and says something you can't hear over the music. "'toru," you sigh, the sound barely audible, "i can't hear you."

he clicks his tongue, a flash of annoyance crossing his features, before he leans in and excuses himself from the group. he takes your hand, his grip a little too tight, and pulls you out onto the balcony of the penthouse. the city lights sprawl beneath you, a dizzying panorama that mirrors the chaos in your head.

"okay," he says, his tone impatient, as if this whole conversation is an unwelcome interruption. "go ahead."

the resentment simmers. you swallow it down. "toru, this is… nice and all, but, uh — i'm just not sure… not sure this is my scene."

he squints at you, his brow furrowed. "what do you mean? it's your party."

"i didn't want one, though. don't get me wrong, this was… thoughtful, i guess. it's just too much for me."

satoru blinks, genuinely surprised, as if you've sprouted a second head. "but…i mean, i thought you'd like it. look at how many people showed up for you."

"'toru, those people aren't here for me. i don't even know most of them."

"it's a party! like, a party party. of course, you won't know all of them."

"i probably don't even know three of them!" you snap, the frustration finally breaking through. "you know i don't like these things," you add, the words softer now, pleading.

"yeah," he scoffs, the sound laced with something you can't quite decipher. "i do."

"well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing. it's just," he groans, running a hand through his hair, "frustrating."

"frustrating? it's frustrating? me wanting to spend my birthday with you, that's frustrating?"

"you are with me!"

"and, like, one hundred other people! what's frustrating is that you're not listening! i told you i wanted to spend today, just the two of us!"

"but that's what we always do," he mutters, the words barely audible.

"what? oh, i'm sorry, is quality time annoying?"

he pinches the bridge of his nose, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "that's not what i meant."

"that's what it sounded like."

"look, it's just… boring doing the same thing all the time. we like different things."

"yeah," you whisper, the words heavy with a sudden, sinking realization. "we do, don't we?" you shake your head, the movement small and defeated, and turn to walk past him.

"wait, where are you going?"

you shrug, unable to meet his eyes, "to go to a different thing."

[lazysoulwriter]

out of focus - drew starkey.

The glow of the TV flickered softly across the living room, casting warm light over the blanket-draped couch where you and Drew were tangled together. The opening credits of Little Miss Sunshine rolled, but his attention wasn’t really on the screen.

It wasn’t your first time watching this movie together. You’d made him watch it months ago, and now it had somehow become your thing—late-night movie marathons, curled up in his arms, laughing at the same parts, crying at the same scenes. But tonight, something was different.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a calming rhythm against your ear. His arm was draped lazily around your waist, fingers tracing soft, absentminded circles over the fabric of your oversized sleep shirt. He hadn’t said much in the past few minutes, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Why are you staring?” you mumbled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The corner of his lips curled into a lazy smile, his fingers grazing lower, teasing against the bare skin of your thigh where the hem of your shirt had ridden up.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You do this thing when you watch movies—you get so focused, like you’re living inside the screen.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s a great movie. You should be paying attention.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, but the way his fingers pressed just a little deeper into your skin told you he wasn’t talking about the film.

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your body melt further into him, shifting just enough that your legs draped over his lap. He hummed at the movement, his hands settling on your thighs, thumbs stroking over your skin with the kind of touch that sent a slow shiver down your spine.

On the screen, Olive was mid-pageant routine, the awkward, chaotic energy filling the room. Normally, you’d be cracking up, but right now, the way Drew was looking at you—half amusement, half something deeper—was all-consuming.

“You know,” he mused, voice low and deliberate, “I think I like this movie a lot more now.”

“Because it’s good,” you teased, biting back a grin.

He shook his head, leaning in until his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Because of you.”

Your heart skipped at the weight of those words, at the way his touch felt heavier now, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, teasing at the bare skin just beneath. You let out a soft breath, your fingers gripping his hoodie as his lips ghosted over yours—close enough to make your pulse race, but not quite enough to close the distance.

“You’re distracting me,” you whispered, your voice betraying the fact that you didn’t really mind.

“Yeah?” His fingers traced higher, skimming over your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “Maybe that’s the point.”

The movie played on, but in that moment, it was nothing more than background noise. Drew’s lips brushed against yours, slow and teasing, before he finally gave in and kissed you properly—soft, lingering, filled with everything he hadn’t said yet. His fingers tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, tasting, savoring. His lips moved over yours like he had all the time in the world, like he was memorizing the way you felt against him.

His hand slid up, fingertips grazing your jaw before angling your face just right, letting him kiss you even deeper. A slow sigh escaped your lips, and he swallowed it with another kiss, this one rougher, more insistent. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a soft whimper that made him smirk against your mouth. He was taking his time, drawing it out, making sure you felt every ounce of what he wasn’t saying out loud.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch away, his breath was just as unsteady as yours. His thumb traced your bottom lip, eyes locked on yours, dark and knowing.

Your mouth felt warm, slick with shared breath, and when you shifted against him, you could feel that he was just as affected as you were. You licked your lips instinctively, catching the remnants of him, and the way his gaze darkened made your stomach twist deliciously.

“God,” he muttered, voice husky, his forehead dropping against yours. “I love you.”

The words slipped out so easily, so naturally, that your breath caught. You barely had time to process before he was kissing you again, deeper, hungrier, like he needed you to feel it just as much as he meant it. When he pulled back this time, his lips were swollen, his breath uneven.

“And you’re so fucking hot,” he added, grinning as he dragged his thumb across your wet bottom lip. “Like, ridiculously hot.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and he kissed you again, catching the sound before it could escape. You were both a little breathless, a little dazed, and when you finally settled back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you tighter, like he had no intention of letting you go.

Yeah. Little Miss Sunshine definitely had a new favorite scene.

[bringmeanangel]

In a Mood

Pairing: Post-prison Spencer Reid and reader

Tags/Warning: slight Mean Dom Spencer Reid, sub reader, smut. established relationship. gloves, spanking, praise kink, humiliation. pet names. name calling. Use of slut. Hand on throat. Slapping once. finger sucking. hair pulling. spreader bar. gag, teasing. Spanking. good girl. Alight edging. AFTERCARE. did I forget anything?

Synopsis: He tsked "What a little slut" his eyes narrowing a bit, checking in and you inhaled, nodding, signaling him to continue. "Is that what you are?" his  hand wrapped around your throat.

A/N: hello. WELP! I'm trying my hand at some smut. Please be kind it's my first official smut, with a post prison Spencer, because what a mood. Read the tags please! Um... oh this got away from me.

You were getting ready for bed. Spencer was eyeing you, something seemed on your mind. He snaked his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder.

"What's on your mind, angel?" he asked and  he saw you blush. 

"Just thinking" you said. He reached a hand up and started to massage your shoulders. 

"About what?" 

"Today, in the morgue..." you trailed off.

Spencer's hands stilled for a moment. He certainly didn't think that's how you were going to start the sentence. He kissed your temple, returning to massage your shoulders. You took a deep breath.

"When you pulled on the gloves" you looked down and blushed harder

Spencer smirked and turned you to face him. He cupped your cheek with one hand and stroking his thumb. He was always so patient with you.

"You know me and you in gloves. Part of me wanted to just spread my legs." you looked up a bit, seeing something in his eyes darken.

"Yeah?" he said, standing a bit taller, making you moan. He tsked "What a little slut" his eyes narrowing a bit, checking in and you inhaled, nodding, signaling him to continue. "Is that what you are?" his  hand wrapped around your throat.

"Yes, Doctor." you moaned. 

You never really called him that, it was sir or his name, but something about tonight, it slipped out.

He let go of your throat and you watched as he undid the buttons on his cuff and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

He went to the nightstand where he just had a box of gloves out and grabbed a pair. He pulled on the pair, as you watched him adjust the gloves.

 You let out a whimper, barely moving, you're pretty sure he just broke your brain. He was so sexy like this.

A gloved hand gripped your chin tight, snapping you out of your daze. You looked at his lust blown eyes, making you moan loud. He slapped you and gripped your chin tighter. 

"What am I going to do with you?"  he tsked again. He let go of your chin and you tried not to whine at the loss of contact.

"I've got a few ideas" you boldly said with a smirk, causing him to raise an eyebrow. 

God, that dom brow was everything. A gloved hand gripped tight around your throat, causing you to gasp. With his other hand he slipped two fingers into your mouth.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak" he sneered. You started sucking his fingers "So needy for something in your mouth, sweetheart, you'll take anything."

He pushed his fingers back, loosening his grip on your throat. You gagged a bit and he pulled his fingers back.

"Aw, poor little slut. I don't think you can handle my cock in your mouth tonight." 

Spencer was surprised with himself and a little impressed. You two did rough scenes, but this was coming from deep down. You loved this side of Spencer.

It was rare to see this side, rough scenes were something you two talked about, especially after everything that happened to him in prison, but whatever was making him do this, thank you.

You whimpered, trying to shake your head, eyes pleading. You wanted his cock in your mouth. He titled his head to the side in mock concern. 

"Tell you what, if you can prove to me that you can take my cock without gagging, then you can have it." His gloved hands left you. "Shirt off. On your knees." he said

You took his shirt off, leaving your underwear on. You sank to your knees in front of him. A gloved hand fisted your hair, pulling your head up to look at him.

"If you're a good girl then you wont gag. Open wide" he ordered and you did. 

Two gloved fingers made their way back into your mouth, pushing your tongue down. You gagged a bit and his eyes went slightly soft, checking in.

You give a small nod to keep going. He pulled his fingers out and you opened wide trying to relax your throat. He held up his two fingers and placed them back into your mouth.

You prayed that this wouldn't gag you, but for some reason your body was failing you today. You gagged, coughed, and drool was coming out of your mouth.

"Poor little girl" he mockingly pouted. 

"Please" you whimpered and he let out a soft chuckle. 

"Stay" he ordered and you stayed on your knees.

Your eyes followed him as he went back into the closet and returned with your dildo gag. Your eyes went wide.

Fuck.

"Seems like you need a bit of retraining." his tone was dark.

A gloved hand pulled your chin down and he slid the dildo gag in. He secured it and you looked at him whimpering. He reached under the bed and grabbed the spreader bar.

Your eyes widened even more and you nodded eagerly. He had you lay on the bed. Spencer yanked your underwear down  and lifted your legs as you bent them letting them fall open.

"I change my mind, on your knees, chest down." he said.

You rolled over willingly knowing the aftercare was going to be perfect. Cuffs were attached to your ankles and your arms moved between your legs and he secured the cuffs.

Your ass was up and you were vulnerable and exposed. You gasped when you felt him spread your ass cheeks. He gave a sharp smack and spread your pussy, seeing how wet you were.

"So wet already." he lightly patted your pussy a few times. His hands left you. "What to do with you?" he spoke.

Walking around to grab the vibrator that was in your nightstand. He looked at you and mock pouted again.

"Maybe I should leave you like this. I could sit here, watch you as you're all tied up, needy for my hands on you" you whined.

He crouched down to eye level, his arms on his knees, so you had a good view of him in gloves, but he wasn't touching you. Brown eyes peering at you.

"I could look over some cases. Be working and all you could think about would be my gloved hands lightly dancing across your pussy. playing with your clit." you moaned "See, I wouldn't fuck you, but I'd make you cum multiple times. My fingers, the vibrator. Of course, I wouldn't forget your ass. Get it all nice and red before I slide a finger or two in."

Holy hell was Spencer in a mood. A good mood, a torturous, teasing and mean mood.

"You'd be thinking about that while I just watch you."

Your eyes pleading with him to touch you. He reached a hand up and stroked his hand on your temple. you instantly relaxed.

"Good girl." he praised.

Spencer snapped the gloves off. He massaged your neck and shoulders for a second. You were gagged and bound for his viewing pleasure. 

He had grabbed some files and sat in the chair. He smirked at you, and got to work. He looked up when he heard you whimper, concern on his face, but it quickly left when saw you wiggle your hips. 

This was driving you nuts and it had only been five minutes. He clicked his tongue, raising an eyebrow and placed the files on the chair.

He stood up and grabbed a pillow and folded it. Your eyes widened, was he going to... he placed the pillow between your legs.

"If you're so desperate, show me." He stood there and crossed his arms. You shook your head and he cocked an eyebrow. "No?" You shook your head. "Then be a good girl" 

Spencer grabbed the pillow from between your legs. He tossed it on the floor and went back to sitting on the chair.

This was going to be a long night, you thought. 

Fifteen minutes later Spencer got up and walked to the nightstand, pulling out a pair of gloves. He pulled them on and spanked your ass, causing you to jump a little.

You heard him chuckle and he walked over to your face and titled his head to the side.

"How's my slut?" he adjusted the gloves. 

Spencer reached into the nightstand and grabbed your vibrator and lube.

He reached down and rubbed your clit with one hand and slid two fingers into your pussy with the other gloved hand. You gasped around the gag.

"So sensitive already." he said he pulled his fingers out, but kept rubbing your clit.

His hand left you and you heard the familiar buzzing. You jumped when the vibrator was placed on your clit.

A gloved hand was placed on your lower back and Spencer could tell you were getting close.

He pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. Two fingers rubbed your pussy, it clenched around nothing.

"Such a needy little cunt you've got. Just waiting for me to" he dipped two fingers into you and you clenched around him "Oh. There we go" he soothed, turning the vibrator back on and moving his fingers in and out of you. 

Your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm building. Your muffled cries when he pulled out and turned the vibrator off when you were so close made him give a low throaty chuckle.

He placed the vibrator down and lightly patted your pussy,

"I know, baby." you could hear the condescending tone in his voice. "You just want to cum." you nodded "Yeah, that's what you want?" you nodded again, 

Without warning, two fingers were inserted into you, his fingers curling up and rubbing your g-spot.

His gloved pinky rubbed against your overly sensitive clit and your back arched and you orgasamed  

His fingers didn't stop and he turned the vibrator back on, your second orgasm came ripping through you.

He stepped back, turning the vibrator off again and pulling off his gloves and doning new ones.

 You gasped loudly as a sharp smack was brought across your right ass cheek. He spanked you harder and harder until your ass was cherry red and you were whimpering and crying. 

He reached a gloved hand down and held your hand giving you a squeeze. You squeezed back twice, which was your signal to keep going.

"Good girl" he praised, which made you relax even more.

He reached between your legs with his other hand and found your clit. You were whimpering again

"That's it. That's my good girl. Are you going to cum a third time?" his voice was gentler this time.

It was almost getting too much and then you came hard. body was going limp, breathing was getting difficult due to the gag, but you felt good. 

Soft, gentle hands, skin to skin contact was stroking your temple, you opened your eyes to see your brown eyed dom's caring, soft eyes looking back at you. You gasped for air as the gag was taken out.

"Breathe, angel. I'm right here. You did so good. Such a good girl for me. I wanted to get the gag off first, okay?" he whispered

You just stared at him in a daze.

"Nod if you can hear me?" he said in a gentle, but firm tone. you nodded "Good girl. My good girl. I'm going to get the restraints off of you, now." 

His hand never left your body. Until he was undoing the restraints. He helped roll you on your side, grabbing another pillow and placing it under your head. 

Spencer sat down and placed his fingers on the pulse point of your wrist and looked at his watch. 

You whimpered and he looked at you, sympathetically, combing his fingers through your hair.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." He soothed

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead. He grabbed the baby wipes and gently spread your legs, wiping you thoroughly. 

"There we go. Getting you all cleaned up, yeah?" you nodded

 He threw the wipes away praising you non-stop until he could hold you. He put the restraints under the bed and grabbed the warm fuzzy blanket you had and wrapped it around you. 

You had a mini fridge in the room and he grabbed some clementine's, Gatorade and dark chocolate.  Spencer had you sit in his lap, he cradled you and held up the Gatorade to drink.

Your head rested agaisnt his chest. You were feeling good, but still feeling a bit fuzzy.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He whispered. 

"Mmm." You nuzzled against him. "S'good" you kind of slurred. 

He held a piece of clementine up to your mouth and you ate it. He had you a few more pieces and held the Gatorade up. He fed you some chocolate.

"Can I give you a massage, honey or do you need me to hold you a bit longer? I was rough tonight." He kissed your forehead.

"Longer" you said. He combed his fingers through your hair. 

"Okay, love. I love you so much"

"Love you" you said, clinging tight to him.

He held you tight, kissing your temple, rubbing a hand up and down your back. A few minutes later, you sighed.

"I have to pee" you blushed

Spencer helped you stand up. He stood up with you and you hugged him. He followed you to the bathroom.

"What'cha doing?" You teased as you sat down on the toilet "is this a new fetish?" You smirked and he laughed a bit.

"No. Sorry. Just wanted to be with you, in case you need anything." 

"I'm okay, Spencer" You smiled. "More than okay."

He nodded, leaving, letting you pee in peace. He cleaned up quickly, stripping the sheets. He smiled when you walked back in.

"So, where on earth did that come from, Dr. Reid?" You laughed . He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but smirked. 

"Just something I had thought of. I've noticed the way you look at my hands when I wear gloves. I was just waiting for you to say something."

"Oh my God!" You hid your face in your hands, laughing.

"It's okay, honey. I hope I didn't go too far? It was a lot." He looked worried.

You smiled wide and reached up, running your fingers through his hair. You stepped close to him and wrapped your other hand around his waist.

"Not too far. It was a lot, We haven't done something like that in a while, but I think we both needed it." you placed a gentle kiss on his lips and he smiled.

"Now, I'm not done taking care of you." he soothed. You nodded, looking exhausted.

Spencer led you to the bed and grabbed your water bottle and held it up to you. You took a few sips and he had you lay down on your stomach. 

He grabbed some cream, pumped it in his hands, rubbing it together. He rubbed it over your ass. You hissed at his touch, but relaxed instantly.

He moved and sat beside you, hands massaging your shoulders. You moaned, and he leaned down and kissed your neck.  

When you were relaxed, Spencer rolled you onto your back and stroked your hair.

"I'm so proud of you" you smiled half asleep.

"Thank you, sweetheart" he blushed.

Spencer got up and covered you up to below your chest with the fuzzy blanket. He quickly got out of his work clothes. 

"Spence?" You asked.

"Right here, baby. Just getting in my pajamas and then I'm going to get you dressed."

"M'kay"

Once he was charged, he grabbed your sweatpants and sweatshirt. He carefully removed the blanket and slipped your sweatpants on, then sweatshirt.

Spencer turned the lights off the overhead light, leaving the soft glow of the beside lamp. He climbed onto the bed, pulling you against him

He covered both of you up with the fuzzy blanket and stroked your hair.

Your eyes were closed, head resting against him. The two of you stayed in the comfortable silence. Eventually you fell asleep in his arms.

[youngsadlesbian]

hey! i saw you were taking requests so:

a fic where popular!wanda and popular!reader have always been rivals. they love eachother as much as they hate eachother because they were childhood bestfriends, not until wanda left without a word, leaving reader alone.

i think it would be great if they have a scene wherein they get stuck in a bathroom after a couple of friends locked them in there, and they start talking about what actually happened.

ANDDDDD wanda getting pissed at reader's boyfriend, even if she has one as well.

i hope you consider this, thank you!!

BETWEEN LOVE AND WAR

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: rivals since wanda left without explanation, you love each other as much as you hate each other. when you're locked in together, buried feelings resurface. between stolen kisses, jealousy, and secrets, you must decide—keep fighting or finally surrender to love.

a/n: thanks for the request hope u like it <3

word count: 2k

warnings: angst if you blink, enemies to lovers but mostly fuff.

Highschool hallways were your battlefield.

From the moment Wanda Maximoff waltzed back into your life years after disappearing without a trace, she had been nothing but a thorn in your side. The childhood best friend you had once adored had morphed into your greatest rival, someone who matched you in everything—popularity, grades, social influence.

If you threw a party, Wanda threw a bigger one. If you aced a test, Wanda’s score was somehow a fraction higher. It wasn’t just a competition anymore—it was war.

And she played dirty.

“Nice speech, printsessa,” Wanda cooed as she brushed past you after the morning assembly, the smug smirk on her lips igniting a fire in your chest. “Almost convincing. Too bad I wasn’t impressed.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a steady breath. “That’s funny, Maximoff. Because last time I checked, you were watching my every move like your life depended on it.”

Her green eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface—something almost… regretful? You ignored the nagging thought.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, stepping closer until you could smell her familiar vanilla perfume. “If I wanted to watch something entertaining, I’d look anywhere but at you.”

A slow smirk curved your lips. “Then why are you still here?”

For a split second, Wanda faltered. But before you could dwell on it, she rolled her eyes and spun on her heel, walking away as if she hadn’t just invaded your space like she owned it.

That was how it always went between you two—like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to explode.

But nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

It was supposed to be a harmless prank.

The idea was simple—your so-called friends thought it would be hilarious to lock you and Wanda in the girls’ bathroom until you either killed each other or worked things out.

“You guys need to fix your tension!” one of them had laughed before slamming the door shut behind you. The sound of the lock clicking into place sent a wave of dread through your stomach.

You whirled around, heart pounding. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Wanda groaned, banging a fist against the door. “Let us out, idiots!”

No response.

You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

Wanda turned to glare at you, arms crossed. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” You scoffed, incredulous. “How the hell is this my fault?”

“You have terrible taste in friends.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, and you would know all about loyalty, right?”

The second the words left your mouth, the air between you shifted. Wanda tensed, her expression hardening as if you had physically slapped her.

And maybe, in a way, you had.

A thick silence stretched between you.

Then, Wanda exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I had my reasons,” she muttered.

Your heart clenched. “For leaving?”

She didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay composed. “You never even said goodbye, Wanda.”

The raw emotion in your voice made her flinch.

You hated the way your chest ached. Hated the way her absence had wrecked you when you were younger.

Wanda finally met your gaze, and for the first time in years, her walls cracked. “I was scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “My father got into trouble. My family had to leave town overnight. I didn’t have a choice.”

Your breath hitched. “You did have a choice. You could have told me. I would’ve understood.”

“I didn’t want you to understand,” she snapped, frustration laced in her voice. “I wanted to protect you. I thought leaving without a word would make it easier for you to forget me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations, Wanda. It didn’t work.”

The weight of the past hung heavy between you.

Then, in the quiet, Wanda’s voice softened. “I missed you.”

Your heart clenched at the admission.

But before you could respond, a loud click echoed through the air, and the door swung open.

Your friends had let you out. But neither of you moved.

Because everything between you had just changed.

\*/

You knew something was wrong the moment you spotted Wanda at the party later that night.

She was standing across the room, her gaze locked onto you like a predator watching its prey. And she was pissed.

At first, you thought it was just the unresolved tension from earlier.

But then you followed her line of sight—straight to your boyfriend, who had an arm draped around your waist.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wanda’s lips, but there was no humor in it. “Didn’t know you had such low standards, printsessa.”

Your jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

Wanda stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as she tilted her head, eyes dark with something dangerous. “Your boyfriend. He’s a walking red flag, sweetheart. You can do better.”

You glared at her. “Oh, so now you care about my love life?”

Her expression darkened. “I’ve always cared.”

The words made your breath hitch, but you refused to show weakness. “Funny. You didn’t seem to care when you disappeared.”

Something flickered in Wanda’s gaze, but before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Wanda.”

You turned just in time to see her boyfriend—a tall, broad-shouldered guy who looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine—wrap an arm around her waist.

Wanda’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move away.

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to acknowledge the feeling.

So instead, you smiled, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Well, isn’t this adorable? You’re acting jealous while you have a whole-ass boyfriend.”

Wanda’s grip on her drink tightened. “It’s not the same.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so you can date whoever you want, but I can’t?”

Her eyes burned into yours. “I don’t want you with him.”

Your heart stuttered, but you masked it with a smirk. “And why the hell not?”

Wanda took a step closer, voice low. “Because he’s not me.”

For a moment, the world stopped.

Then, before you could process what was happening, Wanda grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the crowd, away from her boyfriend, away from everything.

Because this war between you and her?

It had never been about hate.

Wanda’s grip on your wrist was firm but not painful as she dragged you out of the party and into the cool night air. The music from inside was still pounding, but it felt like a distant echo compared to the erratic beating of your own heart.

“What the hell was that?” you snapped, wrenching your arm free the moment you reached the empty backyard.

Wanda didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she ran a frustrated hand through her dark hair, her green eyes flashing with something wild, something desperate.

“You know what that was,” she finally said, voice tight.

You let out a humorless laugh. “No, I really don’t. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just pissed I’m not still waiting around for you like some lovesick idiot.”

Her jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

You scoffed. “Oh, now you care about what’s fair?”

Wanda took a step closer, invading your space. “I never stopped caring.”

Your breath hitched. The heat of her presence, the intensity in her gaze—it was suffocating in the best and worst ways.

“Then why did you leave?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and aching. “Why did you let me believe you just didn’t give a damn about me anymore?”

Wanda exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. “I told you—I thought it would be easier that way.”

“For who?” Your voice cracked, betraying you. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me.”

Silence.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it—

“I couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you.”

The confession landed like a punch to the gut.

For so long, you had convinced yourself that Wanda had abandoned you without a second thought. That she had simply moved on. But the way she was looking at you now—like you were the only thing in the world that had ever mattered—made that lie crumble to dust.

She took another step closer. You didn’t move away.

“I missed you,” Wanda murmured.

Your chest tightened. “Then why did it take you so long to tell me that?”

Her eyes flickered to your lips for just a second. “Because I was scared.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“And what about now?” you whispered.

Wanda reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips lingering against your skin.

��I’m still scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a breath.

But she didn’t pull away.

And neither did you.

You weren’t sure who moved first.

One second, you were standing there, staring at Wanda like she was the answer to a question you didn’t even know you had been asking. The next, her lips were crashing against yours in a kiss that tasted like frustration, longing, and years of unresolved emotions.

It was messy, desperate—more of a battle than a kiss.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of her jacket, pulling her impossibly closer. Wanda’s fingers gripped your waist like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

The intensity made your knees weak, made your mind spin.

But just as quickly as it started, reality slammed into you like a freight train.

You pushed her away, panting. “Wanda, I—”

Her expression was unreadable, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that,” she said, almost pleading.

You swallowed hard. “I have a boyfriend.”

Wanda flinched at the reminder. “You don’t love him.”

Your silence was all the confirmation she needed.

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Of course. Of course you don’t.”

You ran a shaky hand through your hair, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. “And what about your boyfriend, huh? What does this mean for him?”

Something dark flashed across Wanda’s face. “He was never you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The weight of her words settled between you, heavy and undeniable.

For so long, you had been fighting—against each other, against your feelings, against the past. But maybe… maybe you had been fighting for the wrong reasons.

Maybe you weren’t rivals. Maybe you were just two people too afraid to admit that you had never really stopped loving each other.

And maybe… it was time to stop fighting at all.

\*/

You ended things with your boyfriend the next day.

It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t pretty. But it was necessary. Because Wanda had been right—your heart had never truly belonged to anyone else.

And as for Wanda…

Well, she wasn’t far behind.

She showed up at your locker that afternoon, her usual smirk replaced with something softer, something real.

“So…” she started, leaning against the lockers, “you free later?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Planning on dragging me into another emotionally charged confrontation?”

Wanda grinned. “Tempting. But I was thinking something more along the lines of an actual date.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

You pretended to think about it. “Hmm. That depends. Are you finally ready to admit that you like me?”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the blush creeping up her neck.

“Shut up,” she muttered before grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Maybe, after all this time, it finally was.

[nameless-jamie]

Hiiii, could we get PA story roommates trope but this time PA's flat gets flooded and Jamie tells her to stay at his place? Himbo behaviour ensues

Oh my God, They Were Roommates

Read AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES first!

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, mentions of nudity

A/N: HIIII this is the last chapter before the big Climax of this story I hope you guys are as excited as me! (Please I hope someone gets the Vine reference of the title)

When Jamie walked into Nelson Road that morning, the last thing he expected to see was Y/N lugging a full suitcase through the entrance like she was moving in.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows shooting up. “Uh… you plannin’ on goin’ somewhere? Or did I miss the part where you secretly play for Richmond now? You got an away match?”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh and dropped her bag by the receptionist’s desk. “If only. Might be easier than dealing with this bullshit.”

Jamie stepped closer, crossing his arms. “What bullshit?”

She turned to face him, clearly exhausted. “My flat. It’s infested.”

Jamie wrinkled his nose. “Infested with what?”

“Bed bugs. Fucking bed bugs, Jamie.”

Jamie took an instinctive step back, eyeing her suspiciously. “You bring any of ‘em here? 'Cause I like you and all, but if you’ve just unleashed some tiny demons into my locker room—”

“No,” Y/N groaned. “I took all the necessary precautions. My clothes are sealed up, my bag’s been disinfected—I googled everything, alright?”

Jamie smirked. “Bet you made a whole checklist, didn’t ya?”

She shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

“So, where you stayin’ then?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “I was gonna book a hotel for the week, but now I have to fight with my insurance company, and I really don’t wanna deal with that and overpriced room service at the same time.”

Jamie, already grinning, shrugged. “Easy. Stay with me.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Jamie.”

“What?”

“You’re not just saying that because you think it’ll be funny to mess with me for a whole week?”

Jamie gasped, feigning offense. “I am a gentleman. I am graciously offering my spare room—”

“You don’t have a spare room, Jamie.”

“Alright, fine, but I do have a couch.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at her bag. The truth was, she really didn’t want to deal with finding a hotel. And as much as Jamie was a menace, she knew he’d make things easier just by being himself.

She let out a slow breath. “Fine. But if you pull any shit—”

Jamie grinned. “I never pull shit.”

Y/N just scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Jamie, however, was already thinking about how fucking great this was going to be.

Y/N stood in Jamie’s living room later that day, arms crossed as she surveyed the situation.

“So, let me get this straight.” She turned to him. “Your actual guest room is now a home gym.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”

“And your couch is… that?”

She pointed at the comically small loveseat in the corner. Jamie followed her gaze and shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s, like, a luxury loveseat.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jamie.”

“What?”

"Where is your big ass couch? The 10.000 pounds one?"

Jamie just shrugged his shoulders. "Had to put it in a storage unit, I wanted a pool table in my living room and it is so fuckin' big that only the small couch fits in 'ere now."

“I am not sleeping on that thing. Two people can barely sit on that!”

Jamie smirked. “Guess that means you’ll have to take my bed, then.”

She shot him a look. “Where will you sleep?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Dunno. Maybe with you?”

Y/N groaned, throwing a pillow at his face. “You are insufferable.”

Jamie, laughing, caught the pillow with ease. “Alright, alright. I’ll take the couch.”

Y/N exhaled, relieved. “Good. Thank you.”

Jamie let the moment settle before adding, “But if you change your mind—”

“Jamie.”

“Alright! Christ.” He held his hands up, laughing. “Go get settled, love.”

Y/N muttered something under her breath but disappeared into his bedroom, dragging her suitcase behind her.

Jamie, alone now, grinned to himself.

This was going to be the best fucking week of his life.

Y/N had known, logically, that staying with Jamie would be an experience. What she hadn’t expected was just how much of a menace he could be in his own home.

For example:

He never set an alarm. Instead, he relied on his "natural internal clock" (which clearly did not work), meaning Y/N had to wake him up for training every morning. Which she did anyway, but now she had to physically drag him out of bed.

He stole her coffee. Every. Single. Morning. Even when she explicitly told him not to.

He walked around shirtless all the time. And sure, okay, she had seen him shirtless before—football training and all that. But it was different when he was standing in the kitchen at 8 AM, stretching like a smug cat while waiting for the toaster. We are not talking about his bottomless sleeping behavior again...

And now, on day three of her stay, she had another new problem to deal with.

Jamie would not shut up about the sleeping arrangements.

Y/N had taken the bed the first night, and Jamie had pretended he was fine with it, but by morning, he was dramatically groaning about how his back was ruined from the tiny couch, dragging himself around the house like he’d been injured in battle.

“You literally run sprints for a living,” Y/N had pointed out over breakfast. “You’ll be fine.”

Jamie had just groaned louder.

But now, after three nights of suffering (his words, not hers), Jamie had resorted to full-on negotiation tactics.

“If I let you keep the bed, what do I get in return?” he asked that evening, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway of his bedroom.

Y/N, currently unpacking her pajamas from her suitcase, didn’t even look up. “The satisfaction of not being an asshole?”

Jamie huffed. “You could just share it with me, y’know.”

Y/N snorted. “Oh, sure. Because that’s a great idea.”

Jamie smirked. “What, scared you won’t be able to resist me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Scared you’ll snore like a chainsaw.”

Jamie gasped, clutching his chest. “I do not snore.”

“Colin says you do.”

Jamie glared. “Colin’s a liar.”

Y/N laughed. “Look, if it makes you feel better, you can switch. I’ll take the couch tomorrow.”

Jamie perked up instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He grinned. “Alright. Deal.”

Y/N should’ve been suspicious of how quickly he accepted that.

Y/N had severely underestimated how fucking tiny Jamie’s couch was.

She tossed. She turned. She curled up in a ball. Nothing helped.

The worst part? Jamie was thriving in his stupid bed, probably starfished across the mattress without a care in the world.

After another twenty minutes of trying—and failing—to get comfortable, Y/N gave up.

Dragging herself up, she stomped over to Jamie’s bedroom and pushed open the door.

Jamie, who was indeed starfished across the bed, blinked up at her.

Y/N sighed. “Move over.”

His lips twitched. “Oh? What’s this, then?”

She crossed her arms. “Your couch sucks.”

Jamie grinned. “I did say we should share.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jamie.”

“Alright, alright. Get in, love.”

She hesitated for only a second before slipping under the covers, careful to keep a respectable distance between them.

Jamie, of course, was not that respectful.

Within minutes, he was shifting closer, throwing an arm over her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N stiffened. “Jamie.”

“Mm?”

“Are you—” She exhaled. “Are you cuddling me right now?”

Jamie hummed sleepily. “S’just warmer like this.”

She should have shoved him off. She really should have.

But… the bed was warm. And Jamie was warm.

And maybe she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would.

Y/N and Jamie walked towards the exit of Nelson Road together that late afternoon, chatting and joking together.

"It's going to only take a few more days till the bugs are completely gone, and then I'll be finally back home," Y/N mumbled to him.

Jamie clutched his chest in fake heartbreak. “What, you don’t wanna live with me forever?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Absolutely not.”

Jamie tsked. “Shame. Thought we made a great team, what with our shared history of, y’know…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Accidental kisses. Me walkin’ ‘round shirtless. You ogling me all day...”

Y/N groaned. “Shut up.”

Jamie just smirked, clearly delighted to have fresh material to torment her with.

“Oi!”

Something must have been off because Roy Kent immediately squinted at them from the locker room entrance.

“The fuck is goin’ on with you two? Leaving here together in one car, all happy and bubbly and shit.”

Jamie, ever the picture of innocence, shrugged. “Nothin’.”

Y/N, knowing Roy had bullshit radar, quickly said, “My flat’s infested. I’ve been staying at Jamie’s.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been what?”

Y/N sighed. “Not like that. Just for the week.”

Roy looked between them. “And you haven’t killed each other yet?”

Jamie grinned. “Nah. She likes me too much.”

Y/N groaned.

Roy crossed his arms. “There’s always a choice. And you chose this prick?”

Jamie gasped, full-on offended. “Oi, I am a delight to live with!”

Y/N scoffed. “Jamie, last time we lived together, you—”

She stopped herself just in time.

Roy’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Y/N pressed her lips together. Jamie smirked.

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, way too smug. “Just that she’s seen me naked.”

Roy froze.

Y/N froze.

Jamie just grinned like the shit-stirring bastard he was.

Roy closed his eyes. Took a very deep breath. Then muttered, “Not my problem,” and walked away.

Jamie laughed.

Y/N punched his arm.

Jamie just winked and leaned over to whisper in Y/N’s ear. “Y’know, if Roy finds out we’re sharing a bed, he might actually murder me. He sees you like a daughter or some shit.”

“Shut up.” Y/N elbowed him. “You are the worst,”

He just smirked. “C’mon, love. Let’s go home.”

[craziertogether]

stand UP.

i am so sorry to say this like this, but guys please stand up. there is absolutely no way anything in those leaks are true. i’m not even going to share the original bc it isn’t even worth the space in this post. but let’s be so honest, if byler isn’t confirmed or endgame that is something that i will discuss later, regarding the actual plot points revealed. WHY would any information about ST5 be revealed to the public? the duffers and netflix have been so secretive about everything to the point that we have gotten practically NO new content regarding the new season. There have been interviews yes, we’ve gotten very general ideas of mike and will’s relationship and that we know the show is ahead of editing but absolutely NOTHING has been said besides “you guys will be very happy”. they have continued saying since season 3 that “season X is the best season, it’s bigger than the last” and each time we have been proven correct, as bylers and as fans the show has grown into bigger things with bigger relations and bigger villains. so please tell me why ANYONE is believing that “the same season 4 tactics will be employed” and “EVERYONE SURVIVES” has us shaking rn. stand up.

regarding byler leaks. i am actually a byler truther, maybe i’m delusional and maybe we all are. but my goodness, we know the duffers are incredibly talented at writing and creating plot lines and storytelling, why in the ever living hell would they create a universe where they again stated it’s for outcasts, claim that “will takes center stage” in season 5 and that he “comes into his own” AND “he gets a love interest”, all to let him have a huge confession scene to get rejected by the person he’s been set up to be in love with for nearly 8 years IRL and a decade in the show. like i’m sorry but, what do you mean you expect me to believe that you guys believe that will, who so thinly but successfully veiled his love confession, poured his entire heart and soul into mike but not for his own desires but to make mike happy and to continue doing what he has always done. which is giving mike strength (season 1 finding him, season 2 helping him while he was possessed, season 3 helping him come to terms with his sexuality unknowingly and remind him of his actual love, will and his friends, and season 4 remind him he isn’t useless) and then he’s going to what? DO IT AGAIN? “hey mike i actually uhm yeah so i know i lied to you breaking our biggest rule but i had to let you know that actually the painting was from me and el doesn’t think of you at all the way that i said, it was all me bro” followed by a “oh my fault bro, uhm i don’t see you like that but let’s stay friends and i’m gonna marry your sister and uhm yeah ig well see each other around sorry if i confused you or something but thanks for helping me get over my inability to tell my girlfriend that i love her”. i’d this happens i will personally go to the duffers house and kidnap them and make them watch byler edits and read analyses with them AND livestream it bc what a TERRIBLE ending.

like guys.. i acc cannot with you guys who are believing this “leak” i’m sorry 😭🙏. but please don’t tell me you’re going to let an unconfirmed source, AN ANONYMOUS LEAKER, of all things deter you from the incredible analyses and actual CANON information and content from the show??? will and mike are shown to have intimate moments, paralleled to actual couples, and have been SET UP to be in a love triangle, all canonically, and this on leak from a faceless twitter account with no actual connection to any cast/staff working with the show has you guys crumbling at the knees.

STAND UP I SAY. WE HAVE BIGGER ISSUES, LIKE WAITING FOR THE ACTUAL SEASON TO COME OUT.

ps. i’m such a yapper but guys please PLEASE BE SO FR.

[acidiccherry]

no but why does milchick know what happened in that tent??

I have no freakin’ clue too! But we have some facts that can help us speculate:

Milchick and Ms Huang weren’t there during the night, Milkshake said goodnight and never appeared till the morning after, even though Irv shouted his name into the forest a dozen times, so it seems like MDR is left unsupervised, but can you leave THEM out of all severed employees unsupervised?? Hell no, you can’t do that! So Milchick has to be at least in some proximity to them to prevent any flying fuck they can cause, but also he’s a human and has to sleep;

Irv got far off into the forest screaming “Mr Michick!!” and for some reason we could hear him in Helly’s tent and the evident sound of Mark climaxing was apparently heard by Irving;

Mark climaxed. Just wanted to point that out.

So my best guesses are the following (for the fun I’ll rank the probability of each one based solely on my flair):

The whole fuckery with Mark and Irving hearing each other, a tv playing with no visible power source, Milkshake had no footsteps behind him when he appeared in the morning (didn’t dig into that myself, just saw the screenshots on the subreddit and was like whoa) leads me to think that it could be a simulation indeed and they’re all in the same room with VR goggles on. And that way Milchick could easily see on the computer screen what was happening. I don’t like this theory personally, I’m more inclined to the idea of them really going outside, so my rank is 3/10;

Mr Seth Milchick is a heavy sleeper or his own tent was somewhere else where we couldn’t see and his tent could be far away from where Irv went and thus he couldn’t hear him. As we’ve seen, the lovemaking scene was going on for QUITE SOME TIME, and Irv fell asleep waaay before that ended lol, so Milchick could get up and out to take a leak and in that moment hear what was happening in Helly’s tent. This one is pretty innocuous so my rank is 7/10;

Let’s not forget that Dylan, of all people, was right next to the guys and them having a sleeping bag party could bother him enough not to fall asleep, they were loud lolol. So he could snitch on them and report it to Milchick, but again he’s very devoted to the team so it’s very improbable. I guess the only way he could do this is if he didn’t fully realised the consequences of his words, but that is also not really probable, so I’ll rank it 0,5/10

So yeah, there’s that! I’ll roll with the second one but we’ll see. Oh, and I forgot that there’s a chance that there are cameras inside the tents. Who knows.

[pinkcreamypeach]

Valentine's Day 💌 💘 (Mareach)

God spent four hours writing this thinking, rewriting, adding way too much detail, then getting distracted by the idea of drawing. Honestly, I wanted to cram in a ton of characters, but that would've taken forever. I almost wrote a whole Luaisy section, added Toad, Yoshi, and so much more, but my motivation dipped hard. I even planned a full-on Bowser fight scene, but it ended up in the background instead. Next time, I’ll make it way better.

Anyway, cut down on the design details. (Might draw peach dress in the later maybe) Mareach is getting closer to happening, so... lol.

@keylovesstuff @bberetd @peaches2217 @cutejk123

@supergay-64 <-- Sorry if you didn't want to be tagged

@silenzahra <-- forgot to tag you lol.

The soft morning light trickled through the curtains, casting a warm golden hue across Mario and Luigi’s shared bedroom. Mario stirred, stretching his arms wide, his body naturally easing into the motions of someone well-used to a day full of jumping, running, and saving the world. His eyes slowly blinked open, a small, content grin forming on his face as he greeted the morning. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the fresh air, feeling that spark of energy that only the start of a new day could bring.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool wooden floor greeting his bare feet. A quick stretch, his joints popping, and Mario let out a pleased sigh. He wasn’t much for slow mornings, but there was something comforting about this routine. It always set him up for the day ahead, whatever challenges might come.

Glancing at the clock, he shuffled toward the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “Huh, feelin’ good today,” he muttered to himself. He usually felt like a wreck after a long day of fighting monsters, jumping on Goombas, and dodging fireballs. But today? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was just the sunny weather. Maybe it was... Valentine's Day?

Standing in front of the mirror, Mario squinted at his reflection. In his red mushroom boxers, he scratched his stomach and patted his belly, noticing the familiar scars. Burn marks from his fiery encounters with Bowser, and deep claw marks that... well, he wasn’t sure where they came from. He’d been through so many scrapes, it all blurred together. But at least his signature mustache was still there. He took a whiff of his own breath. “Oof... Definitely need to brush my teeth,” he muttered, frowning.

Mario grabbed his toothbrush, eyes flicking to the empty space where Luigi’s toothbrush should’ve been. He blinked, brain a little slow to wake up. “Oh yeah… he’s off with his girlfriend…” Mario chuckled to himself. He still couldn’t get over the fact that Luigi had found someone. The shy guy who never quite left his comfort zone now had someone who brought him out of his shell. "I thought she’d be trouble," Mario mused with a grin. "But... I guess she’s good for him."

He sighed, thinking about Peach for a moment. Maybe today was the day... the day he’d finally confess his feelings. But... no. How would that even work? He groaned at himself. The last time he tried anything romantic, it ended with him chasing after Toadsworth in a panic. Peach was always sweet and forgiving, but Mario couldn’t help that nervous knot in his stomach. He’d baked her a special dessert for Valentine’s Day, all excited, but was it too cheesy? Probably, but he didn’t mind. He had to at least try.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the soap in his eyes until he was already screaming in pain and slipping in the tub. "Mamma mia!" His feet flew out from under him, and he crashed into the soapy water with a splat. His daydreams about Peach scattered like his balance.

Sitting up in the tub with a groan, Mario rubbed his eyes, wishing for a second he could just pull the curtains around him and disappear into his bed. The dramatic thoughts swirled, but before he could fall into them, he grabbed his toothbrush and tried to shake off the chaos.

Without looking, he grabbed the cream from the counter, squirted it onto the brush, and shoved it into his mouth. The moment he tasted it, his eyes went wide in horror. Wait, that's hair cream! He gagged, spitting it out in disgust.

"PERCHÉ QUESTO CONTINUA A SUCCEDERE!!?" Mario shouted in a dramatic mix of frustration and disbelief.

It wasn’t the start he had planned, but then again, when was it ever?

—----------------------

Princess Peach took a slow, deep breath as she admired her reflection in the mirror, a soft smile curling on her lips. With careful hands, she applied the finishing touch to her look. A heart-shaped accent with her lipstick. Her dress, chosen with care, was the epitome of grace and elegance, a pink Rococo-inspired gown that seemed almost too magnificent to wear.

As Peach twirled in front of the mirror, the soft rustling of her gown.She chuckled softly to herself. Perhaps my family would say this is a bit too extravagant, the most "girly" of all princesses but I wouldn't change a thing. Today is about love, after all. Her heart swelled with excitement as she glanced at the calendar. Yes, today is the day.

With a final glance at herself, she slid her long gloves on and gently gathered the ends of her gown before stepping out of her room. The grand halls of the Mushroom Castle were adorned with decorations in celebration of the day, festive ribbons in shades of pink and red, and cute bows everywhere. The castle’s guards had changed into their new uniforms, fitting the mood with their pastel hues. Each one bowed as she passed, their faces glowing with admiration for their princess, her beauty and grace leaving them in awe.

Toadsworth, ever the reliable elderly, was overseeing the preparations for the grand celebration in town. The festival was to honor love in all its forms, romantic, familial, and platonic. As always, the elder Toad was in his element, helping organize the festivities with great care. He adjusted his golden glasses, a thoughtful gift from the princess herself, and smiled. She had gifted him an exquisite eyeglass holder for Valentine’s Day, simple yet meaningful, and it had brought tears to his eyes.

"Ah, my favorite princess," he said with a warm smile, his voice full of admiration. "You look as beautiful as your mother, my dear."

Peach’s face lit up at the compliment. "Oh, grandpa, you spoil me with your words," she giggled. "But I do appreciate it, thank you."

The two walked side by side, moving toward the front balcony where the event preparations were taking place. As Peach looked out over the gardens, she couldn’t help but smile even wider. The lush, vibrant flowers were tended to with care, and the toads were already buzzing around, handing out early gifts to one another. It was an endearing sight, one that filled her heart with joy. Her people, so full of life and love, celebrating together in this beautiful moment it was all she could have hoped for.

She glanced over at Toadsworth, feeling a surge of gratitude for everything he did to make this day special. "It's truly wonderful to see how much love is in the air today, don’t you think?" she remarked.

Toadsworth smiled fondly at her. "Indeed, Princess. It’s a day for all to share in the joy of love and there’s no one more deserving of such celebration than you."

Peach smiled softly, her heart full of affection for her kingdom and those she held dear. As the festival preparations continued.

—----------------------

Mario stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his collar with the kind of determination usually reserved for stomping Goombas. He wanted to look good not that he had a fashion degree or anything. Luigi wasn’t around to be a backseat stylist, and honestly, the pea-sized Prince Parsley had his own business to attend to. Probably dating someone new. Not Mario’s problem.

He smoothed out his faded red button-up, pulled on his dark red jeans (fancy!), laced up his trusty brown boots, and because he was feeling classy doused his hair in way too much gel. The result? A slicked-back masterpiece that could probably deflect fireballs. He finished it off with an unreasonable amount of cologne. Was it necessary? No. Did he now smell like an entire department store fragrance aisle? Absolutely.

With a deep breath, he placed his iconic red cap atop his gel fortress, stepped outside, and took in the fresh air. The Mushroom Kingdom stretched before him, Peach’s castle standing pretty in the distance. The sun was shining, the clouds were smiling, and most importantly today wasn’t an “adventure” day. No kidnappings, no rogue Chain Chomps, no existential crises brought on by giant turtles. Just peace.

Then he turned around.

Bowser’s airship loomed overhead, casting a dramatic shadow across his front yard. Mario glanced at his watch. Really? Of course, Bowser had to crash that day. Holidays, birthdays, probably even Peach’s hypothetical baby shower if it was important, Bowser was showing up uninvited.With a resigned sigh, Mario popped back inside, grabbed a Cape Feather, and launched himself skyward. He had about five minutes to keep Bowser from ruining the party.

“Alright, Bowser,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s make this quick.”

—----------------------

4 hours later

Princess Peach stood in her royal dressing chambers within Peach’s Castle, preparing for her grand speech. The lavish room, bathed in soft shades of pink and gold, gleamed under the morning light streaming through tall windows adorned with flowing silk curtains. A polished vanity, scattered with delicate beauty essentials, sat against the wall, while a flurry of Toad attendants bustled around her, adjusting the final details of her dress and carefully positioning her crown.

Beyond the chamber doors, the castle courtyard buzzed with excitement. Hundreds of Toad citizens had gathered beneath the grand balcony, their tiny mushroom caps bouncing eagerly as they awaited their princess’s arrival. With a final deep breath, Peach straightened her gloves, offered a warm smile to her loyal attendants, and stepped gracefully onto the stage.

“Beloved citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom!” Peach’s voice rang out like a melody, carrying across the sea of joyful faces. “It is with great joy that I officially declare the beginning of our Grand Festival of Love! Today, we celebrate with laughter, music, and most importantly cake! (I personally made sure Toadsworth didn’t skimp on the extra frosting this time!)

“So, put on your finest festival attire, indulge in all the treats your heart desires, and let the celebrations begin! The Mushroom Kingdom’s Grand Festival of Love is officially underway!”

The kingdom erupted in cheers, a wave of excitement surging through the crowd. Peach watched with a delighted smile as her people spread out, filling the castle halls and the festival grounds beyond. The town square gleamed with festive decorations, games, and merriment, love filling the air in every laughter-filled moment.

As the day passed in a joyful blur, Peach found herself holding onto a special thought: her own Valentine’s gift. A gift for Mario.

Where was he? Was he off on another adventure with Luigi? She hadn’t seen him all day.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and soon, the final event of the night began the grand ballroom dance. The castle’s halls glittered with candlelight as the guests swayed to elegant music, glasses raised in celebration. Peach smiled at her people, twirling among them, but something in her heart pulled her away.

Excusing herself, she stepped outside, where the kingdom’s streets lay silent and empty under the moon’s glow. The celebration had drawn everyone inside, leaving the once-bustling town still and peaceful. Holding the ends of her dress, she slowly wandered through the quiet pathways, her thoughts drifting.

Where was he?

She had left her gift at home in the rush of the festival, but that didn’t matter. All she wanted was to see him..

Then the hurried footsteps caught her attention first. She turned, her breath hitching slightly when she saw Mario standing before her, a slightly crushed Valentine’s box clutched in his hands. His red shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his pants bore a few small rips, and faint scorch marks streaked his boots. His hair was a complete mess, bouncing slightly as he tried—unsuccessfully—to smooth it down with one hand. He looked like he’d just run through absolute chaos.

And yet, to her, he was still Mario.

As soon as their eyes met, he stiffened, hands trembling slightly as he swallowed hard. A nervous, lopsided smile tugged at his lips, an attempt at his usual confidence, but it wavered under her gaze.

“Pri— *ahem* Principessa… ciao, Principessa Peach…” He gave a quick, stiff bow, but as he glanced down at the ruined box in his hands, he let out a quiet, sheepish chuckle.

“I, uh… you… you look… wow.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, tripping over themselves as his face turned an adorable shade of red. “I mean… beautiful—no, gorgeous, like… *La donna più popolare di sempre.*”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should probably stop talking now…”

Peach giggled, warmth flickering in her eyes as she took him in. The slight blush his words had drawn from her softened into something more affectionate as she stepped closer, tilting her head.

“Thank you, chéri,” she murmured, her voice teasing but gentle. Then, with a playful glint, she reached up, her fingers threading lightly through his unruly hair. “I have to say… I quite like the rugged look.” She paused, scrunching her nose slightly. “Though, you do smell a little… smoky.”

Mario exhaled a dramatic sigh, finally putting two and two together.

“Bowser?” she asked, her tone knowing.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But don’t worry! I took care of that *bastardo* and his goons.”

Before she could reply, he glanced at the misshapen Valentine’s box in his hands and sighed again. Without a second thought, he tossed it into a nearby trash bin, his expression falling. It wasn’t good enough. Peach deserved something perfect.

She caught on immediately.

“…Wait.” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at the box. “That was a cake?”

Mario blinked. “How’d you—”

She giggled and tapped his nose with her finger, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, Mario, I have a good sense of smell.” She hummed softly, lacing her hands behind her back. “Even if it was burnt, I would’ve eaten it anyway. Your desserts always make my day better.”

His heart stumbled over itself at that. She always had this way of making him feel like he was enough.

Wordlessly, she took his hand, her fingers slipping effortlessly between his, and led him beyond the castle gates. The soft glow of the festival faded behind them as they wandered into a field of Fire Flowers. Their petals shimmered under the moonlight, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape. At the heart of the field stood a grand tree, its branches stretching toward the stars. Peach stopped beneath it, turning to him with a knowing smile.

“…Remember this place?” she asked softly.

Mario blinked, then his eyes widened as memory washed over him.

“O-oh! Sì!” His face lit up, his voice quieter now, touched by nostalgia. “I remember… the stars, the flowers… and you.”

His voice dropped even softer.

“You made me feel better when Luigi was missing. You always make everything better, Principessa..”

Peach’s smile turned tender as she stepped closer.

The fireflowers bathed the field in a soft, golden glow, their petals flickering like tiny lanterns against the darkened landscape. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, jeweled with stars, casting a dreamy silver light over the scene. A gentle wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of flowers and the distant hum of the festival still lingering in the kingdom.

In the middle of it all, Princess Peach and Mario stood beneath a towering tree, its branches stretching toward the heavens. The moment felt like a fairytale, something out of a dream, yet entirely real.

Mario, ever the gentleman despite his usual clumsiness, bowed slightly, extending his hand toward her. “May I have this dance, Principessa?”

Peach, smiling with a playful twinkle in her eyes, placed her gloved hand in his. “I’d be delighted, mon chéri.”

And with that, he swept her into an elegant, old-fashioned waltz, their feet gliding over the grass as if they were dancing atop the stars themselves.Mario held her securely, his grip firm yet gentle, guiding her across the glowing field. His usual roughness was softened, his movements careful but still undeniably him a little hesitant, a little bashful, but full of warmth. Peach followed his lead with practiced grace, letting herself be twirled effortlessly before returning to the safety of his arms.

The moment quickly turned playful. Peach giggled as Mario spun her again, this time pulling her in close, their chests nearly touching. “Getting bold, aren’t we?” she teased.

Mario smirked. “Just tryin’ to keep up with you, *bella.*”

She hummed, arching a brow. “Oh? Then keep up with this.”

With surprising agility, she took the lead for a moment, twirling him instead. Mario stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, his laughter echoing into the night.

“Oh, you’re real cheeky tonight,” he said, grinning.

She giggled and playfully nudged his nose with hers. “I think you like it.”

Before he could respond, she suddenly let go, stepping backward as if to challenge him. Mario blinked, then smirked, accepting the silent invitation. With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he lunged forward, grabbing her waist and spinning her back into his hold, earning a delighted squeal from the princess.

“Still gotcha,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched slightly as she gazed up at him, her hands resting against his chest. The fireflowers flickered around them, their glow reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the dance had become more than just a playful movement.

“…You really are something else, Mario,” Peach finally whispered, her voice softer now, her fingers tracing the edge of his collar.

Mario swallowed, his usual bravado melting just a little. “Yeah? Well… you make it real easy to wanna hold onto somethin’ this good.”

Her cheeks warmed as she tilted her head. “Then don’t let go.”

His hands tightened ever so slightly at her waist, a silent promise as the dance continued slower, gentler, wrapped in moonlight, fireflowers, and the quiet understanding that, in that moment, nothing else mattered.

As Mario dipped Peach for the final flourish of their dance, the momentum carried them both down onto the soft grass. A breathless laugh escaped Peach’s lips as she landed beneath him, her golden hair fanning out around her like a halo. The glow of the fire flowers surrounded them, casting a warm, flickering light over their faces.

Mario hovered above her, his hands still securely wrapped around her waist, his breath slightly unsteady. The playful laughter between them softened into something quieter, something deeper. Peach gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks dusted pink, her smile warm and inviting.

She lifted a delicate hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face before leaning in, pressing the gentlest kiss against his cheek. The warmth of her lips lingered against his skin, and Mario’s face turned an unmistakable shade of red. He barely had time to react before she rested her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his in the cool night air.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day, Mario,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the petals around them.

Mario swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into her eyes. She looked so radiant, so effortlessly beautiful, bathed in golden firelight and starlit silver. He couldn’t help but lean in closer, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in the moment.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day, too, mi Amore” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

They stayed like that, lost in each other, the world melting away as the fire flowers swayed gently around them two hearts intertwined beneath the endless starry sky.

[waynes-multiverse]

Ooof, it was! But I did adjust it a bit since this is already so AU (President Vicky is still alive after all lol 😅)

As ominous as this situation is, there's something really cute about picturing Ben doing this lol. He loves her fr fr. 💗

He did really take good care of her (surprisingly lol). Loved showing a little glimpse of how Ben's doing with technology, too. I figured in those few months of navigating life alone, he probably learned at least a few things 😅 (I have a HC that he googles everything someone tells him from thereon out, especially if it's his wife. She's not getting away with lies as easy anymore lmao)

Small favors? 😅 Your worldbuiding with the cure vs. the virus is so interesting here. I'm wondering how they're going to get her better at this point if they can't make her a non-supe...

I tried my best at making it plausible and give it a quick bandaid lol. My thought behind it was that the virus might change her supe DNA enough that the cure could take hold again? Luckily, Ben also doesn't understand "scientific mumbo-jumbo," so I had an easy work-around there 😂😂

And all in all, he got fucking lucky... 😅

But that moment where she literally coughs blood is so visceral. 😭 Really well done, even though my heart is in my throat now. 🫠

Yeah, you suddenly go from "Oh, it's just a plain cold" to "uh-oh" 🙈

So sweet. 😭 I was expecting his call to Victoria lmaooo, aaaand it went about as well as I expected loll. You've soothed my worries that she was the one who might've had something to do with the reader getting sick, but I'm still on the edge of my seat on how you're going to fix this...

I couldn't believe it either, but Victoria might be her actual friend lol. But kinda makes sense, considering Vicky also was very fond of Hughie 🥲 But Vicky and Ben might have leveled up from "arch-nemesis" to "frenemies" lmao

I felt that No in my chest, jeezus. 😭😭

I loved writing him during this entire scene lol! Considering he was fully human and went up against his supe wife like that and stood his ground... He really fought for her and their relationship 😭💕

Oh my Goddd their rehab days coming to bite her in the butt loll. But good on Ben for learning something! 😂

Glitter and glue 😂 Ben's not book smart, but he's definitely street-smart lol

Honestly I could see this. 💔 The V changes people, typically for the worst. And with her, I feel like she was kinda quick to suggest divorce after everything she and Ben had been through.

We definitely saw the change with Butcher and Hughie 👀 And the V absolutely changed her, too! The absence also didn't help. It was easier to cut ties and grow colder, being miles away 💔

The divorce was still her way of telling him it's okay to go. She didn't want to hold him back and be a burden. She hates being a supe and knows he hates it, too.

lmfaoo. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. 😂

You were supposed to laugh. He literally went whew, bomb defused 😂 It was a bit insane of him to go toe to toe with a supe lol. He even recognized that SB might've not been as cooperative as she was 😅

OhGodohGodohGod!! Her anger is so valid, but also, I can't help but root for Ben's side on this one. 😅

Right? Like, if it hadn't worked, I'd be so pissed he's making me suffer more, but still – Go, Ben! You do you, man 😂🫶 (And a part of her surely knew all along he'd do it either way lol)

I have a feeling Ben's gamble is gonna pay off, thanks to the one time he paid attention to science. 🤓

Well, did he? lmao One in eighty rats wouldn't be a chance I'd take. They definitely didn't teach him math at that boarding school 100 years ago 🤣🤣

But yes, like I said, he got fucking lucky 😂🩵🩷

Lover – Part 2

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, angst with a side of hurt/comfort, sickness & generally gross descriptions thereof (the Gen V virus says hello 👋 – with minor adjustments), tw: mentions of euthanasia & suicide, sprinkles of fluff between

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Don't read too much into the whole virus situation, guys. I promise this is a full fix-it, and that annoying little bug is just how we're gonna do that 😜 Come tomorrow, all's well because we all know the V stands for... I do this joke every year, don't I? Never mind! Happy reading! 💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 2: Lovesick

Ben’s worried. Y/N keeps saying she’s fine.

They stroll through the supermarket. Benny pushes the cart in front of them, racing down the aisles.

She woke up this morning around eleven o’clock after a thirteen-hour sleep. He’d held a small mirror under her nose several times at night to assure himself she was still breathing. She never woke up. She’d looked so peaceful it had almost been creepy.

She also sweat through her sheets and jittered like a leaf in the wind. He tried to hold her when she was freezing and gave her distance when she was ablaze. In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

The hard lines on his face are still there, though. They never left.

Ben isn’t entirely clueless, however. Sure, he’s spent some four decades locked away, then came back for a short period of time to a world he can barely understand, only to be put to sleep and experimented on some more for a couple of years. People don’t really expect him to follow the news at this point, and they’re not wrong in their assumption – he rarely ever gives a shit.

But he remembers how she’d given him an update of the world’s dire state when he’d first gotten to the clinic. She’d mentioned a virus – one designed to kill any supes. The plan was to wipe everyone out. Biological warfare, they’d called it. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Ben. He’d seen this all before. Hell, he’d even helped with some of those things back in his glory days.

The virus had been one more reason, one more need for the cure. It had been the perfect deal: If you can’t kill ‘em, cure ‘em. But once that infectious little vial was opened, well, it had been hard to put the genie back inside.

The cure acted as both a vaccine and a remedy against the virus. Soon, the pesky little thing was pushed back but was never quite eradicated. It had eventually slowed its progression but never became any less deadly.

Now, instead of quick and painless, there was agonizing and torturous.

But Y/N can’t take the cure. He might as well kill her this second out of mercy.

When she woke up from her beauty sleep this morning, she admittedly looked better. She said she felt better. Ben still didn’t believe her. She barely touched her food, picked at her breakfast, and ended up only eating the leftover crusts of their son’s toast. He watched her from his periphery as he nursed his coffee in the kitchen, stoically worrying more.

Y/N coughs once more next to him as they pass the frozen food aisle. Ben eyes her cautiously. She’s done it all morning. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help her or how to stop it. Not even the blue vial could help him fix it. He doesn’t even know if it’s real yet. Is it normal? Is he overreacting?

She coughs again. He shakes his head and bites his tongue.

“You okay?” he checks gruffly, his voice thick with tension and concern, but he already expects her answer.

“I told you not to worry. I’m alright,” she says, her throat dry and her voice coarse. Her words are meant to soothe her husband. She can see the worry shimmering in his juniper eyes. She’s lucky he’s not a supe anymore, or he would’ve gone nuclear a while ago.

And admittedly, she knows she might be in denial. If true, it seems like a cruel trick the universe is playing on her. Giving her all she’s ever wanted and take it away immediately after? It definitely feels like a cosmic joke all the Gods are laughing about.

But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

She coughs again into a used tissue, which she has stored in her pocket since last night. Her tongue tastes something metallic – copper and iron. And when her eyes land on the white cloth, they notice spots of a deep, scarlet red.

She stops walking then and swallows thickly, her hands trembling as her eyes transfix on the blood. Ben halts as well when he realizes she’s not moving. He sees the panic in her face, sees she’s a lot paler now than the night before. Her skin looks clammy, her eyes red, weary, and dazed as if she had just taken a hard hit from one of his blunts.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks and steps closer. He cocks his head at her, the creases of his brow now harsh lines. She seems out of it, confused. She doesn’t even seem to understand his question, let alone be capable of answering.

Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she only inhales shakily like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take. Ben barely reaches her fast enough when her eyes roll back into her head till there’s only shining white and her knees begin to buckle.

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the linoleum. He shooed away a group of concerned strangers that had gathered around them, assuring them that his wife was fine and just experiencing a minor dizzy spell. He sold it with a humorous eye roll and chuckled the word “women” before grabbing the kid and carrying her quickly out of the store and into the car. If she hadn’t been out cold, he’s certain he would’ve heard several objections to that comment.

Ben knows he can’t take her to a hospital, however. No one knows she’s a supe, and these days, they don’t receive the best treatment – too many bridges burnt after Homelander’s reign of terror. People have become angry, fearful, and distrustful.

Again, he feels a little responsible. He’s sure Soldier Boy had laid some groundwork for that, too.

Softly, the door to their bedroom clicks shut, her phone in his hand as he searches her contacts. His shoulders tense as he reaches the one he needs. His jaw tightens as he holds it to his ear and waits for an answer.

“Hey, I figured you’d call. Already fed up with the wrinkly dick and coming back?” Victoria Neuman’s voice sounds through the speaker, causing Ben’s hair to stand up on its ends.

Chalk on fucking board, he thinks and bites the anger back. He hates talking to that bitch, hates being nice, and hates asking for favors. But he swallows the acrimony down for the sake of his wife.

“It’s me,” Ben grits and feels his jaw beginning to ache. Why the fuck does everything hurt all the time? It’s something he figures he’ll never get used to – every time his back cracks and creaks in the mornings.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me she’s not locked up in your basement before I make a few calls and let hellfire rain down on you, you decrepit piece of antiquity,” she bites her threat, but Ben can hear the concern in her voice, although he doesn’t give it too much weight. She’s probably faking it like her orgasms.

“Look, I wouldn’t fucking call if it wasn’t serious, you cunt,” Ben snaps and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the surge of fury and impatience out of his temples.

His admission causes a beat of silence on the other end. “What’s going on?” Neuman then finally asks and swallows down her own snarky remarks.

Ben licks his chapped lips before pushing the words out. “She’s-… she’s sick.”

There’s another long pause. “She can’t be sick. She’s a supe.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

They both sigh (and both hate that they have something in common).

“I-… I have the cure,” Ben says and bites down on his tongue immediately after. He doesn’t want to show her all his cards.

“You can’t give it to her. It’s going to kill her,” Victoria reminds him firmly.

“The fucking virus is gonna kill her too, right?” Ben’s eyes drop to the floorboards that hold the solution to all his problems underneath.

“Yeah, it is,” Victoria admits. “What are her symptoms? You sure she’s not just pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not.” There’s a sentence he never expected to say. But– “I haven’t fucking cum inside of her for months.”

“Charming,” Neuman retorts on the other end.

“Wait, do you fucking know something? Did she cheat on me?” The grip around the phone in his hand tightens. Was that why she forgave him so fast and said she believed him?

“Unfortunately, no,” Victoria replies with obvious disappointment. Ben refrains from releasing the sigh of relief he feels. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get her cockdrunk on someone else…”

If Ben still had super-strength, he would’ve crushed the goddamn phone in his hand. Instead of exploding, he closes his eyes and takes a deep fucking breath, though. Ten… nine… eight… Where’s your happy place?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? What do you want?” Victoria’s voice snaps him out of his fatal fantasies of tearing her limbs off one by one.

“What d’you got in your labs? You gotta have a new cure, a new sample, fucking something,” Ben says but doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s grasping at straws, hoping to stumble upon an answer.

“If they’d found something, I would’ve already given it to her,” Neuman says.

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben doesn’t believe a drop of what she’s tellimg him.

“Yes,” Victoria still insists. “Look, before you give it to her, I’ll ask around, make a few calls, okay? See if there’s any possibilities to stop this.”

Ben’s hands tremble, his jaw quivers as he desperately tries to steady himself. “Thank you, fucking hurry,” he forces out in a murmur and immediately hangs up.

Y/N stretches with a grumbling sigh as his hand gently caresses her head. He presses his lips to her burning temple, her weary eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, my love,” Ben says, his deep voice soft as if he’s singing her a lullaby. “How are you feeling?”

She yawns and fights back the sleep in her eyes. “Still tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours,” he tells her and watches as she curls into the couch cushions with a coughing fit. He lowers down to the carpeted floor, stroking her back till she strenuously takes a breath again. “I think we need to talk about it now.”

Slowly, she meets his gaze, and he sees the fear shimmering in her eyes behind a thin veil of tears. She knows what this is, what her body is fighting, and Ben wonders how long she’s known without saying anything. He guesses she knew right from the start. Sometimes, he forgets he likes to pretend she isn’t really smarter than him.

But then, the fear morphs to determination. She nods, swallowing. “The gun’s in the safe in the closet.”

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?”

“Shoot me.”

Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner.

“No.”

The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

“Ben–“

“You fucking listen to me, I’m not fucking killing you. End of discussion,” he snaps furiously. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this angry before – not even when she said they should consider a divorce. Although, this seems to be a different kind of anger – one that cuts deeper.

“Sid shot Nancy,” she says quietly, hoping it appeals to him in some dark, ironic twist.

“She was stabbed, and they could never fucking pin it on him,” Ben shuts her argument down. “Ain’t fucking happening. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna be the last person on my kill list, love.”

She forces a wry but weak smile. “It’d be a mercy killing. Euthanasia.”

“I’m familiar with the fucking concept,” Ben huffs tiredly. His hand then dives into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a small vial that holds yellow liquid.

Her lips part in shock as her eyes fix on the familiar cure in his grasp. “How long have you–“

“Stole it from that black site while you and that Neuman cunt were busy yapping about policies,” Ben explains. “I also took something blue. Figured I could use it at some point.”

“Still wanna be Soldier Boy, huh?” Her voice sounds almost bitter, mocking. A small part of her has always hoped she’d be enough for him someday. That he didn’t need the fame, the money, and the fake heroics. That he’d love himself enough to not rely on a façade.

“No,” he replies to her surprise and watches her straighten a bit on the couch. “I’d fucking do it for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells him firmly, hoping he still remembers her words even when she’s gone.

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I haven’t done it yet?” Ben says with a raised brow and as much patience as he can find within himself. Chats like these aren’t his strong suit.

“So, this is your idea?” She cocks an eyebrow at the vial in his hand, her look pointed. “You don’t wanna kill me quickly, but you’d rather watch me die in fucking slow-motion?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ben argues, the lines on his freckled face hardening again. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

Ironically, she thought the same thing about her husband.

“For who? You?! You can’t be that fucking selfish,” she spits and rises from the couch with a shaking head.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same fucking thing to you,” he returns with the same fire.

She thunders into the bedroom and slams the door shut before he hears her rummaging through the closet. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes once the first expletives bleed through.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” she snaps as soon as the door flies open again.

“Already hid it somewhere you won’t fucking find it,” he answers slyly and purses his lips as she storms past him into the kitchen.

She lets out a deep sigh of frustration when she finds both the knife block and drawers empty. “Seriously? Did you fucking baby-proof the house while I was asleep?!”

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.”

“Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery.

“Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

“You don’t wanna talk to me,” she retorts. “You just wanna fucking pump me full of poison, so you get to feel fucking good about yourself again.”

“You think that’s it? I’m fucking jealous?” He arches a brow and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest, his offense hiding behind amusement.

“Aren’t you?” she bites back.

“Is that you or the fucking V talking, huh?” Ben has never said it out loud before, but he hated how that blue shit changed her. Sure, it only amplified certain parts of her that he supposes have always been there, but it made her less caring, more arrogant, too.

“It’s me, you asshole,” she snarls.

The look on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. He almost doesn’t recognize her anymore, and he knows reaching any sense of clarity or humanity within her is impossible at this point.

“You sure about that?”

She doesn’t reply, just shakes her head at him and opens the fridge. Her shoulders still for a second, and Ben knows at that moment she’s found something and is thinking of a plan to outfox him.

His gaze swerves to the full beer bottle that has found its way into her hand. She’s quick when she breaks it forcefully against the countertop, the golden-brown liquid splashing onto the floor. But Ben’s faster and bruisingly clutches her wrist, spinning her to face him. Tears sting her eyes as she fights against his hold. Ben knows she’s not using her full strength on him, though, and is almost curious as to why.

He’s not sure Soldier Boy would’ve shown the same hesitant restraint, even if it had been her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me fucking go,” she grits through her teeth.

Ben only shakes his head, his gaze on her stern as he tightens his grip around her wrist.

“You want me to fucking melt you into a puddle?” she threatens.

“Fucking do it,” he challenges her defiantly without a blink of a single eye. “If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to step over my fucking body first, ‘cause there’s no way I’m letting this hand go unless you drop that fucking bottle. What’s it gonna be?”

Her nostrils flare in sync with the heavy rising and falling of her chest, her glare deadly. Slowly and mutinously, she opens each finger till the bottle crashes to the floor and shatters into sharp daggers at their feet. As soon as his grasp on her loosens, she breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, holds her closer, and nuzzles his face into her hair. “I know. It’s okay, sweetheart…”

“I’m fucking scared, Ben,” she cries, and he swallows the thick lump in his throat and forces his own tears back into his skull.

“I know, I know…” He cradles her head, resting his chin on her crown. “You know, admittedly, I’m-… I’m a little scared, too.”

She peels from his chest and meets his forest green eyes, amusement dancing on her lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re not a cold-hearted psychopath.”

Ben curls his lips, cheeks reddening. This is what he gets for opening up. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. Be a strong front.”

She rolls her eyes back dramatically and groans into his shirt. “You know, it doesn’t make you less of a man for feeling things.” She teasingly grins up at him. “In fact, I think only guys with the biggest dicks can pull it off.”

His lips tug at a smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

She locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself to his height for a scorching kiss. And Ben can’t fight the feeling this is meant to be their last one.

“Don’t get weird when I’m gone, okay?” she tells him then, and it feels like the beginning of a list of last wishes. “No reverting back to full asshole. No blue shit.”

“Christ, you’re not fucking dying,” Ben replies, his deep voice calm but firm.

“Ben, denial will only make it worse,” she says, her heart cracking at the forlorn look on his face. “You can’t fix this. There’s nothing you can do. It’s okay.”

Ben shakes his head wordlessly, and she knows the conversation is about to be over. There really isn’t more she can do, either.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You need some rest,” Ben says and already scoops her into his arms before she can respond.

Y/N’s head rests on his broad and bare chest as he holds her tightly in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact seems to soothe her, which is good because he plans to never let her go. If he just keeps her here right next to him, she’ll be fine. She won’t leave him.

She’s talked some when she wasn’t out like a light, but Ben could tell her mind was getting hazy. She talked about her parents and her childhood, something she rarely ever does.

They had never really talked a lot about their respective pasts altogether. They’d covered the basics, but what actually happened didn’t matter as much. They knew they’d both done things they weren’t proud of. But the point of their relationship had always been a clean slate – a fresh start.

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time.

Not hers.

She snores softly in his arms. Her heartbeat is faint, her breathing shallow. An hour ago, it used to be labored, each breath a struggle. She’s so hot he’s afraid she’ll melt in his embrace. He knows she doesn’t have long anymore. He’s running out of time.

Carefully, he stretches his arm to reach for the glistening yellow vial on the nightstand. He pops the lid open and stabs the syringe through the top, drawing it to the brim.

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his green eyes. What if he makes it worse? More painful? What if he kills her?

Victoria’s words ring in his ears. There’s a chance the virus accepts the cure. A loophole, if you will. The cure’s deadly for two-timers, but if they were also infected with the virus, the cure could piggyback on that. One in eighty rats had survived the ordeal before they stopped the trials. Ben didn’t understand the rest of the scientific mumbo-jumbo, but he knows those aren’t great odds.

Still, it’s something.

Ben doesn’t have the luxury to be picky about solutions, though. What he thought were minutes turn to seconds once her breathing stops entirely.

He rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt she’s wearing, one of his, and looks for a good angle on her forearm, just below the elbow. He’s not a doctor, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or where it should go best, but that one time he did heroin in the 80s, he’d put it exactly there, and it had been fine.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

One rough prick through her steeled skin, and the needle is in. He empties the liquid in one swift motion before discarding the used syringe back on the nightstand. He cautiously slides out from underneath her then and ensures she’s lying comfortably on the mattress. He doesn’t want to leave her side, but he knows her powers might short-circuit soon.

Ben remembers the stories from other supes at the rehab clinic – the agonizing pain, the feeling of puking your organs out before the rest follows. Flickers of his own process trickle into his mind. He can’t remember most of it, but he remembers how they’d locked him up in a nuclear-proof prison at some point during the procedure.

For now, he prefers not die by a rain of acid if he gets to pick.

His hand gently caresses her head. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. She might not, and he may have been too late. All for nothing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers and takes her hand in his. It feels cold and lifeless, but he still tries. He’s not ready to let go yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be. “I know you can beat this shit like everything else. We’re this fucking close. Just a little more…”

And then, there’s a flicker of something – a weak tap of a finger against his palm. There’s movement behind her eyelids and a twitch of her brows.

“Sweetheart?”

There’s a groan, her hands gripping a fistful of bedsheets as she coils into the mattress, muscles contorting. He gently rubs her back, trying to help her as the pain tears through her.

“Hey, hey, you’re good. You’re alright,” he soothes and feels the guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hates that he did this to her, but he did it for love. The knowledge barely makes it better, however.

“Oh, fuck, Ben!”

She usually screams those exact words for different reasons, and Ben notes the soft tones of annoyance and anger that are lacing her voice.

“Did you give me the fucking cure?!”

Ben draws his lips into tight line and nods. Admittedly, she might not have fully consented to the procedure. But he prefers her furious with him for the rest of her life over dead. Besides, he’s her husband – shouldn’t the decision be his? Like pulling the plug? That’s a thing, right?

“Motherfucking–“

She bites down on her tongue and swallows her curses with some blood as another surge of pain takes control of her body. Her fingernails claw at her forearms as if she’s trying to scratch it out of her system. If Ben could compare it to anything, he’d probably go with a demon exorcism.

“You selfish fucking prick! You can’t even let me die in peace?!” she grits through her teeth, fighting another surge. She feels the nausea too, like a parasite trying to flee its host through her throat.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

Y/N groans in loud exhaustion, and Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the pain or a little bit because of him, too.

“Ben, you need to fucking leave,” she presses through her lips, her stern gaze finding his.

He can tell by her look that she’s not saying it out of anger. She’s not saying it because she doesn’t want him to stay and never see him again. She says it because she’s trying to save his life.

Again. The fourth time.

Her name falls from his lips, but she shakes her head as she stumbles out of bed and pushes past him towards the bathroom.

“Leave,” she tells him with more urgency. “Close the door. Go now.”

Ben stills with a hand on the doorknob and looks at her. He can’t leave her like this, can he?

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Please go,” she says as if she can read his mind, steadying herself against the cool wall. She can feel it everywhere, trying to escape her body.

His breaths are ragged, his heart is hammering against his ribs. “I fucking love you,” he says through the sting of tears in his eyes. He says it like it’s the last time he gets to say it while she can still hear him.

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’

And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

Part 3: Lovestruck – TOMORROW 💕

Ah yes the waiting game 😂🫶 Are you excited for the finale aka the happy end tomorrow? After this, they truly deserve it haha

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[qoldenskies]

Okay, I finally read the "justice isn't mercy" chapter, and I just gotta say in the scene with Mikey killing Kitsune, I was SO satisfied by that scream. I know each of them have already had that scream. But this chapter it really shined.

It was an everything scream. A scream of pain, anger, and despair all in one. Mikey was screaming and crying through every horrible memory he would never forget because of what she did.

Even though I know he killed her himself, after that moment, the first thing that came to mind was the scene from the movie.

Like, I believe there was a parallel going on there. So I can just imagine that in that scene, in a moment of clarity, that both Leo and Raph were there with Mikey, conjoining their ninpo, to kill her together. All of them screaming and giving Donnie Vengeance together.

But, he carries the burden himself. At 13...

Which makes it all the more tragic.

And wow, my invision of that scene was so perfect. That entire witchtown part was so clear it might as well have been animated.

it was a parallel yes, mostly in the way that i was trying to invoke the same kind of righteous anger mikey was feeling in that scene, as well as the thing with the cracks in his arms (and THAT i chose because kintsugi metaphor, especially because its already been invoked before in ch7) im sure at the very least that was felt in the ninpo bond, because while mikey's sixth sense for it is way more intense (feeling donnie's ninpo break, noticing the absence first afterwards, feeling chills when leo gets particularly murderous) all of them still have that intuitively,,,

but also mind you, at the same time mikey mentions a little earlier that theyre united so strongly under one goal at that point that they may as well be one person, and considering things like raph and leo mind melding in the moment,,, it would make a lot of sense! :]

im glad my imagery was clear!! im not suuuper proud of some things in that chapter but there's a lot of moments i do like from it, very good animatic-bait. if i had the balls and patience to make one LMFAO maybe some day. mikey standing in front of the shrine is so clear in my head,,, you can tell he KNEW he was cool as fuck. guy with swag

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Why is Erik taking a shower and is fully prepared to fight naked in that panel 😭

my man turning into a baby is a typical tuesday activity but the second he wanna little naked shower fight NOW its suspicious 🤨

[luniviravosshipper]

POV: You’re sad and wanting comfort but the character you’d usually find comfort in was deemed unlikabled and totally undeserving of love by the narrative. So instead of feeling comfort thinking of that character now you just feel even worse. Because every time you try to immerse yourself back into the story they came from you have to constantly be reminded by it that they never got to receive any sort of affection and the story wanted the audience to know the reason was because it never felt they deserved any. Even when intentionally making them sympathetic at moments, at the end it’s clear that they were always planning on kicking the dog with them.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....

[vaguely-concerned]

Ooh. should I have rye without any of his makeup on for the final lucanis romance scene this time, to mirror him starting the game off wearing none while running around with varric (sometimes glitches are storytelling opportunity blessings in disguise). finally allowing oneself to be seen literally barefaced, without embellishment or obfuscation through deliberate curlicue, stripped of the image of yourself you meant to present because you yourself don't know what is hiding underneath anymore -- and being so readily recognized and tenderly loved through it anyway. you know me so well it makes me no longer a stranger to myself. well. what it lacks in subtlety as a metaphor, it more than makes up for in making me feel nuts. Yes. Yes. I think that might indeed emotionally devastate me

(the mutual desperation of like... intimacy and recognition and relief in this romance still shakes me to the very core btw. if you even care. rook walking through the mind lucanis is so sure has been broken to the point that it's 'no longer the mind of a crow -- not even the mind of a human being (no longer me)', and recognizing him every step of the way so undramatically and completely, finding him where he's been hiding even from himself. because he knows it's where they'll look first. and helping him come back to himself just by standing there next to him, promising to walk beside him. rook stumbling out of the fade confused and disoriented and robbed of the lies they told themselves to survive, and lucanis being there to catch them. and giving that back to them. all the fear and confusion and longing resolving into calm certainty because rook is rook. and rook is there. and next to that nothing else really matters. you're here. you're really here. and so am I. (why would I be anywhere else, when you're here.) and between them there's safe shelter from the storm outside like spite writes about with him and lucanis before. hello. help. can anyone hear me.)

[weidli]

i know i won't be leaving here with you