#memory issues coming in clutch <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[poprockspillage]

how did you figure out you were transmasc

it's been so long since i came out that i dont remember very clearly unfortunately! I didn't really understand what being trans was until I was like 11 or 12? cause i started being online a bit and saw people talking about it. i started questioning my gender around then, and for a while I thought I was nonbinary/genderfluid, but I slowly realized that I just liked masculine terms the best and wasn't actually comfortable being nonbinary or a girl ever. so i came out as a trans man at around 13

i was lucky that i had really supportive friends who would try out different pronouns for me which made it easy to explore my identity. also i would say it's never too late to stop exploring even if you feel like you've 'settled' on an identity, I tried out it/its pronouns recently

anyway! hopefully some part of that was helpful, i love talking about gender but trying to talk about how i figured it out is hard for me lol cause i dont really remember

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[v33n4-c4rn1s]

"Promise."

Remy LeBeau x fem!reader

A/n: This is my first proper fanfic! it's over 2000 words lolol and it's just Angst/Comfort with everyone's favorite Cajun! I'm really proud of this and I'm happy Remy gets to be my very first proper fic..i hope you enjoy!! also tag for because they asked so nicely :3 @kaidan-z

Summary: When wade wilson dragged you into the mess you were miserable, mourning and utterly heartbroken but now, after following Wilson and Howlett around for hours, watching them fight you finally get your end of the deal. Seeing a man you thought you'd never see again.

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

Maybe it’s the fact this was all so..confusing.

I mean how are you supposed to feel when you come face to face with a ghost? 

Well, not really. A ghost would still remember, clutching time in its weary hands, allowing freedom and the soft embrace of closure. A ghost would know. Instead you’re both faced with the haunting idea of a lost memory. Something to yearn and claw for, barely scratching the surface of remembrance. A flame of longing and desperation that’s snuffed out by the force of time. 

- - - - - - - 

You were forced into this mess, against your own will really. One minute you’re sitting in your own misery, clutching a pen and paper, biting back inevitable tears. You mourned the loss of a man who had been long gone, Remy Lebeau. Your Remy. God he was the brightest star, the sweetest man with a sharp tongue. You loved him. You loved him more than anything. The best part? He loved you. Of all the wonderful people in the world, he wanted you, always you. Only you. So that's why it hurt so much when he met his end. 

That's why it tore a hole in your heart. He was tied to you, so deeply rooted in your soul that nothing could pull him away, no gentle persuasion could remove him. Only brute force, A harsh tug that tore him away and left you burning. Painful rage that was so blinding that people cowered away. So in this moment..you just needed solace.

But the universe didn’t give you that, instead You're hauled over some guy's shoulder who's blabbering about how “relieved” he is to see you.

So..what the fuck?

You later learn that you're stranded in a trio, a pathetic one at most. A merc with a mouth, Anger issues in a little yellow bundle (he comes with claws too.) and of course...you.

To most, you weren’t anything special. A mutant? Yes. Despite that being heavy enough itself, your mutation wasn’t anything flashy, just simple enough to cope with.

So why the hell did this bloodstained bastard take you of all people? 

- - - - - - -

So here you are now, stalking behind the pair you now know as Logan Howlett and..Wade Wilborn?..no, Wilson. That's it. Wade Wilson. He was the reason you were here. The void. That’s what this place was..a void. An endless layout of trash and gunk. The TVA, who you later learned “preserved the Sacred Timeline and prevented the creation of alternate timelines.” 

Turns out Wade’s universe was fucked because it lost its “anchor being.” Which was his universe's version of the grouchy companion he’d brought with him..or well, forced with him. Paradox, the one responsible (sorta) for Wade's wonderful kidnapping plan did not seem too pleased..especially since wade had to be that tiny bit extra and break his nose. So he sent you all here..the void.

Wade seemed to be a bit too friendly in all the wrong aspects..seriously how many sex jokes are too many? He’s sweet, you’ll give him that. You found that out only after he attempted to use you as a human shield against some bald headed bitch that only existed to grind on your nerves..But hey, that Johnny guy definitely got it worse.

- - - - - - -

The two overgrown children further proved their hatred to each other by fighting all their tension out in a shitty honda odyssey..all night. They fought till the sun went down. You just sorta sat there, lazily trying to wipe the nose bleed you had received after Wade shoved you to the ground in order to reach a “precious angel.”

..A dog. She was cute but you didn’t take too kindly to him picking a slobbering dog over your mental stability. Still, now all you really had to do was sit and wait for the two to finish their very loud and sharp disagreements. 

- - - - - - -

So..now you’re all caught up? Good. Then let me jump back to our present time.

He could have been a ghost, hell he might as well have been considering how much he paled when he saw you. The way the cards in his hands fluttered to a gentle stop. Even when wielding his weapons he was a gentleman. His lips parted..He wanted to say something, anything..but words could not find him. He just starred. 

To say you felt sick was an understatement. You felt like your body was about to give up any second. Overcome with the heaviest wave of nausea you’ve ever experienced. Here he was..a dead man. Standing in front of your very eyes..and he was beautiful. A little different..but beautiful. From the hair to the tip of his boots, he was the most gorgeously sculpted man you have ever seen.

“Chère?..”

“Remy?”

  Oh fuck. You’re kidding right? So this..version of him had a version of you too? He knew you? He knew you and without even knowing what had happened to his version of you, just looking at his face you knew that something so unforgettable had happened that he was just as broken as you.

“Ooh shit!! Are you seeing this!? I gotta say..i expected all the flashy entrances but look at these two lost loves? Ugh it's like I'm drowning in their self deprecating..”

Remy gave a half glance at the merc, scowling immediadently. His eyes set on him for just a split second before the glare was gone and he was back to looking at you. A softness creeping into his gaze that you didn’t think you’d see ever again. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer.

He knew it wasn’t his lost love but still. From the tips of your hair to the flush in your cheeks, the tentative grasp of your fingers against the fabric of your suit, the way your eyes brimmed with uncertain tears..it didn’t matter. He could rebuild. As selfish as that sounded he could rebuild it all if you’d let him.

“it..it ain’t you but-”

He tried to speak, he really did but the way you flinched at the sound of his voice made him want to cower like a small child. Your eyes fell onto the set of cards in his hand that he soon tucked away into the pocket of his coat. The gentle rustle of the fabric brought you snapping back to the present, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips as you carefully backed away, allowing Wade to take the lead again.

- - - - - - -

He watched you the whole time. He didn’t pay attention at all to whatever the hell the nuisance in the centre babbled on about. He watched you like a hawk. Eyes tracing over every piece of you. The way you bit down on the plush of your lip or how your lashes seemed to dampen everytime you blinked. He took note of the unsteady rhythm of your chest. He knew all the signs. When his eyes flicked back up to your face, he saw a tiny tear, barely visible but he could see it. It slipped down your cheek, resting on the curve of your jaw before it dropped onto the floor, seeping into the wood.

Remy had known you all his time in the void. He had no grasp on anything other than this wasteland and well..you. For a brief moment, he let himself daydream, just resting in the past, in the familiar sight of the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Yours.

- - - - - - -

“Don’t you think this is an awful idea?”

“Nonsense Chère, you think Remy doesn’t know a fine place when he sees one?”

His lips curled into a smile as he watched you glance at the rundown diner. It wasn’t exactly heaven, he knew that..but that didn’t matter, as cheesy as it sounds everywhere was heaven when he was with you. You laughed at the way he struggled to open a cabinet, the way he tugged at the wooden handle.

“Careful remy..it looks unsteady..maybe you should-”

“No need to worry about me Mon amour, what? You think Remy can’t handle a little push and pull? Dis is nothing, you just sit there and look- merde!!-”

It swung open, nearly taking him out in the process. You burst into fits of laughter, your knees buckling under how hard your laughter had hit you.

- - - - - - -

And that..bittersweet memory was the very thing that kept him pushing. Your laughter was the sweetest thing to him, he adored it more than anything and he’d longed to hear it once more.

He glanced over at you again, seriously he couldn’t stop. How could he? It was like looking into the past, the love of his life was a few steps away from him and he was doing nothing? What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t stand the silence anymore, the tension. He watched as you looked at his hands that were now nervously playing with his card deck. He carefully placed them all in one hand before pointing at you. He saw the way you jumped a little at being addressed. He then pointed to himself before pointing to the exit.

He wanted you alone, He wanted to talk.

Despite the ache in your chest, the tremble in your body, you followed him. You followed him out the arch and into the cool near evening. The sun was beginning to set, it casted the warmest glow over the wasteland. It was the prettiest thing about the whole dump.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit. The only sound filling the air were the gentle crunches of twigs beneath Remy’s shoes. It suddenly hit you. You were here, with an exact copy of your former lover. This was so fucked up.

He led you to a smaller campfire, letting you take a seat on the log before lighting the fire, sitting down with a soft grunt.

“Remy know’s dis is a bit..confusing and he’s damn sorry about it but..I've gotta know, chère..”

His soft honesty brought warm butterflies to your stomach. The words rolled off his tongue, combed by his heavy accent. His knee bounced nervously as he watched your face, biting his lip slightly.

“It's..complicated, it would take a long time to even-”

“Remy’s got all the time in the world Chère, just talk t’me..”

You glanced at him one last time. He looked like a kicked puppy when you denied him. How the hell could you say no to such hopeful eyes?

And so you told him, you told him everything. The love, the loss, the pain. The way his absence had left a gaping wound on your being, leaving the ugliest scar and a hideous rage, a burning hatred. You spilled it all and it felt good. It felt good to finally just talk. You were so into explaining it all that you didn’t even notice the fact you were in floods of tears, droplets streaking down your cheeks. Your breathing shortened as you forced more words out of your throat. You were too engrossed in the pain.

“Chère.”

His firm tone cut you off, he reached up, carefully swiping a tear away with the pad of his finger. It sent a range of sparks up your spine and you quivered under his gaze.

He watched you for just a moment before making up his mind. He knew he was overstepping the imaginary boundaries but he knew his Chère well enough to know what she needed. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other slid up to your shoulder, bringing you into a warm embrace. He was so different yet the exact same. He smelt like whiskey and leather. He smelt like home and it made you feel sick.

“Ma pauvre fille..”

He was so comfortable that he didn’t even realise the words that left his mouth, the soft claim he made..but you did. You heard it and it stung, it healed a tiny part of your wounded soul, to be addressed as his once more. You squeezed his shoulder, letting the last few tears fall. He pulled back, hesitantly cupping your cheek, relaxing a little as you leaned into his touch. This felt right, despite the gnaw of pain it felt right. To be here with him, to feel him.

Remy lifted his hand, capturing your smaller ones with a gentle touch. He pressed his lips to the back of it. A kiss, full of tender love and sweet affection. A rush of blood reached both of your cheeks. The cool air gently brushed against the heated skin. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead this time, letting his own rest against yours as he brought one of your hand to his chestplate, placing it above his heart.

“It’s yours Chère, mon coeur est à toi.”

You knew what he meant, he had promised you that despite all odds, if ever something went wrong, he would find you. He’d find you in every universe.

And he did.

Remy Lebeau was many things. He’d been branded as a scoundrel all his life..but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was lie to you. He was an honest man who kept his promises to you.

He fulfilled each one. Including this one.

───────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────

[darkdemeter]

・issue #1・ HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader, (Platonic) Avengers x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader angst (reader has insecurities/self esteem issues) — Tony being a bit of a dick — some minor language — some weird fluffy humour? — mentions of a “passed relative” in said humour — minor name calling and usage (“mutt and stray/pup”) — and I think that’s it? ✎ 3.4k

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

Mother Nature decrees that her law is absolute. Her will is to be respected, and all are intended to follow in her great design.

You do not change it. You embrace it.

And this applies to you as well, thanks to your common ancestor, that you shared the habit that left you tracking the red ball Tony kept bouncing against the polished floors like it’s the only thing in existence that mattered to you. And maybe because it did.

How could this happen? No high risk missions or deadly villains to stop from achieving world domination. No, today was one of those special days where you and your fellow Avengers could relax. And with the full moon so close, what better combination?

What you wouldn’t give to suddenly be on a quinjet flying into enemy territory. Nothing like a good fight to get the blood pumping.

For everyone’s sake, you tried to keep to yourself for the past week but you’d exhausted your options. Walks in the park weren’t cutting it - not to mention the other dogs started it first - and you’d already destroyed five punching bags in the gym just prior. The treadmill be damned, you weren’t burning any energy on that.

Your last resort was to sit in the common area with your favoured beverage, a cool rag and some TV to calm the intense wave of anxiety. However, by her divine intervention, your beloved crew had come to flock in.

Mother Nature knew you were a pack animal at heart, as both human and wolf. It was how she made you.

The ensuing anxiety of being in a crowded space enough to put you near over the edge. It’s not like your heart rate only picked up a few hundred beats more when Wanda walked in.

When a few of the new arrivals waved and greeted you, you shared a hesitant yet trying smile and equally reluctant nod in return.

The battlefield was the only place you felt comfortable around your new comrades. But without missions or villains you were still getting accustomed to life at the compound; adjusting to life around people.

You were still considered fresh. A new recruit to the team. As Tony liked to call you… a pup.

Fuck, how you’d bite back your snarls from that term.

Fury assigned you to the Avengers some months ago. And though you had no intention of staying long, the missions kept coming in and a lot more required your specific skill set.

You remember as though it was yesterday that Tony said, “Alright Fury, we’ll adopt the stray pup. Just don’t go ripping up the furniture now.”

Suffice to say, you broke your own record at doing just that in under 3 hours.

“I think they’ll settle in just fine,” Fury had chuckled with a clap to the billionaire’s shoulder.

You shake your head at the memory. Still, if felt wrong to feel certain things for one of your teammates already. It wasn’t like you felt you really had a chance with her anyway.

The thought made your eyes falter from the now still ball for a moment, clutched in Tony’s hand as if it were your heart.

‘Who am I kidding?’ You chuffed silently to yourself, ‘She wouldn’t take a chance on me, I’m a damn mutt!’

Your self esteem issues had to wait though.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

‘Ball.’

‘Ball.’

‘Ball.’

Your entire head at this point tracked the ball’s movement, but your mind was still distracted by Wanda. The idea of her wanting to play ball with you, to spend those moments of intimacy with you. Tony’s words zeroed in from a muffled backdrop to the forefront of your mind.

“And that is why red indeed travels at a superior speed to any other. Ergo, why my suit is red, brilliant, eye catching and can beat anyone.”

You could hear the collective groans and disguised snarks beneath coughs without the noise being present. It was in everyone’s eyes and their scents.

Your eyes froze on Wanda, her striking eyes bore into yours with no hesitation. No fear.

‘How long has she been doing that?’

She offered one of her smiles that made your heart swell and stop at the same time, that made your searing skin cool and rise with goosebumps.

‘She’s so beautiful when she smiles like that.’

If she had one of those smiles then… you knew that grin that spread across her lips and showed a thin line of her teeth.

Your eyes gave away the betraying thought that you knew. Her smile turned grin riddled with mischief spoke volumes.

‘She read my damn mind!’

“I don’t think that is actually possible, Tony,” Sharon said with a click of her tongue and a disbelieving squint to her eyes.

“Oh no, it is,” Tony replied with a nod, “I’ll show you how the colour of this ball determines the speed in which it returns to my hand.”

He held up the ball in his hand, a proud display of its immaculate accomplishment, just a throw away.

Shit.

You bite down on your lip hard to suppress the whine coiled deep in your throat. A deep heat settled all along your neck and your ears.

Wanda still stared at you even in your peripheral.

Tony flicked his hand forward and the ball flew forward, bouncing once against the floor and bound into the wall with a determined thump before Tony caught it again, mouth agape to huff in his triumphant display in tandem with a curt yelp.

A good throw. Bad timing.

Everyone’s eyes had diverted to you. Their attention captured by the sound you made. Even Bucky, the stoic and reserved man who hardly acknowledged anyone with anything other than a grunt, appeared surprised if not the slightest bit intrigued by this new discovery.

You didn’t dare risk a second glimpse at Wanda, the flush in your neck seeped higher up into your face. Not that the shock and interest on everyone else’s faces were easier to process.

But you couldn’t face Wanda’s eyes now.

She had read the racing thoughts you couldn’t keep in line. Who knows how much she read about how alluring you think her scent is, how you whine and whimper whenever you hear her softly cry when in the privacy of her room because you wish to be there with her, her hand running through your fur to comfort herself; to let her know you’re there for her. How much it hurts you that she would never see you as nothing more than the mutt of the team. A beast that maims and runs rampart whenever you lose yourself to anger.

A lovesick pup.

You feared that the hot sting of tears was sure to follow any moment now.

Your fingers tightened against your legs, nails not longer the tamed length you maintained them as. In their stead were claws.

“Something wrong, pup?” Tony teased and you didn’t refrain from the rasped snarl that rose in your chest. Your teeth - and fangs - bared.

Fuck. Why did Mother Nature have to make you the way you are?

“Tony,” Sam warned, eyes cast between the two of you.

“What?” Tony only shrugged as if he wasn’t intentionally pissing you off and embarrassing you at the same time. “I just wanna make sure our new recruit here is alright, I mean, they have been temperamental over the past week. Chewing on expensive furniture and specially crafted improvements to my suit—“

The ball flew from Tony’s hand just as he was about to make a show of the ball again, the unmistakable red, misty tendrils swiftly brought it to Wanda’s hand.

Everyone was silent as they glanced between the red ball in Wanda’s hand and you. Their combining scents overwhelmed you to a new height. The fear that pinned you in place made the skin along your arms radiate with heat, either from the desire to run with your tail between your legs or to get defensive; to ‘wolf out’ as the others had called it. It didn’t help when Thor made an attempt to say something but otherwise thought better not to say what was on his mind.

Wanda eyed the object that held your attention. And you in turn couldn’t help but study her. Something in the way her eyes twinkled with curiosity, her lips pulled to one side as if to contemplate heavily on the fact that this ball held you in a vice grip.

Your short temper as of late, how you’d skulk around, much to the dismay of everyone fearing you had turned into another Bucky. The guy wasn’t that bad, you’d give him credit for that, the guy had a lot on his plate.

But what Wanda was perhaps most interested by that whenever she was present in the same room as you, all that would vanish. At least for the most part.

But to her, you would ask her how she was doing or even compliment her. Little did she possibly know that it was because you had felt a little courageous to take that small leap of faith to tell her she looked good.

But she might as well have that knowledge now.

You weren’t sure if it bothered you or not that she read your mind. Invaded your thoughts. In some weird way, you wanted her to. But you also feared her rejection.

But in the end, it all made sense. No one else pieced it together but her. And this time, she didn’t have to read your mind to do it.

She could read you. She knew you.

“It’s the full moon tomorrow night. They’re anxious.”

You were often lucky to avoid this topic with the others. They’d just chalked it up to catching you at the wrong time, that the mission was a hard one that day and you had some pent up anger to burn. The other half, you’d be out of the compound. Taking a much needed break at your apartment, visiting your sick grandma who they suspiciously noted you saying had passed away years ago three times now. But who was counting.

Never did they realise it all happened around the same time every month.

But Wanda did. She noticed it.

You brave to stare into those eyes you were content to drown in but find something else. It’s mysterious. Not what you’d expect to see in her eyes when she looked at you of all people.

“Y/N, Fetch!” Wanda cooed as she tossed the ball away from her. It’s a primal instinct that ignited within you at that very moment. A natural, engrained sense and desire.

How Mother Nature intended for you to react to survive or to have fun, your skin tingled with the sensation all too familiar.

The shift is over within the blink of an eye, seamless as you launch yourself over Wanda’s sitting body after the ball, large paw-like hands scrapped across the floors as you skid to a halt and the ball captured within the grasp of your maw.

Your tail wags involuntarily and your ears pinned against your head as you bashfully ducked your head at the sound of the others who chuckled and praised your reflexes.

It felt nice. Wanda turned in her spot on the couch to peer over at where you’d jumped over her, chin tucked into her folded arms.

“Nice catch,” she giggled and you swore she could see your blush in this form, “bring it here.”

Hesitant, you take a step forward and then another, your eyes cautious as they wandered over the others in case they deemed your advancements were dangerous to be left unchecked.

Rarely did you allow this form to take around them without the proper surveillance equipment and safety precautions. They already had Bruce to worry about losing control as the Hulk. They couldn’t risk you as well.

But no. They marvelled in their stares, smiles of contentment encouraged you to approach Wanda. You let the ball fall into her grasp with a small whine, ears still pressed back.

“Don’t be shy, Wolfie,” she whispered, the sound soft for only your ears to hear. You liked that nickname. You could only hope she would continue to use it.

Wanda raised the ball again only for Tony to interject. “No! No, you are not playing fetch in this compound, Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda smirked at the look in your eyes. The same one you had right before you tore up all the good, expensive furniture within that 3 hour window.

A few more throws turned into furniture shoved aside to make room. Tony remained in the kitchen, arms folded and a scowl etched hard into his face, it would take a miracle for Pepper to wipe it from his face.

Everyone else was too engrossed in the game of indoor fetch, all having had a couple of turns by now with throwing the ball. Bucky humoured you once and threw it, an approving nod when you caught it. Clint, Thor, Peter and Scott fought hard to get the ball numerous times, Natasha and Wanda were promoted to ‘ball-directors’ so everyone had a fair go.

But Wanda maybe got an extra throw in once or twice - by order of Natasha.

Steve now held the eye catching sphere in his hand, high above his head. Though with your stature in this form, it was rather tricky to keep it away from your snapping jaws.

You yipped and howled in anticipation before Steve tossed the ball and you leapt after it. You caught it before it could bounce off the wall. An eruption of claps and cheers followed immediately, your ears flopped back as you whine softly with that feeling that buzzed in your ribcage.

“Bring it here, Wolfie.” Your ears perked up high and alert at the soft tune of Wanda’s accented voice. A few of the others couldn’t refrain from laughing a little at the sight.

Whenever they had permitted you to shift on mission skirmishes, it was all done through protocol and extensive preparation to ensure you were stable.

And they only saw one emotion when you changed. Aggression.

To finally get the chance to play and be comfortable in your own fur felt good. Shit, well beyond good.

“I was promised the next throw! Come on, give the ball here, Y/N,” Sam called with an outstretched hand.

Even if Sam had a point, you couldn’t stop yourself in your approach towards Wanda, who now was crouched down with her hand out to receive the ball.

Her eyes were soft in their gaze as they pierced through the veil of your own. It was like she could see the humanity deep within you.

Her magic touched you differently, prickled against the shell of your mind, you welcomed her in.

‘I see you as more than you realise.’

A whimper crept up your throat in response, ears tucked back and eyes often shrouded with the thirst for carnage grew to relax. Become tender in the embrace of her eyes - her soul - touching yours.

Your fur bristled suddenly and you shook your head with a huff. You dropped the ball into her hand and she threw it down the long hallway.

You bound after it, your claws clinked against the tile floor, your breath hot in ragged pants as you gave chase. Each bounce of the ball echoed faintly in the back of your mind, too occupied by the words Wanda spoke through your mind.

It was the first time you’d heard her voice in your head. And you enjoyed it. It settled you into a sense of calm.

You didn’t register the elevator doors open ahead of you, Nick Fury stood with files tucked under his arm.

Your eyes shot open and you swore you saw his unpatched eye mimic yours. Your weight was too much to control with the momentum you had backed up behind your pursuit in a cramped hallway. You skid to a halt but slipped forward, the force of your body knocked Fury and yourself back into the elevator.

A series of cringed groans and gasps reminded you of your teammates as the elevator doors closed behind you.

You’d knocked Fury into the buttons and now, your destination was another floor.

Sheepishly, he could tell, you whine a pathetic sound in your apologies. You shuffle in the elevator that was almost too tight for the two of you to fit with you like this.

“So,” Fury said after a few moments of silence, eye intently watchful of the floors you both now visited. Some had agents give pause and a receptionist even dropped her cup of steaming coffee at the sight of you.

“What brought the wolf out?”

He turned his head slightly when you grunted, ball held up in your mouth to show him what had ensued before his arrival.

It felt like hours that the rest of the team stood in their places, eyes stuck on the elevator door you and Fury both disappeared into.

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” Wanda asked, voice coated in a toxic amount of unease.

She was scared what would happen to you. As a matter of fact; everyone was scared.

The government knew just enough and that was a hard - yet private - case that was not disclosed with the public.

Your existence and your species as a whole had to remain top secret. One slip up that was determined out of hand would grant you a one way ticket to who knows what for punishment.

“It’s okay, Wanda,” Clint assured, “I doubt Fury would do anything like that. I mean, he brought them to us.”

“He’s right. No way would Fury do something like that,” Steve added, firm in his judgement or perhaps what he hoped for.

“We will… figure it out if it comes to that,” Tony sighed from his place. Not often did Tony jump to your defence in cases such as this.

But in the end, you’d proven yourself mostly to be trustworthy.

He had some inkling of reason to believe you wouldn’t cause intentional harm to the team.

The elevator pinged and everyone held their breath as the doors slid open.

Fury and you stood side by side, gazes directed down the hallway towards your team. Your eyes immediately sought out Wanda who gave you a smile but her brows were furrowed.

Fury held up the ball as he strutted forward, like an obedient pup, you followed close to his heel.

“Next time, take the game of fetch outside,” he advised and threw the ball forward and Tony caught it swiftly.

Another good throw. Really bad timing.

You were still hyped up and because of that, you charged forward and closed the distance within a matter of milliseconds.

“Wait no—!” Tony grunted as he was pinned to the floor beneath your weight. “Get. Off!” He growled and you slinked away from him with your tail tucked.

The others did little to hide their laughs at Tony’s unfortunate expense.

“Good job,” you caught Bucky mutter to you as you joined Wanda’s side. You chuffed rather proudly and your head held high.

Steve aided Tony from the floor. “Alright, Fury. We’ll note that down.” Steve flashed a toothy smile and wink your way.

“I have a mission briefing. Ya’ll better buckle up and dress for the cold. You’re going on an undercover operation located in Alaska.”

“Alaska?” Wanda asked in sync with your curious head tilt, ears flopped to the side.

“Alaska. And you also have a guide present right now who is familiar with the territory.”

It didn’t take a second long for your team and yourself to gather what Fury meant, his single eye on you knowingly.

Fury left some time later after he handed the files over that provided more information on your new task in Alaska.

Wanda turned and knelt down in front of you, a hand ran through the thicket of your fur. The act itself made your eyes droop and your chest rumble. Wanda couldn’t keep the full, toothy smile to spread on her lips.

“I think this gives us all the perfect opportunity to play more fetch with our beloved wolf.” Wanda’s words didn’t go unnoticed by the numerous hums of agreement. Truly you felt seen by them all. For the first time perhaps ever, you felt accepted.

You even looked to Tony who shrugged with an eye roll. “I suppose I could indulge in a couple throws myself. So long as I can test my new theory of what travels faster: the wolf or the red ball?”

“Wolfie,” your team chimed in claim of their theory right there.

Your pack that Mother Nature intended for you.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ no note from the author

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @alexawynters

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) My Heart's In Overdrive, And You're Behind The Steering Wheel | Explicit | 1,649 words

Being late to class means Harry and Louis have to pose together for figure drawings. That being said, the hate each other, but maybe they don't?

2) It's A Question Of Lust, It's A Question Of Trust | Explicit | 2,258 words

Louis is shaken up after being assaulted at the barricade in Panama City and feels guilty, he can't get it out of his head. Harry knows what he needs to escape the worry. Harry steps over, speaking quietly into his ear. "Good boy, doing as I asked." He looks beautiful, his skin golden, dark nipples puckered, his cock starting to get hard. His breath already ragged. "Not that you always do, eh?" "Sir?" His blue eyes stare at Harry, nervous, uncertain. "Letting those tarts fondle and grope you after each show. When you know you belong to me."

3) If Walls Could Talk | Explicit | 2,394 words

Louis is waiting backstage for Harry after his second show in Coventry. It's their last night together before Louis leaves for his own tour. Harry's mission for the evening is to worship Louis' body and make him see himself through Harry's eyes.

4) In An Octopus's Garden With You | General Audiances | 4,682 words

Autistic alpha Harry, a teacher, spends an overwhelming day on a field trip to the aquarium. Luckily, his omega, Louis, knows just what he needs.

5) I Didn't Have To Search Cuz I Still Know Your Number| Explicit | 5,161 words

As Louis approaches the front of the old flat he sees a light on upstairs in what used to be their master bedroom. A memory flicks through Louis’ mind of Louis spread open on the duvet with Harry between his legs nipping and sucking on his hole while Louis whimpered and writhed, clutching the sheets and moaning out Harry’s name. Louis looks down to see his dick at half mass and sighs. Louis flicks the butt of the cigarette to the ground and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He exits the Uber app and pulls up his contacts, scrolling down to the H’s until he lands upon Harry’s name in his phone. He pulls up their messages and sees the last time they talked was right after the break up all those years ago. Louis begins to type out a message to Harry, hoping he hasn't changed his number. Louis: U up? (sent at 1:14am)

6) You Have Me | Not Rated | 5,529 words

Louis is escaping his mundane reality, avoiding his fiancée, and going to an anonymous hook up party in the woods. When the mysterious stranger who has been eyeing him all night asks him to come back to his tent, Louis is game for anything. He doesn’t know that he’s going to get an offer he can’t refuse.

7) All My Life | Not Rated | 5,553 words

The four times Harry tries to propose and the one time he gets it right (or does he?)

8) Limping In The Limelight | Explicit | 5,832 words

Harry breaks his accessory navicular during a concert in Birmingham in 2015.

9) I Like to Watch | Explicit | 9,287 words

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

10) House Husband | Mature | 11,853 words

Louis and Harry are happily married with two beautiful kids. Harry is a lawyer who provides for his family and Louis is his sassy house husband. This is a week in their life.

11) For A Sushi Restaurant | Explicit | 13,345 words

And yet, in the depth of the sea, where water started to go from that sky blue to the dark petrol blue, almost black, of the unknown, creatures moved, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, sleek tails and pale, blueish skin helping them with mimesis. Or, cecaelia Harry and human Louis.

12) Peaches And Soft Myth | Explicit | 36,192 words

“Greta kissed me,” he said at last. It wasn’t the main issue, but it was a start. Louis’ smile was radiant. Eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. Harry’s stomach felt a little funny, wishing he could feel as happy as the cheerleader. "Oh, my god? We did it! I’m a genius ! Was it long? Slow and sensual, full of lust and passion, tongues intertwined—" he gasped. “Did she tremble in your arms?” He hugged himself. “That’s not—” “No one believes me when I say I am a good matchmaker. They are always like, ‘Oh Louis, you have the worst eye for couples and men. You always miss the real connections.’ Who missed now? Not me. Nuh-hu, I saw the potential. Your grumpy attitude did not deter me. I'm probably the greatest matchmaker on campus. Don’t you think?” Louis’ smile faltered. “Wait… why do you look as if you were about to throw up?” “She told me her roommate leaves for a few days after spring break. She invited me to her dorm room.” “Okay?” Louis said slowly. “Am I missing something? Is it about clothes? Because I can totally find something—” Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not about that.” “Then what?” “I…” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

13) The Maddest Obsession | Explicit | 100,974 words

One fears the dark. One rules it. Harry Styles, the dangerous mob enforcer, finds himself entangled with Louis, the strong-willed mafia-princess. As they navigate the treacherous underworld of New York, their forbidden love sparks a deadly game of loyalty, betrayal, and passion. Will their devotion to each other overcome the chaos surrounding them, or will their love be their downfall?

14) At Our Seams | Explicit | 185,290 words

Newly mated and happily engaged Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, are moving into a new phase of their lives. Together, their world felt complete. However, the world beyond their bubble has been strung into chaos. Political strife is raiding the streets and oppressive policies are being enacted everyday. Louis is desperate for something to change, to finally set the record straight for omegas and non-soulmate children everywhere. Harry is determined to keep his mate safe, even if it goes against Louis’ wishes. Unfortunately, he can’t control everything, and things quickly fall out of his hands. Who’s this new alpha who’s entered the beloved couple’s life, giving Louis another purpose Harry hadn’t been expecting? What happens when the soulmates don’t exactly see eye to eye? Will the protective alpha get his wishes, or will he concede to his cherished but oh, so stubborn omega? How strong are the seams that bind? Only time will tell.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We back! I was away for a couple weeks and amazing new Japanese bl was waiting for me on my return. Both of these currently airing shows are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching.

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two episodes into this show and I really like the rhythm of it. I find Shirasaki’s struggle to find confidence in his skills as an actor compelling, and I love Hayama’s quiet kindness. I told @bengiyo Hayama reminds me a bit of my beloved Issei but without the manic energy. Fundamentally, he is genuine and he cares for Shirasaki and any ulterior motives he has for this arrangement feel rooted in that. I love how quickly we’re getting into them bonding and building a relationship together; it's only the second episode and we’ve already arrived at cute date montages and first names. I love this one, and I hope Shirasaki finds his confidence and triumphs over that asshole costar who keeps negging him. 

Living With Him

I love them, your honor. And I like the simplicity of this show. Two nice boys, childhood friends, become roommates. They like each other. They decide to spend more time together and see what they’re comfortable with as their relationship develops. That’s it, that’s the plot. And it’s so compelling in how straightforward it is, bolstered by the honesty of the characters. I loved Natsukawa working up the courage to just ask if Kazuhito likes him, and Kazuhito being honest that he does, but doesn’t want him to feel pressured. Natsukawa might not feel confident that he’s ready for romance, but he has no issue spending time with and being close to Kazuhito. The way he clutched at him with that hug at the end made that super clear. I like the way the show is working in flashbacks to their childhood, too, giving us contextual information for that bond via important memories, and the way Natsukawa's family has been brought into the story. His mom is in fact beautiful and perceptive and his sisters are adorable. This show is darling. 

Coming Soon: Zettai BL 3

This is already out in Japan, but the distribution is exclusive to Lemino and not currently available to international audiences. I will be on the look out and reporting in as soon as it's available to watch properly. In the meantime, you can join me in watching the new opening credits song on a loop.

[ginjones]

An ending (Ascent)

It’s probably not normal, Hob will reflect later, to walk in on your boyfriend sitting cross legged on the floor, wearing a giant pair of headphones, clutching a spoon in one hand, and staring into the middle distance in what can only be described as a state of divine rapture.

Perhaps it is for celebrities who have access to all the really good drugs, but celebrities don’t leave their partners bundled up in bed while they nip to Tesco’s to buy more milk.

It’s also not normal that he’s completely naked, save for one black sock which sits defiantly on his left foot. That would explain the detritus of clothing which greeted him on his way down the hall, but not whatever…this is.

Dream is sitting with his back to the living room bookcase where Hob keeps his vinyl, a selection of it discarded around him. He’s playing absently with the cord of the huge Bose headphones, weaving the coils around his delicate fingers, lost in thought. And there’s nothing to suggest he’s noticed Hob’s presence, no questioning whether Hob has remembered to pick up his favourite snack. For a moment, Hob wonders if he should whip out his phone; take a sneaky picture of this ceremonious event. Then he notices the shimmer of tears falling serenely down his partner’s cheeks and discards the notion entire.

“You okay, sweeting?”

No response. He shrugs off his messenger bag and sits down to join him, scooting over the laminate floor in a graceless bum shuffle.

A soft, white light from the overhead lamp illuminates the scene. It pours over Dream like a sheet of pure silk, highlighting his nakedness and the paleness of his skin. There’s a wonder to his expression; something soft in the way his mouth is held slightly open, his hair mussed from sleep. Like a renaissance painting, he thinks, in the way that all academics conflate one thing with the other. like Iris in the land of Hypnos and yet, he looks so human.

Because of course, he is.

It’s been 4 months and 3 days since he’d chosen to join Hob in the earthly realm of humanity. Hob’s been keeping track on the calendar, trying to offer him one new experience a day. They’ve watched classic movies, read each other poetry, (Dream still has the perfect voice for orating) and early last week Hob had introduced him to modern music (the Beatles were a hit, the Stone Roses were not).

Hob’s immediate presence must break Dream out of his reverie because slowly, sapphire eyes meet his and wordlessly he places the spoon down, picks up the sleeve of an album and holds it out to Hob like it’s the Turin shroud.

It’s not immediately identifiable. The artwork a scant wash of beige imposed over an image of moon craters; aesthetically pleasing yes, but not particularly noteworthy. Hob’s collected vinyl for the better part of five decades but his visual memory’s not the best. Without being able to hear what Dream’s listening to he’s drawing a bit of a blank. Then he sees the sparse red writing at the top and the name down the side and all at once, it clicks.

Brian Eno has broken my boyfriend.

It’s not the first time Dream’s had such a visceral response to artwork in these acclimating months. It had been very sweet to find him weeping over local artwork in the coffee shop they’d visited in Coventry. The issue was the shame he’d felt afterwards. In the car park outside, Hob had soothed him, rubbing gentle circles across his back as he listened patiently to Dream’s lament that it was all too much, these…feelings. I cannot hide them like I did before.

This time however, the tears seem to have stopped and a hazy sort of smile plays at the corner of his lips. He’s coming back to himself and in the privacy of this moment, shared only with Hob, he may be able to appreciate this outpouring of emotion for it is, something human.

“Want to take off the cans so we can talk, love?”

Hob’s pretty sure Dream hasn’t learnt to read lips, but the headphones are slowly lifted away, leaving the tinny echo of the song playing in the background. His expression changes to imitate something of his former status, a furrow of the brow, a regal upturn of his chin.  

“Ah, you have return to me. You woke me when you left you know?”

He does, in fact know this. When he had risen gently from bed that morning, Dream had moved to pull him back; a flow of pale arms moving like water, muscles softened from sleep. He’s still getting used to it; the sense that Dream belongs here. That he won’t apparat back into endlessness, leaving the bed cold, the tea undrunk, the rooms quietened by his absence.

“And I’m guessing that’ll be the reasoning you give when I find arse prints on my lovely, new laminate floor?”

“You were gone for too long; I decided to entertain myself.”

“By listening to Brian Eno naked?”

“Yes”, his eyes trail down slowly to observe his current state, “I realised clothing was detracting from the experience.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

“So, you like Brian Eno, and I can see that he’s affected you,” Dream nods slowly, looking down to the album on the ground. “What is it about this album in particular, because I can tell there are some big feelings here. I want you to know we can discuss them.”

For a moment, Dream is silent, playing with the cord in his hands. He’s sitting a little straighter now, his shoulder muscles tightened in a familiar stance. Weighted by the question perhaps, a wish to answer dutifully, but still, he pauses for several seconds longer, worrying his bottom lip.

“It is… soothing I suppose. I enjoyed the piece Mata from this composition. It is nightmarish in its construction, recalling a jungle swollen with noxious blooms, but this one?”, he places a finger to the title, An ending (Ascent). “It remindsme of the space between form and thought where I once spun the diaphanous silk of my creations. It was where I was most at peace and upon listening, I found myself reminded of those moments.”

That is, quite frankly, a lot to unpack.

At his core, Dream remains a storyteller, weaving an elaborate web of seemingly disparate ideas. Hob finds it all a bit overwhelming. How he can take a piece of art, deconstruct it, and recraft it into something new. Pulling inspiration from the air, plucking its strings, and finding where the vibrations cross paths with his own experience. And Hob must be getting better at reading his partners mind because, in a quiet, searching tone, Dream asks:

“Has it been written for me?”

This man, Hob thinks This man who has come back to me, who has crept into my life and reads my books and listens to my music. This man who lays himself out to me in naked candour.

“Oh love, come here then. Give us a cuddle.” He’s blushing now, a pink hue spreading across the lily paleness of his chest. His skin is warm when Hob pulls him closer, and it smells sweet and living from sweat. “I mean, maybe? You tell me. Ever pay Mr Eno a visit like you did Shaxberd?”

“No,” Dream continues, “but it is as if this man has looked upon me and glimpsed a fragment of my being.”

“That’s a common phenomenon of the human experience I think. Lots of people feel like songs speak directly to them. Yours just happens to be written by Brian Eno-which doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckles affectionately, “he’s quite a conceptual artist-it’s all very ethereal.”

“Ethereal…” Dream pauses, his brow crinkled in thought. “Yes, there’s an otherworldliness to it I suppose… but a tangibility all the same. How the counter melody sits low in the mix-the bass notes appear rooted to the earth while the top notes look towards the sky. What did the first humans wonder when they looked towards my mother? I do not know…. I did not care for them as I do now”.

“Well,” Hob continues, “perhaps they thought about their own existence? Their place in a world which is confusing and often painful. Perhaps they wanted to feel like they were being protected by something bigger than themselves. Spirts; angels.”

“Angels?”, Dream scoffs “Angels do not sing like this. The holy choir is faultless in its melodies. It lacks the vibrancy of imperfection, the subtle intricacies of the human spirit. No; this piece holds far more divinity.”

“Ever thought about taking up music journalism Dove? Pitchfork would have a field day.”

As predicted, there’s no response to that.

So, Hob bundles him up and they sit on the sofa listening to Apollo together. Tomorrow, he’ll try and convince Dream to watch 28 days later, with the promise that An Ending (Ascent) is in the soundtrack. They’ll eat nothing but comfort food and Hob will remind Dream to brush his teeth before he goes to bed and in an otherworldly Parthenon, the muses will smile fondly down, and kiss the brow of a kindred aesthete.

[binniebakery]

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Non Idol AU Ex!Yeonjun x Gn!Reader, Angst ♡Warnings: no happy ending, not proofread, cursing, I'm almost 90% this is gender neutral but if there is a mistake please let me know! ♡A/N: im so sorry this took forever to come out gfdgjhksd but its here! since this is my first time writing angst I'm not sure how i feel about this one but.. that's me with all my yeonjun fics... lmfao enjoy

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Above the Chinese Restaurant" By Laufey 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Don't Let Me Go" By Cigarettes After Sex

0:09 ━●────────── 3:43 ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷

——-˖⁺. ༶ ❤︎ ⋆˙⊹ 𐦍 ˖⁺. ༶ ❤︎ ⋆˙⊹——-

There you lay in the quiet solitude of your dimly lit room. The only source of light being the soft glow of your bedside lamp and a candle that smelled of sandalwood and something oddly familiar.

The outside world remained silent, a contrast to the buzzing thoughts that swarmed your mind. Your new apartment was quiet, lonely, and grey. It was nights like these that had you reminiscing those warm summer days you spent in the city.

Glancing over at the nearest window, you find yourself in a moment of deja vu. You’ve been here before– in this position looking outside as you lay in bed.

Except this time you weren’t waiting for anyone, it was just you and the sound of your ticking clock as the arms slowly moved to the next hour.

Time always seems to go by quicker than you can notice.

Your mind wanders back through the corridors of your memories as you clutch the soft fabric of your comforter. You let out a deep sigh as you find yourself reliving those memories again.

It’s cozy, you have a wonderful view of the greenery outside, it’s spacious, it’s a safe neighborhood, and your apartment is brand new. All of this and you would think ‘how could anyone ask for more?’

You realize it all fails in comparison to those distant memories. It's quite foggy really, you can’t really remember them too well leaving you pondering if so much time had really slipped away from you.

Just like he did

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

July 8th, Summer.

You and Yeonjun were simply young and dumb. At least that's what your parents would always say. Two ambitious individuals who found each other at a time when it seemed like the world was against you both.

Your families were against you moving into the city, but you were both young and desperate to start a new life together. It took weeks of couch surfing but despite the financial issues, you both managed to find that small apartment right above that old, run-down Chinese restaurant.

That summer the whole neighborhood spoke of the new young couple moving in, though you two paid no mind. Yeonjun enjoyed the attention and you were willing to endure anything as long as nobody spoke ill of either of you.

You remember Yeonjun’s small car lugging your belongings up the hill, and the minute you two arrive he’s opening the passenger door and pulling you into a hug.

He’s spinning you around and you’ve never felt happier. The summer heat burned down and your skin had tanned an awful lot, causing you to feel insecure about the obscure tan lines you modeled.

Of course, Yeonjun complimented you to the moon and back, kissing every bit of skin while his own was left sunburned. He always made you feel special no matter the occasion.

This moment was no less different, that bright, toothy grin of his as he clumsily plops down to lay with you on your shared futon.

“Got a gig next week, gonna earn so much too, I’ll buy you dinner every day for the next month!” Your boyfriend exclaims with his arms in the air.

You laugh at his expressive antics, leaning towards him to pull him in for a tight embrace.

“Don’t worry about that jjunie, I don’t need fancy dinners from you.”

“But I wanna,” he pouts “I gotta do something to make up for you working so hard!”

“Alright but nothing too expensive, we should be saving up..” You raise an eyebrow as Yeonjun makes himself comfortable laying his head in your lap.

“Mm, we’ll see” he chuckles and despite him burying his face into your thighs you can see the way his grin grows ever-so wider.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

While Yeonjun chased his dream of being the biggest rockstar the world had ever known, you worked as a dishwasher just downstairs and occasionally picked up any odd jobs you could find when you had the time.

You didn’t mind being the breadwinner– after all, you were content just being by your lover's side.

Yeonjun would come home in the early hours of the morning, returning from his latest gig that his small band managed to grab.

He’d quietly push open the door to your apartment, he'd set his guitar down with care on the floor and slip off his boots as silently as he could manage, mindful not to disturb your sleep after a long day of work.

He was always a gentleman, slipping beneath the covers beside you and gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as a silent apology for the missed "goodnight" texts he always promised to send but always ended up being too busy with his performances.

Your life with him wasn’t perfect, but regardless you had everything you could ever need.

It didn’t matter that the water always ran cold during the winter, the lack of heat or cool air circulation, the thin walls and loud neighbors, the constant sound of sirens running through the streets at night, or even the unstoppable growing mold in the corner of your bathroom.

You two were happy regardless of the trials this life had brought you.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

September 30th, Fall

You’re clutching that same old soft comforter, except this time echoes of soft laughter and plates clinking could be heard bouncing off the thin walls of your humble apartment.

Yeonjun lights the candle he had just bought, the scent of sandalwood filling the air as he finds his way to you.

“If you listen closely you can hear Mr. Wang snoring” Yeonjun whispers as he snuggles closer to your shaking form in an attempt to warm you both.

You toss another dumpling into your mouth and grin.

“Sometimes I wish that was all we heard at night. I don’t know how much longer I can stand his bed creaking on Fridays..” You snicker and that was all it took for your boyfriend to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Shhh! My love please!” You whisper loudly as you lean over your shared futon to cover his mouth.

Yeonjun holds back tears as he attempts to regain composure. You grab a dumpling from your plate and shove it into his mouth.

Your boyfriend happily munches as you sigh, a wide smile on your face despite wanting to be annoyed. “You think the restaurant will give us more if I head back down?” He looks down at his empty plate, stomach rumbling and his eyes look back at you. His face resembled a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to, guilty look on his face.

You find yourself giggling at how cute he looks, hand reaching to gently caress his cheek. Yeonjun smiles and lets the food in his mouth peek out slightly.

“Aw jjunie thats gross!” You laugh, pushing him away.

Yeonjun laughs as well, cheekbones popping out in all their glory from the way his smile extends impossibly more and you feel yourself falling even more impossibly in love.

That ends up being how the both of you spend the rest of your night, attempting to remain silent so as not to get another noise complaint. Sharing jokes and silent tickle fights, the perfect distraction against the autumn weather.

If only your nights stayed like this forever.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

February 22nd or 23rd? You could never really remember the date.

Despite winter soon making it’s leave, you stay stuck inside the restaurant building with Yeonjun as the winter storm still roars on outside.

“Jjunie! I’m home!” You chirp as you open the door to your apartment.

Yeonjun looks up from his phone, laying on the worn couch you had both found on someone’s lawn with a sign that said ‘please take’. Despite your sour look Yeonjun somehow managed to convince you both to take it “looks like it’s still in good condition to me” he awkwardly smiled as he wiped off the remaining dust. 

You shake your head smiling at the memory.

“Hey, you. How was work?” He smiles and pats the empty spot next to him for you to sit.

“Same old, but it wasn’t that busy today. I even managed to take a nap in the freezer before Mr Wang noticed me.” You grinned.

Yeonjun lets out a chuckle and you crawl into his lap, resting your head on his shoulder.

He opens the blanket he was currently wrapped in and invites you in to join him in his little burrito.

You bury your face into his neck, inhaling that familiar scent you grew to love. Yeonjun places a hand on your back and rubs small circles as he plants a kiss on your hairline.

“Hey, I know that you’ve been out a lot. You know– busy with band stuff, but do you think you could maybe get a small side gig to help us out?” You looked at him with a nervous smile.

You knew Yeonjun took his band career seriously. He did everything he could to help, taking any small gig he and his bandmates could find. But most of the time it just felt like it wasn’t enough to pay the bills.

“Baby… we talked about this before.. You know I–” 

Before Yeonjun can finish his response, your conversation gets interrupted.

Creak

“What the–”

“Is that the roof?” Yeonjun squints his eyes as he looks at the wooden planks above him. You both sit in silence staring upwards, waiting for the odd sound to play again.

Nothing.

“Huh..” You lift yourself off your boyfriend and stand in the middle of your tiny living room, eyes still concentrated on trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

..Creak…

“Ah shit–! Y/n look out!” Yeonjun jumps off the couch and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him as part of your roof collapses right on top of the spot you were standing on. A fresh blanket of snow pouring in.

“Holy fuck, fuck fuck fuck–”

“Y/n are you okay?! Did you get hurt?!” His hands grab your face and his eyes are scanning for any injuries.

“I- I’m fine but our roof just fucking caved in!??! Shit, I could have been crushed!” Your jaw was practically dropped at the situation.

Yeonjun pulls away and walks towards the pile of wood and snow to assess the damage.

And as if right on cue, another fresh blanket of snow falls right on top of him. “AH!” Yeonjun yells, shaking off the remaining snow sitting on his head.

“Stupid fucking roof! I hate this damn apartment, not only do we not have any heat but we don’t even have a roof!”

“Pffft–!”

Yeonjun looks over and sees your face almost red, doubled over as you tried your best to keep in your laughter and he can’t help but feel his anger dissipate at the sight.

He hadn’t seen you laugh or smile like this in a while.

“You–! you look so stupid right now– I’m sorry!” You breathe out, falling on the couch as you let out a heavy laugh.

Your boyfriend beams, seeing you like this was better than any blanket or heater. His heart skips as you pull him in to lightly dust off the remaining snow.

So what if it took half of your savings jar and Yeonjun sacrificing almost a whole night of sleep to fix the roof? Every penny and splinter was worth seeing that priceless smile of yours.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

April 3rd, Spring. After two weeks of nonstop work, you finally had a day off the same day Yeonjun was home for the day.

You took the opportunity to splurge and eat in. You put on your favorite movie as you folded both of your laundry, Yeonjun making comments every now and then, pausing to get up and check on the stew you were making.

You found yourself wishing your days were like this more often. You knew he was busy and you respected that he wanted to chase his dreams, and who were you to get in the way of that?

Unbeknownst to you, Yeonjun had been silent the last few minutes.

Suddenly, you feel his figure scoot behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “One day I’m gonna make enough money for us to get out of this dump.” He mumbles into your neck.

“Huh?” You looked up from the pile of clothing that you were attending to.

“You heard me, I’m gonna make it big. The day that I do, I’m gonna buy you brand new clothes, a cute dog, we’re gonna live in a mansion, and then get married.”

Your face flushes and you smile. This was the first time Yeonjun had ever mentioned marriage to you.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, gonna be the biggest star this world will ever know. My face is gonna be plastered on every billboard. Then, we’ll have kids.. and then when I’m too old to perform, we’re gonna be so rich you’ll never have to work another day in your life” he grins.

“Feeling a little ambitious are we?” You giggle, raising an arm to pat his head. His hair felt soft, it had been so long since you ran your fingers through it. You find yourself closing your eyes as you begin to imagine your ideal future.

“Say whatever you want. It’s gonna happen!” Yeonjun raises a fist in the air, as if giving a speech to a crowd and you feel as if you couldn’t have been more in love with him in that moment.

One day, he’s gonna be in front of a real crowd, the largest one he’s ever seen, and you swear you’ll be front row cheering him on.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

May 16th, Spring.

You throw his bag down in frustration. “So this entire fucking time you were just going out and having fun? Drinking with your bandmates while I’m here working my ass off trying to keep a roof over our heads?!”

Yeonjun sighs and grits his teeth.

“No. I’m not just going out and having fun. Yes, I admit! Sometimes we’re out of luck and Soobin can’t get us a fucking gig. We go to a place and have a few drinks to destress, but I promise you I am trying my hardest! I do everything I can to get a shitty gig, I hang out with other douchebag bands so we can get connections y/n! Con-nec-tions! You ever fucking heard of that?!”

Another argument, the 4th night in a row.

This time you were cleaning around the apartment, finding Yeonjun’s bag as he took his shower before heading out for the evening to meet with his bandmates. ‘A huge meeting talking about an upcoming event they’re going to perform at’ he claimed.

You open his bag, knowing that he’d appreciate you cleaning up the trash he had inside. He trusted that you wouldn’t toss any of his half-written lyrics or important documents anyway.

That’s when you see it, three– no four– crumble receipts inside the inner pocket. You unscramble them to see they’re all charges from bars. Not just the same one, but multiple, containing only large orders of alcoholic drinks with the occasional snack to go along.

Anger consumes you before you think rationally, and as Yeonjun walks out of the shower with just a towel around his waist shaking his wet black hair, you shove the receipts in his face.

After minutes of back and forth, the tension grows immensely thicker. And before you both even notice, it all turns into a yelling match. 

He explains that it’s due to him not being able to find proper gigs as of recently, and how drinking will destress him, going off on a rant about how it’s normal in the industry to drink with managers and other bands to get a good rep. “Do you even fucking care about us!? We live in a dump! I had to call someone to fix our dishwasher three times last month! What if I get fired or laid off? We’re just gonna live on the fucking streets?! Be realistic Yeonjun! Be fucking realistic!”

“Maybe the issue is you don’t care y/n.. You just don’t understand that I’m serious! I’m taking this shit all seriously! I’m sorry I can’t find a proper job right now, but I need just more time.. And if you can’t respect my dream then honestly.. Maybe I should just fucking go right now for good.”

You couldn’t even respond. The tears in your eyes began to drip down and Yeonjun could only watch as your eyebrows furrow more, face scrunching up in an attempt to hide the frustration you were feeling.

He knew you hated crying, especially in front of him.

Had your eye bags always been so deep?

Yeonjun’s lips part and you hear his breath hitch the second it all starts crashing down on him. 

He stares at how disheveled your hair is. The way your skin looked so pale and almost blue under the dim light of the moon from your opened blinds. He remembers the way he used to kiss up your sunkissed arm the first few months you both moved into your tiny apartment. Letting the sun shine through the windows as you both danced slowly to whatever bossanova song played through your vintage radio.

Those first few months of summer were golden. They were warm like your skin on his when he woke up in the morning to you with his arms wrapped around your waist. Now your skin looked cold, dull, and you looked stretched thin.

How could he have just noticed all this? He was living with you the whole time.

In reality, he stopped being present a long time ago.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

The following days Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen.

You cried every day, constantly looking over to the door to see if he would just waltz in, big grin as he held a golden contract to a label over your head. You glanced over at the couch often, expecting your lover to be sitting as usual on his phone or hunched over writing whatever lyrics he could muster.

You called and texted but no response was ever given. Even if you had a car, not that walking would stop you, you had no idea of his whereabouts. Where would you even begin to look?

Then finally at the end of the week, Yeonjun returns home.

You weren’t there when he arrived, you still had to work despite the fact that things were rough. So when you return that night, all that’s left is your stuff and a note.

To my dearest y/n, Sorry for everything. I hope you understand that I need to do things my way right now. This is stupid but I'm sure you can imagine where this is going. Maybe in the future we’ll find each other again, but as of right now, I have to leave. If you need me you have my number,  See you around baby -Yeonjun

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆｡°

Shortly after, you find yourself moving out of that old apartment. You never texted or called Yeonjun, and he never did so to you either.

As time goes by and the seasons pass, you can’t help but wonder where he ended up.

Did he continue to seek that dream he always wanted?

Maybe being with you was his biggest dream all along,

He just didn’t know it then.

Deep down Yeonjun wished he could have shown his appreciation for you more. How much he wished to give you a better life, to be a better boyfriend. How much he wished that on those nights when he’d arrive late in the morning hours, you’d wake up to see him giving you those gentle kisses, or how he’d double check to make sure the blanket was properly covering your sleeping figure.

Oh, how Yeonjun would never know about those faded photographs you still have saved from your old polaroid camera. Both of you with wide smiles as you sat in the pile of snow in the middle of your living room. You often found yourself wishing you could go back. Go back to when things were simpler, go back to that summer you moved in that tiny apartment.

As these nights go on, so does time. Therefore the tears that you find yourself wiping away eventually dry, and you let these memories go with a sigh. They carry themselves away along with the gentle breeze that whispers through your open window. And as that sandalwood candle’s wick flickers out, you realize so does the love you once held for him.

[slippinninque]

✨📱Kiss me Through the Phone 📱✨

Fontaine x black!fem!reader

Warnings/content: fluff, cursing, mentions of smoking/weed, long fic. Black!Fem!Reader, ramblings

He treated his phone like the tool it was. There were few apps for entertainment, and the necessary apps to stay updated on what was going on in his streets.

Fontaine was never one for taking pictures until he met you. Now he has a nice collections of you on his phone.

Particularly, there is a folder of photos in his phone dedicated to your stuffed face. You turned full hamster when you were hungry and he thought it was adorable. This is top secret.

You have a folder of photos in your phone dedicated to catching him sleeping during movies. From cozy shots of him latched on to you like a giant octopus to the bent neck, open mouthed snooze. What started off as a cache of evidence became an absolute delight. This was also top secret.

Fontaine didn't save many numbers. Due to his business, the less information he made available the better. You swore his memory was his super power.

The first picture you ever sent Fontaine he'd swore he would get framed. It was purposely unflattering with an expression he didn't think your pretty face could make. It was sent to him by mistake but made him nearly choke on his '40 and he knew then he needed more of you.

------

A little bit of sun was all the Glen needed for it's parks to come alive with get-togethers and hang-outs. That was the whole reason you and your girls were out in the first place, looking to get some warmth before the heat vanished again,

You were sitting close to each other sharing whispers and smoke. It was a lovely day though the breeze was relentless. Fontaine was already unzipping his jacket when you shivered for the umpteenth time.

The sight of him was poetic. Leaning up a bit just to whip his jacket over your shoulder, the sun taking it's place immediately with delicacy. Fontaine's face was soft at least enough for his golds to glimmer between full lips.

He was gilded in the setting sun as he stepped a bit closer to zip you properly into the jacket. You felt like you were staring, but you couldn't look away.

"There we go," he grinned at you as he passed the blunt to you and resetting your brain, "Wear it better than me."

"Better stop before this hoodie come up missing." You took a puff and laughed a bit,

"Y'know how clothes just be adventuring off on their own..."

"Is that so? You wanna takin' down my number so you can let a nigga know if his thermals come knocking at your door?"

"Your-your weed is good, so I suppose I'll be neighborly."

He laughed and you couldn't even feel the full thrush of embarrassment at your fumbling. You could only shake your head at yourself as you handed over your phone.

Fontaine typed in his number and you traded the blunt for your phone. He didn't save it at first and you added him to your contacts with the quickness.

Just as you always did, first thing that came to mind--

Sunglow.

Quickly after that you keep you eyes to your keyboard as you sent Fontaine a wave with a smiley face.

-------

You jerked awake, hearing hard knocking and loud voices seeping in through your cracked window.

Heart pounding as you stared up at the ceiling, you scrambled for your phone to see it was well past midnight. The TV was still going from when you fell asleep on the couch, but it wasn't enough to drown out the slurring call of your name.

Clutching your throw blanket, you swallowed as much of your panic as possible. It was your neighbor, drunk again and "confused" despite it being the third time this month.

As much as you tried to be understanding, it made you more than uncomfortable. The man was all grins and half-apologetic in the daytime, insisting that their front doors were nearly twins despite there being 3 houses between them. His roommates thought it was funny and made a few comments about how you even resembled his ex.

He even asked what the issue was with letting him linger until he sobers up enough to go home.

The next knocks were thunderous and got you out of bed. You weren't keen on opening the door or even speaking to him, it would only make it worse...

Tearing up as you heard the stumbling and nonsense filter through your door, you chewed your lip as you slowly typed out a text.

[Are you up?]

You winced. It sounded so dirty to you at the moment but you were scared and tired--

The sound of your ringer startled you enough to answer.

"Um, hi, sorry." You crept to your room in the dark, afraid to turn on the lights, "Did-Did I wake you?"

Fontaine made a soft noise, "Ain't doin' shit but runnin' to the store. What's got you up so late?"

You struggled for words for a moment but hissed when the banging came again. This time it sounded like he was hitting the front room's window.

"What the fuck is that?"

Fontaine's tone broke you, a sob stuttering out as you told him everything. You curled up and tried to make sense but a headache was beginning to grow.

"I'm comin', sweet heart, I'm on my way." Fontaine's voice was soothing in his promise, "Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay, 'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just keep listening to me, you hear me? 'M on my way."

Fontaine's voice flowing through that little speaker was your life raft. You did as you were told, listening to the sound of him getting into his car and driving.

Your neighbor went quiet and it knowing where he was was worse. Imagining him stalking around the perimeter of your home, looking for things to "accidentally" break, ways into your home, would he do something to your car? In the dark feeling small, you quietly hoped that there were no red lights to keep Fontaine long.

The call ended and before your panic to dwell to hysteria, there was commotion from outside your house.

There was hollering and another terrible clattering noise. Running back into the living room, you peeked through the blinds with shaky hands.

Fontaine had your neighbor on the ground, bent up and yelping next to your overturned trash can. You could only see the back of him as he wrangled your neighbor.

You felt rooted to the spot, watching from somewhere else as you watched the terror that's been stealing your peace get the ragdoll treatment. Fontaine tossed him here and there, his voice furious and low.

Fontaine hauled your neighbor up enough to walk him down the street and out of sight. Still shaking, you took a seat on the couch and tried to pull yourself together.

You aren't sure how long you say there with anxiety eating away at your stomach. When your phone rang again, you hurried to answer.

"Hello, hi..."

"C'mon to the door, it's okay now."

You peeled yourself off the couch and went to the door, flinging it open but still unable to look him in the face. He was wearing only sweats and a grey long sleeved shirt. Quietly letting him in, you couldn't stop the tears when they returned.

Fontaine told you that he made absolutely sure that your neighbor knew what his porch looked like. You could only imagine what he meant by that.

"Don't cry anymore, you're okay now," Fontaine came near you, hand hovering your shoulders in a mimic of touch. You leaned forward until you could feel the softness of his shirt.

"You did good, I'm glad you let me know. Promise he ain't gonna bother you anymore, trust thayt."

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you asked if he would mind staying until morning. Fontaine cupped your face and ran his thumbs along your stinging cheeks.

"Of course."

He went toward the couch but you pulled lightly, leading him to your bedroom. Fontaine was quiet and you still sniffled as you crawled into bed. You only had to look at him and Fontaine hurried to follow.

Cuddled close and worn out, your nerves cooled enough for exhaustion to wander in.

"You can always call me. Just know that, yeah? If you're scared....call me. Don't matter what it is, I'm gonna be there."

Grateful, you could only nod again. Fontaine's hand splayed along your back and to the sound of his steady heartbeat, sleep finally came back for you.

------

"It's probably somewhere in the car," you said to Fontaine as you searched your bag, "I think I left my lip chap anyway."

Fontaine paused in searching himself and pockets to give you a grateful nod.

" 'Preciate you."

You tossed a wink over your shoulder, turning to jog the short distance between the porch and Fontaine's car. He stayed behind, sorting the grocery bags more comfortably to key into the house.

The car was still unlocked and you whipped out your cell, dialing Fontaine's phone to hone in on its hiding spot.

I'll be your groupie, baby (oh whoa)

'Cause you are my superstar (ha, superstar, yeah)

No way. You nearly knocked your head trying to look beneath the driver's seat. Legs nearly hanging out the car as you laid as flat as you could. You were cheek to seat as you scrabbled beneath the seat, the song playing on.

I'm your number one fan, give me your autograph

Sign it right here on my heart (I'll be)

Pushing aside some loose change and grabbing Fontaine's phone, you went to decline your call when your eyes caught on the screen.

My Baby

The big softie, giving you butterflies and he isn't even near you. Wriggling and utterly smitten, you couldn't believe how much you liked this man.

Fontaine gave you such shit for having a crush, but then he goes and lets his homies hear your favorite song every time you call.

Grabbing carmex from the cupholder you could finally wriggle out of the car. Closing the door, you turned and saw Fontaine had been holding the door waiting for you the entire time.

----------

Fontaine texted and you sighed, wishing that you could see him in person. Sometimes the phone just wasn't enough.

Your phone vibrated again, the notification sound pinging through the earbud in your ear. Music definitely made the time spent pouring over technical details a bit more managable.

Fontaine's texts were little nuggets of gold you hoarded through the shift. An aimless sort of conversation that didn't make you feel pressured to answer so soon.

He sent you a picture of a stay cat you looked out for, hunched over what looked to be a half of sub sandwich. You sent him a picture of a goose sitting in one of the managerial parking spots at with all the attitude of a Cadillac.

Only you and a few other ladies jumped at the chance for a short shift the following day, but of course it mean sudden overtime. You glowered at the dwindling piles straight tab files and binders.

There were still records to edit and submit. Then a well deserved long-weekend after to look forward to.

Your phone vibrated in your lap, the only safe place for it since your desk turned into a disaster of binders, white-out, and sticky notes.

Sunglow: [come out side]

[I'm not at home remember?]

Sunglow: [never said you were]

You frowned at your phone. What the hell was he talking about?

You jumped when you heard the blare of a horn. It echoed in the empied parking lot and you were sure you aren't the only one who was leaving their desk to check.

Your cubicle had one of the best views of the parking lot and a few streets over, you put your face to the glass at the same time another horn sounded.

In all his glory, Fontaine leaned up against this car with his phone visibly in hand and the other tucked inside to rest on the steering wheel.

Surprised and fumbling back to your cubicle, you managed to dial Fontaine before he tried summoning you again.

"Romeo, Romeo, stop bein' so disruptive!" You hissed into your phone,"Stop honkin' that horn, you're going to wake up the guard!"

"I know you better bring yo' tail down that tower and give me what I came here fo', Juliet."

With only a sheepish grin to offer "mhmmm" and "okay, then, girl" looks you got, you hurried down the stairs while Fontaine grumbled about the integrity of your building's security through your ear.

Smoothing out your cardigan as you exited the building, you were wishing that you wore something a bit more flattering when Fontaine was already meeting you at the double doors.

You went when your hand was pulled and you were hugged by Fontaine as he rested up against the brick wall of your office. It was a little hiding spot that was mainly used by the night shift.

It was the perfect spot to hide away from supervisors and sudden rains.

"You got somethin' for making yo' man wait for so long?" Fontaine asked, keeping a hand at your waist while the other one steadied you by the chin. You chuckled before looking up at him and pursing your lips.

"Mhmm, don't mind if I do..." Fontaine purred and pressed his silky lips against yours.

Sweet and slow. Fontaine took hold of your hands, left them to massage your shoulders, used on hand to settle at the dip of your waist.

"I can't stay down here for too long," you breathed after parting, "Very tempting to hop into that passenger seat, though."

"Give the word, I'll peel out this bitch."

"Oh, I know you will," you laughed and kissed his cheek before pressing yours to his, " 'M happy you came to surprise me. I think I can make it to the end now."

"I aim to please."

The wind blew a bit tougher and you burrowed into him as best you could. He rested his chin on the top of your head, hands locking at the small of your back.

It felt like being set out in the sun to dry. A nice, long stretch after an afternoon nap. Just...good.

"How much longer do you have?" He asked voice quiet. You probably had another five or so minutes.

Shifting around so your phone could be brought up between you, "About this long."

Hitting play, you both listened to Ms. Hill remind you how nothing mattered more than where you wanted to be most.

-----

ending notes: this felt kinda long lol! thank you soo much for reading! I appreciate every pair of eyes that lands on my writing, it means so much to me! 🥹

taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93@mcondance@sageispunk@kindofaintrovert@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@blowmymbackout@educatorsareslutstoo@blackerthings@miyuhpapayuh@westside-rot

[fl100r]

✦𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙇 𝘼𝘿𝙈𝙄𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 ✦

||ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ɢᴏᴅᴅᴇꜱꜱ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ||

・┆✦ʚ Chapter 3 ɞ✦ ┆・

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"𝙄 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩"

"𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙒𝙝𝙮?.."

"𝙒𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩. 𝙙𝙪𝙙𝙚"

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺༻✦༺༻✦༺

Bakugou is so depressed after war shi happen so god game happen to him too, meet a gyatt goddess wow fell in love real? or cap?

{ Slowburn }

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - :

As Bakugou woke up in the morning, a heavy ache pulsed through his head. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his temples, but the sharp burn in his chest pulled his attention away from the headache. Throwing the blanket aside, he froze, eyes locked onto the crystal now embedded in his skin.

The memory of the goddess and their deal flooded back to him. Her words echoed in his mind: "May your days be many and your woes few." He clenched his fists, staring at the glowing gem, realizing the price he'd paid for the chance to reclaim his lost glory.

Bakugou stood up, stretching his sore muscles. The campfire had already burned out, leaving only faint embers. He began packing his belongings, but when he reached for his food supplies, he frowned. His stock was almost depleted. "Huh?" he muttered. Didn't I just buy some bread a few days ago? His mind flickered to a memory—vague and distant—of meeting someone.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head, and he clutched his temple. "Augh!" he groaned, feeling the headache return. Shaking it off, his thoughts shifted to the immediate problem: restocking food. He needed to find a nearby town or village quickly before hunger became an issue.

Bakugou heard the faint sound of rushing water nearby, a river flowing through the forest. He finished packing his belongings and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading toward the sound. The cool morning air brushed against his face as he walked, his chest still faintly burning from the implanted crystal.

Reaching the riverbank, Bakugou grabbed a nearby sturdy stick and, with swift precision, began sharpening the end with his axe. The sound of metal scraping against wood echoed through the quiet forest as he shaped the stick into a makeshift spear.

With his weapon ready, Bakugou stepped into the cool river, feeling the current tugging at his legs. He crouched slightly, eyes scanning the water for any movement. Fish darted beneath the surface, unaware of the predator now stalking them.

With a focused gaze, Bakugou waited patiently. The moment one of the fish swam close enough, he swiftly thrust the spear into the water, aiming for his breakfast.

After catching six decent-sized fish, Bakugou felt satisfied. He laid them out on the riverbank, their silvery scales gleaming in the sunlight. Bakugou set up a small campfire, the familiar crackle of flames filling the quiet of the forest. He skewered the fish on a stick and held them over the fire, watching as the heat began to cook them, the scent of fresh fish starting to fill the air. The morning was still young, with a slight breeze that made the trees rustle around him.

As he stared into the fire, his mind wandered back to the deal he'd made with the goddess. The crystal embedded in his chest still burned faintly, a constant reminder of the weight of that decision. He couldn't remember everything, but the feeling of that deal lingered. 

As Bakugou stared at the fire, his thoughts wandered. He couldn't quite place where he was or how far he had traveled. All he knew was that he needed to keep moving, to find the nearest village, and to restock his supplies. As his mind drifted, the soft crackle of the fire was interrupted by a sudden rustling behind him.

His instincts kicked in immediately. Without a second thought, he grabbed his axe, muscles tensing. He stood still, focusing on the sound coming from the bush behind him. Whatever it was, he was ready for it. The rustling grew louder, and his grip tightened on the handle, eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. 

A hooded figure suddenly charged at Bakugou from behind, sword raised to strike. Instinctively, Bakugou swung his axe, blocking the blade just in time. The clash of steel echoed through the air as the two exchanged blows. The hooded man was skilled, landing a few solid hits on Bakugou, but the warrior's instincts kept him fighting.

With a swift movement, Bakugou managed to drive his axe into the man's side, wounding him. The man stumbled back, and as his hood fell away, Bakugou saw his face—red and white hair, a severe burn scar covering part of it. His clothes were regal, like royalty from a kingdom Bakugou didn't recognize.

Bakugou pressed the attack, determined to finish the fight, but the man retaliated, casting a blast of ice magic. The freezing energy slammed into Bakugou's arm, encasing it in ice. The man took advantage of the moment and fled into the forest, leaving Bakugou with his arm frozen and a head full of questions.

"Who the hell was that...?" Bakugou muttered under his breath, frustrated by the encounter and the strange circumstances.

 ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .Meanwhile at The The Grim Wastes.˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

Damien slammed his fist on a nearby table, the force of his frustration sending a ripple through the papers and artifacts scattered across it. "GODDAMN IT! OUH, WHY IS MY MORTAL SO BAD AT KILLING PEOPLE!?" he roared, his voice echoing through the dimly lit room.

He paced back and forth, his anger palpable. His plan to eliminate Bakugou, Y/N's mortal, had been thwarted. The very same mortal he'd hoped to vanquish for revenge and to flaunt his triumph to Y/N. Now, with his efforts in shambles, Damien felt a bitter sting of defeat and irritation.

"Not only did he fail to kill Bakugou," Damien continued, grumbling to himself, "but now I have to deal with this embarrassing mess. I'll never hear the end of it from Y/N."

He threw a nearby object against the wall in frustration, watching it shatter into pieces. As the dust settled, Damien's thoughts turned to how he might salvage his plan and regain some semblance of respect. "All I want is Bragging rights.. Ugh I'm betting she's laughing her ass off right now.." Damien groans in annoyance.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒Meanwhile... At The Abyssal Sanctum (Y/N's Realm)⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : 

Y/N, lounging in a luxurious pool bath, burst into uncontrollable laughter. The water splashed around her as she clutched her sides, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of Damien's failed attempt. "AHAHAHA, BRO FAILED SO BAD!" she cackled, her laughter echoing through the room.

She glanced at the cat lounging beside her. "Lil bro just put the fries in the bag, eheh!" she said, barely containing her amusement.

The cat, unimpressed, flicked its tail in annoyance. "You know, you could show some sympathy for your cousin.."

Y/N waved a dismissive hand, still grinning. "Dawg, come on, it's too funny! Besides, Damien's always been a bit too proud for his own good. He'll bounce back. Or at least, I hope he does—it's fun to watch him squirm." She turned her attention back to the mirror, her gaze falling on Bakugou's figure.

Despite the light-hearted tone, she wasn't genuinely worried. Damien's mortal, already fleeing in a panic, had proven to be no match for Bakugou. Y/N sipped from her luxurious glass of wine, the rich, velvety liquid complementing her indulgent mood. Her magic servants, creations of her own dark magic, gracefully fed her a variety of fancy foods.

As she savored the delicate bites and sips, she glanced back at the mirror, her expression a mix of amusement and contemplation. The drama unfolding in the mortal realm provided a welcome distraction from her otherwise routine existence.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒Meanwhile... Bakugou⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : 

Bakugou gritted his teeth as he struggled against the encasing ice. His hand was growing numb, and the intense cold was sending sharp pains through his arm. Each movement felt like dragging it through a thick, unyielding substance. He needed to break free quickly before the ice caused irreparable damage or before the attacker returned.

With a fierce growl, Bakugou swung his axe with all his might, trying to chip away at the frozen mass. His breaths came out in visible puffs of steam as he exerted every ounce of strength he had left. The ice began to crack, but it was a slow and arduous process.

The sounds of the forest seemed distant and muffled, with Bakugou's focus narrowed to the icy prison around his arm. His attempts to melt the ice with the campfire he'd built proved futile; the spell could only be countered by fire magic or dragon's fire.

Footsteps approached from behind Bakugou, prompting him to react instinctively. He swung his axe in the direction of the sound, glaring at the figure emerging from the underbrush.

"Wow! Hey man!.. I'm just here to help!" said the newcomer, a red-haired man with dragon horns and a tail. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace, taking a cautious step back. "I can breathe fire onto your arm if you want me to. Eheh!" He smiled, remaining positive despite Bakugou's threatening stance.

Bakugou hesitated, his grip tightening on the axe as he weighed his options. The dragon-man's offer was tempting, given his limited choices. With a reluctant nod, Bakugou lowered his weapon, though his eyes remained wary. "Fine. Do it. But if you try anything, I'll make sure you regret it."

The dragon-man nodded enthusiastically and stepped closer. He took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the ice-encased arm. With a controlled exhale, he released a stream of dragon fire, directing it carefully onto the ice. The heat began to melt the frozen prison, and Bakugou could feel the immediate relief as the ice started to dissolve.

As the warmth spread, Bakugou's arm gradually became free, the pain easing as the ice melted away. The dragon-man continued his work until the ice was completely gone.

"There, all done!" he said, wiping his brow with a satisfied grin. "You should be good now."

Bakugou, still wary but grateful for the assistance, and Eijiro Kirishima ate in relative silence, the campfire crackling between them. Eijiro's gaze occasionally flickered with recognition and respect, revealing his knowledge of Bakugou from past battles he had witnessed as a child. The red-haired dragon hybrid had seen Bakugou's feats from a distance during an old war and had since looked up to him, admiring his strength and determination.

As the two finished their meal, Eijiro's admiration was evident in the way he spoke of the past battles, even though he carefully avoided mentioning his own observations directly. Bakugou, sensing the underlying respect and familiarity, felt a slight shift in his attitude towards the dragon hybrid. 

"Hey, what's that scar? The one with the gem? It looks like mine!" Ejiro asked, pointing to the crystal implanted in his own chest. His gem was green and glowing, while Bakugou's was a darkish purple.

Ejiro didn't make the connection, but Bakugou did. He immediately recognized that Ejiro had made a deal with a god, but which one?

"What god did you make a deal with?" Bakugou asked cautiously.

Eijiro, realizing the implications, responded with a hint of nervousness. "Oh, um, the God of Nature."

Eijiro, sensing the shift in Bakugou's demeanor, quickly changed the subject. "Eehe, what about you? Who's your god?" 

Eijiro's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the God of War but he quickly masked his surprise with a grin. "Oh, that's pretty intense! Well, I guess we're both in this together then, huh?" He clapped Bakugou on the back, trying to lighten the mood. "Anyway, if you need anything else, just let me know. I'm always up for helping out a fellow warrior!"

Bakugou and Eijiro talked some more, getting to know each other better. Eijiro suggested that Bakugou visit a bathhouse to help relieve his stress, and Bakugou agreed. Eijiro then led him into a nearby city. Bakugou and Eijiro walked through the vibrant streets of the nearby city, the bustling activity a stark contrast to the quiet forest they had just left. The scent of fresh pastries and the distant murmur of conversation filled the air as they approached a grand bathhouse.

The bathhouse stood with its ornate wooden carvings and gentle steam rising from the open windows, offering a sense of relaxation and luxury. As they entered, the warm, humid air was a welcome change from the chill of Bakugou's frozen arm.

Inside, the bathhouse was a tranquil retreat, with a variety of steaming pools and softly glowing lanterns casting a soothing light. The staff greeted them warmly, providing towels and refreshments. Eijiro led Bakugou to a private section, where he could unwind in peace and let go of the stress from their recent encounters.

As Bakugou settled into the warm water, the tension in his muscles began to ease, and he allowed himself to relax for the first time in a while.

Eijiro, washing his hair in the large bath pool, glanced at Bakugou with a slightly anxious smile. "Ahh... So, uh, did your god, uh, ever give you any instructions or anything? Like, maybe some tasks?" he asked hesitantly.

Bakugou, relaxing in the water, responded with a bit of suspicion, "No. Why, did your god give you any instructions?"

Eijiro hesitated before answering, "Nah! I just... I just heard that people who are chosen sometimes get instructions, that's all!" His nervousness was evident. He quickly called an employee to order some food, trying to distract himself from the awkward conversation. 

"You want anything, Bakugou?" Eijiro asked.

Bakugou shook his head, indicating he didn't want anything.

"Make it two, please!" Eijiro told the employee.

Bakugou shot him an irritated look.

"Oh, come on, Bakugou! Relax, it's just some food. You're probably hungry, and it's my treat!" Eijiro said, grinning from ear to ear.

As the food arrived, Bakugou excused himself to check something in his backpack. Eijiro also went to his backpack, quickly pulling out a bottle of sleeping liquid. He discreetly poured the liquid into Bakugou's drink and food, making sure it was absorbed. Once done, he tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trash bin and returned to the bath section.

As they both ate and drank the food Eijiro ordered, Bakugou and Eijiro continued with their small talk. After finishing their meal, Bakugou started to feel a bit sleepy and tired. Eijiro suggested they stay at a nearby hotel, and despite Bakugou's lingering wariness, he agreed due to his exhaustion, He's starting to Trust Eijiro bit by bit.

At the hotel, Ejiro requested a room with one bedroom and two beds. After settling in, he suggested visiting a nearby tavern, and Bakugou, feeling the effects of the food and drink, agreed to rest. He quickly fell into a deep sleep, placing his belongings beside him.

An hour later, Ejiro returned to the room carrying a bottle. As he approached Bakugou, who was soundly asleep, Ejiro opened the bottle and prepared to pour its deadly, poisonous contents into Bakugou's mouth. However, upon seeing Bakugou's peaceful, drooling face, Ejiro hesitated. His expression shifted to one of guilt and regret. The thought of harming someone he had just begun to consider a friend weighed heavily on him.

With a sigh, Ejiro placed the bottle on the bedside table, then picked it up and poured the contents down the hotel sink. He discarded the empty bottle into the trash can and decided to go to bed himself, feeling conflicted but determined to sleep, as it was already 10:00 PM.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒Meanwhile... The Emerald Labyrinth⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - : 

Viridianis, the Envious Empress, Goddess of Greed and Jealousy, sighed in disappointment. "He made a deal with me, but he can't even complete a simple task like killing a friend? It would have granted him much more power, too. But nooo, he's too nice. I want to trade my mortal.." 

As Viridianis rubbed her temple, one of her servants handed her an incoming call. She answered with a curt "Hello," only to hear Y/N's voice on the other end say, "Loser," before hanging up.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Viridianis shouted in frustration, her irritation directed at both her incompetent mortal and the insult. She demanded that her servant contact Koemi to arrange a trade for her mortals. Despite being tired of the Greed Goddess's yelling, Koemi agreed to the request

now Koemi Ramírez The Goddess of Love is now the Owner of The Dragon mortal Eijiro Kirishima.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒Meanwhile... Bakugou⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - :

Bakugou found himself waking up in a dream once again. This time, he stood in front of a dense woods with a nearby house. As he looked behind him, he saw the same realm as before, the one connected to his goddess. But he pressed forward into the woods, stepping into another realm.

Approaching the house, the door suddenly burst open, and out came a little girl, exclaiming loudly, "I am a god! I'm going to kill anyone who thinks I can't be a god, aha!" She brandished a stick triumphantly, standing on a tiny rock with an air of authority.

From inside the house, a little boy emerged, looking up at her with curiosity. "And, uh, what am I in your story?" he asked, his stature noticeably shorter than the girl's.

The girl's eyes lit up with excitement as she replied, "Yeah! You and I are going to be the best magic users ever!" The two siblings joyfully played together, lost in their imaginative world.

Suddenly, a woman's voice called out, "Sweethearts, your father is almost home. Let's prepare some food!" As she walked out of the house, Bakugou noticed something horrifying—her face was just a hollow, featureless void.

"Mamaa..." the little girl whispered, her voice trembling. Bakugou, deeply concerned, watched as the scene before him began to dissolve into chaos. The ground and surroundings started to melt away, black goo seeping in like thick, dark mud, consuming everything in its path. The once vibrant and playful scene was swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

Bakugou turned around to find Y/N standing behind him, her presence imposing yet oddly calming amidst the chaos. "What are you doing here?.." he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and frustration.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I forgot you can enter my realm whenever you're sleeping! Sorry for the sudden interaction," she said, her tone light and apologetic. "As for what I'm doing here—well, I'm in my own realm, of course. That's my question to ask you instead. What are you here for?"

Bakugou flushed, realizing he had accidentally walked into his goddess's private moment. Y/N, looking serene and relaxed in the pool bath with soaps and bubbles clinging to her body, noticed his discomfort. Bakugou immediately turned his back, trying to avoid any appearance of disrespect toward the celestial being before him.

Y/N's voice was light and teasing, but with a hint of curiosity. "Oh, right. Ehehe! It's fine to look I don't mind mortals seeing my naked body, especially you, my mortal. Now, back to my question what are you doing here?" 

Bakugou, still a bit flushed but regaining his composure, replied, "I just appeared here. I saw something before you showed up, my... uh, Lady," Bakugou said, unsure what to call Y/N. "What did you see?" Y/N asked, sipping her wine in the soapy pool.

"I saw a little girl and a little boy, I'm guessing they're siblings. They were playing, and then their mother appeared, but her face was just a hole right through her head. Everything turned dark, and then you appeared, my... Lady."

Bakugou, still unsure of how to address her, said the last part hesitantly. He had never called anyone, let alone a deity, in such a manner before. But with a goddess before him—a celestial being who could end his life in an instant—he felt he needed to show respect.

Y/N smiled gently and said, "Mhm, how about you join me in the pool?" She moved to the side of the pool to make space for Bakugou. In her thoughts, she reflected, Jeez, that crystal really does make me connected to him?, huh now he's seeing my old memories.

As Bakugou took off his clothes and joined Y/N in the soapy pool, he immediately felt his muscles relax. The warm water was soothing, and he had the urge to submerge himself completely. However, he controlled the impulse, reminding himself of the presence of his goddess.

Y/N settled herself elegantly on the edge of the pool, her presence both commanding and serene. "Since you're here, allow me to elaborate on why I selected you as my mortal," she began, her voice smooth and melodious. "You've likely noticed that others bear similar gems, albeit in different hues. These gems mark individuals chosen by various deities, each for their own purpose."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "As deities, we revel in orchestrating intricate games and challenges. You, my dear, are but a piece in this grand tapestry. The essence of our pact demands that you eliminate competitors bearing the same mark. This ensures that the terms of our agreement are fulfilled, and that the ultimate prize can be attained."

Y/N placed her wine delicately upon the ornate, marble-tiled edge of the pool. She glided gracefully towards Bakugou, her every movement exuding an air of both power and grace. "Your role is crucial to the unfolding of this game. By removing others who stand in your way, you simplify the path to achieving your heart's desire."

She extended a hand towards Bakugou, her fingers brushing against the water with a gentle ripple. "In essence, you are not merely a pawn, but a key player in a grand, celestial design. The more adversaries you overcome, the more favorable your position becomes. This is not just a test of strength, but of cunning and resolve."

Her eyes met his with a look that was both reassuring and intense. "Do not misunderstand—while your actions are guided by our agreement, the choice to rise or fall remains yours. Embrace the challenge with the vigor and passion that defines you, and the rewards will be yours to claim."

Y/N's smile widened, a touch of mischief dancing in her gaze. "Consider this: every move you make, every rival you defeat, brings you closer to the ultimate prize. The path ahead is fraught with danger, but also brimming with opportunity. How you navigate it will determine not just your fate, but the outcome of our game."

Y/N's hand traced the curve of her chest where the gem was embedded, her touch delicate and almost reverent. The gem pulsed softly under her fingers, a subtle reminder of the power and responsibility it bestowed upon Bakugou. As she leaned in closer, her eyes locked with his, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Bakugou's expression remained serious, but the proximity and the gentle caress had a noticeable effect on him. A faint flush colored his cheeks, betraying the calm he was trying to maintain. The sensation of Y/N's touch, combined with the intimate setting, stirred a mix of emotions within him—admiration, awe, and an unexpected tinge of desire.

Y/N, sensing his reaction, maintained her composed demeanor, her voice a soft, seductive whisper. "I can see you're beginning to understand the weight of the role you've been given. It's not merely about the battles you fight, but the essence of who you are becoming in this journey."

She moved her hand away, letting it glide through the water, and took a step back, her eyes never leaving his. "Remember, the choices you make from this moment forward will shape your destiny. Embrace them with the same fervor you've shown so far, and you may find yourself closer to the ultimate prize than you ever imagined."

With a final, lingering glance, Y/N settled back into the pool, the water shimmering around her. "Now, reflect on what I've shared with you, and prepare yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. Your path is just beginning, and I am here to guide you through it." 

Y/N's hands, warm and gentle despite their wetness, cupped Bakugou's face. Her touch was both tender and reassuring as she guided his face closer to hers. With a soft, deliberate motion, she used her thumb to gently close his eyes, her gaze softening as she looked at him.

"Trust in the path you are on," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody in the tranquil ambiance of the bath. "Let go of your doubts and fears, and embrace the journey ahead. Sometimes, the most profound revelations come when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable."

Y/N's voice, a melodious whisper in the serene bath, carried a weight of both authority and affection. As she continued to gently cradle Bakugou's face, her eyes glimmered with a mixture of reassurance and expectation.

"My dearest mortal," she began, her tone imbued with a regal grace, "I entrust you with a crucial task. Proceed to the Divine Gods' Gauntlet, a sacred arena where all chosen mortals shall converge. It is there that your true mettle will be tested. Be vigilant and astute, for many trials await."

She leaned in slightly, her breath warm and soft against his skin. "Remember, I shall observe from above, my gaze ever watchful. Strive not to falter, for the weight of my expectations rests upon your shoulders. Don't Disappoint me"

With a final, tender brush of her thumb against his cheek, Y/N's smile held a blend of encouragement and unspoken promise. "We shall meet again, my dear. Until then, may your path be illuminated with courage and determination."

"May your Days be many and, your woes few. My sweet mortal.."

Bakugou woke up on the hotel bed, feeling like he had the best sleep of his life, though he didn't realize his cheeks were flushed with a red tint. As he looked around and saw that Kirishima wasn't in his bed, he called out, "Hey dude! Good morning! Ready to go to the Divine Gods' Gauntlet?" kirishima said. "Wait Your god told you that too?.." Bakugou asked confusion.

Kirishima, who was in the bathroom, poked his head out and said, "Yeah! Come on, we've got to hurry—the hotel staff is bugging us to check out! Haha! Oh, and by the way... you seemed to have had a really good dream." Kirishima pointed at Bakugou's crotch, causing Bakugou to react immediately. "DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT IT!" Bakugou shouted, Angrily. Kirishima laughed as he continued with his morning routine.

As Bakugou and Eijiro went through their morning routines and packed their belongings, Bakugou noticed Eijiro's gem was pink. "Hey, weird hair, why is your gem pink?" he asked, puzzled.

Eijiro scratched his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, uh, my god... well, traded me. I couldn't complete the task the god gave me, so out of annoyance, the god traded me to the Goddess of Love."

Bakugou frowned, his irritation clear. "So, you messed up and got handed off like a bad deal? Great. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not in your shoes." 

Kirishima huffed, "Hey! What's wrong with not doing a task you don't want to do?"

Bakugou didn’t respond, heading out of the room and leaving Kirishima behind.

“Hey! Wait up, dude!” Kirishima called out, rushing to catch up with him.

Bakugou stepped into the hallway, trying to shake off the lingering unease from his dream. Kirishima quickly caught up, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Seriously, man, what’s up? It’s not that big of a deal, right?” Kirishima said, catching his breath.

Bakugou grunted in response, still processing the information about Kirishima’s god and his own situation. He was more focused on the upcoming Gauntlet and what lay ahead.

As they made their way down the hotel stairs, Bakugou’s mind was already racing with thoughts of the challenge ahead. The last thing he needed was more distractions, especially ones involving Kirishima’s past failures and divine trades.

“Let’s just get to the Gauntlet,” Bakugou said abruptly, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

Kirishima, sensing Bakugou’s tension, nodded and followed his lead. The two headed out into the bustling city streets.

As Kirishima asked how they would get to the Gods’ Gauntlet, both of their gems began to glow brightly. The shimmering beams of light pointed them in the direction of the arena.

“Great, let’s follow it,” Kirishima said, his excitement evident.

Bakugou rolled his eyes but kept his hands in his pockets, following the glowing beam with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. The path was clear, leading them through the bustling streets and eventually out of the city and into a more secluded area. The anticipation of the Gauntlet loomed large, each step bringing them closer to the divine competition that awaited to their long Journey.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒Meanwhile...⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : - ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ - :

“Uraraka, wait up... pant Sigh…” A green-haired man, Midoriya Izuku, struggled as he climbed up a steep mountain. His breath came in heavy gasps.

The brown-haired girl, Ochako Uraraka, floated gracefully up to the mountain top. She looked down at Deku with a bright smile, “Need help, Deku-kun? Ehe!”

Uraraka landed beside him, and Deku, still catching his breath, replied, “Now? Yes, please. I thought this climb would be easy, but... pant”

With a flick of her staff glowing with a light pink aura, Uraraka cast a spell, gently lifting Deku up and easing his ascent. “There you go!” she said cheerfully as they reached the summit.

“Come on, the God’s Gauntlet is still quite a way off,” Uraraka said, glancing at the gem embedded in her chest. Deku caught his breath, looking around the expansive view from the mountain peak. The journey ahead was daunting, but the shimmering light from their gems guided them toward their destination. He nodded, determination setting in.

“Yeah, let’s keep moving,” he said, straightening up and adjusting his gear.

Uraraka gave him an encouraging smile. “We’ve got this. Just follow the beam and we’ll get there.”

As they began their descent, the light from their gems seemed to grow brighter, leading them through the rugged terrain. The path was challenging, but they pressed on, driven by the promise of the upcoming contest and the hope of achieving their goals.

The journey took them through dense forests and across rocky ridges. With each step, the anticipation built. Both knew that the Divine Gods’ Gauntlet was a place where their skills and resolve would be tested to the limit.

Thank you!! :D

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 3

Summary: Reader and Darcy go to the bookstore and talk about R's big plans.

TW: swearing, talking about relationship issues

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fixing your hair after your morning shower and applying your skincare routine. First came toner, then serum, eye cream, lotion, and finally sunscreen. It was therapeutic the way you patted each application into your skin. You especially spent time pressing the eye cream into your eyebags, naïve to believe you’d relieve those dark circles in a matter of seconds.

You finished by brushing your teeth and scrunching leave-in conditioner into the mids and roots of your hair. You glanced into your own eyes through the mirror and forced a smile. Your daily routines made you feel secure, pretty, and slightly more confident despite your persistent anxiety.

You used to insist that Wanda should join you for every morning routine. You both had different wake-up times, but often she’d roll out of bed with a grunt to join you for a few moments of companionship. You two used to shower together, sharing the intimacy that came with massaging shampoo and conditioner into each others’ hairs. After, you’d both wait for the steam to defog from the mirror. You two would watch your reflections unveil as you laughed and hugged and shared kisses in the relaxation of your bathroom’s humidity.

Bargaining. You clutched the corners of your bathroom counter and felt tears begin to well from the corners of your eyes. You missed the routine, the intimacy, and the love so, so much. You weren’t religious, but if a god could bring Wanda back, you’d pray and pray and pray to them until they answered your calls. I’d give anything, you thought to yourself. I’ll go to church, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll deal with the drinking, I won’t complain about how bad it gets, you began brainstorming everything you could do to absolve yourself in the eyes of a higher being. Maybe then they’ll reward you with a visit from Wanda. Then we could talk, you continued as the tears asymmetrically fell from your eyes. Maybe then we could work things out and I could apologize for everything.

You brought the back of your hand to your eyes and wiped the tears. The sunscreen from your eyes intermingled with your tears, burning your eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head, letting out a chuckle of disbelief as the stinging from your eyes caused you to wince. You reached for where your hand towel normally was but grabbed nothing. It was laundry day, and you messed up again by washing your hand towels without any backup.

You’d wait out the stinging by stumbling to your bedroom to dress yourself. You traced your fingers along the walls to exaggerate your minor, temporary blindness. You pulled a t-shirt laying on the top of your dresser and dabbed your eyes. A few heartbeats later, the stinging stopped, and you could make sense of your surroundings.

Your head was cloudy from all the memories of Wanda that pooled to the surface of your thoughts. What made everything worse was that the t-shirt you were holding was Wanda’s. It was from a band you two had seen together last summer. “For fuck’s sake,” you threw the shirt against the wall behind your dresser and turned towards your closet to put together an outfit for the day.

It took you some time, but you settled on a collection of neutrals to compliment the coming winter. You wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, a sherpa-lined brown jacket, and baggy blue jeans. Since the temperature was dropping, you pulled a yellow beanie over your head. You’d finalize the outfit with your white high-top sneakers.

You headed to the kitchen to begin brewing your first mug of coffee for the day. It was 10:11 in the morning. Darcy’s apartment was a 25-minute walk from your apartment, so you needed to leave in a little over an hour to make it on-time for the plans you had at the bookstore. You waited for your coffee to brew by grabbing a quick snack from the pantry. You had your coffee and ate light, assuming Darcy would want to go out for lunch later in the day.

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

The cold air bit against your skin as you strolled through the streets of Chicago towards Darcy’s apartment. You tucked your chin down to keep the air from numbing your face and reddening your cheeks. You didn’t think it was going to get this cold so early in the year. It was barely November, but it felt like early January. You clenched your arms against your body, hugging your jacket into you.

You arrived outside Darcy’s apartment complex at five-before noon. She lived in an old brick apartment building along a side street that stretched up only three stories. It was a small building, tucked away from the main roads to provide a preferable quietness when living in a bigger city. There were two large windows that peeked into the lobby, revealing old wooden walls and muddy carpet. It was… cute. You reached for your phone and quickly sent Darcy a text stating you were waiting outside. It was read almost immediately. Darcy replied she’d be out soon.

“You look gay,” Darcy shuffled out of the apartment lobby and met you by the front entrance.

“Is it the shoes?” You promptly replied, glancing down and clicking your heels together.

“Sure,” Darcy laughed and leaned in for a hug. You received it warmly and the two of you started towards the bookstore. Darcy originally picked her apartment based on how close it was to the nearest bookstore. She played it off like she needed easy access to textbooks for her studies, but you often found her staring a little too long in the romance fiction aisle. As if clockwork, Darcy added, “I’m glad you agreed to go to the bookstore with me, Y/N. I needed some new textbooks for school.”

“Aren’t you only halfway through your term?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Darcy shrugged.

“Can’t have too many books,” she replied, puffing her cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kept your gaze down towards your feet. There was an uncomfortable silence, one where you knew that Darcy was holding in her questions. You refrained making eye contact with her. You were worried she would catch on to the stiffness in your posture that came as a side salad to your anxiety.

You two rounded the corner several blocks down and reached the bookstore on the main road. Its grand appearance always caught you by surprise. You weren’t a big reader anymore, but you always enjoyed the hospitable ambiance of new and well-loved books lining aisle after aisle. You didn’t need to be a reader to fall in love with the solitude.

You turned to Darcy, who was well-acquainted with this bookstore already. She’d been living in the area for years, so she frequented it often for whatever she needed. She pulled you inside and led you immediately to the section on foreign languages. “I haven’t really been in this section, so forgive me if I can’t help you much,” she said as she started checking the shelves.

“You’re fine,” you smiled warmly. “I just appreciate you coming with me.” Darcy was quick to look for the books you needed, so you joined her immediately. You scrolled your fingers along the titles of the books, scanning for the letter “N.” You couldn’t find much until you came across a small English-Norwegian dictionary tucked away between books on Mandarin and Portuguese. Darcy perked up towards you when she saw what you pulled from the shelves.

“Oh, shit, you found one?” She met you by your side. “Is that all they have?” She looked up from the dictionary you were holding and rechecked the shelves. She let out a small, “huh” and came back to you.

“If it’s the only one, then maybe it’s a sign,” you leafed through the book. Darcy’s demeanor fell quiet, and she held her arm with her other hand.

“So… do you really want to move away?” Darcy’s eye’s started anxiously scanning the books lining the shelves. You closed the dictionary and stared at your shoes.

“Yeah. I told you. I think it’ll be good for my mental health to get away.” Silence. You could feel your heart stuttering against your chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between Wanda and I, and I really want to just start over in general. I know I didn’t open up much about what happened between her and I, but it really fucking ruined me-“

“Y/N…”

“-and I haven’t been able to eat properly, think straight, sleep, or anything. I’ve been missing her so much.” You brought your hand to your mouth and held back your tears. “I’m sorry. Every time I think about her, I just get emotional. I don’t know what to do except leave.” Darcy put her hand on your arm in a nervous attempt to console you, but you were already in the process of breaking down.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay,” Darcy smoothed her voice out and gently traced her thumb along your arm. You nodded, sniffling. Clutched in your hand was the dictionary. You stared at the words and imagined yourself in Norway. You pictured a life in that small, unnamable town, surrounded by mountains that stretched over the horizon. You could almost breathe in the fresh, cold air that hinted at the coming of the first frost.

“If I move there and it doesn’t work out, you have my full permission to tell me you told me so,” you glanced at Darcy from the side of your eye.

“And if it does work out,” Darcy pushed away from you with a smile, “I get first dibs on knowing what kinda girls you’re taking home. I heard the redheads there are really cute.” You squinted your eyes in half disgust, half denial. Darcy was always right, though. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t speak this luck into existence?

“You’d get first dibs on knowing everything regardless,” you reassured her. You lifted the dictionary up into her line of sight and gave it a small shake. “We should really check out, though, unless you need to get those textbooks you were talking about.”

“It’s only halfway through the semester. I think I’ll be fine.” Darcy lifted one finger, signaling for you to wait. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “If you’re going to move to Norway, though, we should at least take some pictures of your baby steps. Momma’s proud of you, y’know.” You wanted to throw up, but this was Darcy, and this was the reason you stayed so long in this friendship.

“Fuck, fine, but you’re using my phone. Your camera quality is shit, and, if we’re creating memories, I’d at least like to be able to recognize myself when I look back on them twenty years from now.” You reached into your coat pocket and produced your phone. “Also, there’s still no guarantee I’ll be moving there.”

Darcy took your phone with a grunt and told you to line up against the bookshelves with your new dictionary. You looked like a child at her first day of preschool, only taller and more butch. Darcy held up the phone. “Say cheese.”

Ding.

“Um. Y/N?” Darcy lowered your phone and you saw her swipe at a notification. You suddenly felt off.

“Yeah?”

“That was your email. You got a notification. That Norway job wants to schedule an interview.”

You felt breathless.

[jittyjames]

full whumptober masterlist is finished! ehehe it's so great i actually have time to work on these this year! anyway, if anyone wants to know more about any of the specific fics or maybe even a snippet, feel free to drop an ask!

Day 1: Search Party + Panic Attack — Jesus Christ Superstar — When Jesus disappears without a word to the disciples, Judas and Mary take it upon themselves to go looking for him as days turn to weeks. 

Day 2: Role Reversal + Used As Bait (Alt. Prompt)— Twenty One Pilots · Trenchler — The Torchbearer is taken by DEMA as a way to lure Clancy back to them.

Day 3: Wrongfully Arrested — Jesus Christ Superstar · Jesus/Mary/Judas — Jesus rushes to save Judas from being punished in a way he doesn't deserve.

Day 4: Hallucinations + Motion Sickness (Alt. Prompt) — Hamilton — Alexander and Washington find themselves in the clutches of a cruel soldier. His experiments leave the two in quite a predicament.

Day 5: Heatstroke — Hamilton — The heat of battle is only made worse by the oppressive summer sun. Aaron Burr finds himself faltering. 

Day 6: Not Realizing They're Injured — Jesus Christ Superstar— After a violent riot breaks out, not everyone is as unscathed as it seems.

Day 7: "It's Us Or Them." — 9-1-1 — Buck ends up in the hospital after making a choice.

Day 8: Sleep Deprivation — Hamilton · Hamburr — As Alexander and Aaron push through a high-stakes murder case that bring up bad memories for the both of them, the lack of sleep causes something else to brew between them.

Day 9: Obsession — Hamilton · Hamburr · Modern — Aaron runs into trouble when a mysterious man takes an interest in him. 

Day 10: Blow To The Head + Slurred Words + “I Can’t Think Straight.” — Mindhunter — In a questioning gone wrong, Holden is left reeling. Quite literally.

Day 11: Seeing Double + Loneliness — Hamilton — For just a moment, Alexander thinks he's looking at someone who can't possibly be there.

Day 12: Starvation + “Just A Little More.” — Jesus Christ Superstar · Jesus/Judas — Judas takes issue with having when others have not.

Day 13: Team As family + Multiple Whumpees + Vermin (Alt. Prompt) — Hamilton — The British didn't see them as people anymore. They saw them as something far different.

Day 14: Blackmail— Hamilton — When Alexander's secrets are being held by his political enemies, he will do everything he can to ensure they never get out. [Continuation of Keep Me (And My Secrets)]

Day 15: Childhood Trauma — Jesus Christ Superstar (Arena) · Jesus/Judas — Mary reflects on her life as she watches Judas’ fall apart. 

Day 16: "No, I Can't Feel Anything." — Twenty One Pilots · Trenchler — After the final battle, Clancy stumbles.

Day 17: Nowhere Else To Go + Beatdown (Alt. Prompt) — Hamilton — Thomas Jefferson finds a bleeding Hamilton on his doorstep.

Day 18: Revenge + Loss Of Identity + Unreliable Narrator — Jesus Christ Superstar · Jesus/Judas — Judas finds Jesus with blood on his hands.

Day 19: Abandoned Cabin + Blood Trail — Mindhunter — Holden is taken by an unsub.

Day 20: Emotional Angst + Giving Permission To Die — Hamilton · Hamliza — Eliza and Alex have one last conversation.

Day 21: Spirit Possession + Body Horror — Jesus Christ Superstar · Jesus/Mary/Judas — Jesus had cast out demons from many people over the course of his ministry. But it’s just different when it’s someone he loves. 

Day 22: Reopening Wounds — Mindhunter — The aftermath of all the events with that principal leave Holden burning with a need for justice, no matter how obsessive it seems.

Day 23: Forced Choice + Public Display — Jesus Christ Superstar · Jesus/Judas —  Amuse Me (Fuck or Die Fic)

Day 24: “I Never Knew Daylight Could Be So Violent.” — Hamilton — How can the sun still rise when so much horror has come to pass? How can the world still spin?

Day 25: Being Monitored + "It's For Your Own Good."— Jesus Christ Superstar · Modern — Judas meets Jesus in the most unlikely of places.

Day 26: Nightmares + Breakfast Table — Hamilton · Modern — Aaron's daughter is always hanging around that Hamilton kid. He doesn't mind it as much as he pretends to— Philip is a sweet boy, after all, and it gives Aaron the excuse he needs to see his former friend despite bridges being burned to a crisp. But when Aaron get's a phone call one stormy night, everything changes.

Day 27: Voiceless + Communication Barrier ( Alt. Prompt) — Jesus Christ Superstar — Judas had only wanted them to warn Jesus off. He hadn't expected... this.

Day 28: Exposure + Secrets Revealed (Alt. Prompt)— Jesus Christ Superstar — As tensions rise amongst two of the apostles while on a mission, some secrets comes to the surface.

Day 29: Burnout + Shivering (Alt. Prompt) — Hamilton— Everything is coming to a breaking point. Words don't look like words anymore. Alexander doesn't feel like Alexander anymore.

Day 30: Recovery + Hospital Bed + "What Have I Done?" — Hamilton · Jamilton—  After an attempt brought on by something Thomas said, he's left to pick up the pieces of a broken Hamilton.

Day 31: Asking For Help + Therapy — 9-1-1 — No one can understand why Buck is so averse to therapy.

+ ALTERNATIVE IDEAS!!!

Body Swap— Judas' kiss wasn't that of betrayal.

Finding Old Messages + Regret + Forgotten — Aaron Burr finds an old, unopened letter in a coat he wore in his younger years. The coat he wore to Hamilton's wedding.

Friendly Fire + Survivor's Guilt— John hadn't meant to hit him. He truly didn't. But Alexander was still on the ground.

Time Loop— Jesus and Mary don't abandon Judas once the three days have come and gone. Their love perseveres. And they would have followed him anywhere.

Venom— The snakes of the desert were the furthest thing from Jesus' mind. Maybe they shouldn't have been.

[afvall]

whumptober day 2! Trust issues

truthful Timmy the blowjob queen of Saskatoon (Wade) and Nathan have a marital spat. Who knew whumptober could be so Fluffy? Don't worry, it'll get worse.

--

God Believes in Me

--

Wade regarded his mind as a very sacred place, despite the fact half of its inane machinations would make their way out of his mouth anyways. Yet despite that, his mind was still his own, one of the few places he could exist not in a state of constant, neurotic apprehension of being perceived. He knew he appeared so unfiltered and obscene in comparison to everybody around him, he knew that his marred flesh and even more vulgar personality both weren’t things he went at length to hide, but when it came to his teammates, his friends, his f word, he could get a bit deranged about his shortcomings, and how he showed them. That's where being able to wallow in his own thoughts came in clutch. He wanted to be able to go into his own hysterics all by his lonesome about fucking up a mission, compulsively wipe down his katanas and clean his guns far longer than necessary as his cancer-ridden obsessive little mind ran itself into disorientating circles. It was one of his few comforts in this world, drugs and self pity, Vanessa used to be on the list, but Wade had let her die, so she wasn’t there anymore.

There was one problem to his perfect routines however, one interruption in the face of his fetish for his own shame, that nosey, telepathic bitch, Nathan Summers, Nathan ‘you remind me of my wife’ (while applying chapstick!) Summers. Unlike the author of this fic, Deadpool has read the comics, he knew that comic Nate was telepathic, but not this one. He’d thought that in his second movie’s two hour run, Cable’s telepathy might be brought up once, but as it wasn’t, he simply assumed that this Cable wasn’t telepathic. And wow, what a shit draw huh, 5 '8 and telepathy-less? It would be depressing if it wasn’t a little funny, as most things were in and around Wade’s life. However, of course that couldn’t be the case, because poor Wade couldn’t be afforded even a second of mercy in this hellish world, couldn’t be afforded the sanctity of his own mind, and now having escaped the constrictions that telling a 3 act story over 2 hours put upon Nate’s powers, he didn’t seem to mind using them as much as he did before.

“I'm still pissed off about how you decided to be a little shit rather than listen to the orders i gave you during our job yesterday, i don’t wanna hear the memory of it and all your shame prattling around in your mind all day, it’ll just make me angry again.” Nathan sipped boredly on a cappuccino sitting in a takeaway cup he’d brought back from a café, alongside a mocha for Wade which had already been scoffed down while burning hot and its cardboard carcass chucked into the bin. Wade didn’t get how he could slip in little kind gestures between all that dickishness and not expect Wade to have an aneurysm about it.

“If you can read my mind, how come you’re still such an asshole to me? Surely empathy is a bit easier when you can literally see inside someone’s head” Wade desperately wanted to be left alone right now, to cry about his own shortcomings to the barrels of all his handguns, instead of having every thought of his heard by Nate. The coffee was nice but he’d had enough people-time today.

“Well technically i can only read your surface thoughts and emotions, or shit that you push to the front, the cancerous wad in your cranium is harder to read than most people’s” Wade wasn’t sure what constituted as ‘surface’ or ‘pushed to the front’ as he wished he could get back to being neurotic and sad all by his lonesome. Could nate tell that he really was properly freaked out about fucking up so many missions? Would he care?

“Get out of my head if you don’t wanna see what’s in there, Nate.” Wade stated, pretty matter-of-factly. His head was his space, not Nates, and Nate didn’t even like being there.

“Its not like im trying to get in there, theres just this constant nervous aura coming off of you whenever you fuck up after a mission. Its really fucking difficult to ignore.” Nate stared smugly, telepathic bitch.

“I reckon you’re fucking lying about not being able to not read my mind.” Wade nips back, “and I think you think you can see more of what’s in my mind than what’s actually in there. Im not trying to make your day shittier Nathan, im not trying to get out of paying the penance for my fuck ups with all my guilt.” Wade thought about this pinterest poetry post he saw once while channelling his inner fourteen year old girl–’The dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. My guilt will not purify me.’–but decided that it was a bit too pretentious to verbally reference in a cablepool angst fic, even in whumptober. X-men angst always seemed a bit more gritty than melancholy, a bit more blood than tears.

Nathan looked at him with an expression that was undeniably just a tad bit softer. Whether it was from Wade’s inane fourth-wall related thoughts mulling over this situation or the point he’d just made, Wade was unsure.

“I'm not lying about being unable to not read your mind Wade, your thoughts are pretty difficult to block out.” Nate didn’t comment upon the second half of Wade’s little outburst. Wade wondered if Nate trusted what he said, but Wade believed Nate when he said Wade’s thoughts were difficult to block out. Honestly he’d simply used that weaker opinion as a way to segway to the truth of his paranoia. But would Nate trust Wade’s truth? Wade tried to push all his genuine nature and remorse to the forefront of his mind, but didn’t know if it worked that way.

Nate suddenly looked a bit awkward as he went quiet, looking at Wade with furrowed brows and a face more scrunched up than not.

“I'm sorry, it's been a pretty long week.” Wade was fine with receiving a half-excuse-half-apology hybrid, he just wanted to know Nate believed him. Wade paused for a moment, letting the cogs in his brain churn sluggishly as he continued peering at Nate.

“Im sorry im such a little shit sometimes, and fuck stuff up for the team.” for my f word. Nate smiled, chuckling softly, just a tad, in the way that made Wade’s heart jump in his chest.

“We’ll work on it?” Wade knew Nate was referring to both of them, working on their trust of one another, and the way they treated each other, on the battlefield and at home.

“We’ll work on it.”

[criminalmindswhore]

Dark Pieces of Me

TW: violence, kidnapping, blood, description of wounds, spy activities

Summary: Emily and you both have dark pasts, but yours come to light against your will.

Part 2 | Part 3

"Guys, we got something," Garcia announced as she entered the bullpen. Everyone stood up from their desks grabbing notepads, pens, and coffees. As they shuffled into the round table room everyone was silent, except Reid as he finished his ramble about how elephants think humans are cute and react the same we do with puppies. "Yeah I hate to cut off conversation about puppies but this is urgent." Garcia clicked the remote displaying pictures of mutilated bodies. "San Fransico PD is requesting our immediate help as a cyclist discovered all 5 of these bodies early this morning. All 5 victims were killed over a month ago but dropped late last night." Her face cringed as she caught a glimpse. The team studied each body, and you were first to speak up. "Cause of death?" Garcia continued, "Blunt force trauma to the face. Each person was hit in the face repeatedly with something like a bat or tree branch. There were pieces of wood lodged in their skin." Everyone cringed slightly, but you. Emily noticed, her eyebrows lifting somewhat in concern. "We need to find out who these people are and who did this to them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch ordered and everyone filled out of the room. You were the fastest to abandon the table, dropping your things at your desk you quickly made your way to the bathroom.

As you entered the stall and locked it, memories came flooding back to you...

"Good evening ma'am." You turned in your chair to face the door. "What took you so long Henry?" The man cringed, knowing this was his fate. "I- um- the target was hard to reach." You scoffed, "That has never been an issue before. Now answer me truthfully what took you so long?" You sat up in your chair, elbows resting on the desk. Henry took a deep breath in, "The target was holding her daughter." He finished his sentence and waited. You sighed, you hated this mission. You hated every part of it. "Thank you for your honesty. Go." You shooed him away. As soon as the door shut you let a couple tears slip before pulling yourself together and picking up the phone. 3 rings and then he spoke, "Is it done?" Your face showed fear but your voice never faltered, "Yes sir." He chuckled, "God. Now kill Henry and the other and get home mi amor."

The tears came rushing from your eyes as you sat on the toilet clutching your arms around yourself. You remember what your therapist said, "Deep breath in, I am safe, deep breath out." After a few deep breaths, you calmed down enough to return to work. Opening the bathroom door, there stood Emily. A concerned look on her face made you break down again. Nearly falling on the group Emily caught you. A sob escaped your lips and everything started flowing. Emily pulled you close to her chest holding you up by the shoulders and an arm around your waist. You put your forehead on her chest and sobbed. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and onto her shirt. "Shhhh y/n it's okay, get it out." Emily knew deep down something big was wrong, you never cried in front of anyone ever. "I'm so sorry Emily. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." Emily immediately pulled you to your feet, holding by your shoulders and staring into your swollen eyes. "Listen to me right now, I don't know what's wrong, but no matter what it is not your fault." You took a deep breath. The old you crept in as you immediately stopped crying, knowing what had to be done. "I'm sorry Emily." You spoke so clearly that Emily got a chill. This was not you.

You broke out of her grasp and walked into the bullpen. She followed close behind you, "Y/n, what are you doing?" She called after you, drawing attention to the two of you. You collected your items, laid your badge on your desk and walked towards the door. "Y/n what's going on?" Morgan asked as he stepped in front of you. You stopped in front of him and looked him dead in the eyes. "Let me go." There was no emotion in your voice and it shook him to his core. He stood his ground, "Y/n, no. What is going on?" He spoke sternly, demanding you to stay and let them help. "Derek Morgan, move or I will move you." You stared right through him. He did not even falter. You took one hand and grabbed his ear yanking him down. He fell with a thump and you stepped over him. You looked back at Emily, standing beside Morgan, staring at you. She looked devasted and furious. "Goodbye, Prentiss." You haven't called her that in over a year. You stepped out of the doors and left. Leaving the team screaming after you. Garcia came running down the hall at the commotion just in time to see the elevator doors close.

You stepped into your car and drove back to your apartment. You know the team isn't far behind you so you move quick. Just like you practiced. Safe, file, bag, close. Turn, gun under the mattress, wallet on the bed, turn, out the door. You got into your second car no one knew about and took off. As you pulled away 2 SUV's pulled up. From the rearview mirror, you saw JJ and Emily jumping out of the first and running inside. You sighed from grief knowing that was the hardest family to walk away from. You left them, in your apartment. Emily clutching your wallet, Morgan staring at the empty open safe, Reid holding your car keys. You were gone, you pulled an Emily.

#emilyprentiss #criminalminds #aaronhotchner #JJ #garcia #spencerreid #criminalmindsfanfic #criminalmindsxreader #emilyprentissxreader

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

I think you should take this as blatant endless encouragement to write a snippet from our aufest universe btw if you feel so enclines :3

enclines

(~600 words. galaxy duo, intended as platonic. silly fluff. Cleo also appears. set several months after the events of half of me is half of you now (i'll have to cut myself in two).)

Scott sat, cross-legged, on the couch, with C next to him. Scott's eyes were closed in concentration, while C looked on with a resolute and supportive smile.

"Alright, Scott," they said. "What's Pearl doing right now?"

Scott felt out through his senses - no, their senses, his and Pearl's. He searched what he could hear and feel and smell, looking for any sign of Pearl's actions.

Scott and C heard the sound of Pearl's door opening. "I'm practicing juggling!" she shouted down the stairs.

"I wasn't talking to you!" C yelled back. She shook her head and muttered, quietly enough that only Scott could hear it. "How does she do that?"

"By being better at this than he is," Pearl said, descending the stairs.

With a sigh of frustration, Scott opened his eyes again. Pearl had joined them, a juggling ball clutched in her left hand and two in her right.

"We have the same brain," he said, "shouldn't we be exactly as good as each other?"

"Nah," she said. "my parts of it are better than yours. But at least you can juggle now."

"I've never juggled before in my life."

"Nope! But you can do it anyway." She grinned and tossed the balls to him. He reacted quickly - they always reacted quickly to each other - and caught them without issue. "Muscle memory. Try it."

He rolled his eyes and stood up. "How do I start?"

"Toss one of the balls in your two-ball hand up in a wide arc towards the other hand."

He took a deep breath and tossed the ball up. He let his hands take over from there and... began to juggle. "Huh."

"Woo! Scott!" Pearl clapped.

C chuckled. Tilly followed the balls with her head, sitting patiently, her tail wagging across the floor.

"Alright, that's more than enough of that," Scott said. He threw Pearl's juggling balls back to her and she caught them. "Got any tips on telepathy?"

"It's not telepathy," she said.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I just like giving you a hard time."

"I know."

"Aw, don't be like that, Scott," she said. "Honestly, I don't know how I do it. It just comes easy. I wish I had advice."

"Well, thanks for the sentiment," he said, sighing.

"Tilly will help you concentrate while I'm out," she said, setting the juggling balls down on the counter and grabbing her coat. Tilly jumped up onto the couch on Scott's other side.

"This monster has never helped anyone concentrate in her life," he said, but he rested a hand on her anyway. Pearl laughed.

"Where are you going, Pearl?" C asked.

"Ask Scott," she said with a smirk. "He needs the practice, doesn't he?" She left without another word.

C put their hand on Scott's shoulder. "You've got this."

He closed his eyes again, focusing. Walking made it easier - if he really concentrated on his legs, he could feel her moving, feel the footfalls against the pavement and the shifting of her weight. She got to the end of the street and turned the corner, and he chased that feeling into his mind as if it was his own. He interrogated it: why had he turned that corner? Where was it taking him? And he remembered her route, as if it was his own and he'd forgotten it.

Scott opened his eyes. "She's not going anywhere," he said, annoyed. "She was just planning on circling the block until I figured it out."

Somewhere on the street outside, Pearl giggled.

[alexanderlightweight]

hello! how you doing? thank you for your works ❤

this is for wensday prompt: jace and izzy going insane because they lost alec and meanwhile alec is chilling with prince of Edom and planning his wedding <3

i'm good thank you! i hope you are doing well too

thank you for the prompts <3

this is the alternate piece to vampire!alec fic called art of obsession and it's what would have happened if clary and the others had fucked up sooner rather than later. Alec ends up in Edom and Edom is very happy to keep him for Magnus who has been magiacally following him for a while

i hope you enjoy!

lumine

-

“We don’t even know if she’s trustworthy!” Alec protests as Fray insists, they use Iris Rouse to find her missing memories. Memories that no warlock has heard mention of and only Rouse has been willing to look for. “Something else is going on Fray, you just can’t see it.”

“Go home and be a coward, Alec!” Fray yells back and Alec would happily leave her to her fate, except she’s got his little sister and Jace in her web and in the array and he can’t leave them to take the backlash by themselves. Which is the only reason he grudgingly gets into place, furious even as he lends his strength to the ritual.

“A price must be paid, to return your memories from the clutches of Edom, what will you give?”

“Anything!” Fray yells, like the imbecile she is, and Alec curses himself for getting talked into being a part of this ritual.

“You will each pay a price!” Rouse yells, “something you love will be taken from you and—” her eyes widen, and she pales as she drops to her knees. “Forgive me!” She screams into the whirling abyss of magic, “I did not know it belonged to you. Please, take what you will from the circle. Anything in my contract and power, I give it to you in return for sparing my life.”

Alec curses her betrayal, and he readies himself, expecting a demon to come through and instead the array lights up with magic. It’s tantalizing and breathtakingly beautiful and Alec has to remind himself to focus in a way he hasn’t had to since he was a child

It doesn’t hurt, not even when it’s coursing through his body like a current and Alec can hear screaming, but not the sound of his own voice. The ground seems to open up Alec sees flames reaching for him hungrily before darkness takes him and he knows nothing.

—

“So just what about you does Edom like so much?” Magnus hums as he goes to where Edom’s magic is greedily hoarding away a live sacrifice that she plucked from earth. “Show it to me.” He demands and he snaps his fingers until the magic sulkily parts.

 “Is that my—” Magnus trails off, shocked to see Alexander Gideon Lightwood lying in a writhing mass of Edomeic magic.  For a moment, Magnus considers pressing the issue but then he realizes that he has Alexander all to himself, in Edom, with no one to rely on but Magnus.

“Oh darling, we are going to have a lovely time.” Magnus promises as he picks up Alexander and carries him from Edom’s core where Alexander was lovingly stored. Edom has spent too much time twined with Magnus’ soul not to know who Alexander is. Magnus keeps far too many intimate and magical trackers on Alexander for any power he wields to mistake him. It means that when Alexander stepped into whatever ill-advised ritual he did, Edom recognized the taste of him and used the power at her disposal to claim him for her king.

Magnus settles Alexander in his own bed and wipes away the soot and sand and chalk from him with soft touches and lingering caresses.

While unharmed, there is no telling how disoriented Alexander will be upon waking, or if the magic caused him any pain. There’s nothing really to do but wait and Magnus summons the memories that the ritual was trying to take as well as the magicks sense memory of the event. 

It’s with a dark chuckle that Magnus watches and sees it go down and he knows exactly what happened. Rouse attempted to piggyback off the remnants of the ritual lingering in Clarissa’s mind, not realizing the signature belonged to Magnus. His magic would have seen the intrusion as a parasite and demanded payment in full and Edom had chosen Alexander to pay the price.

Brutally efficient and far less personally involved than Magnus’ first dozen plans.

Magnus now has his boy and Alexander has no way of leaving.

So, in Magnus’ opinion, things are going splendidly. It’s been a far less traumatizing experience for his boy than it could have been and Magnus is happy to keep him in Edom until the problems of earth fall into ash.

Magnus has no need for his seat of power on earth, especially not when he’s king of an entire realm in Edom.

—

“Alexander, how are you feeling?”

Alec blinks awake to gorgeous gold watching him with sincere concern and a hand holding his own firmly, but softly and he has to bite back the urge to lunge forward and hold the other close. It’s a visceral and deep reaction and he shudders, fingers clenching down to ensure his savior doesn’t leave him.

“Thirsty,” he gets out and he holds on stubbornly with a pout, determined not to be the reason the gorgeous man above him leaves.

“Well then, why I don’t I get you a glass.” His savior soothes and then magicks — he’s a warlock which is amazing, it means he doesn’t have to let go of Alec’s hand and that is very important for some reason Alec can’t remember — a glass of water into his free hand. He holds it with a straw up to Alec’s mouth so he can take slow, careful sips of the most delicious water he’s ever had. It’s cool and refreshing and it soothes the dry burn of his throat beautifully, so that he feels like he’s drank pure magic more than water.

“You were exposed to the salt plains of Edom for a few moments, sweetheart. It’s why you’re so thirsty. Come here, Alexander. Drink more.”

Alec hasn’t introduced himself and doesn’t know the other’s name, but he doesn’t care and he drinks deeply and even lets himself lean trustingly into the other because if this is death, it’s the sweetest embrace Alec’s ever known.

“Alexander, darling. Aren’t you a treasure—” he’s told as he slides listlessly towards the other and then lips are being pressed to the shell of his ear, “I’m Magnus Bane, darling.”

Something in him reacts to that name, to the power behind such a person but Alec can’t find it in himself to care, not when he’s being taken care of so well.

“Magnus,” he murmurs and there is something devilishly intimate in being allowed to say such a powerful name.

“How I adore my name on your lips.” Magnus admits and the words make Alec shiver, because he’s worth so little but Magnus is holding him like he’s priceless.

“How did I even get here? I was, there was a ritual.”

“Yes, a warlock was trying to trick my magic. She wanted to endear herself to me undoubtedly, but she was going about it in a very wrong way. “

“Edom claimed you for me, Alexander. And the price for trying to steal from a king is steep.”

“So, I was taken as a sacrifice?” Alec asks, wondering why feels so very calm despite the danger he could be in.

“Actually, as a consort. We’re very compatible and all of my magic can tell and recognize such a thing.” Magnus tells him with a smirk and Alec finds himself forgetting all rationality and blushing because that’s not exactly what he thought Magnus was going to say and he doesn’t mind at all.

—

“We have to find another way. There isn’t a single warlock powerful enough to help us who will also risk getting involved in hell politics. No one is going to risk opening a portal to Edom.” Jace says hoarsely as he watches Clary grimly strike the last name off of their list.

“We can find someone else, someone not on the list!” Clary suggests and then winces, probably remembering that they’re still trying to fix the problems.

“Alec didn’t trust Rouse and you saw what happened, we need a better solution than this. Alec is Raziel knows where! For all we know, he could be in Edom itself! We don’t have time to be sitting around here.” Izzy is furious and it shows with the way she throws a dagger and Jace intervenes, getting it taken care of before it can hit Clary.

“We can petition the king of the East Coast.” Jace says slowly, face grimacing with the weight of such a stupid suggestion and Izzy’s hope curdles even as it flares.

“Yes, he would have the power. Wouldn’t he?”

“But Iz, you know deals with him are never straightforward and an audience alone comes at a heavy price. I don’t think we have the time for it.”

Izzy swallows and then nods, “then we go to the clave. We’ll use the possibility of the cup as leverage and the fact that Rouse purposefully made the ritual fall. She practically sacrificed Alec to whatever that demon was.”

“We can’t do that! I need the cup to find my mother.”

“Actually, we need your mother to find the cup.” Izzy reminds her, “we’re all just hoping that if we find the cup first, we’ll figure this mess out. That does not mean we’re going to leave my brother in some angel forsaken dimension that we can’t even track him to!” Izzy slams her fists down at the last part, “especially when you created this mess. So, help me Jace, if I lose Alec because of this.” And Izzy looks wrecked in a way Jace has never seen her and he winces, because it’s bad enough how much it’s affecting Izzy, but all Jace can think of is how many times he’s told Alec that ‘his best wasn’t good enough’ when it was the only thing getting their asses through bad situations safely.

Without Alec, Jace isn’t sure where to go now that no one has his back. He’s never had to face a situation where Alec didn’t come for him and Iz and Jace is finding that he doesn’t like it, his breath catching in his throat and he clears his voice roughly.

“Look, we’ll figure this out. We need to sleep okay; we can’t contact the clave like this. Hodge knows Alec is MIA, he has alerts out for him on the downlow, so the clave and Maryse don’t find out until we can make it work. Okay?”

Clary and Iz both nod and Jace hopes he’s making the right call as he sends them and himself to bed, his hand clenching around his hilt and he wonders if Alec is even still alive.