#she's supposed to be knocked out but it's the only pose I found okay

[manahtheprophetess]

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (19/23)

Chapter summary: "A person can love you with all their heart and not be any good at it."

Chapter word count: 7.5k+ | Tags: Angst, Therapy, Healing, Comfort, Fluff | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Heavy on therapy. Some deep seated resentment surfacing. Kinda filler (lol 7k filler) but necessary :D Enjoy!

Masterlist 

Next part : Twenty

--

Nineteen

You storm out of Calliope's office, slamming the door behind you.

Behind that door, you can hear Wanda’s sharp, erratic breaths.

You can hear your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

Gradually, you regain control, your hand subconsciously moving up to wipe the saliva that had gathered at the corner of your mouth during the intense altercation you had just walked out of.

The frustration continues to boil within you, and you rest your forehead against the cool wall. You feel the irrational urge to bang your head against something hard, maybe even induce amnesia, if only to escape the memory of the details that sent you out here in the hallway.

This first session is leaving you as winded as a boxer who's just fought through all twelve grueling rounds. You'd assumed that first sessions would be gentle, akin to cautiously dipping a toe in to test the water. But when it comes to Wanda, it's never that simple. You both have a tendency to plunge headlong into the deep end. 

To be fair, Calliope was steering the conversation, posing questions and guiding the discourse. Since Wanda's infidelity and your struggle to rebuild trust form the core of your issues, it's almost expected that Calliope would probe into the beginnings of Wanda's affair with Vision.

Wanda dutifully chronicled her indiscretions with a man that’s nearly a decade younger than her, with most of the narrative making your ears burn with new information. Before you could rein in your emotions, you found yourself hurling intimate questions such as, “Did you enjoy sleeping with him?” and “Was he a better fuck?” Wanda appeared too taken aback to respond to your interrogations as Calliope merely observed quietly, gauging whether Wanda was ready to answer your questions honestly.

Her growing silence at your pointed questions only stoked your jealousy and rage, to the point that you almost called her a whore. 

And that's how you ended up here, leaning against the wall, thumping your forehead against the rough concrete, chiding yourself for almost crossing a line with the woman you're supposed to be reconciling with.

Slowly, you push yourself off the wall, the chill of the concrete replaced by a hot surge of shame and regret. You clench and unclench your fists, trying to expel the energy that had driven you to the edge just minutes before. You need to find your balance again. You need to breathe. 

Most of all, you need to apologize.

Despite the gnawing pit in your stomach, you drag your feet back to Calliope’s office.

You exhale a shaky breath before knocking softly on the door. “May I... May I come in?" you ask, your hand hovering over the knob.

The response comes from Calliope, a simple “Come in,” that is gentle–probably something you don’t deserve at this moment. You open the door to find Wanda huddled at the far end of the couch, looking terrified. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her fingers clutch a tissue to her face. 

Guilt, fear, and anxiety, all clearly visible in her demeanor. The sight of her in such a state increases your shame tenfold.

Regret has your gaze anchored to your shoes as you utter your apology. You're not yet ready to claim your previous seat on the couch, not without knowing if it's okay. “I'm sorry,” you whisper to Wanda. “I didn't mean to...I shouldn't have...I lost control, and that's on me. I had no right to speak to you like that.”

Calliope offers you a small smile and gestures for you to take your previous seat. Then, she signals towards the spot you previously occupied, an unspoken invitation for you to rejoin them.

However, you remain rooted to your spot, waiting for Wanda's permission before making a move.

With eyes bloodshot and voice hoarse, Wanda looks at you and softly pleads, “Please, Y/N.”

At last, you gather the strength to meet her gaze and offer a nod of gratitude as you make your way back to your seat.

After you settle back into the couch, Calliope speaks up. 

“What happened here was intense, but it's also a part of the process. Confronting our emotions and learning to manage them is essential. But, we should always strive to communicate in a respectful manner," Her voice holds a hint of emphasis, and it's the closest thing to a reprimand that Wanda has heard from her. “But it’s a good thing that you returned here willingly, realizing your mistake and having the determination to face the consequences of your actions and apologize for it.”

Calliope continues, “Y/N, if I may, what led you to ask those particular questions?”

The question quickly brings a raw admission out of you–something you’ve buried at the back of your mind and never thought would come to the surface.

“I always wondered if Wanda strayed because I was lacking in some way. If there was something missing in me that Vision was able to offer her,” you confess, feeling a sudden wave of insecurity wash over you.

You are so engrossed in your thoughts that you don't see Wanda softly shaking her head in response to your words. 

You push forward, “If I were the one lacking, it would at least be something tangible I could fix. A clear problem with a clear solution. And perhaps that solution could serve as a sort of assurance for me, a guarantee that Wanda won’t do it again.”

“Honestly, it would've been easier if she answered yes to all those questions…” you chuckle softly, seeing the irony in the situation.

“It wasn’t anything you lacked, Y/N,” Wanda bites her lower lip nervously. “It wasn't about you being less or Vision being more… Frankly, being drawn to him then feels like… like a depersonalization. When I look back, I don’t recognize who I am at that moment.”

The term she used sounds unfamiliar in your ears. You look to Calliope, brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what Wanda was trying to say.

“Depersonalization is a state where a person feels detached or disconnected from themselves,” Calliope explains mildly. “They might feel like they're observing their own body from an outside perspective, or like they're in a dream or a movie. It's a form of dissociation, a mental process which produces a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity.”

“Depersonalization is often triggered by severe stress or trauma,” Calliope continues, looking at Wanda. “People experiencing it may make decisions that are out of character or do things that they normally wouldn't, as if they're on autopilot or being controlled by some external force.”

Wanda's nod comes slowly, her gaze on her folded hands. 

“During a moment when I... I felt so detached, I did something that I wouldn't normally do. I cheated,” She hesitates, swallowing hard. “But it wasn't because you lacked anything or because Vision was better. It was a reflection of my own personal problems and not about you or our relationship.”

For a long moment, you remain quiet, digesting her words, wrestling with yourself over whether you really want to believe this reasoning.

“Why didn't you come to me, Wanda?” you ask with a mournful realization that all of this could have been avoided if Wanda had simply come to you suddenly. “If you were struggling, I would've wanted to help.”

“I know,” Wanda mutters ruefully. “But at the time, I had just left my job at the gallery, and you were doing so well in your career. I–I didn't want to seem helpless, like a burden. I was battling self-pity, not to mention the grief from our failed pregnancy. I felt like I'd already failed you as a wife... I didn't want to seem even more of a failure.”

“I've never seen your struggles with pregnancy as a failure, Wanda, and certainly not your failure,” you gently interject.

“I'm aware of that, Y/N,” Wanda replies, her voice soft and almost bashful, as if she's just now coming to terms with how embarrassingly poorly she handled the whole situation. 

“But I couldn’t help but blame myself because I knew how much you wanted children. You wanted it even before you asked me to marry you. The reality of not being able to provide you the family you wanted... It felt like my heart was being torn apart. I was drowning in my grief and frustration. And just when I was starting to regain my footing, I lost a job that I was proud of. Moving to Westview seemed to rob me of my last sense of purpose. I felt lost, angry even.”

“Wanda, you're the person I wanted to raise a family with,” you say.

Wanda's lower lip trembles at that, and she reaches out, pulling another tissue from the box that Calliope had thoughtfully placed in front of her earlier.

After a long pause, you ask softly, “You were angry at me?”

“I wasn't angry with you per se,” Wanda admits, glancing towards Calliope automatically. It’s a topic that they extensively covered in the past. “It was only through my sessions with Calliope that I understood that my anger was not directed at anyone in particular, but at everything that was happening around me. I was lashing out at the world, and sadly, you were part of that world.”

That's a feeling you realize you can relate to. In hindsight, you recognize that you lashed out at the world for what Wanda did to you, and in doing so, hurt the people around you as well.

“I'm not here to provide excuses for my actions because there's nothing that could ever justify what I did,” Wanda says, her voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re–I know you’re still deciding if you want to be with me–”

“Wanda–”

“Please, Y/N, let me finish,” she interrupts, swallowing the lump in her throat as she braces herself for what comes next. “I know you’re still deciding if you want to be with me, which is why I want you to know everything—my thoughts, my feelings…to help with your decision.”

Wanda is laying it all on the line, placing the sole decision in your hands, baring her soul to see if you still want what you both had. Without the nostalgia of your old room in Montauk, the place where you two reconciled that night, you now see clearly both sides of the choice to try again with Wanda.

“I… I think I need some time to absorb all of these, Wanda. But I hear you,” you say. “And right now, I just want to say one thing: you're not a failure. You never were,” you say softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. 

For years you’ve looked at your relationship with Wanda through rose-colored lenses. But it becomes apparent now that there had been problems, deep-seated issues in your previous marriage that you had failed to see.

Wanda squeezes your hand back, your fingers tightening around yours, as if trying to hold on to you. “Thank you. I’m still struggling to believe that, but thank you.”

Calliope, who has been quietly observing the exchange, finally breaks the silence.

“These sessions are not meant to be easy, and this one certainly was heavy. But you are here, facing the truth, confronting the past, and expressing yourselves honestly and vulnerably. That takes courage.

“I'm proud of both of you,” she continues with a smile, giving each of you an encouraging nod. “I can see that today's revelations are a lot to take in. Spend some time reflecting on what we've discussed today–together and individually. But, before I let you go, there’s one more thing.”

You and Wanda look at her expectantly.

“I have a task in mind for both of you. However, I want to ensure that you only undertake it once you feel at ease with it and have fully absorbed the discussions from today's session.

“Write a letter to each other,” Calliope suggests. “Put down everything you want to say. There are no rules. It can be long or short. The only condition is to be honest with each other.”

She pauses to let her instructions sink in. “This is not something you have to share with me or anyone else. But when you're ready, I suggest that you share it with each other.”

A little while later, you and Wanda step out of the room, feeling as though you've both just endured the toughest battle of your lives. But as the door closes behind you, Wanda reaches out and gently takes your hand in hers.

“Don't worry about earlier,” Wanda whispers, looking up at you with a small smile. “We're here to learn and grow, right?”

You nod, but the guilt still lingers. “I need to work on controlling my anger,” you confess. Today's outburst was a startling wake-up call, a side of yourself you hadn't recognized. You'd never really thought of yourself as someone with anger issues, but not only did you scare Wanda, you were also fearful of what you might be capable of if it happens again. “I can't always resort to yelling when I'm upset. It's not fair to you or to me.”

Wanda gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We're in this together, okay?” she says. “We can talk to Calliope about it, work on it. We're learning, Y/N. Remember that.”

You stop in your tracks to face her fully, and then tug on her hand until she's stepping into your embrace. You wrap your arms around her, holding her tightly to your chest, feeling the warmth of her against you. Your lips find her hair, and you kiss it gently.

“Yeah,” you reply, the knot in your chest loosening just a bit. “We're learning.”

***

Agatha twiddles her thumbs, anxiety practically radiating from her. She hasn't felt this nervous since her first job interview decades ago, and the words she needs to say now are sticking in her throat.

Wanda, in the midst of cooking, hears the silence and turns to face her business partner. She drops the spatula on the counter and heaves an exasperated sigh. “What is it?” 

“I've got something to tell you,” Agatha finally says, avoiding Wanda's gaze.

Wanda tilts her head, studying her. “Alright, shoot,” she prompts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Agatha gulps, finding an interesting spot on the floor to focus on. She’s been rehearsing this for a while now but words just refuse to come out.

“I signed us up for the annual NYC Holiday Cup-Off,” Agatha announces.

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her face twisting into a bewildered expression. “The what now?”

“It's an annual coffee showdown that takes place every year on December 30th. A member of the organizing committee stopped by yesterday and required an immediate response. I agreed,” Agatha explains. “I mean, it’s a good exposure for us, right?”

“But the holidays are going to be hectic,” Wanda argues and resumes her cooking. “Also, Y/N and I are currently in the middle of fixing our issues. I don't want to add more to our plate.”

Before Agatha could reply, Peter interjects, “Hey, I'm totally up for helping out! And MJ will be on break from school soon, so she'll have some free time to pitch in too.”

Agatha turns to Wanda with a pleased look. “So, what do you say?”

It’s undeniably a huge opportunity to showcase their craft. Investors will be at the event, and many coffee enthusiasts will be looking to try something new. Their humble store in Queens would definitely benefit from the attention.

Wanda sighs, the corners of her mouth turning up in a small, resigned smile. “Okay,” she relents. “Let's do it.”

Just then, the bell over the door chimes and Peter immediately springs to action, leaving Agatha and Wanda alone at the counter.

“So,” Agatha starts, a curious glint in her eyes, “You and Y/N, huh? ‘In the middle of fixing issues’?”

Wanda's actions seem distracted as she avoids direct eye contact with Agatha, her hands busy with fidgeting in the utensils drawer. Finally, she retrieves a spoon to sample the marinara sauce she's been perfecting, an action that seems more about giving herself something to do than genuine interest in the sauce.  “Yes. We've started attending therapy together.”

Agatha's teasing grin quickly fades, replaced by genuine interest. Her voice softens as she asks, “Really? And how's that going?”

Wanda's response is accompanied by a small, nervous laugh, more a reflex than a sign of amusement. She continues to stir the sauce, using the motion to mask her unease. “We've had just one session till now,” she reveals, her voice catching slightly. “And, well, it was quite, uhm, heated.”

“Heated?” Agatha echoes, growing more curious than ever. “How so?”

Wanda's gaze falls, and she takes a moment to gather herself, her hands clasping the counter tightly. Finally, she looks up, meeting Agatha's concerned eyes.

“Our therapist wanted us to start from the beginning, you know? How I found myself attracted to my former student and such,” she explains, her voice cracking slightly. She takes a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. “And, uh, there were things Y/N had never heard before.”

She swallows, a look of discomfort crossing her face. “And then Y/N started asking questions, comparing herself to Vision. Asking if... if he was better than her.”

Agatha's eyes narrow in confusion for a split second, and then they widen comically as the realization hits her. “You mean... in bed?” she exclaims, surprised.

Wanda clears her throat before nodding, her face turning a shade redder. Agatha's eyes widen further, shock and concern evident in her expression. “Wanda!” she gasps, a hand flying to her chest in disbelief. “That's... That's quite the question to ask. What did you say to Y/N?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wanda replies, her voice soft and reflective.

“Why didn't you just tell her she's better?” Agatha asks, puzzled.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “She wouldn't have believed me. It would've just turned into me lying to make her feel better and then me trying to convince her it's not a lie,” She pauses, her voice dropping further. “But, honestly, I don't think that's what she was really trying to find out.”

“I think she was trying to find a reason to blame herself... maybe thinking she was lacking something. Like if she figured out what she was missing, she could just fix it, right? But that’s now how it works, is it? It’s not that simple.” Wanda says.

Agatha nods slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. “That's a heavy conversation to have.”

“Tell me about it,” Wanda agrees, a weary sigh escaping her lips. Her hand reaches absently for the spoon again, but she sets it down, realizing that the sauce no longer holds her attention. 

Agatha sighs, rubbing her forehead before giving Wanda a perturbed look. “But, Wanda,” she continues, “Do you think dredging up the past is the best way to regain Y/N's trust? Therapy is supposed to help, not make things more complicated.”

Wanda's eyes wander for a moment, seeking an answer in the empty space before her. “I... I don't know, Agatha,” she admits helplessly. “But these issues, they've been hiding there, just out of sight. They were bound to emerge eventually.”

Wanda continues, “I think if we want to rebuild our relationship, we have to face these issues head-on, don't we? We can't just pretend they don't exist.”

Agatha studies her in silence for a beat, before asking, “But what if this pushes her further away? What if, instead of helping Y/N realize what she wants, it sends her running in the other direction?”

Wanda shakes her head. “We're not in therapy to convince Y/N to be with me. She's already made it clear that she wants that.”

“Then why go down this painful path?” Agatha argues. “It seems like you're digging your own grave.”

“Because I need her to be sure,” Wanda says. “I need her to believe in us again.”

She recognizes the steadfast glint in Wanda's eye. It's a look she's seen before, one that comes to the fore when Wanda is unmovable, unwilling to change her mind.

“I can see that,” Agatha says quietly. “But it's a fine line you're walking, Wanda. Healing is important, but so is self-preservation. Don't destroy yourself in the process.”

Wanda's eyes meet Agatha's, determination burning in them. “I know it's a risk," she says. “But it's one I have to take. Y/N deserves to know everything, to understand why things happened the way they did. If that leads to us being stronger together, then it's worth it. If it drives her away... well, at least I'll know I was honest.”

Agatha sighs, but it is later on followed by a knowing grin. “You really do love her, don't you?”

Wanda smiles, a sad but resolute one. “More than anything. And that's why I can't hide from the past. I have to face it, no matter how painful it is. For her. For us.”

They stand side by side in silence for a moment, each lost in thought. 

“I hope it works, Wanda. I really do.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispers, her voice full of hope and a touch of fear. “Me too.”

***

“A person can love you with all their heart and not be any good at it. But remember, you don't have to tolerate anything you don't like, no matter how much they love you.”

You shift in your seat, restless and unsure. Your foot taps a rhythm on the carpeted floor of Calliope's office as her words swirl in your mind, the temperature in the room seeming to rise with your anxiety.

“It doesn't sound like you're encouraging me to stick with Wanda,” you point out.

Calliope leans back in her chair, a good-natured smile playing on her lips. “I'm not here to encourage or discourage any particular course of action,” she says calmly. “What I am here for is to help you explore your feelings and understand what you truly want. Sometimes love isn't enough, and that's okay. It's up to you to decide what you can and can't accept in a relationship.”

As you chew on Calliope's words, trying to reconcile your love for Wanda with the reality of the situation, you find comfort in Calliope's lack of judgment, a space to think without pressure.

“You're right,” you mumble. “I just need to figure out what I can live with and what I can't.”

It's your first official solo session with Calliope after a tumultuous joint session with Wanda earlier in the week. Interaction with Wanda since then has been muted and bittersweet. Interaction with Wanda since then has been muted and bittersweet, marked only by a quiet dinner at her place and a walk with Sparky outside afterward. The dinner was sweet, filled with affectionate glances and gentle touches, but it lacked the spark that once ignited between you two in Montauk and the passionate days that followed.

Frankly, you're desperate to return to how things were before your outburst, but you have no idea how.

The subsequent days that followed haven't been any better. You remember the way Wanda would sometimes look at you with a silent question in her eyes. It could have been a simple, “Are we going to make it?” or as heart-wrenching as, “Have you changed your mind about giving us another chance?”

“So, tell me more about how you're feeling,” Calliope prompts, bringing you back to the present moment. “What are some of the emotions that have been coming up for you lately?”

“Uh, they come at different times in the day,” you say, chuckling softly. “In the morning there’s longing. Now that I’m no longer in denial of the fact that I’m still very much in love with my ex-wife, I miss her more terribly than the months we were estranged. I miss Wanda and I miss our old life together. I miss the routine I have with her. Just… being married to her. Then in the afternoon, I miss another relationship in my life–my friendship with Nat. She’s like a sister to me–well, I consider her one. I grew up without siblings and the only other familial love I knew in my life was my mother’s until she came along. Losing her hurt as much if not more than Wanda’s betrayal, to be honest.”

As you pause, feeling as though you're oversharing, Calliope gifts you a reassuring smile. “Just continue, Y/N. I'm here to listen,” she encourages.

You shyly return her smile before continuing, “Nights, well, they're a combination of guilt, anger, and a kind of despair that sometimes makes me wish I wouldn't wake up if everything remains the same. I'm not... I don't think I'm suicidal, but at times, it feels as though an abrupt end would be easier to deal with.”

Calliope takes a moment to process your words, her eyes softening with empathy. “It sounds like you're carrying a lot of pain,” she says. “But let's clarify something important–while it might feel overwhelming at times, it doesn't mean it's unmanageable. When you have thoughts about not wanting to wake up, it's a sign that you're longing for relief, not necessarily the end. It's vital to differentiate between the two. Now, let me ask. Has there been anything recently that's caused you pain? Something you believe you're still grappling with?”

You make it appear as if you have to think about it for a moment even though the response comes to you almost instantly.

“Uhm, there is actually…” you start. “Wanda and I haven’t talked about this because all conversations that have something to do with Vision are just painful to have basically. I don’t know if Wanda’s mentioned it to you before but, uh, Wanda told me herself that Vision filmed them having sex.”

“I see,” Calliope responds. “Wanda did mention that. We mainly focused on her experience though–how it was a direct violation of her privacy.”

You draw a deep breath, releasing it slowly as you prepare to delve into the matter further.

“Right. And as for me, knowing about the existence of such a video, it just... It haunts me. It's not like I've seen it or anything. But–but just the idea... It feels like an additional layer of betrayal. And on top of that, I’m livid that someone easily violated Wanda like that.”

“So, it's not just the affair itself, but the tangible evidence of it that exacerbates the hurt. Is that correct?”

You nod, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“I understand,” Calliope says, giving you a sympathetic nod. “It's like an open wound that keeps getting poked. And every time it does, it becomes more difficult to heal.”

“Right,” you agree, your voice catching a bit as you swallow. The way Calliope has just articulated your feelings is validating, like she's reading your thoughts. “I deleted that video without seeing it. I knew it would just make me hate Wanda all over again. But, you know, sometimes I wonder if I should've seen it.”

Calliope nods, her hands resting comfortably in her lap. “It's totally natural to feel that way,” she says. “Curiosity, the need for closure, or just the urge to understand... These feelings can push us to do things like that. But it's worth remembering, not all answers make things better. Sometimes, they just hurt more.”

“Do you think I’d still be here, trying to make things work if I had seen it?” you wonder out loud.

Calliope takes a moment, her eyes thoughtful as she considers your question. “That's a tough one, Y/N. So many things could influence a decision like that. But you know, despite everything else, we often end up following our heart, even if it doesn't make logical sense.”

Her words seem to settle something inside you. 

You find your thoughts drifting, reflecting on the choices you've made and the paths you've chosen not to take. The video was a potential Pandora's box, one you knew you needed to avoid. The thought of violating Wanda's privacy, even after everything, feels wrong. 

You recognize your own responsibility of ensuring you don't place yourself in situations that might jeopardize what you and Wanda are rebuilding. For too long, you've felt as if you're just waiting for the next slip-up from Wanda, and you yearn to free yourself from that cycle.

“Nothing about love is logical, then?” you ask. 

“Love often doesn't follow the rules of logic,” she begins, her voice soft but clear. “It's a deeply emotional and sometimes irrational force. But that doesn't mean it's without structure or patterns.”

She pauses, studying your face to gauge your reaction. “In therapy, we often look at love through the lens of attachment and connection. How we express love, how we receive it, what we need from a relationship, and how we cope when those needs are not met. All of these aspects can be explored and understood.”

You take a deep breath, trying to wrap your mind around Calliope's words. “So, what you're saying is that while love itself might not be logical, understanding our own patterns and reactions in love can bring clarity?”

Calliope smiles, nodding. “Exactly. Recognizing your own needs, your triggers, and your boundaries can help you navigate the complexities of love. It can provide you with the tools to build a healthier relationship, not just with Wanda but with yourself.”

As the session starts to wind down, Calliope looks at you with a kind yet inquisitive expression. “Is there anything specific you'd like to talk about before we end today? Any thoughts or feelings you’d like to explore further?”

“Actually, there's something I've been wanting to ask, but it feels a bit awkward–especially with Wanda around,” you say, looking a bit sheepish.

Calliope leans forward, her eyes warm and attentive. “This is a safe space. Whatever you need to ask or discuss, feel free to do so. Remember, our conversations here are confidential.”

“Okay,” you say, wetting your lips. “Do you think...Do you think it's possible for someone to change? I mean, truly change? Wanda has hurt me in the past, and she's said it… it won’t happen again. She's working hard to prove it, but how can I be sure? How can I trust that it's not just an act, that she won't hurt me again?”

Calliope takes her time, carefully considering her words before speaking.

“I believe people can change,” she tells you squarely. “But change is a process. It's slow, and it's hard. And it's something that the person has to genuinely want for themselves. Change cannot be forced or faked.”

She pauses, looking deep into your eyes. “The question here isn't just whether Wanda can change, but whether you believe she can. Trust is a delicate thing, and it takes time to rebuild. It's normal to have doubts, to have fears. What's important is how you address those feelings and how you communicate with Wanda about them.”

You nod, her words sinking in. It’s a terrifying leap of faith, a gamble with your heart and your happiness.

“What if I make the wrong choice?” you ask, failing to keep the tremor out of your voice. “What if I trust her, and she betrays me again?”

“Deciding to trust someone will never not be a risk, Y/N,” Calliope says, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“You're right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and feeling a bit more centered. “I need to focus on the now and communicate openly with Wanda.”

Calliope's smile is warm and understanding. “You’ve taken brave steps today, Y/N.”

The future is unwritten, and it's yours to shape. 

***

The enticing aroma of steak cooking fills your kitchen as you busy yourself with the final touches of the evening meal. As you fuss over the table preparation and positioning the scented candles you spread around the dining room, you're conscious of the nerves prickling at your skin. It's not like this is your first date with Wanda, but the anticipation of her arrival makes it feel as if it is.

Freshly bathed, you've even gone through the effort of applying a touch of makeup, just enough to give you that extra glow. You're wearing a nice shirt that subtly showcases your lean arms and compliments your figure. 

Maybe part of you is expecting, or at least hoping, for more than just dinner tonight.

The doorbell rings, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Quickly, you wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and hurry to the door.

Wanda stands there, her beauty as stunning as ever. Her cheeks are lightly flushed from the winter chill, and she's bundled up in a thick, cozy puffer jacket. Nestled in her arms is Sparky, his tail wagging wildly in sheer joy at the sight of you. Seeing your little family at your doorstep, a jolt of affection sweeps over you, momentarily stealing your words, but you manage to find your footing, leaning in to greet her with a tender kiss. Sparky lets out a surprised yelp, sandwiched between you and Wanda.

When you release her bottom lip with a wet pop, Wanda peers up at you with a dazed smile on her face as she asks, “What was that for?”

With a nonchalant shrug, you answer, “I couldn’t resist, you're just too beautiful.”

She looks surprised as she takes in the romantically set table, the flickering candles, and the open bottle of merlot. “What's all this for?” she asks, her eyes meeting yours.

Trying to keep your voice steady, you shrug, offering her a casual grin. “No special reason,” you respond, gesturing to the lovingly prepared meal. “Just felt like making you dinner. Sparky can have ⅓ of my steak since I didn’t know he’s coming too.”

She turns to you with a wide grin on her face and says, “Oh, Y/N, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” you tell her sheepishly. “Is that alright?”

Wanda pulls you close, the fabric of your shirt gathered in her hand, and captures your lips in another searing kiss. “It’s more than alright,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

Her hand releases your shirt, and she follows you into the dining room where the dinner you worked very hard on is waiting. You clink your glasses in a toast, and then you both tuck into your dinner. Conversation flows easily between you two, just like old times. 

Wanda shares anecdotes about her day, each story making you smile or laugh. When it's your turn, you talk about your first solo therapy session with Calliope. Wanda immediately reassures you that you don't need to share anything you're not comfortable with, but you shake your head, insisting that you want to be open with her.

The conversation takes a more serious turn when you mention Vision's illicit video of their affair. You see Wanda's eyes widen in surprise, but she remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, meeting Wanda's eyes. “It... It's been bothering me, Wanda. The idea of it. The violation of your privacy... and just the very existence of it. I didn’t know how to bring it up but talking to Calliope earlier helped me come to terms with it.”

Wanda's face pales slightly, her fork pausing in mid-air. “Oh,” she murmurs, the word barely audible. She sets her utensils down and takes a sip of wine, her gaze distant. “I... I see.”

“I want you to know,” you continue, reaching across the table to place your hand over hers, “I deleted it. I didn't watch it. Not because I was scared of what I might see, but because it was the right thing to do. For both of us.”

Wanda's eyes widen slightly, and something in her expression shifts. Her face is open and unguarded, and tears well in her eyes, not spilling over, but making them shine with an intensity that grips your heart. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a moment to find her voice, a subtle tremble in her words as she finally says, “Thank you.”

Wanda's throat moves as she struggles to reel in her emotions. “Thank you for respecting me, even when I didn't deserve it.”

You smile and lean forward to place a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. “You’re welcome.”

As the last remnants of the Merlot are savored and the dishes are cleared away, a new energy envelops the room. The candlelight dances in Wanda's eyes and the warmth of the evening gives way to a different kind of heat.

The conversation slows to comfortable silence. Neither of you makes a move, but the air between you is taut with expectation as you regard her with an aching gaze. After a lingering moment, you both get up from the table, your movements mirroring each other's. The distance between you diminishes as Wanda steps closer, her hands finding their way to your waist.

You tilt your head upwards, meeting her gaze, and what you see makes your heart race. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. Her lips part slightly as her breath hitches, the slight tremble betraying her nervousness. You both want this, need this. And tonight, there's nothing holding you back. The past is behind you, and the future is waiting. For now, you have this moment, and it's more than enough.

As your lips meet in a passionate kiss, you can't help but think that this isn't just another step towards gaining back some semblance of what you two used to have. It's a leap of faith–being this close to her isn’t something you still need to be afraid of. This night isn't just about seeking physical comfort; it's about rediscovering each other in the most personal way possible. 

More than just dinner, indeed.

“No, don’t go,” Wanda’s arm swiftly wraps around your exposed waist, anchoring you to the bed–the very bed where you've spent hours making love to her. A soft chuckle bubbles from your lips as your fingers trace the hand splayed across your stomach, a gentle prison keeping you bound to the mattress alongside her.

“I just need to grab something, love, I’ll be right back,” you assure her, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before carefully disentangling from her insistent grasp. 

Wanda releases you reluctantly, an adorable pout gracing her lips that sends a pang of regret through you, making you momentarily second-guess your decision to leave the inviting cocoon of her warmth. You smirk as you watch Sparky take your place beside Wanda and start licking at her face, making your ex-wife squirm and giggle from his attention.

Slowly, you make your way to the desk situated not too far from the bed. Over your shoulder, you can see Wanda propping herself up, the sheet falling haphazardly over her bare form, her modesty barely preserved by the silken material. The sight of her is momentarily distracting, but you manage to shake the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand.

On the desk lies the letter you’ve penned for her. Calliope had recommended this as an exercise–writing down everything you wanted to say to each other in the form of a letter. At first, you found it a little odd. You've always been more of a face-to-face person when it comes to expressing yourself.

With the letter in hand, you make your way back to the bed, the anticipation causing your heart to hammer erratically against your chest. It's just Wanda. You've known each other for years, yet somehow, this moment feels as nerve-wracking as a first date.

As you climb back into bed, you hand the letter over to Wanda, looking into her eyes, now filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness reflecting your own. 

“This... is for you,” you say softly, the letter in her hands feeling like a piece of your soul, bare and exposed for her to see.

Wanda looks genuinely taken aback, her fingers running over the sealed envelope lightly. “Oh, Y/N,” she says, sounding surprised and a touch guilty. “I didn't know we were exchanging letters tonight. I left mine for you back at my apartment.”

Her eyes flicker to you, apologetic, as she makes a mental note to herself to retrieve the letter as soon as she can. You reassure her, saying, “That's alright, Wanda. You can read mine without having to give yours. There's no rush.”

You watch as Wanda slowly unfolds it. She scans the contents of your letter, her eyes tracing the loops and lines of your handwriting. In that quiet, you can practically hear your own heartbeat, and the wait feels agonizing as you watch Wanda's reactions to your words—her brows furrow in concentration, her lips part in surprise, and her eyes, unsteady at first, gradually soften in understanding.

Wanda,

I need to begin with an apology. I've lashed out at you many times, and even though people say I have every right to be angry, I never want to hurt you with my actions or words. I'm sorry for that, truly.

I've loved you for a long time, Wanda, and even in the depths of all the hurt and pain, that love never stopped. Not even once. That, I think, was the hardest part.

Here's the truth: loving you is like breathing for me. It's this natural, innate thing that hasn't been shaken by everything we've gone through. I can't assure you that we'll end up with rings on our fingers again, but I want you to know what I hope for us. I hope for us to grow individually as people, to overcome our own demons, and to find our way back to each other, stronger than before.

I walked away before because I was lost, Wanda. I felt like I was drowning, and the person who should've been my lifeline was the one pushing me further under. It wasn't easy, stepping away from you, from us. But I was scared, and I felt like I had no other choice.

I can't promise that everything will be smooth sailing from here on out. I can't promise that I'll suddenly trust you like I used to. Honestly, I have no idea what's coming our way. But I can promise that I'll try. 

I'm still in love with you, Wanda, and I'm still here. I’ll keep trying as long as it takes.

Yours always,

Y/N

When she's done reading, she clutches the letter to her chest, her eyes closing for a moment, as if absorbing the words into her very being. Then slowly, she places it gently on the nightstand, her hand lingering on the paper as if reluctant to let go.

There's a vulnerability in her eyes that you haven't seen in a while. It takes your breath away, the rawness of it, the absolute trust she's putting in you in this moment. It's what you've been working towards, what you've been fighting for. And it's beautiful.

“What you wrote...” she pauses, her eyes glistening as she fights back tears, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “It means everything to me. Thank you.”

You reach across, brushing a stray tear from her cheek, your touch gentle. “I love you,” you tell her, your voice thick with emotion.

Her hand covers yours, her fingers squeezing reassuringly. “I love you too,” she whispers, the words a sacred promise, a reaffirmation of everything that you are to each other. Her smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with a love that's both old and new, and in that moment, everything feels right in the world.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you're pulled from the comfort of sleep by a relentless buzzing noise. In the dim light, you can make out Wanda's phone vibrating on her nightstand. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, you reach across her slumbering form to silence the persistent vibration.

Squinting at the bright screen, you find a flurry of unread messages and missed calls from unknown numbers and names you don't recognize. A feeling of unease begins to creep in as you fumble to unlock the phone, trying Wanda's birthday first, then yours, both to no avail. Your frustration mounts, and with a sigh of resignation, you power off the phone to quell its incessant buzzing.

But as you settle back into bed, your mind begins to wander into dangerous territory, forming connections and scenarios that you'd rather not contemplate. Who has been trying to reach her? Could there be others, aside from Valkyrie, who had vied for her attention? 

The seed of doubt sown, jealousy begins to sprout within you before you can stop it. You turn to your side, facing away from her, trying to shake off the unwelcome emotions. You close your eyes, willing sleep to come to you. The sheets feel cool against your skin, and you pull the covers closer. 

It’s not a war waged anymore with Wanda or what she did in the past.

It’s a war you’re now waging with yourself.

Taglist: @canvascoloredin | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby| @swiftie1-0-1 | @scarlettbitchx | @tercerspirit-22

[amyispxnk]

Hangin' with Dracula.

Finale of my Halloweeny drabbles with Joel!

31/10- trick or treating.

A/N: I love this trope with Joel where he falls in love with the babysitter so damn much. Also Sarah. Also Joel with slicked-back hair.

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2046

Warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of a divorce + adoption (Sarah's not adopted in this DW), pet names

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

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You crouched down on the purple rug, picking up jewels from the pot beside you and carefully attaching them to the girl in front of you, adding the finishing touches to her witch costume.

"You've put like eighty of those things on my face, is it done yet?" She groaned, despite having asked for the fancy gems and designs from you.

"There are only 14 on there, stop complaining."

"Okay, okay, I just wanna go already!" Sarah exclaimed, foot tapping furiously beneath her as she sat on the edge of her bed.

"Calm down, just 2 more." You said as you reached for another gem.

"One.. two.. and done." You grinned, standing up and clasping your hands together as you admired your handiwork. Swirls of different sized and shaped purple gems adorned her face, with a little eyeshadow - that took a lot of convincing for her father to allow it - and her hair done as best you could. Hair was never really your strong suit.

You had spent at least an hour getting supplies and trying to make the costume look as good as possible for her though, enjoying the task and finding it a good opportunity to grow your relationship with the girl.

You had been Sarah's babysitter for almost 3 years now, and you both loved eachother, and although she wouldn't admit it she thought of you as the maternal figure in her life. You were so caring and patient with her, good to both her and her dad, and a sweet person in general.

And although you were supposed to be just her babysitter, you found yourself coming round to their place for things even when Joel was home like dinners and movie nights etcetera. He appreciated you a lot, and knowing Sarah liked you so much made him like you a lot too.

"Okay, don't touch your costume too much! I'll go get your dad then we'll go." You told her before walking out of the room and knocking on his down the hall.

"Joel? She's ready.." You called from behind the door. He adjusted the bowtie on his much too extravagant costume before opening the door, immediately hiding his face behind one hand when he saw the look on your face.

"Oh my god. You went all out didn't you?" You teased, moving his hand away from his face and starting to scrutinize the outfit.

"So it's a vampire.." you began, as he nodded. "I like the hair." You grinned. He had actually brushed his hair for once, slicking it back with some gel. "Yeah. Makes me look stupid though." He shrugged as the two of you walked into Sarah's room so he could see the costume.

"What d'ya think?" She asked him, doing a 'creepy pose' and wiggling her eyebrows.

"I think..." He started, walking over to her before picking her up and spinning her around, making her squeal and swat at him playfully. "It looks super cool." He said, tickling her sides slightly and making her erupt into fits of laughter.

"Dad! Dad, you're gonna- mess up the makeup! We spent so long on it!"

"Okay, okay. You look amazin', babygirl." He grinned, kissing her forehead before setting her down again. Your heart melted at the sight of them, they had such a good relationship despite how much Joel had to work and the other many difficulties they came across in life, ones you knew about very well. Finance, family.. more specifically her mother. Your jaw clenched at the thought of her.

When Joel told you what she did to him, to both of them, you wanted to find that woman and make her realise the impact she made on his life.

She basically had the kid then decided it was too much, wanting to put her up for fucking adoption, leading to a huge argument with Joel. He couldn't just give her up like that. It had only been a few months and he already loved that little girl more than life itself. He'd do anything for her.

So that's what he did. After his ex-wife moved out, he did everything for Sarah every single day. Woke her up, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes, fed her breakfast, changed her clothes again when she got said breakfast all over them, took her to the park, watched corny kids shows with her, read her stories before putting her to bed then working so late his eyes stung from being open too long. He did everything he could to be the best parent ever for her, feeling like it was his fault her mother left and needing to make up for it.

Then things got busy. The contracting company was not exactly smooth sailing but he needed money. For her. He didn't care about his own wellbeing anymore, he could starve for all he cared as long as she was okay.

That's when he hired you, just over 3 years ago. And you were a blessing in more ways than one. Not only were you amazing at your job, but Sarah genuinely really liked you, loved you, and the way she'd talk about you made him so happy, hearing about all the things you did with her and for her. He knew that subconsciously she probably thought of you like a mother, and you acted like you were one with her; he honestly couldn't have wished for anyone better to be that for Sarah, and it made him more than just like you. He reckons he really fell in love with you when he came home to both of you asleep, she was in her bed all nice and tucked in whilst you were kneeling on the hard floor beside it, storybook slipping out of your hand and it was evident you were staying awake just for her, making sure she was fast asleep even though you were evidently just as tired as her. You put her first before yourself like he always did, showing him how much you cared for her, and the sight might have brought tears to his eyes.

Not only were you amazing with Sarah, but you were also really good to Joel, it was like you took care of him sometimes too. You'd leave him food, ask him how he was, make sure he was drinking water and sleeping properly, even bought him new clothes after teasing him about wearing the same 3 shirts in rotation but then noticing that he only had that many.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Sarah tugging on the flaps of your pirate costume which you threw together at the last second; she had practically begged you and Joel to wear costumes too, so you had gone and bought one for him the day prior then realised you only had your old one from years ago, which got stained so you didn't wear it again until now.

"Yeah honey?" You said quickly, trying to seem less out of it.

"Let's go!" She beamed up at you, shaking her candy bucket around. "This is far too empty for my liking."

You chuckled at her comment before taking her hand and walking to the front door with the two of them.

"Let's go, Dracula." You teased, making Joel roll his eyes as he unlocked the door.

The three of you spent the night going around the neighbourhood, trick or treating and even visiting a haunted house - which was put together so badly even Sarah found it more funny than scary.

She was drifting off just as it got to 10pm, Joel picking her up and resting her head on his shoulder as he walked over to you as you were caught in a conversation with a neighbour who's daughter you were friends with.

"I think it's best we head home now, unless you wanna do some more trick or treatin'?" He teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, no. Let's go. Bye Mrs. Jones!"

"See ya sweetheart! Make sure you come 'round soon, maybe at Christmas?"

"Sounds good." You smiled, immediately grimacing once you'd turned around and walked away.

"Used to be friends with her kid and- shit happened so we aren't anymore. Her mom still thinks we're thick as thieves though." You explained to Joel.

"Shit happened?" He repeated questioningly.

"Yeah.. we knew eachother in highschool and stuff happened with boys. Yknow how it is."

"Boys suck. I hate 'em." He commented, making you laugh.

You rounded the corner and came to his front porch. He walked up the steps and you stood awkwardly at the bottom of them, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited to say goodbye.

"What're ya standin' down there for?" He asked as he opened the door and walked in.

"I- I don't know actually." You mumbled, walking inside behind him and taking your shoes off as he walked upstairs to take Sarah to bed.

He came back downstairs as you took off the outer, more cumbersome layers of your costume.

"You gonna take your costume off or am I hanging with Dracula for the night?" You smirked as his hand came to the button of his cloak.

"Right, right." He got to work with taking off his costume, ridding himself of the cloak, fangs (yes, he actually wore plastic fangs for this), bowtie and waistcoat.

You walked up to him in a moment of bravery and started unbuttoning the outer shirt he wore, he had put an extra on since it was actually really cold this Halloween.

A comfortable silence filled the room as you finished with the shirt, moving to hand it to him before his hands gently came over yours.

"Are you okay?" He asked, having noticed when you kind of spaced out earlier thinking about the past few years with them. It made you wonder if there was anything more, ever would be, and you accidentally let your thoughts get a hold of you for too long.

"What do you mean?" You replied, acting like you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"Well earlier you sorta.. y'were starin' into space." He explained, taking the shirt from you and putting it on the arm of the couch.

"Well, I uh- was just thinking." You murmured. You thought it would be kind of weird to tell him you'd been thinking about his ex-wife and how much better you could've been for him, for both of them.

"Thinkin' 'bout what'?" He pressed, stepping a little closer to you.

"Just about us." You said in an even smaller voice. "The past few years have been really nice and.. I just-" you groaned, cutting yourself off and looking away as you realised how awkward you probably just made things.

He took a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm his nerves and telling himself this was a good idea.

"I really like you, darlin'. Love you, I guess I should say." He confessed, making your head almost snap from how quickly you looked back towards him, eyes widening.

"You do?"

"Yeah." He exhaled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek as he didn't see any signs of discomfort coming from you.

You leaned into his touch slightly.

"I really like you too." You said as your hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat erratically thumping inside.

He closed the distance between the two of you with a cautious, slow kiss against your lips as your hands slid up and moved to his hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss.

When you broke apart, you panted heavily as you looked into his eyes.

"You taste like chocolate." You murmured, making him let out a low chuckle.

"Had to take some from the bucket. Dad tax." He reasoned, making you nod in agreement.

You kissed him again, savouring the taste of chocolate and him.

"Tastes good."

"So do you." He smirked, hand still resting on the side of your face.

"Y'wanna stay over tonight?" He asked as his thumb rubbed circles on your cheekbone.

"Yeah." You breathed, unable to stop a grin from stretching across your face before you leaned in and kissed him one more time.

"Happy Halloween." He murmured.

"Happy Halloween, Joel."

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Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open.

Happy Halloween! 🎃

[bubbleswrld]

Damian Priest Imagine

TW: Damian Priest X Shy! Wrestler! Reader, reader is POC (black), reader has anxiety, legal age-gap between reader and Damian, platonic! Rhea X reader

Y/N paced back and forth as she waited for her music to hit. She had a promo with Rhea Ripley and although they rehearsed it, she had stage fright. Rhea was already in the ring, talking a big game about how everyone was below her since no one had beater her for her belt. Y/N's music hit and she shook away her jitters before grabbing a mic and sauntering onto the ramp. "You're only at the top because you're hound dogs always protect you." Y/N cut off the raven hair woman. She climbed mat and stepped under the second rope. "With or without them, I can still beat your ass, Y/N." Rhea chuckled. "So why you duckin' my fade, mami?" Y/N asked as she smirked but the words came out shaky; she just hoped the fans didn't pick up on it.

"If you couldn't handle a simple interview, what makes you think you can beat me for MY title?" Rhea got in Y/N's face, albeit, she had to crane her neck to Y/N's short height. Rhea picked up on her shortened breaths and hoped being close to the girl calmed her a bit.

"Cause unlike y-you, I won't need back up when I'm whoopin' that ass!"

Y/N dropped the mic and threw the first punch; that was supposed to stun her opponent and knock her off her feet but the most it did was make her stumble two feet. Rhea tried to sell the move as best as she could by sliding down the buckles and rolling out the ring. Y/N climbed the buckles and struck her pose. She quickly got out of the ring and tried to get up the ramp whilst holding in tears knowing she fucked up the spot. Fans were cheering for her and tapping her as she passed, even holding out their phones for pictures.

The water works started before she could even leave the ramp but she had to turn and hit her final mark. Y/N wiped her eyes quickly and turned to face the crowd before scurrying backstage.

/////

Rhea had went on a search for her friend to see what had went wrong but nobody had seen Y/N since the promo. Damian was supposed to be on his way to the hotel earlier that night but after seeing the prom, he too was looking for the younger girl. "Randy, have you seen Y/N?!" Damian asked as he spotted the fellow wrestler coming up the hallway. "I think she was headed to medics--"

Damian and Rhea reached medics at the same time where they found Y/N huddled up on a gurney, struggling to breathe. Adam Pearce was beside her trying his best to calm her down but that just seemed to be making it worst. Y/N had been stressed out for the past few weeks dealing with training, back to back shows and personal issues pertaining to her family. It was a miracle that she had lasted that long without an anxiety/ panic attack. "C'mon bunny, ya gotta breathe. Follow my breathing." Y/N quickly clung to Damian as the loudest sob echoed through her tiny body.

"I f-fucked up b-bad."

She could barely get out her words.

"Nobody is mad at you, hon."

Rhea tried to console the girl.

The young girl was wheezing, grasping at her chest and throat. The medic finally came with a dose of meds to sedate the girl.

"Mi amor. I'm so sorry I wasn't there earlier." Damian kissed his girl's head and laid her on the gurney as she mellowed out. "What happened out there, Rhea?" Adam asked. He was fond of the girl; although she was a shy one, she brought light to everyone's day. He needed to know what triggered her.

"She was antsy before the promo, she did okay with it up until the spot... I saw her start to break."

Damian swiped her braids out of her face and ran his hand across her cheeks as if to let her know he was still there. "She mentioned something about family issues the other day." Dominik popped up. Damian muttered a quiet "Fuck."

"Take her back to the hotel; if she isn't better by Wednesday, I'm gonna pull her from the house show and from next week." Adam stated as he began to pace back and forth. "I need to be here for Rhea." Y/N slurred. "Bunny, you need to rest; the match will be here when you get back." Damian picked her up and left the room. He took her back to the hotel and got her cleaned up before tucking her in.

That was an abrupt ending... yikes. I might rewrite it later.

[gunnrblze]

Reunion pt. 2

Continuation of my silly fic

CW: more suggestiveness, fighting the urge to add smut to this lol. reader is gender neutral in the first part, but is she/her now

You’d always thought florescent lights were a bit much sometimes, but now that they were blaring right above your line of sight? You wanted to stab someone over it.

It was difficult to hear, too many people talking, too many machines and noises whirring in the distance.

What you could feel though, was an ache at the back of your skull, dull when you’re still, but sharp if you shift your head the right way on whatever piece of shit cot you’ve been laid on. You assume you fell and hit said noggin when whatever the fuck happened in the forest, happened.

Not that you can remember much yet, all you know is that the Generals murder boys showed up and then you got knocked off your one-way piggy back ride. Which worries you, is Beanie still alive? What about the rest of the circus?

With the way the lights are fizzling above you on the ceiling, the vague smell of medical supplies, and the fact you can feel that big cut on your hip bandaged up now instead of trying to kill you softly with its song…you’d wager you’ve not been captured by the Feds.

Maybe this is the ‘base’ your saviors kept speaking of, something you’d only believe when you really saw it…just in case they’re actually some band of fuckwads posing as a militia and not real soldiers. People are weird, can you really blame yourself?

“She’s awake” a voice somewhere off to the left, or maybe the right, called out. Your brain was a little too hazy to recall if you knew the voice, but as soon as Papa Smurf came into view, you felt some kind of relief that maybe the rest were okay too.

Not that you gave too much of a shit about them, yeah? I mean, you don’t even know them, they could’ve killed you, they could kill you. They just plucked you up off the floor and said ‘come with us’ like that’s a normal thing to do. Who even are they? You have one real name out of the five, but ‘Hesh’ surely to god isn’t the man’s government name-

“How do you feel?” His voice snapped you out of whatever train of thought you were riding. You blinked what felt like a hundred times before you could make out his form standing to your left. He wasn’t really as old as you acted like he was. Maybe early 50s, but he could still take you down as well as the rest, if not better due to what you imagine is well honed experience he has.

You still weren’t too interested in speaking very much to them. Maybe it was juvenile, or maybe your brain was just lacking, unable to figure out what to say in this situation. You relented a little though, giving a shrug and a mumble of something that sounded like ‘fine’. Why was your mouth doing that? Why did it feel so weird to speak?

“You’ve got a mild concussion, and a knocked out tooth” Geriatric explained when he saw what must’ve been confusion on your face.

Oh. A knocked out tooth. Naturally, of course. Whatever, it could surely be worse than a missing molar.

“We patched up your hip. That’s a nasty cut you got, a bit infected, we’ll have to keep an eye on it” he added, which wasn’t a sentence you liked very much. Not because of the cut, you weren’t sure you cared about that anymore. But because they wanted to keep an eye on it? They’d keep you?

Suddenly you felt like a stray mutt. Found wandering in the broken rubble of that office building, feeding on scraps of food because what the fuck else is there to eat in a bombed out wasteland?

You supposed you could get past that degrading feeling. If, and only if your presence didn’t continue to feel like a liability. You’d fight for yourself again, continue to scavenge for food like an animal before you played house, or military, you guess…with people who wished that their dogs nose hadn’t sniffed you out in the first place.

You wouldn’t be following them around like a stray if they’d complain about it, you knew that for sure. Not that they had complained, as a matter of fact, nothing had happened, they were actually rather nice. You were kind of just imagining all this-

“You gonna tell us more about yourself, kid? How the hell did you make it out there? You know where you’ve been?” Geriatric decided to flash bang you with three questions at once.

You gave another shrug, why did it feel like you couldn’t talk? You weren’t exactly scared of them anymore. They clearly didn’t want to hurt you, not at the moment, at least. Why did you feel so petulantly reluctant to explain yourself to people that had actually helped you considerably?

You decided to suck it up, and explained through your molar-less, iron tasting mouth, that your family died way back when, you somehow wandered into No Man’s Land, you’ve been getting by well enough, etc, etc, the usual.

Now he was being silent, which you almost thought was funny, except for the way that he looked at you like you’d told him a lie. Anxiety set in for a moment, and you felt like you were being cross examined now.

“You just stumbled into No Man’s Land? How’d you get past the wall?” He asked a little more quizzically this time. His arms were set firm across his chest -big arms for an old dude, you couldn’t help but notice- and his face was stone cold. Not your favorite look from American Dad, so far.

You figured if any time was the time to talk, it was now. After realizing what the fuck he meant by the wall, you relayed that you simply crawled underneath it. A divot in the ground that someone had clearly took a moment to dig out. You hadn’t thought much of it, you were more so concerned with not becoming one of those red berets next kill shots.

You remembered it better than you thought you would though, given your concussion. Which lessened your anxiety a bit, he’d probably hate it if you couldn’t even explain that part…

Except, that didn’t quite mean he believed it yet. Back to square one. Your head throbbed and your gums were still a little bloody. The infection in your hip stung and the lights were still caving in on you as you laid in the fuck ass military issue cot. But none of it mattered when you had him looming over you, asking questions like you were an X-File and he was just waiting for Scully to show up.

“You crawled under the wall, huh? And didn’t get caught by any Fed soldiers?” Geriatric asked, his tone almost harboring a little, amusement? It was hard to tell with the way his gaze made your body feel so cold, despite being somewhere near California in June.

You simply nodded though, because…yeah. That’s quite literally exactly what happened. He knew you were a civilian, if that much wasn’t glaringly clear, so maybe he’d also come to understand that you had little idea what the fuck you were doing.

You were both surprised when you suddenly spoke up unprompted and asked about the others, if they were alright. You’d remembered how this all happened, what led up to being knocked off Beanies back, and you couldn’t help but wonder where they were. He raised an eyebrow, but seemed willing enough.

“Hesh is alright, took a bullet to his vest, that’s why you fell down with him” He starts, immediately making more sense than you thought he’d give, seeing as they all seemed to be quite secretive. Hell, you only knew Beanie, Hesh’s, name anyways. That seemed to bother you a bit, not even knowing their names.

“The rest are okay. You two are the only injuries we have right now. He’s been patched up and is resting, which is what you’re gonna do, too” he added. Which again, you weren’t exactly a fan of because what the fuck happens after you rest up?

What will they do with you? They won’t put you back in No Man’s Land, of course, but you have no where else to go. That’s how you ended up here, on this scratchy cot, after the fucking Misfits picked you up by the scruff of your neck like a feral alley cat.

He seemed to smell the confusion and slight fear on you, and during what you imagine is a rare event, seemed to stall with having an actual course of action. So you opened your big mouth up instead. Explaining that you have no where to go, so they might as well just dump you now, get it over with.

You felt stupid when you said anything to them, like you were a toddler learning how to string meaningful sentences together for the first time, so you didn’t feel any more idiotic than you perpetually did after saying that bullshit.

But the way he raised his grayed eyebrow again and looked down at you like you were not as old as you actually were…didn’t help the feeling.

“Don’t worry about that right now, you have to rest up and get cleared from that concussion before we ‘drop’ you anywhere” he said simply, like that would make you feel better. Like the pat on your shoulder would make you feel better instead of making you flinch.

He walked away though, so what choice was there?

You glanced around now that you could see and think better. Stashed away in some room that was supposed to be a makeshift medic-like setting. The walls were gray and so was the vibe, apparently. Not that you’d expect the croaking soldier on the cot adjacent to you to be having a good time with that stab wound it appears he took to the gut…

You were just about to get settled into your spiraling thoughts when an unfamiliar voice appeared on your left. This guy was, naturally, just as big, but had a more athletic looking build. Brown eyes that were more amber than anything, and not nearly as imposing an energy as some of the others. Looking at Baldy for that one.

“Hey, I’m Kick” he tried to give you a smile.

Ohhh. So getaway guy does exist.

You almost felt the desire to return the smile, but you couldn’t. So you gave a nod instead, which seemed to satisfy him enough. He asked how you felt, your point blank response of “Shitty” got a little chuckle out of him. Why was he charming? He’s like Beanie, you suppose, a smile that can go a long way. A smile that you enjoyed seeing since you hadn’t really seen anything in a while.

Your lack of recent human interaction was still confusing your hormones…

He very clearly wanted to ask questions about the elephant in the room, how the fuck are you still alive? But he appeared to have enough decorum to make it seem like bringing it up was your idea when he worked it into the conversation.

But you had nothing much to say. By the skin of your teeth, is how you survived and out-hid the Feds thus far. A yipping and wailing German Shepard who somehow smelled you from too far away, is how you’re alive and on this cot rather than wondering if you’ll find a shelter hidden enough to sleep in tonight.

It appears he’s just as smart as his friends, because he doesn’t push. Just looks at you like you’re some sort of miracle. Really, you’re totally flattered and all, but you can’t quite stop and pat yourself on the back yet for making it this far, when you still have so far to go.

He wanted to let you rest like Geriatric, so he left. And you did not watch his ass in those tactical pants as he went. A nurse-medic-doctor-‘I have some kind of medical knowledge’ person came over to tend to your hip wound. Peeling back the gauze made you hiss, looking down at the gross slice wound made you wince.

Definitely more infected than you thought it’d gotten. Perhaps that’s what the pills they were shoving in your hand were for. You cared so little you didn’t even ask about what you were swallowing.

You laid down again, trying not to tear your hair out of the root due to the way the lights continued to buzz above your head. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for your concussed ass brain.

Apparently these people catch on quite well, you couldn’t ever think of knowing simple army soldiers that had so much interpersonal skills. Weren’t they usually a little dumb? But you’d be damned if you didn’t see Beanie himself spawn at your side with a pair of earplugs. You were beginning to wonder if maybe you would rather be left alone, respectfully.

“We don’t have many of these, but they should help” he said simply, rather than addressing literally anything else that’s happened. You took them though, cracking a real little smile because Jesus fucking Christ if you had to hear a gun go off one more time…

You gave him a once over, noticing the slight raise of bandage near his ribs underneath his deliciously too tight t-shirt. He noticed, because of course he did, and ensured you he was fine. It was all rather normal feeling, for a beyond abnormal situation.

You popped the earplugs in, sighing and trying not to move your head wound on the thick fabric of the cot because Christ on a bike that shit stung. You felt a little more comfortable blurting out a ‘what happens after this’ to him rather than his elder, for some reason.

That seemed to be the question of the hour, though, because he kinda just gave you that knowing look. You figured he’d half ass some kind of reassurance, but instead he asked about the half broken radio in your bag.

Your bag. Your radio. Your stuff. Where’d they even put it? They went through it?

“You have a lot of loose ends in there, why were you carrying all that stuff around?” He’d continue. He wasn’t wearing his little namesake, you just noticed, and you accidentally admired how silly yet handsome he looked with a buzz cut.

Which was also a bit too obvious on your end, so you opted for explaining that you were trying to fix the radio. You used to fuck with them in your spare time, good with technology type stuff, etc etc. Which piqued his interest enough to ask how good you were with radios.

Pretty good was your final answer. You didn’t quite feel like talking about godforsaken radios right now, what with the lights blaring and the exhaustion catching up to your brittled ass body. You weren’t sure how malnourished and dehydrated you were, but you could feel the weakness. He seemed interested enough by you, though, you just didn’t have half a mind to ask about your belongings after taking those meds.

It felt almost too perfect when he explained that they’ve been having issues with their comms system lately…

That maybe you could take a look at it once you healed up more, maybe you could fix it. That if you did, you’d have a place to stay, food to eat.

You wondered whether or not Junior had ran this thought by Senior yet. If he was just planting the idea to help you out, so you didn’t face whatever fate you’d end up with once you didn’t have a need to laze in their cot anymore.

Because you couldn’t really foresee the rest of his buds wanting to actually take you in, whatever the fuck that really meant, here. You were a civilian, who maybe posed a bit of use to them. But that didn’t feel good enough, you wagered. Not during a time like this. Don’t they have people for this stuff?

You shrugged, not wanting to ask why he cared so much about your wellbeing. Maybe he’s just a good guy, a good soldier, but you both knew you had little place here. He seemed to just be trying to carve one out for you. And as much as you appreciated it, you still didn’t like the whole idea of being any kind of burden to these people

He gave you a pat on your shoulder too, like father like son, and told you to get some rest and think about it.

You did think about it. Thought about how fucking stupid it’d be if you tried to fix a military communications system. You liked tinkering with radios and what not, desperate to get a signal for even a sliver of music to grace your ears if you could. But you didn’t know as much as you suddenly wished you did.

So you opted for lying on your squeaky cot, feeling the burn of the stitches on your hip, the ache of the gash on the back of your head. And the buzz of the florescent lighting above you.

The earplugs did help a bit. And you fell asleep sooner than you thought you would. To the nice relaxing sounds of sick, groaning soldiers, and whatever the flying fuck was happening on this base.

And naturally, that damned dog again.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

THIS IS SO SELF-INDULGENT. "Witch" immediately made me think of my OC Ruth, who I introduced at the very end of my super long Leviathan x F!MC fic, "The Speedrunner's Guide to Romance". She watches over one side of the portal between the human world and the Devildom, so Levi and the MC can visit each other freely. Mammon guards the other side of the portal. That's all the context you really need. Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 14 Prompt: Witch Featuring Mammon Additional tags: booty call, just witchy things, acquaintances with benefits, mild toxicity

Perhaps if she had been sleeping, then she would have missed it entirely.

Only Ruth hadn’t been sleeping, and the loud ding had interrupted her midnight study session. A night owl by nature, she had been very immersed in a book on ancient runes that she had scored from a black market dealer. The shady character had managed to rob the Witty Sorcerer and was pawning off items to those involved with the occult. She didn’t quite buy the authenticity of his claim –as she was acquainted with Solomon herself and found him rather slippery– though she supposed that breaking into one of his many human world abodes could have resulted in a few useful tomes. However, she was just wondering if the book was legitimate (some of the Latin seemed bizarre.. Clunky, as if it had been run through a translator) when the irritating ring of a device knocked her out of her thoughts. 

She checked her cellphone, her favorite tarot card set as a screensaver staring up at her without any new notifications. 

Huh. Weird. 

She turned back to her book, eyes scanning two sentences in their entirety before the noise sounded again. Another glance at her phone promised that she hadn’t missed anything. The time taunted her from the screen. Who was trying to get in contact with her at 2am? For a moment, she sat there, wondering what had made that shrill, electronic noise. Glancing at the TV, she decided that a lack of static ruled out any chance of possession or her last summoning gone wrong. She had made sure to send the ghost back to its realm at the end of the seance, right? She used her locked cell phone screen to check her reflection, ensuring that no specter lurked behind her shoulder. 

It finally hit her upon the third ring. Oh, how could she forget? The whole reason she had lucked into her quaint cottage by the seashore was through her connection to the Devildom. Mild amusement tinged with embarrassment tickled the nape of her neck as she unlocked the drawer that held her D.D.D. –in a bedazzled case gifted by Asmodeus through Solomon. Ruth had a suspicion that it was part of the initial pitch to sacrifice her time to the whims of Leviathan and his lover. 

Though, she supposed you were worth it. She had become rather fond of you and your visits, after all. Leviathan she could give or take. He was always so jumpy around her, as if she posed a threat to him. Had you told him about the enchanted fishing net she had joked was to catch his ass if he hurt you? 

A swift tap of her password and the device screen was instantly overtaken by a message she had not expected. 

1:58am - Avatar of Gambling Yo.

Ruth's stomach flipflopped. Why was he texting her?

2:02am - Avatar of Gambling U up?

He had to be kidding. Or, she was seeing things. This couldn’t possibly be real. Maybe it was Leviathan, trying to contact her because his D.D.D. was broken. 

Wait, no, that wouldn’t make sense. Either his other half, or Solomon even, would message her in his stead. Wait, would that mean you were in trouble? 

2:03am - Avatar of Gambling Yay or nay “Ugh,” Ruth groaned, shuffling her feet as she spun in a circle, indecision –her worst enemy– tugging at her wrists. “Okay. Whatever. It was probably a mistake.”

Though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew it wasn’t. No matter how many excuses she could toss at the wall, they all bounced back with the same answer: this was a booty call. 

2:05am - Witchy Vibes™ I think you meant to message someone else…

Sure enough, her hunch was confirmed by the next message, lighting up her screen alongside memories of a stupid mistake under a full moon, of the first and only time she had tested the limitations of her pact. 

2:06am - Avatar of Gambling Nah Thinkin bout you

She cursed her heart for rabbiting against her ribs, the scene playing as if it were yesterday behind her chocolate eyes. His hair had shone like lightning in the shadows of her room, his lips hot as sin against her skin. They had melted into one, compressed into some shimmering jewel, and she had giggled into his ear when he insisted on snuggling afterwards. He was gone by morning, as was her decorative antique piggy bank.

He had left a note.

‘Til next time.xoxo

Well, he had warned her, hadn’t he? 

Ruth took a moment to reread the text messages, squinting at the lack of punctuation, at the sloppy typing. With a sigh, her thumb tapped on his contact, her conscience prematurely gnawing on her ankles. 

The line rang once before Mammon answered with a flourish, “Ruth! Baby, how ya doin’?” 

She could hear chattering in the background, the ring of slot machines and the cheers of the victorious. “Mammon, are you drunk?”

“Mmm, maybe tipsy,” His answer was crisp and clear, his tongue carefully articulating his words. Or, Ruth supposed, articulating as well as Mammon ever did. She heard the sly smirk in his voice as he proposed, “Care to summon me?”

She hesitated, and hated the way she instantly took stock of her room to ensure it was clean enough for a, uh, visitor. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“That didn’t stop you last time.” 

Ruth swore she rolled her eyes so hard, she saw the Celestial Realm. She worried her bottom lip, considered the date and whether she had anything planned for tomorrow. Did attempting to brew a pesticide that wouldn’t poison the environment out of fermented tea count as a mandatory lab experiment?  

“Well? What d’ya say?” Mammon crooned, and Ruth tasted honey on her tongue. “Wanna have some fun?” 

She had made up her mind the moment he had answered the call, and she knew it.

“Fine. Give me thirty minutes.” Though she tried to sound unbothered, her skin was already buzzing with anticipation, aching for his touch. “And bring the demonus.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Not-Incorrect Quotes, Clothing (And No Clothing) Edition

Victor: [knocking on Smiler’s door, having dropped by their place with Alice] Hey, Smiler? Are you in?

Smiler: [muffled, from behind the door] Oh, yeah! Give me just a moment!

Victor: Oh, it’s okay, take your time, I didn’t mean to --

Smiler: [opens door, revealing they’re in a yellow crop top and short blue-yellow-and-orange patterned shorts] It’s good! You just caught me in the middle of yoga.

Alice: You do yoga?

Smiler: [grinning and stretching] Yeah! Great way to stay limber, I’ve found! And there’s all sorts of interesting poses out there! I could show you a few if you want!

Victor: [eyes riveted to Smiler’s exposed abs, slowly going more and more pink] I -- um -- y-yes, sure. I-i-if you like. Yes.

Alice: [hiding a laugh] Yes, why not? You will have to factor in the risk of Victor’s head exploding, of course. . .

Victor: [manages to rip his eyes away from Smiler long enough to glare at her]

--

Smiler: [talking to Victor through a dressing-room curtain] Come on out! I wanna see how you look!

Victor: [anxiously from the other side] I’m not so sure about this one, Smiler. . .

Alice: [sitting on a nearby bench] I’m sure it won’t be a complete disaster.

Smiler: It’ll be fine! You need to get some more color into your wardrobe anyway, and this is as good a place as any to start!

Alice: It would be nice to see you in something not black or charcoal-gray.

Victor: O-okay, but I don’t think this is the suit for me. . . [emerges to reveal himself dressed in a bright yellow suit]

Smiler:

Alice:

Victor: [shaking his head] Just say it.

Smiler: Okay, fine, you look like a banana, but I like bananas --

--

Victor: [from his own room on a very hot day] Ugh, I can’t believe how bloody warm it is. . .listen, do you two mind if I don’t -- fully dress before I come out?

Smiler: [lounging on Victor’s couch with a magazine] Yeah, not a problem! Do whatever you have to to feel comfortable!

Alice: [sitting with them, half-melted into the cushions] Exactly. Turn into a liquid if it helps.

Victor: [little chuckle] I don’t think I’ll have to go that far. . .I hope. [emerges from his room naked from the waist up, running his fingers through his hair] Ugh, we are definitely going to have to have something cool for lunch.

Smiler: [looking up, prepared to answer -- stops dead as they see Victor in all his half-naked glory]

Smiler: [stares for a moment, then roughly elbows Alice]

Alice: [sits up, with a soft noise of protest at the elbowing -- which dies as she gets a full eyeful of Victor]

Victor: [still puttering around] I suppose we can have a salad, I know I have lettuce in the fridge, but do I have anything to go with it. . .and Smiler, I too am tempted to just have ice cream, but. . .I. . .

Victor: [trails off as he realizes both Smiler and Alice are staring at him]

Victor: [reflexively tries to cover himself a bit, going pink] Oh, I’m -- s-sorry, I know I h-haven’t -- that w-we haven’t -- if I’m m-making you u-un-uncomfortable, I can put on a s-shirt --

Alice: [much too quickly, bright pink] No no no, it’s fine, you’re absolutely fine, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of --

Smiler: [also pink, still staring] You need never wear clothes again.

Victor: [really blushing now] I think other people would o-object to that.

Alice & Smiler: [simultaneously] Other people are dumb.

--

Smiler: So, you’ve seen me and Victor’s abs. Any chance we’ll get to see yours?

Alice: I don’t really have any. . .plus, I tend to be a little anxious about disrobing in front of others. [touches her shoulder] Burn scars and all. Don’t really have any on my stomach, admittedly, but. . .

Victor: We’re not forcing you into anything you don’t want to do, Alice, I promise. You show only as much of yourself as you’re comfortable.

Smiler: Yeah, exactly. Sorry if I came off as pushy.

Alice: No, it’s fine, I know you. [pause] Which is why I also know that, if I do show you my belly, you’re likely to blow a raspberry on it.

Victor: [snorting] She’s got you there.

Smiler: Curse my easily-readable nature.

--

Smiler: [on a video chat with their other friends, after the trio have all moved in together] So, then I told them that it was fifty cents extra to --

Victor: [passes by and drops a t-shirt on their head]

Alice: [follows up with a pair of pants and some socks]

Smiler: . . .sorry, I think I’ve just been informed to stop leaving my dirty clothes on the bathroom floor.

Victor: [calling back] The hamper is right there!

[izzysarchivedblogs]

HE DOES NOT SHAKE HIS HEAD, BUT THE URGE TO DO SO IS THERE.

When he's thinking about everything else in his life, having to confront a lot of trauma and memories in group; he had been thinking about Tony. One of the guys at rehab got him talking about relationships which Clint later found out that the junkie- he knows that's a word with negative connotations- had an obsessive thing about sex and love, and was not suppose to ask people incessant questions about their private lives. Which he had totally struck a nail with Clint and sent him spiraling one afternoon about his own love life.

That results of which came to realize that interest of falling in love again was not lost on him even after how terribly he screwed everything up. Another realization he came to, upon which he lied and concealed about, was that he had an interest in pursuing something romantic with the guy he had been casually sleeping with; of whom he tried not to reveal was the guy who got him into rehab.

If only because the talk about RELATIONSHIPS and specially ROMANTIC ones had come up in therapy and group with the warning how that could conflict or pose as an obstacle to if trying to start something new while being very recently sober. SOMETHING SOMETHING DON'T JUMP THE SHARK. Don't they know that Hawkeye was a tricks and stunt man? He has actually jumped a shark.

CLINT HAS TO TAKE THIS PAINFULLY DAY BY DAY.

The issue encountered here was the man he was having revelations about was the only person he could ask, wanted to ask if he could liv with and stay with him. KATE WAS OUT OF THE QUESTION. Natasha would be wrong because there's some thing with her that would aggravate him, as well as Bucky Barnes would be around a lot. He couldn't call Bobbi back into town, how could he? What's the last time they had talked? Steve got shot by Bullseye posing as Clint. Out of the question. Everyone else simply did not make sense. Dead or not close enough. Not stable enough.

Last on that was that he wanted it to be Tony; there's hope for their friendship and he liked being about him. IT WASN'T ONLY A THRISTING LOOK. He looked at him, and it helped him take a breath before he got ahead of himself. Tony Stark was a good friend, and he had to find those; let himelf find some solace in that and find a calm.

It's like if he could have called Kate, but he knows that she would drop everything when she had told him she need to find herself solo and Clint was not dragging her back to him, until she had found what she was looking for. Kate would have been the only other option, his pride over her brought him that ability to breathe. She's his family, that soothes him.

I DO BELIEVE YOU SAID YOU'D COOK FOR ME. Yes, let him impress Tony.

❝ IF YOU LOVED ME AT MY BARBECUES, than wait until you eat my breakfasts. ❞ Clint's wheeling himself backwards flipping around because he's assuming that Tony will follow him and they'll go to the kitchen for Clint to cook. He could stand, as long as he didn't move which he wouldn't need to as he'll have Tony hand him thing while he stood in front of the stove burners.

A MEETING. He grips the wheels of the wheelchair tight, white knocks and breathe. He could handle going to AA meetings, owning that fact he was an alcoholic and it was so bad. Considering the fact, that presented with a free day, no plans of being hero or walking the city, than he would drinking on day like this. Drinks for all five meals of the day. BREATHE. RELEASE.

❝ AI rights thing? ❞ NOT TO SOUND OUT OF THE LOOP. He could blame that on not having been in New York very long but that had been the worst of his multi-month bender. ❝ Databus. Okay, so that's why I had to find you myself. ❞

He rolls himself back and forth, waiting for Tony to put down the lab tools. ❝ I'm sure you'll work out that problem. ⸻ Now come on, you hungry or what? ❞ He actually missed cooking, so he was looking forward to smelling whatever he decided to make.

Initially there's a look on Clint's face to begin with that Tony recognizes. He's seen it before on other people. He's thirsting. So - maybe there would be sex? Maybe that's something that shouldn't be answered right now but the fact that Tony knows it's on the table as a potential, really isn't going to help with the fact that he can't seem to stop thinking about it.

As Clint handles the absolute volley of questions Tony had sent out to him, Tony picks up a screwdriver and begins to tap it on the edge of his workbench. The nervous fingers are back and he needs something to occupy them. Clint's expression changes as he answers and Tony isn't sure what they mean. Either he's annoyed at Tony for the verbal barrage, he's upset he doesn't know the answers, or Tony's questions have triggered the urge to drink.

Tony mentally kicks himself. I NEED TO CHILL THE FUCK OUT. THIS IS JUST CLINT. YOU CAN BE NORMAL AROUND CLINT.

Was that even true? He's not sure he can be normal around anyone but surely as normal as he can be.

Right?

He takes a large gulp of his coffee and pushes himself up onto his feet. "I'm glad you slept okay at least," he said. "I had a smoothie, but my day is cleared. I do believe you said you'd cook for me as payment for my sweet sweet mattress. Why don't we go have one of Clint Barton's patented killer breakfasts. Outside of that and a meeting, you don't need a plan. Take it as it comes."

He heads over to the elevator and hits the button. "Oh. I meant to tell you since the whole AI rights thing, the system is a huge downgrade. It's called databus and it's basically just Alexa. I'm programming it, but there's a balance between useful and advance and torturing a being with it's own thoughts and feelings that I need to get right. So I'm going very slow. You can ask her where things are and to turn things on and off. But she's not very good at predicting or holding conversation. Isn't that right, Databus?"

"Banter response not found," Databus replied, making Tony roll his eyes and pull out his phone and start adding more to the list of things he wanted to change.

[charming-charlie]

The Compliment Game

Title // The Compliment Game

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Light amount of cussing. Some cute fluff and a bit of spice at the end.

Summary // Buck poses as your fake boyfriend at a friend’s birthday party.

Word Count // 3k

You stared at the invitation before you, trying to hold back a laugh. Having just got the mail, you found a pink envelope mixed in with your bills. The envelope had elegant script and for a moment, you thought you were invited to a wedding. Upon opening the envelope and pulling out the card, your suspicions still stood in place. Glitter fell to the floor and the invitation was written in such a beautiful script, except it was not for a wedding at all. It was for a birthday party. Your childhood friend Viola’s birthday party.

The invitation included a dress code, which basically stated prom attire. Yeah, fat chance of that happening. There was also a list on the back of the invitation with appropriate albeit expensive gifts to buy for the birthday girl. Cool, so money it is!

The invite was definitely in line with Viola’s personality. The two of you were supposedly childhood best friends, and as you grew up, you realized that Viola was a bit of an embellisher. She told the most insane stories, some you knew to be completely fake since you were there when certain events happened. It was like she always had this need to one up everyone she met.

The two of you barely talk now since you distanced yourself from her, but honestly, she was still your friend. However, since Viola liked to embellish, who says you couldn’t either? Why not one up the birthday girl at her own birthday? Maybe she needed a healthy dose of her own medicine.

The wheels were turning as you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts before landing on Evan Buckley’s name. He was, in all honestly, the hottest man you knew. While he was only a recent friend, he was the best option for what you had in mind.

You called him, hearing the phone ring a few times.

“What a coincidence,” Buck said when he answered the phone, “I was just talking about you.”

You were surprised that you were on his mind, especially in the middle of the day. You were sure he was at work too, which only seemed to excite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey,” you said, unable to hide your growing smile, “I got an invite to a birthday party. Want to go with me as my fake boyfriend?”

“Whoa,” you heard Buck say on the other line and you could just sense the confused expression he had on his face, “wait, what?”

You stared at the invitation, knowing full well that this would be the perfect event to have a little fun and maybe put Viola in her place. However, you took what few precious minutes you had on the phone with Buck to explain everything. You talked about your friendship with your friend, and how she just continued to make up her entire life story in order to appear interesting. It was either that or for attention, you weren’t sure which one.

“Basically, I just want to show off the hottest guy I know, so are you in or what?” you finished. You were out of breath from rambling quickly to share your story. You never knew when the alarm bell was going to go off because of a fire or something.

“And you thought of me? I’m touched. Sure, I’ll do it. But you owe me a beer,” Buck said. You could practically hear him grinning on the other side of the phone. “I’ll pick you up after my shift. Say, eight?”

You agreed and the two of you hung up.

This was perfect. Now the party would be very interesting. Who knew what was going to happen?

The hours ticked by and you were dressed. You texted Buck your address and waited for him to show up. He knocked on the door and you truly felt giddy and nearly pranced to the door in excitement. You weren’t looking forward to the party at first, but spending time with Buck? That was clearly a game changer.

Having relayed the dress code to the firefighter beforehand, you were in awe of his outfit choice. Buck was sporting a casual black suit. It wasn’t the fanciest of outfits but that didn’t matter. He looked like a stunner. It was nice seeing him out of his usual fire uniform or regular t-shirts. You could tell he put effort into his appearance for the night.

You, on the other hand, took a page right out of Princess Diana’s playbook. You wore a black dress, your favorite LBD, with some strappy heels. It was your own revenge dress, and you knew it wouldn’t exactly fit in line with the dress code of the night, but did you really care?

You were only going to support your childhood friend and nothing else. You had a card for her with some cash and that was it. You were going to make nice and leave when the cake was cut. That was called being a good friend, you at least showed up to the events you were invited to.

Viola’s parents owned a ranch and she lived in a house on her parent’s property. The drive was smooth, with you and Buck jamming to 80’s tunes and timing the red lights. He was such a charmer, just like he was the day you met him.

There were a few cars when you arrived, and Buck easily parked along the rocky path. Both of you got out and made your way to the front door. Being polite, you knocked.

The door opened instantly, almost like someone was literally waiting on the other side.

Viola appeared and your eyes almost popped out of your head. Apparently the “elegant prom” theme was still ongoing, since she wore a floor-length white gown. It looked like a cross between a prom dress and a wedding dress. Your eyes caught Buck’s, who was standing next to you. He looked horrified. Perhaps he was just now realizing your over exaggerations were not over exaggerations.

His mouth fell to the floor, not from awe, but from shock. The birthday girl cascaded along the floor. Her hair was done up in an elaborate bun and she wore a crown. Not a cute little tiara, but a full blown one thousand gems kind of crown. The kind of crown that was obviously from a costume store, since you knew Viola wasn’t fabulously wealthy like she pretended to be and there was no way she would be able to afford the same jewels as Queen Elizabeth.

“Oh, who is this?” Viola asked you when she saw Buck. No hello. No how are you. She just immediately noticed the eye candy on your arm with absolutely no regard for you, her supposed best friend.

You had to give the firefighter some credit. He cleaned up very well. He sported a business casual suit, not at all falling in line with whatever prom theme that was happening. Then again, you did not either with your little black dress.

“This is Evan Buckley,” you said, trying to put on the best sincere smile that you could muster, “my boyfriend. Happy birthday, Viola.”

Your best friend (although, let us be honest, that is a bit of a stretch at this point), did not seem convinced nor did she thank you for the nice birthday message. Instead, she turned her sights onto the man next to you, and you felt a small hole in your heart forming. If Viola went after Buck… it would not be pretty.

“Boyfriend, huh? What do you do?” Viola asked as she extended out a hand, and you cringed when you saw the white corsage that sat on her wrist.

Buck, being as polite as ever, shook her hand and kept his smile. “I’m a firefighter with the LAFD.”

“What a coincidence!” Viola said with a smile, “My boyfriend works for the LAPD. Maybe you know each other.”

Buck was catching on and there was a sort of twinkle in his eyes as he looked at the birthday girl. “I have friends in the LAPD. What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”

The fact that Buck was pressing for more information caught Viola off guard. She acted busy, acted like someone was calling her name, but you didn’t hear anyone. “Oh, that’s for me. I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah?” she sauntered off quickly, almost like she was rushing away as fast as she could so that you didn’t have a chance to call her back.

Buck turned to look at you with a quizzical expression as if to say, what the hell was that? You only shrugged your shoulders and whispered that Viola doesn’t have a boyfriend, ending the statement with a blatantly obvious eye roll.

The two of you made your way into the house where the party was in swing. No one else looked like Viola, no one else sported fancy gowns or black tie suits. In fact, a few of the party guests were wearing jeans. That must’ve been a highlight in the tea drinking gossip Viola was probably spewing in the corner with some other friends. Is it time to leave yet?

You led Buck outside to the fenced in backyard. There were a few guests here and there, but it wasn’t a massive turnout. Both of you sat on a wrought iron garden bench, away from most of the crowd. It was kind of nice to be there at the party but not really participating or engaging in small talk with the other guests.

“You know,” Buck broke the silence with a smile, “being your fake boyfriend is a lot of work.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to look at him, returning the smile. “You only agreed once I said you were the hottest person I know.”

“Listen, that’s a compliment I don’t hear often,” Buck sat back along the bench, keeping his eyes on you.

“Should I keep them coming?” you asked, and it surprised you that there was a little bit of a tease to your voice. You never noticed that before.

“How about this? You compliment me, I compliment you. I feel that is only fair,” Buck responded.

It took a moment for you to forget that you were actually at a birthday party for someone else. In this moment, on this bench, everything around you seemed to fade into the background.

“I like your suit.”

“I like your dress.”

Okay, starting out kind of simple here but it did make you smile. You thought you wore the dress to impress Viola. Maybe you wore the dress to impress him? Did your subconscious plan that?

“You are very good at your job,” you responded.

His eyes were alight and there was that twinkle again. You could stare into his eyes forever, they were stunning, just like everything else about him.

“Not exactly a compliment, you haven’t seen what I can do,” Buck said with a smirk. That was when he pulled the move. The fake-stretch put-an-arm-around-you move. What in the fresh hell was that? Because, and this is what shocked you the most, it actually worked on you.

“You’re beautiful,” Buck said.

Fuck, he won the compliment game. Your face flushed, fast and hard, creeping down to your neck and down your spine. You had to look away from him, and you heard him laugh when you did.

You didn’t get to enjoy the moment for long because you heard Viola approaching the two of you, with some minions behind her. You looked at her. Her white dress was absolutely blinding in the fading sunlight and you squinted just to see straight.

Buck stood up to greet her and you did the same, smiling politely at her.

“Sorry about that. Being the birthday girl means never ending attention. Anyway, Y/N didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend. How did you two meet?” Viola said. There was a sudden look in her eyes, and you knew. You knew she was catching on, pulling on loose threads to see what would unravel.

You felt Buck slip his hand in your own and he didn’t miss a beat. “Y/N locked her keys in her car. I just happened to be driving by.”

That was the truth. That was literally how the two of you met. If fate were a thing, you would swear that was how you guys met, through some act of divine fate. But you remained quiet.

“Forgive me, but I’m having a hard time believing this. If you are really Y/N’s boyfriend, then kiss her,” Viola said. She seemed to be smirking, like she trapped you and Buck in a corner, like it was a big reveal that your relationship with Buck was fake.

Buck inhaled deeply, like he needed to calm down a bit. His hand gripped yours tightly, but you could feel that it was tensing up. Thank god for that, because you didn’t know how he would react if you didn’t keep him grounded and firmly planted next to you.

“Y/N,” Buck said, and your head snapped to his attention. He was looking at you. Once your eyes fell into his line of sight, he swooped in. His free hand went to the side of your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. His lips landed on yours, moving delicately, gently. You were not in control of your body as you felt yourself pushing into Buck’s muscular physique. When he pulled away, your lips quite literally pulled down into a frown. You didn’t want the kiss to end, and it showed.

Once the environment came back into view and you were aware of your surroundings, you quickly fixed your expression and turned to look at Viola, who looked slumped and defeated in her white gown. Perhaps she truly felt she was going to win the game you and Buck were playing, and she wasn’t prepared for the outcome.

“Is that enough proof or do you need more?” Buck quickly looked at Viola, and he didn’t look very happy. Viola got the hint. She disappeared as fast as she arrived, with her entourage scattering in different directions. Once she and her friends were gone, Buck turned to you and said, “I don’t like that girl.”

You were still in a bit of a fog from the kiss, and you could feel your lips tingling for more. The sensation would not go away.

Eventually, much to your chagrin, it hit you. The moment was over, you proved your point. No need in keeping things going. You did your job, made your appearance with a devilishly delicious man on your arm, and now you can go home and leave Buck alone. He probably was not thrilled with the outcome of events, given the look on his face.

“I think it’s time to put an end to the fake boyfriend thing,” you said with a frown as you looked at him.

There was something new to his expression, an unconvinced look as he shook his head. “Maybe I want to be the real thing someday.”

Was this playful banter or was he serious?

“That would require going on a real date,” you said. You grabbed him by the arm, keeping up with appearances as the two of you walked to the gate in the fence. You unlatched the opening and watched the gate swing open.

“So ask me.”

You stared at him in confusion as the two of you slowly walked toward the car. It was starting to get interesting again.

“Ask you what?” you replied.

“Ask me out,” he said suddenly, not missing a moment.

Your heart was erratic at this point, and you let go of his arm now that the two of you were away from the party.

“Dearest Evan Buckley, would you do me the absolute pleasure of going on a date with me?” you said sarcastically.

He wasn’t playing games anymore. Without a warning, he had you pinned against the car, leaving very little wiggle room. Your body pressed along the passenger side door, and you felt his hands rub against your waist. You were facing him, and you wished you weren’t. Looking at that incredibly handsome face was becoming a weakness. Your knees shook as you tried to steady yourself.

He leaned in and whispered in a soft voice. “Try again.”

You felt his hot breath against your ear as he kissed the sensitive spot under your earlobe. An explosion of tingles erupted throughout your body as his lips brushed against your weak spot.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly. Any louder and you were afraid how shaky and trembling your voice would sound. First, he won the compliment game, now he was winning whatever this was.

“Ask again,” Buck whispered in your ear.

One of your arms ran up his, and fuck, that was a mistake. The bulging muscles were almost too much for you to bare.

“Will you go out with me?” you whispered.

You felt his lips leave a trail from your neck, across your jawline, ending with a sweet peck against your lips as he smiled.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said as he opened the car door behind you, “Let’s go get that beer.”

It was easy to slide into the car since you were already a puddle of goo. Your whole body was on fire just from his touch. Buck walked around the car and entered the driver’s side. He turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. His hand reached for yours and you accepted it instantly.

How in the world did the evening turn out like this? And where in the world was it going to go? You could only wonder as Buck began driving. Inviting him to a party as your fake boyfriend was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t wait to see what else was in store tonight.

[planetsano]

a family-friendly sleepover.

SYNOPSIS ☆ "can I request reki and his s/o having their first sleepover together :) nothin nsfw!! just fluff and the both of them being dorks"

WARNINGS ☆ gn!reader but reki's baby sisters dress you up in a princess outfit.

PAIRING ☆ reki kyan x gn!reader

A/N ☆ I made this into a bullet fic/headcanon sort of thing. I hope that's okay, it's just easier for me to convey ideas! ;(

I don't think it would be planned! It would just sort of happen.

The relationship was still new-ish, with it only being official for a month and a few days, but the two of you were inseparable.

One night after a skate date, you two decided to spend a little more time together back at his house. It was supposed to be an hour and thirty minutes max.

But there you two were cuddling and all pouty because you had to leave.

"It's late. I should go." Your voice is muffled from your face being buried into Reki's neck. His arm was loosely wrapped around your waist, rubbing on your back while. Your hand was on the other side of his neck, snuggling into him closer.

It was silent for a bit, the both of you unmoving because you didn't want to separate—puppy love.

A few more minutes passed, and you sighed. Now you had to get up. You sat on your knees, and you looked at Reki with a pout.

"C'mon, walk me out." You hit his chest gently. He groans and sits up, looking at you in your eyes.

"Do you really have to leave?" Reki asks.

You thought about it. You didn't necessarily have to leave, but you were supposed to, right?

"I mean, no but-" You stated but he cut you off.

"You can stay the night," He pauses, realizing what he just said. He was ready, but that's a significant milestone in any relationship, and maybe you weren't there yet. "Only if you want!" He gave you a nervous chuckle.

"Baby, are you sure?” Your hands found the sides of his face. “Will your mom mind?” Your thumbs rubbed his cheeks.

"I’m sure! She won't mind. I'll tell her it'll be a family-friendly sleepover."

“A family-friendly sleepover, babe?” You giggle and peck his lips.

"Yeah, it sounds PG, Ya know?”

Reki's mom and his sisters were so excited to have you over. His mother showed you some of his baby photos, and his sisters pulled you into one of their rooms. The oldest wanting boy advice, and the younger sisters just wanted to play dress up.

While you were occupied with his family, he took the time to get you everything you needed for the night. A toothbrush, a face towel, and pajamas (which consisted of one of his oversized shirts and baggy pajama pants)

Honestly, he was nervous the whole time he was preparing everything :(

He just wants everything to go well even though it was a last-minute thing, and there wasn't much he could do to plan.

Reki makes his bed and straightens up his room a bit even though it was already clean. Are there enough pillows??? Would you need more blankets??? Shit, he had to grab some extra drinks just in case you get thirsty!! He's a little ✨ frantic ✨

He folds your PJs in a neat square on his bed and even goes the extra mile to light a couple of sweetly scented candles and get more pillows

When he's satisfied, he'll go to his sister's room and knock on the door. He pokes his head in to see you wearing a tiara and an exceptionally poorly fitted princess dress. It was obviously made for a child the way it wouldn't close around your frame. Reki thought you looked adorable, but it was Reki-(Name) time now.

"Can I have my (Name) back?" He asks with a pout. His sisters shout a playful "no!"

"No? Let's fight then!" Reki comes into the room entirely fists raised.

Cue a fun sibling fight for your attention and love—spoiler alert. Reki wins, but only because they went easy on him. It was getting late anyway.

He takes you back to his room after you politely return your costume to his little twin sisters, and pinky promise you'll play again soon.

You smile when you see all the little things he's done and put out for you. You notice it all, from the candles to the couple bottles of water and snack sitting on his desk.

You guys brush your teeth and wash your face together. It's very much that scene from Bring It On. Lots of flirting through the mirror and hip bumps trying to fight for more mirror space.

He only gets "slightly" shy when he realizes you have to change.

"Uh, I'll let you change in here.." He says before he takes pajamas of his own out of his drawer. "I'll be right back!" He says and exits his room.

A few minutes will pass, and he's all dressed for bed. He knocks gently on his door, waiting on your response.

"Come in!"

He slides his door open to find you sitting crisscross applesauce on his bed. You look so sweet in PJs and a small smile on your face while you make grabby hands at him.

"Cuddle time, baby!" You say cutely.

Excited puppy Reki activated.

Reki takes so many candid pictures and videos of you. He makes one of the photographs his phone's lock screen. It's not a candid, but you're posing with two peace signs held up and a cute smile.

You guys are definitely making tiktoks too. (he's a surprisingly good dancer??????)

Netflix, Hulu, Disney Plus? He has it all on his laptop.

You guys get in a comfy cuddle position and watch movies and cartoons for a while. The Scooby-Doo live-action movie? Watched. A few episodes of Regular Show and Adventure Time? Watched.

He notices when you're quieter than usual—your cute little giggles at funny scenes dying down to soft hums.

"Sleepy?" He asks with a soft smile, and you nod your head in response. Your eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the second.

Reki closes his laptop and starts to get up.

"Hnng- Where you are goin'?" You whine and ball his shirt in your fists.

"I gotta blow out the candles and put this up. I'll be back in no time, lovebug." He kisses your forehead, and you let him go.

You watch him get up and put his laptop on his desk, plugging it up to its charger. Before he blows out the candles, he turns to look at you.

"You don't need a nightlight, right? Because I have one if you need it, babe! I'm not judging!" Reki says

"Reki, I don't need a nightlight. Thank you, though, baby." You giggle softly, then pat the warm spot his body left next to you. "Hurry."

He blows out the candles quickly before sliding into bed with you. His body was resting on top of yours while your fingers massaged his hair.

"Goodnight, (Name). I..." He pauses. "I'm happy you stayed." Nice save.

"Night, baby. I'm happy too.."

Reki wants to save the L word for another time.

© all content belongs to rekiri 2021. do not modify or repost.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Prompt: Post 5x19, Kara and Lena finally have a proper conversation. Both sides admit to their mistakes and apologies are given (i.e: a proper reconciliation).

Kara arrives with little fanfare. A soft knock, and Lena opens the door to reveal Kara Danvers, not shrinking, not earnest, just miserable.

Lena has a thought to close the door in her face, but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with the fallout of such a robust decision. So she simply leaves the door open and goes back to putting her teabag in her mug. As she pours the boiling water in, Kara enters and carefully shuts the door behind her. After a few minutes of silence, Kara is the first to break.

“Is this really what you want?” she asks, voice soft. She doesn’t have to explain what she means by ‘this’. She means the awkwardness, the resentment, the loneliness. Lena knows because she feels it just as keenly. 

But that’s not the real issue, is it.

“It’s a little late for you to be thinking about what I want,” Lena returns.

What she wants is what she had. A friend. A life her control, a life fulfilled. The surety that she had finally found people who loved her as much as she did them.

“Sorry,” Lena allows, in deference to the silence that follows. But she isn’t. Not really. The shame and guilt of Non Nocere still lingers, but pales in comparison to the exhaustion that fills her. “I suppose the question is what do you want, Kara?” 

The shrug that answers her looks as empty as Lena feels. “I want you, Lena.”

A laugh bubbles out of Lena, cold and mirthless. “You had me, Kara. Body and soul, you had me. You’re the one who didn’t reciprocate, even though you were happy to let me believe you did.”

Kara nods, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. I always asked more of you than I was willing to give of myself, and that wasn’t fair. I just-- I cherish our friendship, Lena. You have to know that.”

“I did,” Lena confirms, her features stony. “Right up until I found out it was all a lie.”

“Not all of it. So much of it was real. I wish I could prove it to you.”

But Lena shakes her head. “You misunderstand me, Kara. I’m not looking to understand. Not anymore. I don’t--” 

I don’t care. 

It’s a lie and it isn’t. It doesn’t matter much, in the face of what Lena’s done, and that fact weighs heavily on her. She doesn’t bother to finish the sentence. Lets it hang, dangling ominously between them. 

Lena sighs. She’s tired. Tired of the sidestepping and the guilt and the grief and everything else. She’s just exhausted.

Wishing her drink was a little stronger, Lena turns back around and faces her adversary for the night. Kara looks as empty as Lena feels: her features are guarded, reticent. There’s no smile lifting them now, no tears dampening them. All that’s left is the bones of their prior rage and hurt, picked clean by their previous blowouts.

All that’s left is them.

“You used kryptonite against me,” Kara says. Her voice is low, as much an accusation as an expression of hurt. 

Lena exhales. It’s the one thing she can’t justify, even to herself. The one thing she knows she can’t explain away.

“It was poetic,” she says, chin lifting. “All those things Supergirl said-- all those things you said, my best friend, said.” Lena smirks. “If there’s one thing a Luthor loves more than proving someone wrong, it’s proving someone right.”

“That’s all it was? Your Luthor genes just shining through?”

“No,” Lena snaps. She lifts her mug, pointing at Kara, pinning her to the spot. “No, it wasn’t. I wanted you to hurt. I wanted you to feel even a fraction of the pain I felt, the pain you caused. There’s no words in the english lexicon to describe the hurt and the betrayal I felt at what you did, but how you described kryptonite?”

Lena meets Kara’s gaze, the heat of her rekindled rage rapidly cooling back to nothingness.

“At least that came close.”

There’s nothing left to keep them afloat. All the realness their friendship might have had won’t survive this. How could it. 

“Okay.”

Lena freezes. “Okay, what.”

“Okay,” Kara repeats. 

Lena turns, and finds Kara standing in a familiar pose made foreign by her button down and jeans. Hands on her hips, Kara lifts her chin, hair falling around her shoulders. Instead of putting her at ease, Lena feels her hackles lift.

“No,” she snarls, “you don’t get to forgive me.”

“I don’t forgive you,” comes the cool response. “But I understand. And that’s the first step--”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It can be.”

Lena scoffs, gulping at her too hot tea like it’s scotch. It burns, but not in the way that steadies her, nor does it numb the bitterness rising in her throat. “And what if I don’t want it? I don’t want your forgiveness, Kara, because I sure as hell am not giving you mine.”

Oh. Oh.

There it is. The hurt she so desperately needed to see in Kara strikes then, creasing the hero’s face into pained consternation. Almost as soon as Lena sees it, it disappears behind a mask of hardened anger. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be? You’d rather cling to your rage and your hurt than, than… you’d throw us away for that?”

“You don’t understand…”

“Then make me understand!”

“It’s the only part of us that’s real!” Lena’s voice lifts shrilly. Her eyes burn and her throat locks, threatening to strangle her. “If our entire friendship is predicated on a lie, then your betrayal is the first real moment between us and don’t you dare try to deny it.”

The only softening in Kara’s features is the crinkle that forms between her eyebrows. “That’s something you choose to believe. Because in your world it’s easier to believe that the people who hurt you don’t love you. It’s easier to believe that they’ve been playing you all along, but it’s not that simple. And it’s not the truth, Lena. It isn’t.”

 Kara holds her gaze, eyes fierce and defiant. 

“Tell me what you want, Lena. Not what your pride says, or your anger. What do you want?”

In the silence that follows, Lena realizes they’re impossibly close. The air between them pulls at her, magnetized by the earnestness in Kara’s eyes. Finally, Lena relinquishes herself to it, and leans in to press her lips against Kara’s. 

Kara’s lips part reflexively in surprise, then come together to capture Lena’s in turn. But Lena keeps hers steady and sure, almost chaste in the neatness of her kiss. When she pulls away, Kara almost seems to follow her, as though drawn by gravity. But then they both blink, the spell broken.

Kara looks at her in confusion, her gaze tinged with hope. 

“I only ever wanted you,” Lena tells her softly. “The one thing I never truly had.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 8

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language? Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: Bit of fluff with some anxiety/update on primary conflict. Next chapter will be a cute date with Dani, the one after that will be maximum h*rny, and then what will likely be the finale. Music for this chapter here. PS this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I hope y'all still enjoy it. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony

Chapter 8: Obbligato

(Obbligato: An instrumental part which is essential in a piece of music)

“Okay, okay, serious this time, please? I’ll give you a kiss if you try hard enough,” you promised, grinning up at Daniela as you did. A week had passed since your talk in the library, with the two of you spending most days together, and you were progressing nicely with the musical lessons. Still, your girlfriend (you would never get tired of saying that word) was prone to getting a tad ‘distracted’. By you, usually. Not that it was intentional by any means. There was only so much you could do to keep her focused when the two of you were this close together.

“I could just kiss you anyway,” Daniela teased, leaning in with familiar intent. Right before your lips touch, however, she pulls back and smirks. “But if you insist, I can handle the challenge.” Then she’s turning back towards the piano, carefully finding the starting position. Even with her prior experience, you were impressed with how much she had already learned, and couldn’t help but be immensely proud of her. If anyone could meet Lady Dimitrescu’s expectations within a three month timeframe, it was the two of you. Except, of course, you still had to double-check just what her expectations were.

In the meantime, you were excited to hear your girlfriend play through the sheet music you had written up. Most of what you were working with had come from the family’s storage room, but you had also found some blank sheets, and figured it couldn’t hurt to create songs of your own. This particular one was relatively simple. It had been based on a song from a game you had played years ago, and only posed a moderate challenge due to its interesting rhythm. Daniela had seemed to enjoy playing it, with you even hearing her practice the song outside of your lessons, but had so far today refused to play it seriously.

Finally that was going to change. Once she found the starting notes, she nodded to herself, then started playing. For the first time today her expression is stern, focused. Seeing her like this was nice. She was always cute, you just thought that she was extra cute like this. But you tried not to let yourself get too distracted, knowing that you couldn’t give her feedback if you didn’t pay attention. In your head you “play along”, fingers miming the movements, knowing that it would help you catch any possible mistakes. Throughout the piece there are only a couple that you catch, none of them being severe enough to ruin the experience. Finishing with a little flourish, Daniela returns her gaze to you, grinning expectantly.

“Well? I seem to recall you promising me a reward,” she said, perking a brow. Laughing a little, you roll your eyes, before moving in to give her exactly what she wanted. Both of you are smiling into the kiss, enjoying every moment of it. Soon enough Daniela is running a hand through your hair, and pressing against you more, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. You’re blushing hard now, thoughts going everywhere other than music. It’s not until you pull back for air that you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now.

“As wonderful as this is… we still have a few more songs to go over,” you murmured, despite how much you wanted to keep kissing Daniela. By the way she groaned in frustration, you figured she felt the same way, more or less. “Hey, don’t fret too much. Think of this as an opportunity to earn a few more rewards,” you teased, gently patting her on the shoulder. For a moment she simply pouts, but eventually she sighs and gets ready to play another song…

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

Rushing up the steps, practically two at a time, you desperately hoped that you wouldn’t be late. This was your third “update meeting” with Lady Dimitrescu, which by itself was enough to make you a nervous wreck. Add in the fact that this was the first time you’d be meeting alone? And in her personal study, no less? Well, it was safe to say that you were terrified. You hadn’t even been told why things were different this time. No, you were about as clueless as could be, given the circumstances.

By the time you make it your Lady’s study, you cannot tell whether your heart is racing due to stress or physical exertion. Regardless, you make it there in short time, arriving precisely at the scheduled hour. After taking a moment to settle your nerves, you briefly knock on the chamber door. There’s the sound of movement from inside before the way opens. Lady Dimitrescu has to bend a little to see out, but quickly smiles when she meets your gaze. Which was rather unexpected. The last time you had met with her she had been distanced, although still polite. Then again, Daniela had also been with you, and the focus was, as always, on her.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you greeted, giving a short bow per customs. Then you were being waved in, brought over to a small sitting area, where you waited for permission to sit down. Once it was given, you relaxed a little. Maybe I don’t have as much reason to be nervous as I thought, you muse.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. There are no reasons for you to be unsettled, as far as I am aware,” Lady Dimitrescu said, smile disappearing for a moment at the end. But it’s back as quickly as it had vanished. Did she suspect something? Perhaps she had seen the way Daniela looked at you, or even overheard the whisperings of your roommates. Both thoughts do little other than renew your anxiety. Noticing this, Alcina frowns and shakes her head. “I was merely joking. Now, let us get to the reason for our meeting: How are Daniela’s lessons fairing? There is only so much I can glean from listening.” Glad to have something to think about other than your secret relationship with your boss’ daughter, you nodded and began explaining.

“Lady Daniela is making outstanding progress, in my opinion. Even with her occasional… lapses in attention, once she puts her mind to something, she’s quick to master it. At this point she can sight read nearly as fast and accurately as myself. However, we’re still going over vocabulary, as well as keys and their corresponding chords,” you answered, barely able to maintain eye contact with your employer. Thankfully, she seems to have accepted the inevitability of your nervousness. You were especially thankful now that you prepared to ask her a question. “My Lady, may I inquire about what specifically you expect from my teachings? If there are certain genres you wish for Daniela to be familiar with, or techniques-... I must admit I am unsure as to how to best meet your requirements.”

Slowly reclining in her chair, Alcina appears to ponder your question. In the meantime she sips at her beverage, holding the cup as if it were a fragile heirloom (which it could very well be), eyes looking into the middle distance. Then she gives a soft hum, setting her cup down and returning her attention to you.

“I suppose I can understand your concern. In some ways you have already exceeded my expectations,” she said, expression oddly plain in comparison to her positive phrasing. “My daughter has rarely invested herself in anything as much as she has in your lessons. For this, I am left wondering what she finds so captivating- the music, or the one who pulls the strings?... But that is not the answer to your inquiry, is it?” In that moment, you are incredibly still, willing yourself to keep a straight face, despite the racing of your heart. At your silence, Alcina perks a brow, expecting you to respond. You can’t, your mouth suddenly dry. “What I expect is a passion to educate, a drive to see my daughter flourish. I expect you to teach her exactly as much as she wants you to, focusing on whatever brings her the most joy. But I expect professionalism. Your duties come first, above your health, happiness, and all other desires. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Lady. Of course, my Lady,” you replied, stuttering, eyes wide. Did she know? Or merely suspect?... There’s another thought, one you try desperately not to voice, only to hear the words fill the room before you can stop yourself. “May I ask where Lady Daniela’s desires fit into this?” Silence hangs heavy over the room for several seconds. Your employer has narrowed her eyes, lips curled downwards into a sharp scowl, watching you with thinly-veiled anger. All you can do is gulp and wait for her response. When it comes, you are surprised by the stability of her tone. It was almost as if she respected your gall.

“She is young still, with the mind of a lovesick maiden. Daniela does not know what she wants, not really, nor does she understand what she needs. If her… flirtatious nature begins to interrupt your instruction, then your response must be swift, and uninterested. Regardless of how unkindly she takes your rejection, I will ensure that she does not harm you,” Lady Dimitrescu said, giving a stern nod at the end. Though her tone was reassuring, you hardly felt better, considering you were far past the point of turning Daniela down (if anything, you had only turned her on). “Now, with that settled, I believe I should let you return to your duties. Oh, and do tell Cynthia that the tea she brewed was perfect, should you happen to see her.”

Then she looked away, practically ignoring your continued existence. So you rose to your feet, gave another bow, and left before your panic could devolve into a breakdown. Daniela is not going to be happy about this.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 24 - Sci Fi

The battle with the Hive, and the traveler! Moving onto the end game after this. (Still will take a few parts, but the end is in sight!)

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense.

“The numbers don’t look good.” General Gladus stared at the display with a frustrated sigh. “We just have the few Mechs stationed in the Fifteenth Sector. The Hive have a full colony… thousands of drones, directed by a Queen. They have already landed on the nearest moon, destroying the defense base there, and will be within striking distance of the planet in..." He rechecked his numbers. "Eighteen hours.”

Pointing his finger at the hologram, the display zoomed in on the larger dot surrounded by countless other smaller red dots. “The Queen is the key. She controls all the drones. If we take her out, we can halt the invasion long enough for true reinforcements to arrive.”

I nodded, trying to follow along. “So if we don’t have the numbers to defend the planet, we go on the attack and try to strike the Queen?”

“It can take a whole squadron to take out a Queen. “ He quickly put a damper on my excitement, frowning. “A normal Hive drone is the size of a human. She’s larger than two Mechs put together, around six stories tall, with armor to match.”

I thought about the story, what I knew about what technology was available years ahead… Hadn’t Chris gotten a special Mech to fight Queens? “What about a bigger Mech? Big enough to take on the Queen?”

The general paused at that. “The military engineers at the academy have been working on some prototypes… but the bigger a Mech is, the harder it is to control. In a few years we might have one that a single Guardian could operate, but the ones we have now? No one would have the capability…”

“I do.” I interrupted, speaking with certainty. “Let Liam and I try it.”

“Honey, I know you’re a Grade S Guardian, but…”

“I’m more than that. You remember that I almost destabilized? It was because of a sudden increase of my power” Because I’m not really your daughter. “I’m much more powerful than a grade S… “ I reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand. “And that’s not even to mention our 100% resonance match.”

Liam grinned, squeezing my hand. “Trust us, General. Alaira and I can fly anything they can build!”

The General stared at us, obviously unnerved at the idea of sending his daughter into the worst of the fighting. I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Trust me, Dad. I’ll make you proud.”

“…” He let out a long sigh. “I’m already more proud than I could ever be…” He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. Let’s see if you can work the thing… but if you can’t move it perfectly, then the plan gets canceled. I’m not sending you out there to die.”

“Thank you!” Awkwardly hugging him, I felt a twinge of guilt as he patted my back gently.

I wish your daughter could be here to feel your love and pride in her.

“Don’t celebrate too soon… Even if you’re big enough to take on a Queen, we still have to get you to her.”

I stepped closer to the display, studying it. “She’s directly in the center of the army… hiding away on the moon in the ruins of the defense base. With their numbers versus ours… we just don’t have the firepower to get there.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

As the blue writing and loud warning appeared only to me, I felt no fear, no terror at my imminent doom. It was now more annoying than anything else.

If you're not going to suggest anything helpful, then shut up!

Warning!...

SHUT UP! I screamed in my head, feeling a thread of shadowy power emerge from around me, erasing the words from existence.

The warning fell silent.

What… what was that? Some sort of magic? How much about myself is still hidden in my lost memories?

Enjoying the new silence in my head, I looked over at Liam who was staring at me with a worried look.

“Are you okay? You weren’t responding.”

I reached out, smoothing out his forehead, which was wrinkled with concern. “Yes. It’s difficult to explain, though. What did you say?”

“If we don’t have the troops to blast our way to the Queen, then what about a diversion?” He pointed at the area of the diagram between us and the Hive. “We act like we’re staging a frontal assault, and when they’ve deployed enough forces to weaken the rear, you and I strike from behind!”

The General nodded slowly. “It would take quite an attack to make the Hive divert forces to the front… Even if we threw everything we had and left nothing to protect you two, it might not be enough.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry about protecting us.” Grabbing Liam’s hand I added. “You forget who I matched with. We can handle our own defense. All that’s left is to figure out how to make a big enough distraction to give us a way in.”

“DID SOMEONE CALL FOR A DISTRACTION?!”

Princess Ilene pushed past the guards at the door with the two other girls in her group at her sides. “Sounds like a job for the Harem!”

Liam raised his eyebrow. Harem? He mouthed silently at me. I shook my head, not wanting to get involved.

Alaira’s father did not look impressed. “Princess. I don’t recall you showing any interest in military matters previously.”

“That’s before the Hive kidnapped Chris!” Ilene cracked her knuckles. “Now I gotta go crush some space bugs.”

Who says Chris was kidnapped?

“YEAH!" "We're going to save him!” The other two girls struck dramatic poses on either side of Ilene.

“…” The room stared at them in silence.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing away my headache. “Princess, maybe this would work better if you explained to my father what skills you three brought to the table? “

“… I suppose.” She sniffed, gesturing at Wen grandly. “She has designed a Mech with the ability to tow 50 mini cannons.”

Wen grinned, explaining further. “The guns are strapped to a small engine, and will fly at evenly spaced intervals behind the controlling Mech. It’s still a work in progress… You can’t target, and you can’t control them individually… at least not yet.”

“But that’s still 50 extra shots for one Mech.” General Gladus looked much more interested. “How many have you made?”

“Just one, but if I add a small hologram projector to the guns, it will look like we have 50 fully operational Mechs with us! THAT should get the Hive’s attention.”

Ilene and Allie chimed in. “ We’ve already practiced piloting the Mech and can operate it smoothly.”

“… That… might just work…” He shrugged. “Strong work, Ladies…”

“We call ourselves the Harem… Alaira came up with the name!”

“Don’t credit me, please..”

The General glanced at my cringing expression and chuckled. “…Glad to have you aboard… I think.”

“All right!” The young engineer high-fived her companions, grinning proudly. “I was originally saving this invention for Chris, but now I’m going to use this to SAVE Chris!”

“YEAH!”

“…” The General was now staring at me with a look of consternation, to which I raised my hands helplessly. “…Sure.”

“So that’s the plan then.” I took a deep breath, calming the fast beating of my heart at the thought of the fight to come. “The Harem will distract the Hive, and Liam and I will take out the Queen.”

We’ll save the world.

We’ll complete my mission.

It will work… it has to.

“We’ll strike first thing in the morning.” General Gladus watched me with a worried gaze, but obviously held back from speaking further. “… Good luck.”

_____________________________

Liam and I tested out the massive Mech prototype called the “Queen Killer,” able to move it with an ease that shocked Alaira’s father and the engineers. After confirming the plan a final time, I returned back to my dorm to get some rest before the battle.

I found myself too keyed up to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling. If we complete the mission, will I get all my memories back? Will I stay in this world or be forced to leave? Will Liam stay with me? My frantic thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on my door.

Wary, I checked the security system, quickly opening the door once I realized who it was.

“Liam, what are you doing here? It’s still a few hours before we’re supposed to meet for the mission.”

Liam wrung his hands together, staring at the floor quietly. “I… was hoping…”

“What is it?”

“Can you come with me?”

At my nod he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I started to ask where he was taking me, but seeing the determination on his face, fell silent. I didn’t feel any wariness, despite my lack of knowledge of our direction.

_____________________________

“Aren’t you scared?” A voice asked, coming from high above me.

“No.”

“Why not?” The despair in the voice was heartbreaking. “Everyone else is.”

“Because it’s you.” I grinned. “Can’t be scared of you, Liam.”

_____________________________

I blinked, my gaze once again resting on our clasped hands.

I’ll keep trusting you Liam.

He took me to the upper deck of the academy, a large platform surrounded by multiple gardens. In the dead of night, the multicolored flowers and trees were barely visible. Rather than a clear sight, it was a combination of the senses: of impressions of movement, of gentle sounds of the wind swaying the branches and leaves, of brief flashes of colors in the light of the multiple candles that lit up the platform.

In the center of the platform stood a minister, the elderly man looking tired but still smiling gently. Off to the side were the Harem girls, watching silently, and Alaira’s father who stood by with a combination of tears and joy.

The King and Queen were nowhere to be seen.

“This.is…” My voice trailed off, filled with awe at the sheer amount of work it must have taken to move everything up here from the ballroom we had planned it in.

Liam knelt down, holding my hand with a solemn look.

“Alaira... I don’t know if we’re going to survive this battle, but I know one thing: If I’m going to die tomorrow, I want it to be as your husband.”

His hands were shaking with nervousness as they held my own.

“Please marry me.” His words were simple, but they struck my heart with a force that made me sway on my feet.

_____________________________

“Please marry me.” A trembling man held me close.

_____________________________

I smiled at the thought that I had answered this question before. “Yes.”

Liam let out a sigh of relief, standing up and hugging me gently. “Thank you…” He hesitated. “Bel.” The name was spoken only for me to hear, sounding like a prayer.

“You realize we had already planned to get married today?” I chuckled. “You didn’t have to re-propose.”

“I needed to hear it again.”

With a wide grin, he led me over to the center of the platform. There, in front of friends and family, the minister led us through the vows. As I spoke the words, holding Liam’s hands tightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done this multiple times before.

How many lifetimes have I already spent with him? How many times have we been married?

Liam leaned in to kiss me, the gentle movement the barest touch on my lips, and then hugged me tightly against him.

“I love you.” He whispered in my ear.

My father stepped forward and clapped us both on the shoulder. “Alright, kids, that’s enough excitement pre-battle. Go get some sleep. I’ll throw you a combination victory party and wedding reception once we survive the Hive.”

Laughing, Liam and I left the party behind. We were unable to sleep, and simply laid in each other’s arms. My head rested against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breaths. Closing my eyes, I prayed that we would make it though this battle safely.

And just maybe, if we survive this, I’ll figure out how to get our memories back.

I thought of the shadowy power I had displayed to shut the system warning down, an ability I had tried to repeat without success several times since. I don’t know who or what I am… but I do know one thing:

I won’t accept my fate.

_____________________________

Soon it was time for the battle.

Liam and I boarded the Queen Killer Mech and flew it around the battle site, staying out of range of the Hive’s sensors. We floated in Space watching the holographic display from the Mech's communication system as the Harem and the few soldiers Alaira’s father had brought with him advanced from the front. It looked as if there were over a hundred Mechs, an intimidating site, but we knew it was just an illusion, holograms attached to remote guns. Their actual numbers were quite pitiful compared to the army in front of them.

We could only hope the Hive would fall for the trick.

“Advance!” The General’s voice came over the intercom. I felt myself tremble with nervousness at his serious tone. I wasn’t really his daughter. Most of the time I felt like the worst fraud when I was with him. But I genuinely cared for this gruff, strange man. He loved his daughter, and wasn’t afraid to take on the world to protect her.

I hope he makes it. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach at the thought that he might not.

But if we don’t fight, none of us will.

The army of Mechs, both real and fake, moved forward. As the Hive flew to meet them, I got a close look at them through my headset. I had seen their appearance in Alaira’s memories, but somehow, seeing them with my own eyes was all the more horrifying.

Large insects, each the size of a human, with a black and red exoskeleton that coated everything, even the wings. Enormous pincers grew outwards on their heads, sharp enough to tear a Mech open, to cut a human in half. Their dark, multifaceted eyes took in the space emotionlessly. They were unstoppable, insatiable. The Hive’s only goal was to devour, to destroy. They numbered in the thousands; enough to make even seeing the moon the Queen was hiding on difficult.

I felt a deep feeling of terror growing within me, fear and despair mixing, threatening to take away my reason.

It’s not my emotions.I tried to push down the feeling, but they continued to grow, trying to overwhelm me. It’s Alaira’s.

She had died there, next to that moon, surrounded by the Hive. Their pincers destroyed her Mech, pulled her out from the safety of the piloting sphere. She was overwhelmed, and even with the fracturing of her mind she knew she was doomed.

“Are you okay?” Liam’s voice in my ear calmed me down. “Your strong emotions are interfering with the Connection.” I took a deep breath, repeating silently.

You are not Alaira. You are not Alaira.

I knew exactly what it would feel like to die in battle with the Hive, though.

The Hive started swarming to the front, line. The Queen was directing them to defend her against the “larger” threat. There were only a few hundred left to guard the rear.

“It’s working!” General Gladus’ excited voice sounded out. “They’re falling for it.”

“Then we’ll get to work.”

“… Good luck, Alaira. I love you.”

I hesitated. “… I love you too… Father.”

It was time. I grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Focus on your shield.”

He took a deep breath. “You know I can’t control it.”

“You can let me in, Liam. You are in control. Use it for its purpose: to protect yourself. To protect me.”

He closed his eyes, positioning himself behind me within the Connection chamber in the Mech. His hands were on my back, and through the physical touch I felt his nervousness. The air around the Mech seemed to shift, and I knew that I had to act quickly before the mental shield weakened.

I flew the Mech forward, quickly reaching the highest speed. At the noise of our passing one of the drones turned to face us. Soon they had swarmed around us, their pincers opened to attack.

FEAR.

Alaira’s emotions were running full force, but I pushed them down once more, going faster. I could feel Liam behind me, keeping the connection between me and the Mech easy despite its enormous size. We flew into the swarm, and the sturdy alien insects splattered against the mental shield, which held firm under the blows.

Liam and I sighed with relief.

“See? You CAN control it!”

“We still have the Queen to deal with.” Liam’s voice was worried, I could feel his concern though our connection. “She’s a little big to be squished by a shield.”

“Well that’s why we brought the big guns.” After a few more moments we broke through the Hive’s line of defense, and landed on the Moon, trying to locate the Queen.

“Where is she?” The scanners were starting to scramble, as if interrupted by an unknown signal. The Hive shouldn’t have that kind of technology, though.

“I don't see her on the Moon's surface. Has she left? First, let’s try the defense fort. It should be big enough to hide the Queen.” At Liam’s suggestion we flew forward, making our way to the building. The clear defense dome seemed intact, the computers opening an airlock, allowing us to pass forward after communicating with our Mech and confirming our identity.

“How would the Queen be here without destroying the dome?” I muttered, trying to scan the surroundings and noting that it was picking up several lifeforms, even if it was still too scrambled to give a clear location.

“ I don’t know, but I don’t think that hole was there before.” Liam tapped my back, and I looked towards the Hanger, the largest building in the complex. A six story hole had been torn out of the front wall. Wary, I moved the Mech closer, ducking down and entering the main area, which was fortunately tall enough to accommodate our oversized Mech.

The area was mostly lit up, a few of the florescent lights sparking and flickering from recent damage. The few Mechs that had remained had been torn to shreds and tossed in a pile. The space was wide-open, extending outwards into shadows.

“What the…?” My voice trailed off in shock as I stared at the unbelievable sight in front of me.

In the center of the hanger stood the Queen. She was bright white with red and black markings along the side of her rotund torso. She brandished hundreds of spiky claws like a millipede, with large bright red wings extended behind her. Towards the top she sported multiple large pincers, with a final one extending from her head. Her eyes glowed with a bright white light, staring at us with fury.

She was frozen into place, unable to make a single movement.

“What is going on?” I whispered to Liam.

“Bel, you actually made it this far!”

A cheerful voice rang out, causing both of us to groan with frustration. A Mech emerged from the shadows, we couldn’t see the pilot, but Liam and I knew who it was and spoke his name together.

“Chris.”

“I keep telling you, it’s not Chris.” The voice coming from the Mech seemed annoyed, the large robot swinging a sword back and forth. “As always, you two are wrong.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clenching my fists at my side within the Connection Chamber of our Mech.

“Exactly what I told you, Bel: I’m ending this.” He lifted up his Mech’s free hand, and in it was a large bomb blinking with a bright red light. A single red button marked the trigger, and I tensed up as he caressed it lightly with a large metallic finger.

“That’s a uninite bomb.” Liam spoke up. “You’d destroy the moon with one that big! You'll kill us all with the Queen!”

“Exactly! I’m willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to save everyone. Not like you… monster.” He spit out the last word, his voice filled with hatred. “I’m the HERO. I’m the one who everyone cares about. I’m the one SHE SHOULD LOVE!”

“Oh, SHUT UP!” I activated the opening on our Mech, and slid down a cord to the ground, pulling off my helmet to reveal my face. The air inside the defense shield was slightly stale but breathable.

Liam was startled, jumping down to stand beside me. “Bel, wait!”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “Trust me.” The Mech straightened up behind us, falling into a standby position. I looked up at the Mech controlled by the Pseudo-Chris.

“If you’re going to threaten me and insult my husband, then do it to my face.”

“Nice try. If I leave the Mech, I can’t control it. All you’ve managed to do is to give away your only advantage!” He laughed confidently. “I am in control, Bel. The Hive, the Queen… all of it! I’m the only one who can save your soul from destruction.”

“You brought the Hive here… you’re the one who advanced the story so quickly.” I paused, thinking it over. “How come you can go against the story? I always get warnings whenever we stray too far away from our characters.”

“You don’t understand. You never have. All that matters is that the roles are obeyed, that we follow our fate. I may have taken a… detour… but in the end I will fulfill my role as a hero, and save everyone, at the cost of my own life.”

“Why are you doing this?” Liam growled, standing close to me.

“He was hoping that I would give up.” I answered for him calmly, staring up at the Mech with a disgusted expression, “He made a seemingly impossible situation, hoping I would see accepting my fate as my only option.”

I thought of the system's warning that I had no chance of survival. They had tried to manipulate me. Tried to force me to do what they wanted.

But I hadn't.

“You see things so clearly sometimes, Bel.” Chris’ voice showed his approval. “And even though it didn’t work, I can still just end things here. I’ll destroy the Queen, which will complete your mission. The system can erase your memory again and we’ll start over.”

I felt a sense of fear at his words. How many times has this already happened?

“No matter how many times we have to do this, there will only be one outcome in the end: you will accept your fate.”

_____________________________

“You will accept your fate, Bel.” The young handsome man stared at me with disappointment. “You can’t keep hiding with this monster forever.”

“He's not a monster. Besides, you’re the one who sent me to Liam.” I grinned. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“It was temporary. You were supposed to be his prisoner.” He snapped. “Now, because of you, he’ll be the first to be destroyed. You can’t distort the higher realm. Everything depends on it.”

“It’s not right…”

“It’s the reality of our roles. Now enough stalling. What will you choose? Will you follow the rules, or will you let everything be destroyed to protect your precious independence?”

“No…”

“Even you can’t be that selfish.” He growled, reaching out to grab my arm painfully. “Accept your fate, Bel.

“NO!”

_____________________________

“NO!” I shook my head, clearing aside the memory. “No matter how many times you ask me. No matter how many worlds you drag me through. No matter how many times my memory is wiped. I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT!”

“Fine. Then it’s time to move to the next world…” His Mech raised its hand holding the bomb.

“You’re pathetic.” My words were quiet, but seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hanger. “Even when we were in the higher realm you were always trying to trick and scheme to get things to go the way you wanted. You thought by forcing me to Liam’s side as his ‘prisoner’ you could force me to accept my fate, but that backfired too, didn’t it?”

“… “ There was a long stunned silence.

“You… you remember?” The Mech’s head shook back and forth in a jerky movement. “No, your memories were wiped!”

I quickly thought through the few memories I had experienced over the last few weeks. “You wanted me to play my part… but I didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with you. I would solve things my own way, which pissed you off.”

“YOU… NO! YOUR MEMORIES ARE GONE!” The whole Mech was shaking slightly.

“No matter the realm, no matter the roles we play, one thing remains constant: you’re a pathetic loser.” I smiled. “And I like Liam more than you.”

“HE’S A MONSTER! YOU CAN’T LOVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!”

“Bel…” Liam whispered. “You realize you’re making the unstable man with the bomb angry, right?”

“Trust me, I have a plan… probably.”

“Oh, good.”

I looked up at the Mech, raising my voice. “I’ll never love you!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“Get used to disappointment, loser.”

The Mech was shaking more violently as he whispered hoarsely. “Y-you’re lying… you have to be. You don’t have your memories…”

I AM lying. “Too bad for you I’m telling the truth. I remember everything important.”

“…Then what’s my name?”

I spread my hands out helplessly. “Oh buddy, I just said I remembered everything IMPORTANT.” I leaned forward. “You were never important to me. You still aren’t.”

“SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!” The Mech was rocking back and forth with his screams and then suddenly became very still.

“Got him!” I pumped my fist in the air victoriously.

“What’s… what’s happening?! I can’t control my Mech!”

I chuckled at his panicked tone.

“You see, there’s a difference between you and me. You might be the hero, but I’m the one with greater than Level S Guardian abilities. In fact, you used that very trait of mine to try to force me to partner with you. It was a burden before I formed a Connection with Liam, but now?” I reached over and grabbed Liam’s hand. “It makes things really easy. One of the skills I’ve practiced was controlling Mechs from a distance.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible? Only if you’re weak. The distance makes things challenging but it’s still fairly simple for me.” I paused. “By the way, I WAS lying earlier. I needed you to have strong emotions to disrupt your Connection with your Mech so I could take it over.”

“…” Enjoying his stunned silence, I gestured, controlling the “Queen Killer” Mech to step forward.

“Now I could let you blow yourself up and kill the Queen to complete the mission, but unlike you, I don’t feel any satisfaction out of sacrificing myself or others needlessly. I’m also not going to let you die, because I have a feeling that could have negative effects on this world.”

The Queen started moving, whatever restraints the pseudo-Chris had placed on it obviously released. I could feel her anger at being obstructed in her mission. Her overwhelming need to consume life and move on drove her constantly, and even the briefest of pauses enraged her. Her hungry eyes focused on me, sensing a threat.

I released all my abilities to the limit, feeling a light throbbing headache at controlling two Mechs at once, and one of them being the large Queen Killer.

“It’s time for this story to end.” I whispered, feeling satisfaction as the giant robot pulled out a sword and brandished it.

“My mission will be completed.” The sword tore a huge rent in the Queen’s side, spilling green blood. The insect queen screamed in rage and pain, her pincers tearing off some of the armor on the Mech’s arm.

“The world will be saved.” A second strike hit, cutting off several claws. The Queen clamped onto the Mechs’ chest with her mandibles, trying to burrow into the center. I was glad I wasn’t in the suspension gel, feeling the pain of the attack.

“And it will all be done without you.” My Mech swung the sword downward, and the Queen’s head separated from its body. It still clamped onto the chest of the robot, its eyes’ light slowly fading away.

“NOOOO!” Pseudo Chris screamed out, but it was too late. The Queen was dead. Her army would become useless.

The world was safe.

A beautiful chime rang out, and bright blue words formed into the air.

Congratulations!

Mission 100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

Stay in this world?

YES/NO

“It doesn’t matter if you completed the mission or I did. I still have the next world, and the next and the next!” The Mech was still frozen into place, but it didn’t stop his angry words. “Time is on my side!”

I sighed. “No. It’s not.” As I had completed the mission, I felt a strange surge of power. A similar sensation to when I had stopped the system voice from speaking earlier. I focused carefully, and a shadowy power poured out in the world around me, much stronger than before.

“Bel?” At Liam’s worried question, I turned and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Liam. It’s just time to change the game.” He grabbed my hands and nodded silently at my words, supporting me.

I turned my attention to the System’s message.

“We will not stay in this world any longer.” The shadowy power around me increased.

…

WORLD TRANSFER FAILED. UNKNOWN INTERFERENCE.

“Oh, that’s just me. You see… this world’s victory was all I needed to finish piecing together my soul.”

…

“I really do remember everything now.”

And I did. Who I was. Why I had made the deal I had made.

“I fixed every world you sent me to. Without memories. Without my protected status as the heroine. Just a hated side character or villain. Admit it… I won.”

… NOT YET.

“You’re right. There’s still one last story to be fixed.” I grinned at Liam, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “The Higher Realm.”

Our world.

YOU MUST ACCEPT…

“I must do nothing.” The dark power that surrounded me erased the blue words in the air before they could form that hated sentence. “YOU must transfer us back. Back to the beginning.”

…

…

“Do it.” I gave no room for argument.

…

WORLD TRANSFER INITIATED. LOCATION: THE HIGHER REALM.

“I love you Liam.” I hugged him tightly. “Let’s get married one last time.”

“I love you too… But what do you…?”

TRANSFER COMPLETE.

[dukethomas]

Summary: Duke’s parents recover and come home. Written for Duke Week 2021 Day Six: Family Bonding.

I was going to write something angstier for this prompt, but it actually turned into just the comfort part of hurt/comfort. Sometimes I need a good cry about something good happening to characters I love.

Also read it here on AO3!

-

His parents were back.

His parents were back, and Duke could cry and cry and cry forever. He sobbed into his mom’s shoulder for who knows how long when he saw them. His mom pat his back—he was taller than her now—and murmured to him, “It’s okay, baby bird. We’re here.”

The use of the nickname he hadn’t heard since he was in elementary school made him sob harder.

His mom and his dad were, were okay, their mouths weren’t contorted into unnatural grins and they didn’t carry that gleam of hatred and they said they were so sorry and they loved him so much and wow, hadn’t he grown up so much—he turned out to be the spitting image of his mother, didn’t he think?

Duke didn’t think he’d ever stop crying.

“I missed you,” he blubbered. “I missed you every day, I swear, I tried so hard to find a cure or something—”

His dad smiled at him, softly, tears in the corners of his eyes. “And you did. We’re right here, Duke. You brought us back.”

He had to call Jay to pick them up, because his parents no longer had licenses and Duke didn’t trust his hands to not shake in the full force of his joy.

-

In the days that followed, Duke didn’t go out as the Signal. How could he? This all felt like a fever dream; he’d been wanting this for so long. If he didn’t spend every waking moment with his parents, he feared they could revert back to what they were, and it would be a dream after all.

Jay took a few days off of work, and Duke called in sick for a few days at school. The Thomas family glowed with genuine grins, because they were whole. They spent the time catching his mom and dad up on what they missed, and having fun playing games or going out the rest of the time. To his dad’s chagrin, Duke had gotten much better at chess, but no one could beat his mom at Monopoly.

Then life came crashing down around them. Jay had to go to work, Duke had to go back to school, and his parents needed to begin a new chapter of their lives. Unbeknownst to Jay and his parents, Duke skipped his first day back at school to chase down a string of thefts he’d read about in the news.

He could never stay away from Signal for long. Gotham needed him, needed all the help it could get.

It wasn’t a difficult case, by any means. Mad Hatter was about as subtle as a barge. Still, Duke embraced the thrill of hunting them down, as the trail of clues led him right towards a newly opened costume store, Wonderland Haberdashery.

Again. Subtle as a barge.

“What are we waiting for?” a man dressed as a giant white rabbit complained.

The dormouse next to him shushed him loudly. She hissed, “The boss’ signal.”

Duke took that as his cue. He launched into action, running forward with a well-timed punch to the rabbit’s face. “You’ve got one right here.” (Those jokes never got old.)

He let himself loose, using all of his training as well as his own metahuman power to demolish his way through the storybook-themed goons. He couldn’t fight the grin on his face; he was having too much fun. His heart reached a thunderous frenzy in his ears and he loved every second of it. These guys couldn’t touch him.

When the time came to knock out Jervis Tetch himself, Duke obliged with glee. He’d just finished tying him to the wall when his phone buzzed with a notification.

It was three, school was over, and he should be heading home. His parents should be home.

His parents were home. It still felt surreal.

He ran into Jay’s apartment and kicked off his shoes faster than he ever had when doing a superheroic change of clothes.

“Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I’m home!” he called. When he heard no response, a chill went down his spine, and he rushed to the living room. There, his parents sat on the couch, fixated on the TV. The news channel was on, talking about an altercation at—oh.

It was talking about him.

“That’s you,” his mom said without turning back to look at him.

A wad of bile as large as a stone formed in his throat. He knew Bruce probably had contingencies for if anyone guessed his identity. Deny it, prove that he was in school, get a shapeshifter to pose as Signal in the same room as him. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Yeah.” He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie to his parents. “Are you upset?”

He’d imagined this scenario many times. What would his parents say about his vigilantism? He was risking his life every time he was out there, and no parent would want that, but he was helping Gotham. He was helping Gotham’s people, just like they had taught him to do.

“Let me take a look at you,” his mom told him, beckoning him towards the couch. Duke listened, sitting in between his mom and dad. His mom cupped his face with her rough hands, and he leaned into the touch. “It’s dangerous,” she murmured; Duke squeezed his eyes shut.

A firm arm reached around his shoulders, holding him tight. His dad. “But you’re happy,” he said.

Duke nodded, his chin trembling.

They dwelled in a moment’s pause, until he was being hugged from both sides. Duke opened his eyes to see his parents with faint smiles. “We couldn’t be there for you,” said his mom, “but you found yourself.”

“I did,” Duke whispered, crying for the millionth time this week. “I did.”

“We’re so, so unbelievably proud of the person you’ve grown up to be, baby bird. We just wish… we just wish we could have been here to see it happen.”

-

His parents laid down some ground rules. No more skipping school unless he had all his assignments done and he had straight A’s. He had to be home for dinner, and after sundown he was off his shift. He could join night shift with the other Bats only twice a week in a limited capacity, and he had to go to sleep before midnight on school nights. And he would tell Jay his secret.

That had been the hardest one. Duke could barely get the words out, suddenly filled with shame for not telling Jay earlier.

But as it turned out, Jay already suspected it. “I’m no genius, but you’re disappearing constantly. I can never find you. Wayne takes you out of Gotham all the time. That’s not just an internship, Duke.” His jaw hardened. “But don’t think that I’m going to be the cool cousin now and let you break any of those new rules your parents set. Safety first.”

Duke rolled his eyes and hugged him. “Love you, man.”

“Love you too, rascal.”

He had to let Bruce know. He’d been keeping in touch with Bruce throughout all of this, but sparingly. He got the vibe that Bruce was keeping his distance out of respect for him and his parents.

Well, no more of that. Duke shot off a text to Bruce to let him know he was coming, then pocketed his phone. “Hey, Mom? Dad? You wanna ride with me on my motorcycle to Wayne Manor?”

He wouldn’t have actually done it (it was too big of an identity risk), but it was worth it to see his parents’ briefly stunned looks before his dad started chasing him with a noogie at the ready.

Jay drove them all to Wayne Manor. His mom and dad walked out of the car tentatively, scrutinizing their surroundings. Duke fidgeted with his shirt, wondering what they thought. For all intents and purposes, this was his home, if only for a little over a year.

Duke rang the doorbell, ready to greet Alfred, but it was Bruce who opened the door for once. The way he held himself struck Duke. It wasn’t extravagant and flighty like Brucie, nor grim and tense like Batman. Duke’s family were some of the very few to see Bruce Wayne as he really was, without a persona.

“You took Duke in while we were… unavailable,” his mom said before Bruce could say hello.

“Yes,” replied Bruce calmly, wearing something on his face Duke didn’t often see. Vulnerability. Anxiety .

His dad held out his hand. “Doug Thomas. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our boy.”

“It was a pleasure.” Bruce shook Duke’s dad’s hand. “Duke was a delight to mentor and guide. I’m glad he has you both back.”

Duke grinned. “He says I’m a delight but he didn’t think so every time I snuck out of the Manor to track down a lead.”

“You were supposed to be on bed rest.”

“And I rested, in a bed, after I solved the case! I do it every night when I sleep—that’s working overtime on bed rest, Bruce.”

“And you won’t be pulling any of that with us, young man,” his mom told him in a stern tone.

Duke quickly made his eyes as wide, pleading, and innocent as possible. He would never, he was about to say, when Bruce told them to come in.

“A better man than I expected him to be,” his dad said once Bruce had moved far enough he wouldn't hear. His mom hummed in agreement. “And Duke, you felt safe with him?”

Duke snorted. “Define safe.”

“Smartass,” Jay muttered, behind the three of them. He’d been through the tour already. He had a begrudging respect for Bruce, but he wasn’t impressed.

“And who taught me to do that, ever since I was a little kid?”

Duke yelped as he dodged a smack from Jay. “I’m fragile, don’t hurt me!”

“You’re not fragile,” said the amused voice coming from down the hall. Cass, here because Duke asked her to be. Because he wanted his family to meet his family.

“Oh! Mom, Dad, Jay, this is Cass.” He dragged them over to meet her. “She’s like… she’s my sister.”

Cass nodded, observing Duke’s family. “Good to meet you.”

At his parents’ confused glance, he told them, “When you were gone, I made new friends, but I also found new family. Cass isn’t your daughter or Jay’s cousin, but she’s my sister.” In his chest, he felt a weight alleviate, one he hadn’t even been aware of. “Wait until you meet Damian. Remember how I always wanted a baby brother when I was a kid, but you guys kept telling me that I was enough of a handful?”

As he kept introducing his parents to the family he made, he felt a warmth grow within him, tickling his ribs, infecting his lungs. It was like he couldn’t do anything but beam from ear to ear, now that he had almost everyone important in his life gathered together. (He would introduce them to Izzy, Riko, and the rest of the Robins soon.)

His family had been shattered, but Duke had picked up the pieces and created something new. And it could never be the way it was, but that was okay. Duke was happy with his family the way it was now.

His parents were home; all his family was home. Duke couldn’t be happier.

[syllvane]

muscle memory pt. 6- sylvie x reader

a/n: here it is, clocking in at a whopping 2.4k words!! spoilers for the middle and end of episode 3 and for the beginning of episode 4! this is very plot heavy, but i hope you guys enjoy it!

read the previous part     read the next part     read the series  

Your whole body ached and it was only then, laying face down in the purple dirt of Lamentis, did you realize how tired you were.

Well, you supposed that on the side of the train tracks seemed as good as a place as any to take a nap.

“Give me the TemPads,” You heard Sylvie say nearby and what sounded like her pulling out her dagger not long after.

Right.

You groaned slightly as you stood up, regaining your bearings as Sylvie held her dagger to Loki’s throat.

Loki looked over at you.

“Is she always this violent?”

You looked at her, tilting your head slightly, opening your mouth to answer before Sylvie shot you a look. You closed your mouth.

“The TemPads, now,”

Loki held his hands up defensively before opening up a little pocket in space and time to reveal the TemPad smoking, crumbling into nothing as Loki held it.

He opened up a second pocket in space and time to reveal the same thing- wait, when had he taken your TemPad from you?

Sylvie lowered her dagger, her hands shaking slightly and you felt yourself going perfectly still.

Nothing like realizing that you’re going to die to sober you up.

“Oops.”

“You asshole. You killed us!”

For a second, you were worried that Sylvie was going to pull her dagger on him again, though your worries were abated when she walked past him, letting out a pulse of green magic as she screamed.

She sat down on a rock a little bit ahead, all of the fight seeming to leave her body.

You walked past where Loki was standing, patting him on the shoulder gently as you passed him before sitting down next to Sylvie, your knee touching hers.

“I’m sorry,” You told her and she scoffed.

“Everything I’ve done has been in the name of getting you back and making a life for us. Now all of that is gone. We’re going to die on this moon.”

“Not all of it.”

She looked at you.

“What?”

“Not all of it is gone. I’m right here,” You grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone anymore.”

She stared down at your intertwined hands for a couple of seconds before looking back up at you and the way that she looked at you... the way that she looked at you made you feel silly for ever believing that she wouldn’t love you. 

“I missed you so much. I’m still angry, don’t get me wrong, I’m just.. I missed you,” She told you and before you could respond, Loki walked over to where the two of you were sitting, standing in front of you both, demanding your attention without saying a word.

“I have an idea.”

“What?” Sylvie asked shortly. 

“The Ark- before you say it, I know that it gets destroyed before it makes it off the moon, blah blah blah, but it’s never had us.”

No one spoke for a couple of moments.

“We hijack the Ark and get it off the moon,” Sylvie said and Loki nodded. “It’s better than just sitting here and dying, I’ll give you that.”

Both Sylvie and Loki looked at you expectantly.

Truthfully? You would rather die here than risk going back to the TVA again.

There are worse things than death and you are well-acquainted with them.

And still, there is the smallest glimmer of hope in Sylvie’s eyes and you will not be the one to extinguish it.

“We don’t have much time, we need to move.”

A ghost of a smile flashed on Sylvie’s face as she stood up, helping you stand up as well.

“Wait, really?” Loki asked in disbelief, following the two of you as you started the long trek to Sharoo.

By the time you could see the skyline of the capital city, the lavender sky had deepened in color. Whether that be because night was falling on the moon, or because the planet that it had orbited around for so long was starting to block the star that had given both of them life, you weren’t completely sure.

“What if you enchanted me and walked for the both of us? Or I take a nap in my subconscious and then you could just wake me when we arrive. Yeah?”

Although Loki missed the look that Sylvie gave him, you did not.

“That’s not how enchantment works,” Sylvie said pointedly and you didn’t miss the curious expression that came onto Loki’s face.

“How does it work?”

“It’s not… fine. You want to know how enchantment works. I have to make physical contact with the target and grab hold of their mind.”

“How?”

“It depends on the mind. Most are easy and I can overtake them instantly. Others, the stronger ones, it gets tricky. I’m in control, but they’re there, too. I have to create a fantasy from their memories.”

Loki slowed down, looking at you.

“So you… you’re a Variant.” He said slowly and you nodded.

“Everyone at the TVA is.”

He completely stopped this time, staring at the two of you in shock.

“What?”

Before you could say anything else, an announcement from the Ark stated that there were only ten minutes left before launch.

“We have to hurry up if we’re going to make it,” You said and although the other two didn’t say anything, they matched your pace as you started walking faster towards Sharoo.

From the bits and pieces that you remembered about it, Asgard was one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy.

It was gold and filled with luscious green gardens and after visiting many other places in the galaxy as an agent for the TVA, you still weren’t sure if anything could compare.

Sharoo was beautiful in a completely different way.

Where Asgard was an all natural beauty, Sharoo was neon lights and graffiti and futuristic design. It probably would’ve been even more beautiful if it wasn’t illuminated by orange flames.

“Do we trust each other?” Sylvie asked.

You grabbed her hand, squeezing for a second before letting go, not needing to say anything.

“We do and we can,” Loki responded, looking around the city as well, trying to find the best vantage point to get to the Ark.

“Good. Because this is going to suck.”

Sylvie took your hand again, leading you through the crowd as Loki got onto an overturned stall.

“They’re going to let all of these people die,” You said quietly and Sylvie didn’t say anything, only squeezing your hand in reassurance.

The three of you watched as the gates that were directly in front of the Ark closed, presumably to keep the growing crowd out.

“We have to get on the Ark and make sure it takes off.”

“How?” Loki asked and you looked at your surroundings, trying to figure out the best way to access it.

“We go around,” You said and Loki jumped off his pedestal, his arm instantly around Sylvie and his hand on your shoulder as he led the two of you to an alleyway, saving the both of you from being trampled, and the three of you continued running until you reached an open space.

You all stood still for a moment, assessing the situation before you felt a sickening crack- for a moment, you were sure that you must’ve broken something, but as you looked at Sylvie and Loki, you realized that they had felt it too.

You looked at the sky above you just in time to see the jade-colored planet that had been looming above you all this time split apart- not even split apart, really, crumble was a more accurate word in this situation.

Everyone around you watched silently as the crack rang through the air, paralyzed by fear.

After the first couple of meteors hit, fear turned into panic and screams rang out all around you as people found the ability to move again.

The three of you continued running with a new sense of urgency, though this time instead of running to safety, you run right into one of the falling pieces of the planet.

Compared to this, you almost missed the pain of being thrown off the train- at least you were sure that that pain would stop. At least you knew then that Sylvie was safe.

You stood up, your ears ringing and your head spinning.

Loki was already beginning to stand up as well and you offered a hand out to Sylvie, whose eyes were still closed.

She took it, opening her eyes and letting out a shaky breath before the three of you continued running, this time into the safety of a restaurant.

“You okay?” Loki asked, posing the question to both of you.

“Yeah,” Sylvie said and you nodded as well, more focused on the other two people who had entered the restaurant.

One grabbed Sylvie’s cloak, trying to knock her off balance and she disposed of him with ease.

Loki tossed you one of his daggers and seconds later, you threw it through one of the guard’s helmets.

You walked over to where the body had fallen and grabbed it as Loki disposed of the other guard.

The three of you ran out of the other entrance, missing another meteor strike only by a couple of feet.

You continued running, Loki and Sylvie helping to navigate the collapsing city.

The sound of creaking metal filled the air and for a second, you were worried that the planet was crumbling even more, if such a thing was even possible.

When you looked up, you felt a brief sense of relief as you realized that it was only a building that was falling on you.

“I got this,” Loki said, planting his feet and Sylvie pulled you out of the way, the two of you watching as the God used his magic to suspend the falling building midair before pushing it so that it fell over the other way.

“Come on, we can still make it!” Sylvie yelled over all the noise and Loki sprinted after the two of you, joining in as you and Sylvie fought through the guards before the three of you were finally standing in front of the Ark.

It feels like a nightmare when a piece of the planet slices through the Ark in half.

For a couple of moments, the three of you are unable to do anything but stand there and watch the destruction, watching the last chance that you had of escaping Lamentis-1 go up into flames.

The guards are motionless as well, watching the thing that they had been trying so hard to protect get destroyed- you even see one kneel down on his knees, overcome with the grief of it all.

Maybe they were finally realizing what was going to happen to them.

You put your hand on Loki’s shoulder, watching his chest heave- even if he didn’t say anything, you knew that he blamed himself for the failure to save the Ark and everyone else on it.

You then lifted your hand, walking after Sylvie.

The three of you find yourself outside of the city once again, watching the smaller remnants of the planet crash into the moon. You rest your head on Sylvie’s shoulder- you didn’t want to go back to the TVA, but somehow this feels worse.

The thought of dying in the arms of the woman that you love provides very little solace in the face of imminent death.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said, taking a seat next to you. “I’m sorry that you two will never get the life you wanted.”

You didn’t look up at him, but you offered your hand to him- you both were equally to blame for getting drunk on that train. You both were responsible for the failure of Sylvie’s plan. The least you could do was offer forgiveness to him.

He took your hand hesitantly, as if you might pull away from him as soon as he grasped it.

You didn’t, and he held on.

“Well if I have to die, I’m glad it’s by her side. There’s nowhere I’d rather be at the end of the world,” You said and Sylvie looked at you with indescribable fondness and sadness. “If I can’t have a life with her, then at least I get to die with her.”

“This is how it always ends for us, isn’t it? With the end of everything as we know it,” She remarked bitterly and you shrugged, something that was difficult to do with the way your head was resting on her shoulder.

“This isn’t so bad,” You replied, watching as smaller chunks of the planet continued to impact the moon. “I mean this is awful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the worst way to go. Surrounded by friends.”

Loki shifted besides you and you wondered to yourself if anyone had ever called him that before- a friend.

It didn’t matter much now- soon the larger chunks of the planet would crash into the moon and the three of you would die, your words and any memory of them gone as well.

Still, they seemed to mean a lot to him and you supposed that was all that would matter, in the end.

“It won’t be long now,” Sylvie said as she rested her head against yours, watching as bigger chunks of the planet creeped closer and closer. “I didn’t say it back before, when you told me on the train. But I love you too. More than anything.”

“More than time itself?” You asked jokingly and although you couldn’t see her, you were sure that she rolled her eyes by the laugh that she let out.

“Especially more than time itself.”

You sat up and let yourself look at Sylvie one last time, wanting her face to be the last thing that you saw before it was all gone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the impact of a large chunk heading for the three of you and with your free hand, you cupped her cheek.

Gods, you were going to miss her.

Before the impact could reach you, you saw two familiar opaque doors appear behind Sylvie and Loki and you felt your heart drop more than it had when the Ark was destroyed.

Your saviors were here, only they were here in the name of the agency that had imprisoned you in the first place.

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Read on FFNet

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 3 on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Ginny had disappeared, dragged through the kitchen door, before Harry could come up with an excuse to keep her by his side. He sighed and took a long gulp from his glass of firewhiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. Whatever his family was so wound up about, Harry knew he wasn't in danger here, so he hoped the drink would dull his overactive auror instincts so he could enjoy the evening.

"So...how's the shop?" asked Harry, choosing to focus on George, "any accidental new body parts I can't see?"

"Harry, I'll have you know that we ascribe to only the highest of safety standards at Weasley Wizard Wheezes," said George with his nose in the air, "We strictly adhere to a dual-fault system to make sure a trained wizard is on-site to intervene in case of emergency."

"By that he means that he doesn't try any weird shit on himself without me there to rush him to St. Mungo's," said Ron with his mouth full, wincing as his mother smacked him in the back of the head with a wooden spoon for his language.

Harry's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "So you two are already partners now? Really wasting no time on bailing on me, aren't you?"

"Don't be a prat!" grumbled Ron. "No, like I said, it was just a thought that I had. You know, the kind of thought you would hope you could share with your best mate without him jumping down your throat?"

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea," Mrs. Weasley announced loudly from her place at the stove."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? You're glad that another one of your sons is considering wasting his life at this silly business, instead of a respectable job at the Ministry?"

"Well, if said Ministry job involves chasing after Death Eaters every day," huffed Mrs. Weasley, "Then I suppose my nerves will take any alternative."

She sent a stern look towards Harry and pointed a threatening spoon at him, making him jump back. "You could do well to learn from Ron in that regard, Harry."

Ron was grinning ear to ear, bouncing in his seat from being the favorite child of the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with Ron doing the responsible thing." she lowered her voice to a grumble so Harry barely heard, "at least someone is."

Harry surveyed the tense atmosphere in the room again.

"Okay, what's got everyone in such a mood?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No one's in a mood!" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time, and his voice too was less assuring than Harry usually found it. "I'm having trouble with a fascinating new muggle device I've discovered, would you mind giving me a hand out in the shed?"

"Oh. Sure," said Harry easily. Mr. Weasley got up from the table and led Harry outside. They entered the man's infamous tool shed, and Harry noticed new mechanical and electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley gestured to his work table, where a VCR sat.

"I've heard that muggles use this to see recorded images, like a pensieve, but I've put in those black blocks, and nothing happens."

"Oh, well," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "You need to attach it to a television. It can't just work on its—"

He was interrupted by the door opening again, and Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley entering the shed which he always knew her to avoid, wanting nothing to do with her husband's "nonsense" tinkering.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked crossly, "We agreed we wouldn't. The boys—"

"I told them I was getting apples from the orchard," his wife said dismissively. She crossed the shed and looked beseechingly at a very surprised Harry.

"Harry, dear, you know how we think of you as a part of this family. We've been wanting to say….we hope that you don't think that has changed because of you and Ginny's relationship. We know young men have trepidation about 'the girlfriend's parents,' but you're not just our daughter's boyfriend to us, you're one of our own."

Harry was as touched as he was confused. "Th-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"And one reason we had no objection to you and Ginny dating," Mr. Weasley continued, "is that we trust you to always do right by Ginny. To always do what's best for her."

Harry looked back and forth between them, their expressions pointed and expecting.

"Well — ehem — I'll remember that. I promise to never do anything to hurt her." He meant it.

There was another moment of silence before Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.

"Sooooo…." she prompted. "We just want you to be aware that….should you decide to propose…you wouldn't have to worry—"

"What!?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he knew his face had turned scarlet. "Oh, no no," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm glad to have your blessing, but we're not ready to think about that yet."

Harry rubbed his neck nervously. It was only a half-lie. In truth, Harry was ready to think about that. He thought about proposing to Ginny damn near every day, in fact. But he was fairly certain that Ginny was still years away from being ready. She was fiercely proud of her independence and she was still dealing with the papers referring to her as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" before "star Harpies Chaser," even without marriage.

Mr. Weasley sighed in what seemed like disappointment and Mrs. Weasley's mouth thinned and her expression turned sour.

"Well...the roast should be done, we should all head back inside."

The Weasleys led the way out of the shed and Harry cautiously followed them. When they arrived back in the kitchen, Harry saw Bill shoot his father a stern, questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Weasley shake his head grimly, and Bill and Charlie gave Harry a glare that would make Mad-Eye Moody quake in his boots.

Harry froze and all the breath left his body. It suddenly all made sense. He was the thing that the Weasleys were so on edge about. Ginny's parents inquiring about him marrying her.

They had somehow found out that he and Ginny were living together.

Harry suddenly felt like a sheep in a cage with several wolves.

"Hey mum," said Charlie, "while you were outside, Aunt Muriel floo-called and said that the gnomes are in her attic again. Apparently she's upset at the way dad tried to take care of it last time."

"Is she sure it's actually the gnomes, or is it the doxies nesting in her hair?" Mr. Weasley grumbled as his wife shooed him into their sitting room and through their fireplace. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as the few Weasleys he could count on to not murder him due to this secret getting out abandoned him with the curse breaker, dragon tamer, master prankster, and Ministry power-broker.

Several murderous eyes turned towards Harry.

"Look...er…" Harry stammered. "I really thought that, after everything, we had all moved past the whole 'overprotective big brothers' routine."

"Yeah, we thought we had too," said Charlie darkly, "but mum and dad's diplomatic approach clearly didn't work, so the gloves are off. I guess we never figured that the savior of the bloody wizarding world would do this to our sister."

George snorted, still finding this whole thing quite amusing. "Sorry, do this to her? Harry's the real victim here. Ginny's a nightmare already, can you imagine what living with her will be like now?"

"What the hell are you lot talking about?" Ron cut in, looking around the room in confusion.

"I think your brothers have become aware of me and Ginny's...status change," said Harry.

"Oh, that is just so typical!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms and adopting her lecturing pose. "Ginny is perfectly capable of handling her own life and she doesn't need a bunch of chest-beating men to defend an outdated notion of her 'honour!' I still can't believe how sexist magical society can be sometimes."

"Yes, Hermione, our world is sexist, whether we like it or not" said Bill, not backing down. "You can pontificate all you want about how it's not right, or a double standard, but once the public finds out about this — and sooner or later, they will," he shot another glare at Harry, as if he wrote to the papers about it himself, "then it will change how people see her. And since she's a Quidditch star, the way people see her matters."

"Yup, can see the headlines now," George sighed dramatically, "the ambitious social climber Ginevra Weasley, raised in a pauper's home, so she used her feminine wiles to land herself this sweet gig."

"Look, ultimately, it's none of our business — no, I'm serious!" Ron finished in response to his brothers' looks of betrayal. "Look, Bill, Charlie, you two were only around when Ginny was a little girl. You didn't go to school with her. You never saw first-hand what happens when you try to meddle in her life to defend her virtue, trust me." He shivered a bit, as he remembered the traumatic memory.

"I don't even understand why we have to meddle," said Percy, "I just don't understand your logic, Harry. There's no question you would be willing to throw yourself into mortal danger all over again to protect Ginny. What you're hesitating to do is comparatively easy."

"His reasons don't matter, he should have thought of that earlier," said Charlie, pointing a threatening finger at Harry. "I don't care if this makes me a hypocrite, but you're going to do the right thing and—"

Ginny suddenly burst into the room, causing every word to fall silent. Harry knew that Ginny always hated it when people were obviously talking about her, but as he started towards her, he was surprised when he saw that her eyes were watery with tears. Ignoring all of the eyes on her, she ran straight towards Hermione, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Erm, is something wrong?" asked Hermione. She threw a questioning look to Fleur as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, but the young mother looked just as confused as anyone as she took Victoire back from Bill.

Instead of answering Hermione's question, Ginny withdrew from the hug and smacked Ron upside the head.

"Ah! What the shit!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ronald, language!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, re-entering the kitchen along with her husband, making the room quite crowded.

"That's your main concern?" asked Ron, "Not the unwarranted physical assault?"

"It's not unwarranted, it's for being a stupid, forgetful git!" barked Ginny

She walked up to Harry and took his glass of firewhiskey, still mostly intact.

"I need this more than you," she informed him, and began to raise the glass to her lips.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's ear-piercing shriek caused everyone in the room to wince, and Ginny momentarily jumped behind Harry for protection. "Merlin's balls, WHAT!?"

"Molly…" Mr. Weasley cautioned.

"DO NOT 'MOLLY' ME, ARTHUR!" his wife shouted back. She had a crazed look in her eye and she was pulling at her hair. She rounded on Harry and Ginny.

"We have tried to be respectful, but you two are clearly not ready for this kind of responsibility! I am so disappointed in you both for not taking this more seriously! You haven't even given a thought to how this will affect your careers!"

"Our careers?" asked Harry, confused. "How would that possibly—"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had gotten it completely wrong about what the Weasleys were talking about. The talk about responsibility, their careers, affects to Ginny's public image.

Somehow, the family had gotten word about the "honour" bestowed upon Harry by the Wizengamot, and all the implications that had for his and Ginny's future together. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that Arthur or Percy had heard about it through their Ministry connections.

He looked sideways at Ginny, and from one look he knew that she had come to the same realization. Both their faces split into wide grins as relief flooded through them that all of this drama was over something so silly. Apparently, the family somehow had the absurd idea that Harry would keep the title and actually take the status, power, and responsibilities being offered to him.

Harry and Ginny cracked up into delirious laughter, leaning on each other for support, which did nothing to help the livid look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh Merlin's beard, is that what has you all concerned? Don't worry about that," laughed Harry, waving one hand dismissively and wrapping the other around Ginny's shoulder.

"I mean, come on, we're obviously not keeping it!"

There was a moment of silence, then the entire kitchen exploded.