#universe stop giving me your hardest battles

[transformers-spike]

I cannot be the only one who wants to bang peepaw Alpha Trion plEASE TELL ME IM NOT ALONE 😭

I will never stop being an old man enjoyer. Give us your spike, peepaw

“I’m relieved we aren’t the only ones in this universe.” The words echo in his processor like sand in the desert wind. Fading in and out of consciousness under the rubble, he clings onto the softness of your voice, the faded edges of your smile burnt into his memory. He cannot make sense of your shape anymore, it’s a blotch of ink in his vision, something he recalls but cannot fully visualize. His mind reaches out to you, so close yet so far away. With every step he takes, you grow smaller, and still, you patiently wait for him with your arms outstretched. Like old times. You are dead. This he knows. Unequivocally dead. His digits twitch, warnings encapsulate his vision, reminding him each and every nanoclik of wakefulness that the next in-vent could be his last. He can’t help himself. Duty has led his life for so long, bestowed upon him by his creator, and he cannot fall back now and forgo his promise to protect Cybertron. But he is weak; pain receptors growing numb from the boulders crushing his frame, limbs quivering from a battle long lost. Primus forgive him, allow him this final comfort. Cycles ago, your crew had first established contact with Cybertron. It was a message sent across space, a simple signal that would tie your fates forever. The Council debated answering, fearing you could pose a threat to their planet, but there were only three ships with only a handful of members each. They chose fraternization over static silence. Communication was difficult, but somehow, someway, you understood each other just enough to arrive on their planet. Surprise struck him when he saw your kind, small, frail and soft to the touch. Your people were just as startled as them, but in your optics he saw something greater; a delight in meeting fellow sentient beings. They took in your crew and treated them like brothers and sisters, communicating through gestures and drawings. You could not speak their language, but they could learn yours. Knowledge was shared among you, tales of your worlds, their history, your technology, your people… Perhaps your place among your own was what drew him to you. Standing on the sidelines, you watched and took notes, occasionally serving as a sketch artist to exchange information. The others were mingling with the Council, asking questions, telling stories, showing what machinery brought you to them. But you kept your distance, politely nodding along and busying yourself with your notebooks. When he approached you, taking slow careful steps, you nearly dropped your pen in shock. His size was already intimidating by Cybertronian standards, but for a human? He could barely imagine the primal fear you felt when met with someone of his stature. You recovered quickly despite it, uneasy but maintaining your composure. Having knelt down to your level, he offered you servo, the sand within it shaping into a miniature version of your ship. You blinked, clutching your notebook to your chassis. Then, after a drawn out silence, you smiled, optics gleaming with wonder. That was the start of your companionship. You would sit in his servo, looking up at the night sky, speaking words he could barely understand but tried his hardest to learn. He recalls bits and pieces, meanings he managed to grasp through what you taught him. It wasn’t long until your time together grew intimate. As a prime, he was so focused on his duties that he barely got the chance to relax, much less interface. Things were… difficult due to the size difference, but there were workarounds. Charge runs through his fuel lines at the memory. How you would brush your digits against his valve, testing the waters so to say, before slipping your servo inside of it. There was no true relief in the interface, no way for you to properly satisfy each other. But you were both content, savoring every moment of your companionship. You would press your lips to his spike, working your servo in and out of his gushing valve. It made his frame shudder and his optics glitch.

He touched you much the same way, digits rubbing at the sensitive nerves between your thighs, gazing down at you lovingly as you grit your denta and arched your optical ridge in pleasure.

[ambagel]

Worst decision of my life

NOOOO

GRIM IM SORRY I LOVE YOU

IM SORRY STITCH AUGH

Also no matter what you pick, Grim is all like "That's MY hench-human!" *SOB*

[thegreatestsandwich]

hello may i request real world reader gets sent to black panther universe she has the same ability like poison ivy and Aquaman or dream of the endless whichever power you want to give her. but instead of going to black panther universe it's an alternate universe of black panther where the characters are dark and obsessive over her. but in the end it's Namor that gets her. may i have smut as well, if you don't write smut i'll understand, sorry if this is allot.

thank you.

Darling I’m a nightmare dress like a daydream (Namor x Poison Ivy!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x Poison Ivy!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: One moment you were in Arkaham Asylumm, the next one you were in a cave, underwated, with an almost naked man threatning you.

Warning: SMUT and a really obsessed Namor with your powers

A/N: So, I think I read this request wrong...I'm so so so sorry

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

You were carefully examining the walls that surrounded you, your hands touching the smooth yet harsh surface with intrigue. You tried your hardest to understand what was happening, just a few hours ago, you were in Arkaham Asylum, your home for some years, living the same routine day after day. The darkness surrounded you, cutting you away from photosynthesis, cutting away your life.

Your skin was pale and without life, the beautiful green that covered your skin was completely gone. You almost gave up if it wasn’t for Harley Quinn, who broke into that goddamned prison and destroy your captivity and help -dragged- you away from this hell. You couldn’t be more grateful for her. She helped you emerge from that darkness and as you fell to your knees, completely overwhelmed with the rawness that your adored babies gave you as a welcome didn’t even feel something exploded at your back.

You felt the pain and the blackness once again, but being reborn into this magnificent being, you were grateful that your body could adapt to any new situation. And when you woke up, completely confused and disoriented, you could feel the vibrations of something other that wasn’t your plants. This wasn’t your Earth. This Earth was colder and harsher. Your fingers could feel it as you dragged them across a few flowers you had found. They reacted to your touch, but it was colder. You huffed in annoyance at the insolence these plants were giving you.

 The following moments were key, you needed to figure out how to escape whatever this new hell was, to feel the sun once again, but your disappointment was clear as the only way out you manage to find was through some unknown kilometers of water.

“Ma' perteneces waye'.” A voice startled you, making you turn to the source. Your eyes became wary and the need to protect yourself and the plants that surrounded you on this cave. “Núukik, máax teech teech?”

“You speak of a language unknown to myself.” You half-smiled. Admiring how his tan skin was glowing, despite how dark it was. “And yet, I could still feel the harshness of your words.”

“You are trespassing, stranger.” He said, his shoulders tense. “Who are you.” His spear was pointing at you but you just arch your brow, not really scared of his actions.

“Strange, I had thought my name was widely known by now even after Batman stopped my spores to help Gotham.” You played with the ends of your hair, finally convincing these plants to aid you if a battle was about to happened. “But if not, Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand, the stranger’s dark eyes stared at the greenish tint on them. “Better known as Poison Ivy, pleasure.” You took a step forward.

You were loving this, his body was releasing a few pheromones that made you want to touch him.

His spear raised, pointing between your eyes, you couldn’t help but grin at the audacity. “Do not step closer.” He spat.

“I gave you my name, gorgeous.” You smiled, shrugging. “You should give me yours.”

The man stared at you for a moment. “You may call me Namor.”

You frowned at the name, trying to located inside of your memories, you were sure you knew how many of those stupid Justice Leagues were out there and even the villains, you knew them, but who was he?

“Pleasure but I cannot seem to remember you from Gotham City, perhaps you are from Metropolis?”

“I do not know what those places are…how did you manage to dive to the bottom of the ocean? How did you enter?” He pressed those questions.

“I’m sorry, did you just said bottom of the ocean?” you emphasized the last word, Namor nodded wordlessly. “You are telling me that somehow I ended up here…not only on the ocean but in the bottom of it?!” Before he could get a word in, you turned around, your hands raising a little, forcing all the flowers, vines and apparently seaweed get closer to you. “Explain.” You demanded and stayed quiet as these babies told you everything you needed to know.

Namor gently put down his spear, watching you in confusion as you apparently were talking to the plants. “Do you…understand them?” He asked in amazement.  You turned around and examined him but didn’t answer his question. He stared at you before offering you his hand. You stared at it. “I apologize for the rude welcoming…We had some unpleasant visitors who threatened the safety of my people.”

“Threatened?” You questioned him. “In what way?”

Namor closed his eyes and you could see how his mouth began twitching in frustration. “The surface-dwellers are trying hard to find us, find our resources to use them with greed.”

You stared at him. Your hand softly caressing one of the flowers. “I know, they attacked your people…they told me.” You softly said. “They even destroyed a few of your plants. I can feel their pain.”

Namor took a step closer, his hand touching the same flower as you. “You are welcome to stay as long as you don’t hurt my people.”

With time you began noticing how his people became more accustom with you, some of the children even went as far as giving you a few of the plants their mothers cultivated underwater. But a part of yourself truly noticed how Namor warmed with your presence, often staying a bit with you when you ate or at night when you went to sleep.

Those actions became different when he began tracing the softness of your skin with his hands, often leaving you desired him each time.

But everything change when he came back after an expedition to the surface. He was angry and frustrated.

Your eyes watched his every move, you couldn’t help but to bit your lower lip as a few drops of water began trailing down his glorious, tanned chest. You were in heaven or well, you were practically somewhere down the fucking ocean. You didn’t care.

He was so warm beneath you, his hands molding perfectly against your tights, holding you in place but giving you the chance to do whatever you wanted to him, you smiled as you leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, Namor chasing yours when you didn’t give him a proper kiss. Your hands went to his hair, soft, wet, silky, perfection.

Namor sat down, his hands stroking your back until they reached your hips, moving them ‘til you were placed above his hardening cock. He could feel your arousal passing through the soft and delicate material of the dress he had given you. His hands skimmed over your hips, sliding down again towards the curve of your ass, pressing you against him once again, rolling your hips against his.

You began kissing alongside his jaw, stopping a few times to bit him gently making him grunt every time you did that, at every grunt he gave you, your cunt clenched with need. You became in love with his sounds, from the small hitches in his breath to the soft grunts and the occasional moan.

Namor’s hands quickly grabbed the bottom of your dress, tugging it upward. “My beautiful ivy.” He whispered against your breasts. “I want to see you, would you let me?”

You nodded wordlessly, quickly raising your hands, helping him take off your dress, you didn’t hesitate and his hungry gaze watched you, one of his fingers traced the softness of your skin.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, his hands gripping at your waist, flipping you easily so he could be on top, his lips traced your breast, your stomach, kissing it softly. “My beautiful, beautiful ivy, only mine.” His hands cup your breasts, sucking one of your nipples, rolling it between your lips.

“Namor…” You gasped, trying to push away the only piece of cloth that was covering him away from your eyes.

“No.” He whispered against your nipple, kissing it softly. “Call me in yakunaj.”

“In yakunak?” You moaned when he bit your nipple. “What does that mean?”

Namor chuckled as he scrambled off from you, making you groan in annoyance, trying to bring him back. He quickly stripped off his shorts, releasing his cock from its confinement, you couldn’t help but stare, it was long, thick and a few veins were pulsing from the thick base to the smooth head. You were so entranced by the sight of it that you didn’t even noticed the lopsided grin he was giving you.

He leaned forward, gripping your ankles, softly rubbing circles on them, he brought his lips to them, kissing them softly without breaking away your gaze, his lips moved towards your thighs but you didn’t stop him, anxious to know how far would he go. He nuzzled your thigh, working his way up your cunt. Your hand quickly went to his hair, as he kissed your skin. “My beautiful ivy like this?” He murmured closer to your cunt, his lips tickling it. “Would you let me taste you?”

You couldn’t help but muttered a quiet ‘dumb question’ and you felt him smile…And then he just opened his mouth on your cunt, licking your folds, slowly pushing his tongue inside you, his palms went under your hips, lifting you towards his hungry mouth, forcing your legs to spread open. He gently blow on your cunt, the cold air made you whimper. “You are making me insane.” He murmured against your clit before sucking on it.  “Sweet and only for my mouth to know.” Namor couldn’t help but groan at your taste before diving in once again like a starved man.

You closed your eyes when he began thrusting his thick fingers inside your cunt, waves of pleasure crashed over your body, specially when he sucked hard at your clit, humming with delight. You came, bucking against his mouth, he accepting it but refusing to separate from your cunt.

“In yakunaj…” You rasped breathlessly. “Too much.”

He kissed your clit one last time before making his way to your lips, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of yourself on his mouth, his tongue fought for dominance and you let him win. He paused for a moment, his lips above yours as he muttered. “I want to do so many things with you, I want to make you cum until you beg me to fill you with my seed, until you beg me to never stop.”

You swallowed. “Yeah? You promise?”

Namor grinned. “I swear it on my name.” His hand positioned his cock at your entrance and with a swift motion, he was inside of you. He force himself to go slow, to enjoy it, to enjoy you. Your eyes were close, your teeth biting your lips, the most beautiful blush covering your face. But fuck, you were tight, so fucking tight as he began thrusting. Each stroke was breaking his concentration but then he was finally and completely inside you, his balls rubbing against you. Your cunt squeezing his length greedily. He loved it.

He held himself above you so he could indulge on your expressions, to watch you respond at his thrust, to greedily see how his cock thrusted inside of your body.

“My ivy.” He groaned, kneeling and forcing your hips over his thighs. “You are swallowing me so beautifully, your cunt is not letting me leave, so greedy for my seed that its squeezing me so perfectly.” He slowed down, rolling his hips. His hand grabbed yours and guide it towards where both of you were joined. “Feel it, feel how greedy your cunt is for me.”

You moaned, God, how can he be so dirty? “In yakunakj, yes…yes.”

Your walls began contracting around him, you back arched and force your hips higher, trying to take him deeper. His control finally snapped. Namor began pounding into you and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs around his hips as you came, but he didn’t stop, he continued and the sound of skin slapping made him almost completely mad.

“So good.” He threw his head back, his teeth baring as he kept pounding into you. “You squeeze me so perfectly, but is not enough, you can give me another one.”

He pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and you cling against him as he began thrusting upwards, the hot friction made you clench around him quickly and he groaned, moving even faster with urgency, like his life depended on making you cum as much as he could. You clung tighter to him and he bit you, his teeth latching on your shoulder, marking you as his. Pleasure shattered you as you felt him swell inside, his hot cum filling you, your cunt milking every drop greedily.

Namor sank against you, squishing you but you didn’t complained. After a few moments he gently slid of your cunt, you couldn’t help but wince at the loss of it. He rolled to the side, his hands tugging you so you could laid on his chest.

You finally noticed how a few vines were covering most of his things but you didn’t care at the moment as his fingers began pushing back his cum inside of your body.

“I will burn the world with you.” You whispered against his chest, trying your hardest not to trembled with how his finger was moving inside of you. “If you accept me.”

Namor kissed your temple without saying anything, but you could safely say he wanted it, but at the moment, he let you rest. In his mind, already planning new ways to make you cum before planning anything against the surface-dwellers.

[freshpickle]

Vent post, trigger warning: $u1c1d@al

hii, just wanted to say i reaaally love your blog! :) i'll just vent here 'cause i saw u're ok with that. :D

ok so basically i've been diagnosed 2 years ago with depression, i was medicated for 1 year and the i just stopped going to my psychiatrist because i felt numb all the time (and i hated fhe feeling the pills gave me) but i got better anyway after a year. Howeveeer, this past summer i was finally able to go in no contact with "the reason" of my neverending sadness.🙄 And i feel like 1000% better now, but is there something no one talks about at the beggining of the healing proccess. The fact that you don't actually know who you are without your sadness. And I say this because even tho i was diagnosted just 2 years ago, i've been depressed for the last 10 years lol (like, fr, i tried to kms) and now with this ✨new will to live✨ it just feels weird. Because 10 i was 14, so i basically grew up being really sad all the time and now is just like??? What am I supposed to do haha.

Anyway, i am really doing well now, this summer in july i'll finish my degree (6 fkn years in this university really made me stronger haha) and i'm in a 5 years relationship with my bf and everything is going really well, but i can't help but feel weird about my self concept. Because I don't identify anymore with being sad, now i'm just me. But who am I really, you know? Because all the trauma is still unpacked and I still can't really fully enjoy life - sometimes i do think it's pointless anyway but i'll not do anything (kms) because i really don't wanna hurt the ppl around me. Is kinda sad the fact that i don't really wanna live because i want to, but because i feel responsible for how ppl whould feel if i'd be gone. From time to time i just try to enjoy/remind myself that life is worth living because i get to see more marvel movies, or eat a hazelnut donut (i really like those), or sometimes i feel like i should just stfu because it'll be a shame to die - i have a pretty face & body and i got pretty privilege a lot, isn't this the plot of all those 2000's movie? Pretty girls get a secretly sad life but then ✨the plot✨ happens and everything is ok? Lmao. Anyway, i feel like last summer was the plot and now i just get to enjoy life a little more - even tho i don't feel like doing it at all. And i feel a lil guilty because i have a good life (living in europe, good parents, good bf, a uni degree) like it seems like i'm doing "everything i'm supposed to do right" but i feel like ???? wanting to end it because of the years of abuse i went through. I really want to erase it all and live at peace with myself because at the end of the day is my mind vs my mind..

I'm sorry for this long ass text lol i did not thought i'd write this much, also i'm sorry if i've made mistakes english is my 3rd language so i'm not really good at expressing myself 🥲 you don't really have to answear i understand is a sensitive topic and not everyone wants do deal with stuff like this and it's 100% ok! 😊 i hope you have a nice rest of the week, and thank u for reading! ❤️

hey! thank you for venting!! i am always happy for people to vent in my ask box, I can't always promise to have advice, but i'm always more than happy to chat if people need someone to talk to!

congratulations on what sounds like so many incredible things going on in your life! i completely relate to that feeling of there being this chunk of your psyche that can't make sense of happiness because you've been in flight or flight to survive for so many of your formative years!

i really struggle with suicide and depression and i also battle the feeling of disappointing my family and friends if i was to act on any of those feelings. somedays its the hardest feeling to live for the big things and i find it helpful to focus on the little things instead.

i know you sent me this to rant so i don't want to give you any unsolicited advice, i'm just happy you feel safe to talk to me and if you ever do want advice, or want to rant some more, i'm here for you <3

[violetsystems]

I'm cooking a 4.75 lb turkey breast for myself and maybe my cat. I am alleviated of any family holiday activities other than hanging out with my mom for a belated birthday this weekend. I cook turkey because it's a skill that I don't want to lose plus everybody loves leftovers. Hardest part is the thawing and getting the timing right. I had to pay for food service certification for that sushi job this summer that dissed me with the Karl Lagerfeld shirt on the clock then fired me. That experience was like an audition for kitchen nightmares. The sanitation certificate is pretty useful knowledge for your own home either way. It's two hours in a cold water bath per pound if you've refrigerator defrosted prior at 40 F. So Nine point five hours for it to be full defrosted give or take an hour by my clock. Not as hard as min maxing armor builds in Elden Ring. I started the volcano manor quest lines yesterday and kind of got my character up to level 129. There’s a lot of people in the Elden Ring universe who aren’t big fans of the Erdtree. I didn't realize I missed some of the Ranni quests and found the other weird underground city. The inverted castle mechanic is pretty cool. Straight out of Castlevania. You get a fair amount of larval tears down in the second city. Enough to respec generously if you need to. I've also been playing solo without a great rune and minimal spirit ashes so I'm now understanding just why all the mini bosses seemed impossible. You learn a lot through trial and error. How shield grease is pretty much the shit when it comes to blocking monsters that take up an entire arena. Everything has a trick to it. My biggest boss battle today will probably be the turkey. Though I may stop to take down the putrid tree spirit on my downtime.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

hello 👋 if it’s meant to be allowed, and if you have the capacity, I’m wondering if you can help give insight into my sm? or, really, if I have one? I feel like I shouldn’t assume anything, so whatever does come through, if anything, I’ll be glad to receive it (and if it’s nothing at all, thank you for looking into it that far!). ❤️

Hello! Thanks for sending this ask in and for being respectful of me. I swear these readings are wack a mole lol. I can feel your hesitancy and that makes me feel connected to the reading. I’d love to see what comes up.

Do you have a soulmate?

Why, yes. We all have one.

What can you tell us about them?

They have such a beautiful and kind spirit, joyful, like a field of flowers, innocent. And the world has tried to tear that down. They have spent a lot of time trapped in sadness that comes when you know where you are cannot support all that you are. It’s a painful lesson all souls that have spent significant times in non-earth lives feel. It’s limited here. Do you have memories of flying? Of floating? Other places let you do that. You too spent a lot of time not on earth. This soulmate is wading through the bog of life at the moment but they always surface, if you feel up and down at times it is their energy as it wanes and ebbs.

Soulmate what do you want to say?

Sigh (I feel like they are laying down looking up at the sky) I’m in one of those moods again (it’s sunny and the sky is blue) It’s so pretty but it feels so untouchable. Everything is untouchable, like I’m behind the glass sometimes. I think other people feel this way but I’m not sure. People need me to be strong. I don’t talk about my feelings or deeper musings much, but I do write them, poetry about how I feel, sometimes this sadness is so vast. Sometimes I wonder what the point of it all is, but then I think of you, my dream that could come true, and the glimmer of hope that it may just happen is enough to keep me going. Sometimes it hurts to think of you, when you feel a disconnect from my energy, it’s because I want to step away, it hurts too much to be away with no end in sight. But I work on me and hope you work on you. What else is there to do?

Card Pull

Starseed Oracle

I really got vibes about you and your person being starseeds so I picked this deck and each time it gave me multiple. I tried three times to get one and it kept giving me many, so I kept all three this time.

Double Mission— lightworker starseed, serve the world by being you.

“Many (starseeds and lightworkers) have the feeling time is running out and there’s something they came here to do, create or contribute, it’s common they feel different, light up the world with your presence, follow what lights you up”

This is what you are both learning. Sometimes our calling is really as simple as learning to enjoy life, to feel lit up. I think confirms what I got about being a starseed. If you feel like your life has been tough it’s part of strengthening you for your mission. You are being transformed into a warrior of light. Warriors must be battle born dear one.

I’m Sorry— defenselessness, righting past wrongs, uprooting

“When we’re hurt and triggered we tend to see things as a personal attack instead of an opportunity for healing, we need to stop our defenses and see outside right and wrong, to bring about unity we must first see how we and the world has been divisive”

To me this card is showing that you are both learning the hardest thing we can learn, seeing people beyond their humanity. It’s our humanity that leads us to see others as a threat instead of a wounded individual, the eyes of love see the truth, hurt people hurt people, love responds with unwavering compassion, where are you making judgements where you should be showing grace?

Breath of the cosmos— my will to thy will, micromanaging the universe

The universe is telling you to let go, let go of human conditioning, expectations and your own wishes and desire for your life, turn your life over to the universe, ask them to lead you instead of using your own willpower, being in surrender is allowing the current of life to naturally lead you to your next destination, stop swimming against the tide.

Hope this helps! Would love to know how it resonates 😘

[sacredsorceress]

Gone || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

request: blurb idea? maybe one where peter and reader were together before the snap and then instead of nat, it’s reader who died to get the soul stone? honestly either peter or bucky bc i love them both

word count: 1.2k

warnings: tw: reader’s death, mentions of death, angst, just sad,

masterlist || taglist

"Hey!” Peter exclaimed, helping Tony up from where he had been knocked onto the ground. “Holy cow! You would not believe what’s been going on. Remember when we were in space-”

As Tony stared at the young superhero in front of him, he felt his heart fall to his stomach and guilt course through his veins. What was supposed to be a heartwarming moment of reuniting for Tony was now plagued with the knowledge that he would soon have to tell Peter the truth and even worse- that this would be the last moment he would ever see his mentee so happy.

He tried to take in every second of it- to allow Peter to be as much of a happy-go-lucky teenager as he could be given the circumstances.

Every second would count.

As Peter rambled on about everything Tony had already known, analyzed and lived through, he could barely process anything Peter was saying, instead opening his arms for the boy, and pulling Peter into his chest.

“Oh.” Peter said, wrapping his arms around Tony. “This is… nice-”

“I’m so sorry, kid.”

At the sound of his mentor’s voice cracking as he held onto him tighter, Peter’s own heart began to race in his chest.

“Mr. Stark what’s wrong?” Peter asked, pulling away from him.

Tony continued to hold Peter at an arm’s length as Peter studied Tony’s expression- the inability for him to focus his bloodshot eyes on Peter’s, his trembling hands that squeezed his shoulders- Peter grew even more worried by the moment.

“It... it took a lot to bring everyone back, Parker.” Tony said. “It cost more than we thought.”

Suddenly it hit Peter what had been wrong- what he had been feeling so off about ever since he stepped through that portal.

The two of you had been inseparable before the blip- both off the field and on it. You both had saved each other’s lives more times than you could count, but what mattered most was that you made it out the other side every single time.

What mattered the most about anything in a life as dangerous and unpredictable as yours and Peter’s was making it out and he made sure you did so no matter what.

The two of you were interconnected in a way even you didn’t understand. His spider senses allowed him to save you from a mile away and your magical prowess kept him safe even when you couldn’t see him.

Now he realized... he didn’t feel you. Why wouldn’t he feel your sense of danger in a battle as vicious as this? Why wouldn’t you call out for him to make sure he was okay?

“Wait, Mr Stark,” Peter stopped him, shaking his head. “Where’s Y/n?”

That’s when Tony swore his heart had stopped beating and F.R.I.D.A.Y would be giving him an analysis any second now.

“She um...” Tony said biting his lip as he glanced from Peter’s worried face to the horizon. “She got better... a lot better... at her powers while you were gone. She just... she was too fast for Nat.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, searching his mentor’s face as his lip trembled. “What are you saying?”

After Peter disappeared and the team came to him with the possibility of bringing everybody back, Tony had imagined what it would be like when he finally brought Peter home. That Tony would right his wrongs and finally give that poor kid a hug. That his neighborhood would cheer at Spider-Man’s return. And that...

And that you would finally get to hold the person you cared about most in the world in your arms once more.

Tony wasn’t usually a sucker for young love, but having to come home and tell you that Peter was dusted on his watch was one of the hardest things he ever had to do and he told himself that if he ever had the chance to make it right he would. He wanted so badly to make it right. He wanted so badly for good to triumph at the end of the day without you having to sacrifice yourself and your opportunity to ever see Peter again.

This time when Tony faced Peter, he met his eyes.

“She’s gone, kid.”

Despite the chaos, Peter felt as though the world had stopped around him.

He had just seen you a few hours ago... how could you be gone? How could... how could he never see you again?

"She can’t be gone.” Peter said, shaking his head adamantly. “You brought everyone else back! You brought me back, Mr. Stark! Just- just bring her back!”

Tony knew that Peter knew better. He knew that deep down the kid knew that it was truly the end but he couldn’t blame him for trying.

Tony felt sick. Peter was a kid. You were a kid. All of the bullshit- the fighting, the loss- the two of you didn’t deserve any of it and he couldn’t help but feel absolutely sick to his stomach knowing that he had been along for the ride.

“That’s not how it works, Peter.” Tony said somberly. “She’s gone... but she died so everyone else could come back. She did it to save the world. Now you, kid? You’ve gotta avenge her. You have to protect it.”

Despite the explosions setting off around him and the cries of those fallen, Peter listened to every single word that Tony said and took every syllable to heart.

When the time came to do what it took to protect the universe- to make your death worth it- every single word Tony had told him had come to mind and the answer was clearer than the memories of you replaying on a loop inside of his head.

Just when Thanos was about to snap his fingers, Peter shot a web at the titan’s gauntlet, tricking him into believing it was a play for the golden glove itself. When he pulled the web back to reveal the six infinity stones stuck inside, his breath caught in his throat.

Was he really ready to do this? Was he really ready to go?

As he looked at everything around him, the battle ensuing on every side, he thought about you- how you sacrificed yourself to save the universe, how you sacrificed yourself so that they would have a chance to win this thing.

He had to make it worth it.

No matter what.

Spinning a web around his hand, he looked up at Thanos and Mr. Stark one last time before taking a deep breath and slotting the infinity stones into the web on the back of his hand.

That pain shooting down his arm and throughout his body made tears prickle at his eyes and a shout escape his throat but Peter almost welcomed it.

Hearing the sound of his screams, Tony whipped around and by the time he had realized what was going on, it was too late.

“Wait, wait, wait-” Tony shouted, running towards him. “Don’t-”

Trying his hardest to put on a brave face, Peter lifted his hand and shrugged.

“Who woulda thought it’d be me saving the world, huh, Mr. Stark?”

And without a second thought, Peter snapped his fingers.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Losing A Son, Gaining a Grandson (Natasha Romanoff X Son!Reader, Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader)

Characters: Natasha Romanoff X Son!Reader, Wanda Maximoff X Male!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Spoilers to Endgame(slight plot change), death, mourning

Request: Male reader (who's Natasha's son/clone) x Wanda Maximoff and during infinity war Nat didn't survive the snap but Wanda did and tells him that she's also pregnant and they have twins boy and girl (u pick the names) and during endgame reader goes to get the soul stone with Wanda and sacrifice himself for it and after the fight Wanda tells her about what he did then she tells her about their kids and when Nat sees them and the boy also looks like him when he was a kid and she lives with them now

Natasha had been looking around desperately on the battlefield for you. The battle had been won, and now that everyone could breathe, she needed to find you. When she didn’t immediately see you, she went to find Wanda, your girlfriend. She spotted her, stood alone, looking down, still and unmoving, though she was staring at nothing but rubble. “Wanda?” She called, Wanda looking up at her. Natasha could see the dread build up in her eyes with her tears, and she felt her heart stop. “...Is he…” She asked, scared to say the word, though Wanda understood. She nodded, walking over to Natasha and hugging her tightly. 

Natasha hugged her back in shock. When? Where? Were you buried in the rubble? Was it an accident after the snap? It didn’t feel real. There’s no way you’re actually dead, right? “We had to go get the stones.” Wanda told her, still hugging her. “We were sent to get the Soul Stone… one of us had to sacrifice our life to get it… He… he pushed me down and then ran for the ledge.” She explained. 

“That sounds like something he’d do…” Natasha smiled, before she broke down crying, the girls comforting each other. 

You were Natasha’s son, the reason she had tried her hardest to fail her exams in the Red Room so she had time to give birth to you, and she did, though she had to give you up immediately. As soon as she got out, and she began working for Shield, she tracked you down, finding you hadn’t been adopted yet, and she immediately came back for you. Luckily because of how things worked out, you were only 5 when she got you back. She kept you away from her work, similar to how Clint had done, in fact you spent a lot of time with the Bartons, though both Clint and Nat taught you how to fight and such growing up, so when you became old enough, you chose to be an Agent for Shield just like them. You were Wanda’s age, so when she joined the group, you two immediately connected, and Natasha was barely surprised when you two started dating, in fact you two had been growing strong for years, even when the Avengers essentially split into two groups and fought each other. 

“What do we do now?” Natasha asked Wanda as she finally pulled away from the hug. 

“Me and Y/N got an apartment together… you can live with me.” Wanda offered, and Natasha nodded, agreeing with the offer. 

After everyone else was sorted, and the tidy up had been finished, it was time for Tony’s funeral. Natasha was beside Clint as everyone was getting prepared and the last of everyone was arriving as Morgan and Pepper watched the projection of Tony that he’d prepared in advance. Natasha heard the sound of a car pulling up, and she glanced back, seeing it was Wanda, though instead of heading straight to her, Wanda turned and went to the backseat door, opening it, and then Natasha saw the two children young children crawl out the car, each taking Wanda’s hand. Natasha took a deep breath in, and Clint saw her reaction and turned as well, seeing Wanda with the two, who were very clearly twins. One boy, one girl. Wanda walked over with them, seeing a sheepish and sad smile to Natasha. Natasha gathered herself enough to smile, kneeling down to the children’s heights. Wanda did so as well. 

��Alia, Pyotr, this is your Nanna Natasha, do you remember me and daddy tell you about her?” Wanda asked the twins, who both nodded, before they both hugged Natasha. She wrapped their arms around them tightly, before letting them go. 

“Nathaniel’s over there, why don’t you go play?” Clint asked them, and they nodded and rushed off. Natasha kept her eyes on them as they went. They both had features of you, especially your son. Pyotr looked exactly like you did at 5 years old. She knew deep down that those features weren’t going to change, and when he grew up he’d be a spitting image of you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Natasha… I found out about my pregnancy right after the snap… we named Pyotr after Pietro, and Alia after you, since your middle name is Alianovna… Clint kind of beat us to it to name them Pietro and Natasha.” Wanda told her, nudging Clint a little. 

“Don’t be… I’m so proud of you.” Natasha assured, hugging Wanda. “Did you two get married?” 

“He wanted to wait until you were back…” Wanda explained, and Natasha sadly nodded, before looking back at the twins. “Quite the shock those two… at first we just thought we were having one, but one week the doctors said it was a boy, then the next week a girl… it wasn’t until the pregnancy was almost over we found out it was twins. Y/n spent the entire night cursing as he rushed to buy another cot and a bigger buggy.” Wanda told her, and Natasha broke into a laugh, imagining her son doing just that. 

“I wish I could have been there…” Natasha commented. 

“Well good thing that he came up with the idea to record almost everything after the snap and put it on a disk so you could.” Clint commented. “He recorded and documented everything. The scans, the pregnancy, their first moments in the world, their first words, first steps… everything.” 

“We can watch them when we get home.” Wanda told her. Natasha nodded. Home. Home with Wanda, and your two beautiful children. It felt awful that you’d not be there to watch them grow up… but Natasha knew that they’d be in safe hands with Wanda and herself watching over them, and she already swore to herself that she’d be there for them, and protect them, and do you proud. 

“Yeah… I can’t wait.” 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @klanceiscannon14​ @waywardemo​ @marvelhoeingismyhobby​ @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @abbybills22-blog​ @waywardemo​ @mutantjediavenger​ @theoraekensnotsosecretlover​ @alicedanganh   @rebellionofthecattle @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​  

[jennsterjay]

Wake up! 

SA2 Re:verse- The Last Scene

This is the last scene in my Sonic Adventure 2 Alternate Universe, titled SA2 Re:verse. This story follows the plot of Sonic Adventure 2, but with a focus on Knuckles the Echidna as the Ultimate Lifeform and Shadow the Hedgehog as the Last Guardian of the Master Emerald. Prologue: Shadow was raised by his uncle who was the last echidna and guardian of the Master Emerald. After befriending Sonic two years ago when he helped retrieve the master emerald from Eggman, he learned that he can rely on others and doesn't have to face his challenges alone. 50 years ago, Dr. Gerald Robotnik created Project Terra also known as Project Flora. From this, the Ultimate Lifeform Knuckles was created using Echidna and Black Doom's DNA. Knuckles honed his skills in controlling natural elements such as earth, plants, water, and other natural elements, as well as manipulating chaos energy. His most notable skill being the ability to heal others, which Gerald used and researched to help his granddaughter Maria from a rare and incurable illness. Aboard the Space Colony Ark, he found family in Gerald, Maria, and Rouge the Bat who was a former jewel thief turned G.U.N. scientist (with a focus on gem properties and flora and fauna studies) as well as a combat specialist. When the Space Colony Ark is raided when word gets out on Gerald's Experiments, Gerald is captured, telling the three to escape. Rouge, running behind Knuckles and Maria, chooses to face the guards head on so the other two can escape. Rouge is cornered and escapes through a cryogenic pod which freezes her in time as she lands on earth. Knuckles and Maria make it to two escape pods, but Maria is shot by a G.U.N soldier and Maria launches Knuckles pod before he has a chance to help her, and he hurtles towards Earth alone. Present: 50 years later Knuckles is woken up from his pod by Eggman who tells him Gerald was his great grandfather. He says he knows of Rouge's whereabouts and will help Knuckles achieve revenge for the Space Colony Ark's erasure from history. Sonic and Shadow especially are chased by GUN when word gets out that there is an Echidna wrecking havoc in the city and at different military bases. With GUN thinking that this is a coup planned by Shadow, Sonic and his friends are now thought to be ex-government criminals. Sonic follows a lead on a mysterious Bat girl who keeps stealing the Chaos Emeralds, and Shadow comes face to face with Knuckles. Shadow is stunned, telling Knuckles that all of the Echidna's are gone and that he is the last. He asks where he has been all this time, and offers to help him. Knuckles is distraught, saying he couldn't be the last and that by Shadow being the guardian of the master emerald, that he is an imposter and a faker. Shadow throughout the game, learns more about Knuckles through their fights, and tries to convince him to start healing from his past and that he can offer him a new future. After many side-battles, Rouge has taken most of the Chaos Emeralds, so Knuckles goes right to Angel Island to take the Master Emerald from Shadow. Its a close and intense battle, but Knuckles wins and tells Shadow to give up being a guardian because he was never strong enough to be, and if he pursues him it'll be over for him. Shadow refuses to accept this and tells Knuckles he wont give up, and despite everything he wont give up on Knuckles either. Sonic and the gang get to the Space Colony Ark and Shadow tells Sonic to get the Master Emerald from Rouge who is guarding it. Shadow is the one who will face Knuckles alone, because he feels he is the only one to understand him and get through to him. Sonic goes to Rouge and they battle. Sonic asks Rouge if this is really how her family wanted to be remembered and if this is what you really want for Knuckles? Rouge after a lot of back and forth, and Sonic saving her from falling off a ledge tells Sonic to protect her jewels (Knuckles and the Master Emerald). Sonic Promises. Elsewhere, Shadow skates down a long corridor until he reaches Knuckles, who seemed to be waiting for him. Shadow tells Knuckles being a guardian is who I am, and protecting the earth and all of it's creatures is what he does, and that if he doesn't believe his words, then he'll show with his actions that "I Am All of Me". Knuckles and him fight and Knuckles fights dirty and at one point throws him into a pod with a fake emerald, leading Shadow to his demise as he hurtles towards earth....or so he thought. Shadow uses Chaos Control using the fake emerald and reappears on the battle field with Knuckles. This pisses Knuckles off and they fight again all while Shadow convinces him that he can heal from his past and doesn't have to face the world alone. Shadow is about to lose the fight despite his best efforts, but right before Knuckles is about to end him, Shadow says even though Maria's not here anymore, she wanted him to be. And even if the world feels like your enemy, I am glad you exist, and you are here now with me. Knuckles punches the ground near Shadow's head and finally gives up, cries in Shadows' arms, and heals him. Later, Knuckles apologizes to Rouge and then they all get an announcement that the Space Colony Ark is going to hurtle towards the earth. They retrieve the Master Emerald and the Chaos Emeralds and Knuckles transforms into Hyper Knuckles, while Sonic and Shadow transform into Super Sonic and Super Shadow. Knuckles and Shadow Fight the Biolizard, while Sonic tries to slow the Ark's descent by pushing it back. Knuckles and Shadow are about to deal the final blow, but the Biolizard rapidly creates what appears to be a massive chaos energy spirit bomb aimed right at Knuckles and Shadow. With no time to run or react, Knuckles and Shadow are toast until Sonic jumps in the way to shield them both and take the hit. Sonic is de-supered and hurtles towards the Earth. At the last minute, Rouge flies out there and catches him and thanks him for keeping his promise. Sonic makes a joke and laughs. Finally Knuckles and Shadow give the Biolizard the final blow, and with low energy they struggle to stop the space colony ark from entering Earth's gravitational pull. They both know this is the moment where they might not make it unless someone sacrifices themselves. Shadow is about to do it but Knuckles tells Shadow thank you for not giving up, the world needs a guardian, and to take care of Rouge for me. He pushes Shadow out of the way, and blasts the ark back all on his own, then de-hypers and falls, hurtling towards the Earth. Shadow uses his last remaining energy to catch him, tells him "I promised you a future, so for you to throw it all away, that's not gonna happen", and heals Knuckles all the way until Knuckles is back in his hyper form. Shadow hurtles towards the earth, and Knuckles catches him saying expletives and starts to panic. He tells Rouge to gather the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald because Shadow isn't moving. He flies all the way to the space colony ark from earth's atmosphere and rushes through the gates and chaos controls until he gets to the main hub where everyone is waiting and worried. He sets Shadow down carefully near the abundance of Chaos Energy around him. Rouge listens to Shadow's heart and looks concerned back at Knuckles. Knuckles looks back at Shadow who has his eyes closed, looking like the most at peace person in the entire room and Knuckles refuses to let this be the end for him. He carefully picks Shadow up in his arms, and has a flashback of an old memory of watching Disney's 1959 animated movie, Sleeping Beauty. Maria was watching it with him and told him one day she wishes to find someone who makes her feel special, and one day she hopes Knuckles finds someone who makes him feel special too. Knuckles holds Shadow's face in his hand, with his other hand on Shadow's back. And Knuckles says: "You saved me, your friends, and the entire Earth, and you barely even know me. I don't think it's fair to take a nap when all your friends are waiting...and I'm waiting. I guess you could say, I've been waiting for someone like you this entire time. So sorry, if this is forward Shadow, but I'm not letting you die without me" Then Knuckles kisses Shadow and heals him, and slowly Shadow takes in all the chaos energy, and his fur and quills turn golden once again. Shadow wakes up and looks into Knuckles eyes. "Did we win?" Shadow asks. Knuckles laughs and tears up. "Yeah, we won" Knuckles smiles. Everyone cheers and hugs Shadow, and Knuckles too, and celebrates living another day in a limitless future, where even the hardest memories can become treasured things, and your present can be what you make it to be. Sonic Adventure 2: Re:verse -------------------------------- Artist/Author Notes: -Knuckles outfit is based on his SA2 Goth Alternate outfit, the same is for Rouge -The red streaks on Shadow's quills are echidna war paint

[jen-with-a-pen]

THIS HOUSE HAD SWING IN IT - Change, Irreversible

One Two Three

gen summary: Following the events of the Battle of Earth, Bucky is graciously pardoned and decides it’s best to return back to his roots. Shelbyville, Indiana, to be exact. Recovering from his time in Wakanda, his brutal past, and the loss of his best friend, Bucky tries his hardest to finally find peace. In his attempts, you come along and change everything.

chapter summary: Arrival. Reunion. Family. Beginning.

pairings: indiana!bucky barnes x reader

a/n: here’s the second installment. again, i can’t believe i actually got this started and written out after being in my head for so so long. enjoy!

cover art: original art from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #1 by Derek Landy & illustrated by Federico Vincentini | edited by me via photoshop

want some background for this fic? check out my playlists for this work!

This House: The Swing Collection

This House Had Swing In It

disclaimer: the only places you’ll find this fic, and my writing, will be my blog and my AO3. =)

A loud snore snaps you out of autopilot.

The truck and U-Haul screech to a halt as your foot smashed down on the breaks, jolting you forward into the steering wheel. A large mound of black fur lurches halfway off the passenger’s seat with a yipe. You look over to see Tug flailing the rest of the way off the seat, scrambling to find his balance. He huffs and gives you the stink eye for such a rude awakening.

Fuckin’ hell.

You silently thank the universe for not having anyone else be at that very intersection at that very moment.

Looking both ways, you continue onward through the gloomy, rural suburbs. Your phone’s GPS tells you your destination is on the right and you begin to search for the right house number. At the very same time, Tug decides to climb back onto his seat.

“Tug, you asshole,” you grumble. He ignores you, staring out the window as his wet nose streaks the window while it fogs up with his hot pants. You swear you can feel him roll his eyes.

Unable to see the front of the houses, you resort to scanning mailbox numbers for the right house.

30928… 30926…30924. 30924. This is it.

A beige house sits weathered in front of a background of sparse forest and farmland. Brown shingles cover the roof of the two-story home. A big bay window sits at the helm of the house with a similar one below it, protected by a smaller section of roof and gutters. The driveway leads up to an attached garage, a blue sedan sitting in front.

The truck whines as it stops moving once again and you, less than gracefully, maneuver both truck and trailer into the driveway. Satisfied, you park but stay seat belted in as if you’ll take off down the road.

Something inside you refuses to exit the vehicle. Tug begins to whine anxiously, but you only grip the steering wheel tighter. It feels as if you’ll rip the damn thing off the console as a slew of anxious thoughts battle inside you. Telling you to say fuck it and drive back to nowhere, telling you that you aren’t worth all this trouble, that you don’t deserve this.

You’re too busy with the internal battle to notice Tug growling at someone approaching your window.

A knock on the glass sends you jumping a foot off your seat.

“Hey, Stranger!”

You about pull the steering wheel from the console as you turn to see your sister.

Kate stands on the other side of the glass, arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to shield herself from the cold. Her hair falls in graceful strands that frame her face, her laughter lines adding a sort of familiarity and kindness you’ve only ever seen in her. Seen in anyone.

You exhale in relief to see her as you finally get out of the truck. Tug stays in his seat, unsure if he can trust this new, strange person. The cold air bites at your eyes and stings your breaths. Not even a second after your feet land on the pavement, she tightly embraces you in her arms. Her warmth, the scent of mom’s perfume, the perfect combination that you had all but forgotten.

She always gave the best hugs.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers. There’s relief in her tone.

“It’s been a minute,” you reply, equally relieved.

She holds you out at arm’s length. In her grasp, you can see her better under the hazy sun. The shadows underneath her tired eyes are darker than you recall, her laughter lines crinkling with her crow’s feet. You smirk as she drinks in every bit of you.

It’s been longer than a minute.

Kate opens her mouth to speak but is quickly interrupted by the slamming of the front door. Both of you turn to see two smaller beings racing right towards you. You feel an impact, crashing and pinning you back against the door of your truck.

“Auntie Indy! Auntie Indy!” Oscar, the oldest, yells as he hugs you close.

He’s eight now, and about half as tall as you are. You ruffle his shaggy head of hair, and a smile slowly broadens across your face. The youngest, Rory, squeezes you with every ounce of five-year-old strength he can muster. Looking up at you with big doe eyes, he gives you the biggest, toothiest grin you’ve ever seen.

They’ve gotten so big.

“Still calling me that, huh?” You question. They giggle, joining their mother by her side.

“I told them you don’t live in Indy, anymore, but­–“

“I don’t mind it,” you wave a dismissive hand, “Reminds me of a better time.”

The two boys look to Kate quizzically.

“A time when I could still throw you two monkeys around!” You yell, lunging for Oscar and throwing him over your shoulder. Their laughter fuels you to give chase to Rory as runs from you across the muddied lawn. You grab the back of his shirt, pulling him up to your other shoulder as he squeals in delight. Kate laughs, watching from her spot in the driveway.

She suddenly jumps when Tug barks loudly, reminding you he’s still locked in the cabin.

The three of you stop mid-roughhouse. The boys look back and forth from you to the truck as you set them back on the ground. Oscar looks to you first.

“Auntie Indy, what was that?” He asks, light concern knitting his voice. You straighten and brush your shoulders off.

“Well, I brought a friend,” you begin, “you guys wanna meet ‘im?” Excited nods respond and you walk to the vehicle, two little soldiers falling in line behind you.

“Okay, you both gotta stand by your mom, though, okay? I don’t want him knocking you both over,” you warn.

You open the door and Tug greets you, anxious and excited to finally explore all the new sites and smells and people. You hold his collar and reach behind the seat to grab his leash, hooking it and allowing him to finally jump down. He pants happily, his nose operating at full capacity as he sniffs the air.

The boys’ jaws drop, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the Tug. You tell him to sit and he obeys, plopping his behind on the pavement and looking expectantly up at you.

“Boys, this is Tug. Tug’s my best friend and my—” you falter for a second trying to figure out how to explain Tug in child’s terminology. “My, uh, assistant.”

One hell of an assistant, too.

Their smiles only grow wider, and you share a chuckle with Kate. She nudges their shoulders encouragingly.

“You can say hi, boys.” They look up at her, then back to the dog. Rory is the first to step forward, his brother closely behind him.

“You say hi, Rory,” Oscar coaches over his brother’s shoulder. Rory offers Tug a palm as the dog sniffs him for a second. His tail begins to wag and he happily licks the boy’s hand, inciting a series of giggles. Oscar takes his turn and Tug gives him the same slather of slobber.

“He likes you two,” you smile. Tug looks up at you with ecstatic eyes and you pat him on his head. His pink tongue hangs sideways out of his mouth.

“Well, I think introductions are done. What’s say we all get inside, and I can finish dinner?” Kate asks.

“What about unpacking? I have my stuff in the U-Haul and—” This time, it’s your sister who dismisses you with a wave.

“Just bring in what you and Tug need for tonight, I already have the couch set up for you. “

“But the trailer, I—”

“If there’s a late fee, I’ll take care of it.”

“Kate, no, you don’t need to—"

“Too late,” she smirks. “Boys, how ‘bout you head back inside, hm?”

They obey, giving Tug one last pat and running back into the house. Kate turns to you, sighing. She takes Tug’s leash from you and moves to open the truck door, gesturing for you to grab what you need for the night. You relent, knowing her stubbornness is but a match to your own. She moves out of the way and takes Tug into the front lawn so he can relieve himself at long last.

Bumping the door shut, you follow your sister and dog as the three of you head into the house.

The warmth of the inside foyer greets you. The smells of spice and gourmand candles fill the air. Old, weathered, wooden floors creak under footsteps and Tug’s nails clack rhythmically as he trots around.

“Shoes come off here,” Kate points to the pile of variously-sized shoes thrown on a rubber mat by the door. You slip your sneakers off and continue to follow her. There’s a large suede sofa in the living room, deflated from years of sitting, sleeping, jumping. A scratched wooden coffee table sits with mismatched coasters scattered across its surface. A recliner sits in the corner of the room, separated from the sofa with an end table.

“You can set your stuff here, for now. I’ll get your room set up tomorrow when we get you moved in,” Kate says softly. You drop your bags on the sofa and call to Tug, unhooking his leash and slipping his collar off. He follows you as Kate leads into the open kitchen and it’s then you can smell the subtle aroma of onions, potatoes, herbs. You inhale deeply.

You’re immediately transported back to your childhood. One of the scarce times mom would have enough leftovers to throw into a pot, having it simmer during a chilly fall day. You and Kate would come home from school starving, stomachs growling incessantly at the smell of mom’s cooking. It was warm, it was nice, it was carefree.

“Is that coddle?” You ask with excitement. Your mouth begins to water and Tug licks his chops. Kate grins, impressed that you would be able to remember that.

“Mhm, Mom’s recipe, too,” she confirms, lifting the lid of the pot and allowing the steam to exit. The smells intensify and you feel like you should be licking your chops like Tug.

“I remember it clear as day,” you reminisce. Silence falls between you both as you bask in the shared memory.

Even still, you remember.

Kate clears her throat and moves to the cupboard.

“What can I get you? I have tea, water, wine,” she lists.

“I can’t drink, remember?” you gently remind her, “kinda fucks me up a bit.”

She bites her lip and quietly grimaces.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she mumbles, “any other choice, then?”

“Water’s fine.”

The air shifts between you slightly. You can feel it: the awkward sort-of tension when a conversation comes to a standstill. Everyone bites the same question on their tongue, prevents it from just spilling out.

Kate hums as she fills your glass from the sink and passes it to you, moving to the stove to stir the pot’s contents. She’s keeping busy, trying to figure out what to say and do with someone like you.

Like someone who was fucking blipped.

You sigh, opting to give your sister grace this time. Setting the glass down, you move to her by the stove and place a hand on her shoulder. She tenses slightly at your touch.

“Hey, Kate?” You spin her around and see the tears welling in her eyes, a hand covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs. You pull her close and wrap your arms around her, embracing her in your own tight hug. She shakes, letting out a sob and snaking her arms around you. You both stand there, holding one another in silence.

The grief, the relief, and the remorse. All of it comes spilling out in tears and hushes and hugs. Everything she’s missed, everything you’ve missed, after all those years, gone and turned to dust. You both have lost something: you, your life and progress, and she, her husband and father of her children.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” she cries softly. After a moment you unlock from one another and she wipe at her eyes, sniffing back any evidence of tears. You smile at her and wipe a remaining droplet from her cheek. She laughs and shoos you away.

“Can you go get the boys, tell them dinner’s ready?”

You smile and nod, choking back tears of your own still. You’ll have to ask her later how she’s able to recover so damn quickly.

Tug follows you out the kitchen and to the stairs by the door. He nudges your hand and looks up at you with expectant eyes awaiting your next move. You pat his head and give him a small smile.

”Here we go again, Tuggy.”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Light Shall Smite Her

Pairing: Mildred Ratched x Reader

A/N: hello @serawalkerwrites​, this is my humble gift to you as your SP secret gifter 😌😘 I’m so nervous to post this, I hope you’ll like it. If you don’t, in the words of Puck, “This weak and idle theme, / no more yielding but a dream, / gentles do not reprehend. / If you pardon, we will mend.” x

(please bear in mind English isn’t my first language, so my apologies for weird sentences)

Word count:  ≃ 5 600

“I heard the new head nurse is very beautiful.”

Rosie waited expectantly for an answer. You hummed.

“I said,” Rosie repeated, in a louder, slightly annoyed voice, for she was excited and couldn’t bear your ignoring her right now, “I heard she’s very beautiful.”

You gave her a sideways glance by way of an acknowledgment, not bothering to stop your quick scribbling.

Rosie rested her elbows on the table and leaned towards you. “Don’t you care?”

“I’m writing,” you mumbled.

“Aren’t you interested, though?”

“Listen, Rose,” you started, setting your pen down and finally meeting your co-worker’s eyes, ”my break is over in five minutes, and I want – no, I need – to finish this, so would you be so kind as to postpone this conversation until later?”

Rosie straightened up with an irritated click of her tongue. “Fine,” she hissed. “I was just trying to be nice. Knowing you’re single, and all.” She turned, made to leave, but suddenly stopped to mock over her shoulder, “And by ‘and all’, I’m referring to the pathetic rant I had to suffer through last night about how ‘lonely’ you feel and how ‘unfair’ the universe is. I’m just trying to help.”

“Thank you, Emma Woodhouse,” you called after her as she angrily stomped out of the room.

With a sigh you resumed your writing. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh with Rosie, but you really needed to get rid of your thoughts and ideas by writing them down before your break was over. If you didn’t, the words would howl reproachfully in your head for the rest of the day, make a racket and fog your brain till you were finally able to spit them out on paper.

Just a few minutes more, you begged the clock on the wall. Your wrist was aching. Two more lines, and then you finally sat back in your chair with a huff like a warrior who has won their hardest battle.

You glanced up at the clock. Break over.

The clinic was unusually quiet today. A few patients looked up at you as you passed them on your way down the corridor. You offered them smiles, blinked at the sun when you glanced outside.

The lobby was deserted. You worked at the front desk, and were in charge of most administrative tasks – a rather boring job, but it paid well and left you enough time to write.

You were sorting out schedules when Rosie crossed the lobby, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. She shot you a moody look and mouthed something you didn’t understand. Five minutes later she was back; and, planting her elbows on the front desk, mouth tight and eyes studying your face, she started, “So, as I was saying, the new –” but before she had time to finish there was the sound of a door opening, heels, a voice speaking quickly, and then two people walked briskly into the lobby.

And one of them was a male nurse you knew called James, a boring, conceited person you couldn’t care about; and the other – but someone had drugged your coffee. There was no other explanation.

James came to a halt before your desk. With a contemptuous look to Rosie, he pushed her to the side, and ignoring her angry hiss announced proudly, “Y/N, this is Mildred Ratched, our new head nurse.”

You stared at her. The world around you vanished. It was as if someone had shone a spotlight on her, the rest of the room going dark as the audience held their breath. You were suddenly too hot, the air in your lungs was burning gas and it hurt – but Mildred’s face stayed perfectly composed.  

She gave you a polite smile and extended one hand to you as if nothing terrible was happening, as if you and her were meeting for the very first time and the only thought crossing your mind, as it had two years ago, simply was, What a beautiful woman.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mildred said, red lips curling up into a smile.

You knew that smile. It was the smile that reached her eyes but was fake and cold and meant to signify, I know what I’m doing. I’ve got this. There’s nothing you can do but submit.

You shook her hand. Mildred saw the way your arm trembled when you drew it back and pressed it against your chest.

“I’m giving Miss Ratched a tour of the clinic,” James was saying, with a note of pride in his voice. “She’s been very impressed by our equipments.”

“Yes,” Mildred answered, gaze boring into you. “The place where I used to work certainly didn’t enjoy such modern facilities.”

Your brain took over. It really was the only way you could survive this moment. You swallowed and locked up your heart and let coolness and calm seep through you.

“The place where you used to work?” you asked. You congratulated yourself on how neutral your voice sounded.

Mildred’s brow pushed up slightly, for she knew exactly what you were doing. She knew you. And despite your best efforts, you felt heat creep up your cheeks, heat creep up your ears, heat everywhere it was too damn hot.

But you would be damned, you told yourself, you would be damned before you averted your gaze from hers.

“Oh, it was a small place,” Mildred answered – and was her smile turning a little cruel? “You wouldn’t know it,” she added, and just like that, with her smile lingering on her lips, she turned from you and gestured for James to lead the way.

You stared at her back as she walked off, gait as decisive as you remembered it to be, but with that nervousness to it, as if she were constantly running from something. Do you only know where you’re headed?, you had asked her once – and she had gazed at you thoughtfully as she’d blown out cigarette smoke, and hadn’t answered.

“What was that all about?”

A door slammed shut, making you jump. Only know did you realize that your fists were tightly clenched, and your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. You forced yourself to take a deep breath.

“What was that all about?” Rosie asked.

You glanced at her. “Don’t you have something to do?” you snapped.

**

Mildred and you. The story was a simple one.

She had been a nurse at the local state hospital, you had been a professional writer; you had met at a coffee shop, where you would both spend your Saturday afternoons. You had talked. You had laughed.

The sparkles in her eyes when she would talk about things she loved, things that made her happy, had caught your attention. So had her smiles, and her laughs, and every little thing she had said and pointed out.

You had ached. And then one day you had been bold enough, and leaned in to kiss her. And she, with a half-disgusted, half-shocked laugh, had pressed one hand to your chest to push you away – and in a voice that was only slightly shaking, had demanded what the hell you thought you were doing.

Turned out she had been hunting. For a young, happy woman, who would “fill the needs” of her brother, just recently got out of prison. You had gawped at her as she had explained the whole scheme to you, talking for all the world as if she were having a perfectly casual, perfectly normal conversation –

And then –

The anger and the disgust and the pain and the betrayal. You had stormed out of the coffee shop with the need to scream and to destroy something. To make someone bleed. To make someone pay for what you were feeling.

And the hatred – how you hated her. And yet, there had been signs, you had seen them – how she would bite her lower lip sometimes when she listened to you talk, how she would glance up at you, eyes a little darker and a little stormier and a little shy, how when she would reach out to cup your face in her hands, to comfort, to reassure, her touch would linger and her fingers would hold as if you were made of the most precious star matter in the universe – you couldn’t have been wrong. She had wanted you. You knew it. But she had been on a mission, and nothing could distract that kind of a woman from her goal.

To know you had been used, to know you had been seen as nothing more than a piece of meat to be fed to a hungry animal, made you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling. So, with a desperate need to get rid of yourself, of the way you had been seen, you moved and got a new, different job – tried not to think of the reasons why you applied to a clinic of all places. You made yourself new, in a way.

And now – now your old self slammed back into you with a vengeance. It wouldn’t have been a problem, not really, had it come alone; but it was accompanied. It stood hand in hand with hope. And hope – hope was the worst.

The rest of the day passed quickly. You focused on your work, let your brain hold the wheel and did your best to ignore the thing, the thing that was warm and insistent and that you could feel growing in your chest, from making too much noise. It was adamant it would make itself known, though, and you were well aware it would only take a spark to set the fire roaring – and sure enough, at 5:30pm, as you were gathering your things and about to leave, the warmth started to burn – for Mildred, in her nurse uniform, walked up decidedly to your desk and, lips curled up, said, “Doesn’t your shift end at six?”

You clenched your teeth as you slowly looked up at her. “You’re not the boss of me,” you retorted, low and mean.

Mildred’s mouth twitched. “I would not be so sure of that.”

“I arrive earlier in the morning so I can leave earlier in the afternoon,” you snapped, louder this time.

She hadn’t changed a bit. She still looked exactly the same. You stared at her impeccable hairdo, at her collar, trying not to pay too much attention to the pale column of her neck; up, past her lips – a shudder, at the reminder of how they had felt against yours – to meet her eyes again, and catch a glint of amusement in them.

You cleared your throat, pretended the heat that flooded your face was fueled by anger, not embarrassment.

“So how’s your brother?” you taunted.

Mildred blinked. Her smile faded. She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned towards you and said, “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Why?”

“I have things to say to you.”

“Things to say to me?” You snorted. Crossed your arms against your chest. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m going home. Move.”

She didn’t move. She stood resolutely planted in front of your desk, eyes boring into yours, so you picked up your bag and walked around her, bumping her shoulder to make a point.

She flinched, as she always did when you would touch her without warning. You felt her gaze burning the nape of your neck as you hurried off. It was all you could do not to run when you reached the door.  

**

“This woman isn’t trustworthy,” you told your boss the next morning.

He barely looked up from his paperwork. “Which woman?”

“Miss Ratched.” You pretended you felt nothing, pretended it was not like music, when you uttered her name. “You made a mistake hiring her.”

“Did I?”

“She doesn’t have the credentials for the post of head nurse.”

A glance at you, annoyed and distracted.

“Her credentials are excellent.”

“They’re fake,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Everything about this woman is fake. Believe me, you cannot trust –“

“Miss Y/L/N,” he interrupted with a sigh, “if you do not have proof for these allegations then you’re only making me lose my time.”

You sat at the front desk in a bad mood. Patients glared at you when you answered their questions too shortly, and you glared right back at them until they lowered their gaze. Every time you heard footsteps, every time you heard a voice, your heart would speed up and your head buzz and you would look up, half in fear, half in (but that was hard to admit and, at first, you denied it) hope, expecting to see Mildred. You didn’t, though. The hours passed by and the nervousness in you increased, but Mildred never once crossed the lobby. She wasn’t in the break room at lunch; a nurse told you she had gone out to a restaurant with a friend.

At 5:30pm you left in an even worse mood. You told yourself it was because you hadn’t had the opportunity to be mean to Mildred, to take out on her some of your resentment and anger. There was no other possible reason, and if there was, it certainly was not that you were disappointed you hadn’t had the opportunity to at least steal a glance at her.  

At home that evening you tried to write, but the words had disappeared from your brain. You sat at your desk, eyes glazed, fingers unmoving. There was something in your chest that was made of emptiness and yet weighted heavy near your heart.

As you lay in bed you tried to summon bright images in the dark, the brightest you could create, red sunsets and turquoise oceans, anything to outshine the image of Mildred. You tossed and groaned and got too hot. In the corner of your room it seemed to you something was crouching, and looking up at you, and hoping.

In the morning you opened your window and stuck your head outside. The air still carried the chill of winter and made you shiver. But your blood was boiling. It was boiling still when you got into your car, boiling when you settled at the front desk and turned on your computer.

You decided it was boiling out of anger.

And yet – did anger make one’s heart beat so very fast at the mere sound of heels on tiles?

You told yourself it did.

It wasn’t until your lunch break that you saw Mildred. As usual, you gulped down your lunch to have time to write; and you were just starting when the door opened, and without so much as an introduction Mildred walked in and stopped right in front of you.

You looked up from your work.

“What do you want?” you growled.

Mildred gave you a pacifying smile.

“Good afternoon,” she started, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “As I said the other day, I merely want to talk.”

You snorted, and pretended to focus on your writing. But just as last night, words fled from your brain. Mildred’s presence was taking all the room inside your head, filling it with her scent and her colours, her voice, the shapes of her body. Your heart was beating too fast, your pen was frozen on the piece of paper, and out of the corner of your eye the blue from Mildred’s uniform was too bright, it was too flashy, it drew all of your attention.

After a few, long seconds of tense silence, you dropped your pen on the table and almost barked, “Fine, go ahead, talk.” You met Mildred’s eyes and tried to scowl, tried to convey to her the vehemence of your anger. “Say what you have to say and then get out and don’t talk to me ever again.”

“You’re quite overreacting, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve got some nerves, wouldn’t you say?”

More silence, as you both stared at each other. Mildred’s gaze wasn’t cruel or angry, you noticed; if anything, she looked nervous.

“Since you want us so badly to speak,” you said before she had time to, “answer this question: what would have happened, if I hadn’t tried to kiss you?” You waited, but since she didn’t answer, merely kept on looking at you with one hand sliding up her other arm to hug herself, you went on, “What would have happened, uh? You would’ve dropped a sleeping pill in my drink, kidnapped me, locked me up somewhere for your brother to do to me whatever he wanted?”

Mildred let out a short, offended laugh. “Don’t be so crude.”

There was yet another pause, during which she looked at you, nervously, and you looked at her, angrily; and then, entirely of its own, your gaze flicked to her mouth, and she noticed it, and her eyes widened a little.

You looked away and cleared your throat, praying – praying! – that the heat you could feel everywhere didn’t show in your face.

“I would merely have introduced you to Edmund,” Mildred answered eventually.

You met her eyes again. “I don’t believe you,” you growled. A pause. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I needed to make sure you were the right one for him.”

“And how many women,” you went on, slowly standing up and slamming your fist on the table,” did you try out before me?”

Mildred’s eyes darted to your hand as it hit the table. She jumped slightly, fear widening her eyes, and for a moment regret washed part of your anger away. You took a step towards her with the intention to reassure, no longer to fight.

You caught yourself, though. You stopped, and folded your arms on your chest.

“Answer me,” you growled.

“You were the first,” Mildred said, voice a bit tight. She hesitated, stroked her arm with her thumb. “I had no idea you were the kind of woman who doesn’t like the company of men.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “And you think that excuses everything?”

“It must have made it more unpleasant.”

“Any woman would know how fucked up it was,” you growled. “Except you, clearly.”

Silence settled between you two. Mildred’s thumb was still stroking her arm nervously, and you found yourself staring at it, as if drawn by the repetitive movement.

“I apologize for what I did,” Mildred said after a few moments.

Your eyes flicked back to her face. “Do you really? Do you really mean it? Or is it another lie, meant to coax me?”

“I do mean it,” Mildred replied.

“Then prove it.”

Something like annoyance flicked across Mildred’s features; but then, as quickly as it had come, it faded, and the nervousness settled back.

“How?” she asked.

You took another step towards her, meaning to invade her space, just a little, just to show her you had the upper hand. An idea flashed in your brain, but you couldn’t quite see its contours through the mist of boiling anger, so when you voiced it, it was without fully knowing what the words would be.

“Let me make sure you’re the right one for me.”

You paused. You decided you rather liked these words.

Mildred’s mouth opened, closed again. She titled her head, eyes narrowing.

You took another step forward.

“Let me,” you breathed, extending one hand to brush invisible dust from her sleeve, “try you out and decide whether I want you for myself.”

Mildred held your gaze with a stubborn, challenging – amused? – kind of fierceness, and you noticed how she had started breathing through her mouth, how her cheeks were coloring, not with embarrassment, but with excitement it seemed; like a champion in the starting blocks, adrenaline racing through her veins.

Something was drumming in your ears. Certainly it was your heart, but maybe it was something else - and this time you couldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was anger. Anger never drummed, anger thundered. Desire – longing – had its own particular kind of music.

You wondered, vaguely, if Mildred could hear it too.

She blinked. The fierceness in her gaze faded. She looked away, the black in her eyes turning sad and shy, then looked up again, hopeful this time, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the mirror that was her gaze, always reflecting, always revealing.

“Alright,” she said.

Your lips twitched into a smirk.

And then, just when you thought you had won, she smiled that victorious smile of hers that reached her eyes but was always cold, except this time it was warm, and there was mischief shining under it like a child up to no good.

“You have 24 hours, not a minute more,” she said, playful, almost singing. “Make the best of them.”

And then, and then - she lifted one hand, brushed the back of her fingers down your cheek, to mock your previous touch and remind you who was in control. Her cold skin made you shiver and instantly ache for more; and you would have leaned in and crashed your mouth against hers had you not regained control of yourself at the last second.

She left you with a glance over her shoulder as if to dare you to follow her. She left you standing burning and aching, trying to process what had happened.

You collapsed on your chair, because this all meant, dear you this all meant – that you had been right? That she was interested in you?

You raised a hand to your chest as if that could help slow down your heart. You did not know what you should be feeling. There were too many emotions, and which one was supposed to be right? You needed someone, a guide, to point out and say, This. This is the proper emotion to feel.

You spent the rest of the day in a state of overwhelming nervousness. Every minute you expected Mildred to appear with a cup of coffee or a bouquet of flowers for you. Nothing happened. The afternoon went by as usual. Rosie stopped at your desk for a chat. An old man threw up in the lobby and the cleaning lady cursed.

When the clock reached 4pm, you almost got up and stormed into Mildred’s office to demand what she was doing. Why the hell wasn’t she trying to win your heart? Why wasn’t she being excessively nice, voice dripping with honey, wide eyes begging?

You couldn’t believe the nerves of this woman, and you were fuming, until you saw her crossing the lobby with a young nurse in tow, and she glanced your way, and smiled. And her eyes weren’t wide, they weren’t begging, but they were nice, and they reflected the genuine good intention of her smile.

This is when you realized. There would be no excessive attentions or sweet little lies to flatter. She was aiming for the exact opposite of what you had run away from. Honesty. Being herself.

A little while later she walked up to your desk with a bunch of reproaches because you had messed up with a few patients’ schedules. Her tone was firm, her gaze hard. Brief apologies dropped from your mouth before you had time to think them. You eyed her curiously as she walked away, and kept on gazing at her long after she had disappeared. Then you cleared your throat, and willed yourself to focus on your work again.

When you saw her again, you were making ready to leave. She had changed into a long, forest green pleated skirt and a creamy white blouse with cuffed sleeves. You eyed her up and down as she came close to you, which made a small smug smile tug at the corner of her lips. You prayed all the gods the heat in your cheeks didn’t paint itself pink, and pretended you were busy with your handbag.

“Dinner?” Mildred asked simply. “I know a place.”

The place in question was a small, cozy and fashionable restaurant with a menu of fancy dishes that made your eyes widen. Mildred asked for a table on the terrace, in the setting sun; the waiter pulled out a chair for her with a respectful bow of his head, and for you with merely a nod.

You said something about the sunset, about how glad you were the weather was getting warmer, how dearly you loved the spring; you pointed out flowers. Mildred lit up a cigarette and listened to you speak, her gaze kind and attentive, and it struck you how easily you two were falling back into your old routine. How peaceful it was, how natural it felt to just sit there with her as the sun yawned and stretched, as cigarette smoke and laughter curled lazily up towards the sky.

Mildred folded her napkin and set it neatly on her lap. You glanced at her as you pretended to muse over the menu; and when Mildred’s gaze met yours, an awkward laugh burst out of your mouth and danced in Mildred’s eyes.

“I honestly do not know…” you started.

“Try this,” she smiled, tapping a finger on the menu.

“I do not trust anything with asparaguses in it.”

“Trust me, then,” Mildred retorted with a laugh.

The laugh died prematurely as your face hardened. Mildred swallowed, glanced down at the menu, looked up again to meet your eyes.

“I’ll have it myself,” she said in a slightly subdued voice. “So you’ll know what you’re missing out.”

You hummed, and took a sip of your drink to swallow the lump in your throat.

Dinner passed in easy, casual conversation. Sometimes, after you had said some random thing, Mildred would smile a shy, fond smile at an object on the table or at something around her, like sharing a secret with herself. You didn’t notice the waiter when he came back. Mildred let you steal a forkful of her meal, and laughed victoriously when your eyes widened at the rich taste that filled your mouth.

For dessert you both ordered rose and lemon Turkish delights, and fell in a comfortable silence. You watched Mildred and she watched you. At one point she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip to lick off powdered sugar. You felt yourself blush. Mildred noticed, smiled a little smugly; when your eyes met again, hers flicked down to her glass, and her smile turned shy.

“You never answered my question,” you said.

“Which question?” Mildred smiled at her glass.  

“How is your brother doing?”

There was cruelty in your words, but you thought you were entitled to some of it. The sun had set by now, the moon and the stars were not out yet: there was no witness.

Mildred’s smile faded. She looked up at you, a little reproachfully.

“He’s doing fine,” she said after a short while, in the voice she used at work with the other nurses. “Better than I thought he would. He found a job taking care of animals at the local shelter. It makes him happy.” A pause. A soft, dreamy smile to the tree on your left. “The animals help ease his mind. They give him purpose. He says he likes caring for innocent souls, that they would never hurt anybody, not because they can help themselves, but because the very idea would never even cross their minds.”

“That’s nice, but I was referring to his love life.”

She searched your eyes. “Nothing much to say about that.”

“So you didn’t find him the perfect spouse?” you asked with a mirthless laugh. “What happened? Set the bar too high?”

A gust of wind tangled in your hair, like a reproach from the universe, but you chose to ignore it. You brushed the strands of hair from your face and scowled at Mildred, awaiting – demanding – an answer.

Someone turned on the overhead lights, which threw a sudden bright, yellow glare on Mildred’s face and chased all the shadows.

“I stopped searching after you,” Mildred replied.

You snorted. There was a need to be cruel that was growing inside you and that was too loud, too outraged to be ignored. It was a military leader, and it had at its command an army led by Resentment, Pain, Anger and Revenge.

“What happened?” you mocked. “Got tired so quickly? Got so disappointed in me you thought it wouldn’t be worth your time?”

Mildred refused to take the bait. She stayed completely calm, face impassible and gaze bold, but soft. Her behavior made Anger give a low war cry and charge.

“The truth is,” Mildred said, and she leaned over the table towards you, and smiled and with her smile was swept away the impassiveness on her face to let a loving intensity shine, “just before you left I had made up my mind to keep you for myself.”

You clenched your fist. “Then why the fuck,” you hissed, “did you push me away?”

“I didn’t! All I did was inform you what my plans had been, for the sake of honesty –”

“For the sake of honesty?” you repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

“But then you ran away,” Mildred finished. Had there been the slightest note of reproach in her voice, you would’ve jumped to your feet and broken something.

“As if you cared,” you growled.

“I tried looking for you,” Mildred said.

She paused. There was a nervous twitch to her mouth that, in the absence of shadows, you saw.

“I don’t believe you,” you growled.

“But you disappeared. You moved, didn’t you? You changed your job, you disappeared so completely and I –”

“Bullshit.”

“– and I tried to find you, but there was my job, and there was Edmund, and I couldn’t give up on him when he –“

“So you gave up on me instead.”

Mildred cut herself short. Silence hung heavy as she struggled, weighed up ugly truth against beautiful lies, until she said in a breath, “Yes.”

A sense of victory washed over you, but it felt sick, unsatisfying, and you wondered whether defeat wouldn’t have been better.

For a long moment none of you spoke. Then you realized in your anger you had leaned towards her, too, and your faces were only a few inches apart.

Mildred’s eyes flicked to your lips. You stopped breathing. You were so mad, you swore if she tried to kiss you right now you would flip the table, rip off the lights, break your chair. She had no right to ask to come back in your life, not after what she had done, and you were so mad, and definitely not leaning in and your lips were not parting as if to taste the air she exhaled –

Mildred raised her hands to cup your face. Her touch was like thunder, except you were not a tree but the sky; you had not been hit and burnt, but sublimated and illuminated.

You flinched, and sat back in your chair.

“So?” you asked, folding your arms on your chest. You couldn’t quite meet Mildred’s eyes. Your face was burning.

Mildred raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“So what happens now? What’s your plan now that you’ve found me?”

Mildred smiled. “That,” she answered, “is entirely up to you.”

Was this a blatant lie? You stared at her, forcing yourself to silence the fresh burst of anger her words triggered in you. For if there was one thing you were quite sure of, it was that Mildred Ratched never relented. When she sank her fangs into a prey, she never let go. She would forever be just a few inches behind you, the shadow gliding on your walls day and night, the fingers brushing your shoulders and making you jump.

“So tell me,” Mildred asked after a short while, “do you like what you see?”

You almost said no. Just to tempt her, just because you could and being cruel was so easy and felt so good. You almost said you would disappear again and change your name so she could never find you. Because deep down you knew that if you really, really tried, you would forget her. Only be reminded of her face once in a while in the middle of a crowd or in a poem.

But did you want that?

You pursed your lips to hold back the word “no”. Mildred would have looked confident enough had it not been for the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. They were so dark, her eyes, they sometimes reminded you of a big cat, crouching in tall grass, silent, body taut, ready to jump on its prey.

She had jumped. And you had run away. But now she was jumping again, and this time, you had seen her coming. And you let her claws sink into your flesh.

You shifted on your seat with a low noise of anger at yourself, glanced up at her and blurted out moodily, “Yes.”

Victory shone in Mildred’s eyes. A smile danced across her lips. She leaned towards you, hands coming up to rest on the table with her nails digging into the wood, her gaze so intense, so wild, and when her lips parted to say something you slipped one hand around her right wrist, pushed back your chair so you could lean across the table, and kissed her.

It was a quick, angry kiss, pulling away before it really had time to start. Mildred blinked in surprise. You scowled at her, your mouth a tight, angry line. Your hand clutched her wrist to prevent her from moving.

“Yes,” you repeated.

A smile. Soft, nervous, hopeful.

“Am I forgiven?” she asked.

“No,” you growled, eyes riveted to her lips. “You’ll have to make it up to me, times and times again.”

Mildred’s lips curled up.

“Oh,” she breathed, “I can live with that.”

[emitheduck]

So. We're Soulmates? (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: my first soulmate AU, and I figured it was finally time, and bucky deserved one lol. no spoilers whatsoever

Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s birthday tattooed on your arm ---

March 10th, 1917.

(Y/n) had always thought, there was no possible way that the universe had ever, ever gotten her soulmate’s birthday right. When everyone was celebrating that their soulmate was around the same age as them, she got to look down in horror as she could practically see her soulmate’s life fly by. There was legitimately no possible way that her soulmate would even still be alive.

The rules of the soulmate were strange, and no one ever understood them or questioned them. It was found out sometime in the 80s that the dates on peoples forearms weren’t random--but the birthday of their soulmate. Because the universe was a cosmic nightmare, when someone’s soulmate died, the numbers went with them.

That’s what made this so strange.

Either (Y/n)’s soulmate was hanging onto life support, or the universe had fucked up and decided it was going to trick her into thinking she could find happiness like everyone else.

She had these feelings up until she got the faithful call one day, that she had landed the job with SHIELD and found out that she would be working in the helicarrier during the attack on New York. And that’s how she met Steve Rogers.

“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Steve sighed with a chuckle, shaking his head as he followed (Y/n) who was leading him to where he would be staying.

“What is?” She asked as she typed in the access code for one of the doors as they walked.

“The number on your arm. That’s my friend’s birthday.” Steve was smirking as he walked into his room. “I mean, it was his birthday.”

(Y/n) looked down at the date on her arm and sighed, her hand instinctively covering the date. “You sure he’s dead? Not some hundred-year-old veteran in a nursing home that you haven’t checked in on or something?” She was trying her best to not sound horrible for joking about his friend's death, but he seemed almost amused by her banter.

“Last I checked, he’s dead. I watched him fall off the train and everything.” He told her as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “His name was Bucky.” He told her as she turned around to leave, watching her stop for a moment to listen before she left.

Steve’s words always lingered in the back of her mind ever since that day on the helicarrier. She had seen the Bucky memorial spot in the museum, and the day she found out that he was alive, she would never forget (mostly because when it happened, she had dropped the bottle of wine she was holding on the floor and spent hours picking up tiny shards of glass).

The year was now 2023. Five years after the blip, and (Y/n) now fully retired from SHIELD. She left on good terms, but the years of working were just exhausting. Especially now that she came back after vanishing for five years and had to rebuild her life all over again. At least they were respectful, and were happy to give her the pay that she had missed out on.

It was hard enough having to deal with knowing all your close friends sacrificed themselves for the whole world, and not being able to do anything about it. That was the reason that kept her up most nights. The guilt of feeling like she could have done something, but never got the chance to, was the hardest feeling.

That’s what led (Y/n) to walking aimlessly around the grocery store at almost 2am. When she couldn’t sleep, sometimes the best thing to do was walk around pushing the cart and praying that the LED lights would calm her down enough to go home and face the empty apartment.

What she didn’t expect was turning the corner of the frozen section and crashing her cart into someone elses. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” (Y/n) apologize as she looked at the man in front of her. “I should have been looking. I guess I’m just tired.”

“I’m probably just tired too.” He chuckled, pulling his cart away from hers. Both the carts were empty anway. “You come here to walk around at night too?”

“How could you tell?” (Y/n) laughed, running a hand through her hair as she looked him over. He looked familiar, and knowing her luck he was some assassin that was stalking her, and came here to finish the job.

He motioned to their empty carts with a bob of his head. “Something about just pushing the carts around and listening to the crappy music makes me feel better too.” He smirked as he never broke eye contact. “Also, people normally buy food when they’re shopping.”

(Y/n) sighed, nodding. “You caught me. I’m just here to wander.”

“It’s okay. I am too. Sometimes staring at the TV isn’t enough.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he broke eye contact to look where his hands were gripping the handle of the cart. “Sorry, I’m just rambling I guess.”

“No, I get it.” She laughed it off, knowing it was late and sometimes people just kept talking when they were tired. “My names (Y/n).” She smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He seemed to hesitate, but reached out and shook her hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

She could feel her mouth go dry. “Bucky?” There was just no, possible way that this was the man who has been in the back of her mind for years on end.

“I’m guessing you know who I am.” He muttered, already preparing himself to turn around and forget this interaction never happened. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait! No, I didn’t mean it like that.” (Y/n) exclaimed as she held her hands out to stop him from leaving. “I just have heard so much about you--not the way you think, it sounds so weird. I talked to Steve about you once, way back before the battle of New York.”

She peaked his interest at the mention of Steve. “You knew Steve?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He told me all about you. Look, I even have your birthday on my arm.” She told him, lifting up her sleeve to show him the date on her arm, watching his eyes go wide out of shock. “Steve liked to always tease me that I had your birthday, and I always told him that I probably had some old man, sitting in some hospital bed, decaying before our eyes. Wow, I am rambling, I am so sorry. I should leave.” She was bright red as she decided to just leave her cart where it was and accept the humiliation and leave.

“No, you don’t have to go.” Bucky told her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her from leaving. “I guess now that you showed me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He grinned as he let go of her arm, using his left hand to pull up his long sleeve. There on his arm, in bold black numbers was (Y/n)’s birthday clear as day.

“Do you maybe want to go get coffee at that 24 hour place across the street? We might have a bit we need to talk about.” She was dumbfounded. Steve would always tease and joke, telling her that Bucky was her soulmate just because it was the same birthday on her arm. But due to the fact that he was presumed dead for so long, (Y/n) never thought anything of it.

“Are you going to come inside? I’ve been holding the door open for almost a minute.” Bucky asked, laughing a little uncomfortably as he watched the woman just stand at the door of the diner. She didn’t even remember the walk to get there.

(Y/n) blinked, rubbing her eyes as she nodded and walked inside. The sign said seat yourself, and she found a nice seat by the window for the two of them. “Sorry. I guess I’m just a little speechless.”

He chuckled as he shifted in the booth. “I’ll be honest. Me too.”

“So. We’re soulmates.” She shrugged, feeling uncertain of herself. Finding her soulmate was never the first thing on her mind, because she never actually thought that she would find him. Sure, the universe also had a way of making the two cross paths at some point, but because of the age, she never cared.

“When I used to see the date on my arm, I thought it was a joke.” He told her, mumbling that he wanted a coffee when the waiter walked over and asked what they wanted. “She wants a coffee. Two cream, one sugar.” He said as the other man nodded and walked away.

“How did you know my coffee order?” She asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

Bucky opened his mouth like he was about to speak but sighed. “I legit have no idea. My brain was working for me, and it just came out.”

(Y/n) laughed. “I mean, we’re cosmically linked so it does make sense.” The coffee was set down in front of them and she smiled as she held onto the mug. “Is this when I ask if you can tell me about yourself?”

“Where do I start?” He asked as he set his coffee down after taking a sip. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. James is only for when shit hits the fan I guess.”

“I think I prefer Bucky.” She smiled, watching as his cheeks turned red for a moment.

“What about you Doll? What fun thing do you have to tell me?” Bucky asked her with a smirk, making it her turn to blush.

“I worked for SHIELD, that’s where I met Steve. But then there was that time we found out that Hydra was inside of SHIELD, and technically you tried to kill me.” She pointed out, watching as he put his head down in shame. “But that’s all in the past now. I’m not that person anymore.”

He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. “What changed?”

(Y/n) sighed, shaking her head as she held onto her coffee mug for warmth. “I was pretty close with Steve and Natasha. Tony helped me get the job at SHIELD, too. Three people that I looked up to more than anything, were gone before I ever got a chance to say goodbye.” She told him, knowing that there would be no more tears left to cry. Her tear-ducts seemed to stop working after she had cried for days straight that they were gone.

“I wasn’t very close to anyone but Steve, but I do understand how you feel.” He told her, leaning across the table to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Do you live in the city?”

“I live pretty close to Hell’s Kitchen.” She told him, watching as he nodded. “I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

He looked a little surprised, but still smiled. “How could you tell?”

She smiled back, a little shy. “Some part of me just knew, but the other part of me heard Steve talk about Brooklyn all the time. He loved it there, and I guess I thought you did too.”

“It’s definitely still amazing, but a lot has changed. I’m still getting used to it all.” Bucky confessed, putting down some money for the coffee as they both finished and stood up from the table.

(Y/n) checked her phone and sighed at the time. 3:30 in the morning, and there was no way she was going to sleep now. Now, she was going to ride the train and hope that the rocking of the subway would be enough to turn her mind off for a while. “I should get going. It’s getting late, and I’m taking the train back.”

He nodded, seeming a little uneasy that she was about to leave. “Do you maybe want my number? We could meet up someday, maybe get to know eachother better?”

She grinned as she handed him her phone. “Put your number in.” She told him as they traded phones, smirking as she put in her contact. “I put my information as (Y/n)-Soulmate, just in case you seemed to forget.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget.” Bucky chuckled as he looked at her contact. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Considering the fact I’ve known you for a few hours, and I’m already completely head-over-heels for you, I don’t think you have to worry.” (Y/n) told him, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Bye for now, but not bye forever.”

Bucky was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it. “I like the sound of that. I still just can’t believe I found you after all these years.”

“You better believe it, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

MASTERLIST

[nevermore-the-kitsune]

Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

[slutsofren]

not the only way

din x neutral reader✨

Summary: Things are going good in the world of bounty hunting alongside one Mandalorian and his green baby. But he wants more. He wants to see you with his own eyes.

Word count: 1,400 exactly lmao

basically we got to talking in the discord server about Din revealing his face and well- i couldn’t be bothered to stop soooooooo here is a totally self indulgent fluff piece for my loveee

read on ao3 here

----------

Things were… good. Better than good, they were great if you were being honest with yourself. You weren’t in the habit of jinxing things when everything always seemed like an uphill battle but you couldn’t deny how incredible the recent month was.

You’d been off carting around the galaxy with a beskar clad Mandalorian for nearly a year and a half. Your work with the man was a constant threat to your life, keeping you on your toes and being more vigilant meant you hardly had moments of reprieve. It was okay though, you thought. Days like this meant the universe to you.

Bounties came along easily, the most recent few hardly putting up a fight for their worth. The pay had been phenomenal. Fuel costs were low, maintenance on the Razor Crest were far and few in between now.

Yeah, things were good.

It was when things got slow did your mind wander. Thoughts of the man under the beskar helm, how his voice would sound without the modulator distorting it. Was it naturally low or was that the manipulation of the helmet, you wondered. Like small clouds shifting in the wind your mind tried to conjure up ideas of the color of his eyes or the texture of his hair. There were so many possibilities.

Your mindless daze got the attention of the man on your mind. “What are you thinking? You look lost in thought,” he spoke beside you in the cockpit of the Razor Crest.

“I’m wondering how long this is going to last, Mandalorian.”

His sharp silver helmet tilted to the side, wordlessly encouraging you to continue.

“The last few jobs have been easy, you know? We haven’t had anybody chasing us in weeks. These last few days have been really peaceful and it’s nice. I can’t help but wonder that’s all.”

He let out a soft hum at your admission, likely feeling the same way. He was tired, stars you were both tired. It wasn’t like either one of you were getting any younger either. Being chased by the last remnants of the Empire really aged the two of you.

The Child, Grogu, cooed in Din’s arms and reached towards you, wanting to be held by you.As he settled in your lap the quiet hums of the ship filled the comfortable silence. Your mind still wandered as you stared into the mesmerizing sight of hyperspace as your trio scampered off to the next bounty.

Eventually you dozed off, as did Grogu, only for you to be awakened a short while after by a leather clad hand gently shaking your shoulder. You furrowed your brows, let out a questioning hum and opened your eyes. Din stood above you and you looked past his body out towards the window, noticing that you were all still in hyperspace. 

The Mandalorian held his gloved hand out towards you. “Come, I need to speak with you,” he paused, looking towards the sleeping child, “privately.” You accepted his hand and stood then placing the sleeping bundle into his pram in the corner and quietly shutting it closed.

Din led you through the shutter doors, just past the ladder leading toward the hull of the ship.

Towards his private quarters.

“Trust me,” was all he said after noting your hesitation. For all the time you’ve worked together the two of you have always gone out of your ways to give the other privacy and space. In such a small ship, it was well needed for both of your sanities some days.

Your eyes wandered around his room, taking in everything as fast as you could. Much like the rest of the Razor Crest, it was dark in his room save for the small blinking lights littered around the walls as indicators of various mechanics. You were able to see that he had few items, much like yourself. A small simple bed, a couple storage crates stacked neatly against the wall, his beskar spear and some blasters resting on top of a lone crate by his bed, and nothing else. Simple pleasures for a simple man, you thought.

“What did you want to talk about, Mandalorian,” you questioned.

For such a brute man on the field, he seemed to shrink into himself, his body language screamed the anxiety that lurked beneath. “Hey,” you put a hand on his right pauldron, the same one marked by his clan symbol, “what’s going on?”

“I would like to kiss you,” he admits softly just before a whisper of your name crosses his lips.

You straighten up for a brief moment, taken back by surprise. He notices this, as he does everything, and takes a step back away from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Wait, Mandalorian, no,” you stop him and take a step and another step closer until you’re practically breathing in his scent. Bergamot, leather, and blaster powder fill your senses, his familiarity ingrained in your mind just as this moment will be. “I think I would like that too.”

You raise your hands up towards the dark fabric of his cape that tucks just beneath his chest piece, your eyes focused on the visor of his helmet. Your spine steels itself in its place, each breath that escapes your lips filling your heart with more and more hope that this is happening.

This is really happening.

“Are you sure, cyar’ika?”

“More than anything.”

His own hands reach up and cup your face, bringing his helmet down to lean gently on your forehead softly. A Mandalorian kiss. 

This was a lot for him, you knew. The creed, the covert, everything about his status as a Mandalorian relied on secrecy and honor. He was trusting you with this and in return, you’d honor him.

Your bounty hunter leaned away as his hands left your face. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes in anticipation as a hiss filled your ears noting that he removed the heavy metal from his head.

The fabric of his thick cape itched under your palms as you inched your fingers higher and higher slowly to the back of his neck. Giving him a chance to stop if he needed to.

Soft hair tickled the tips of your fingers, a small breathy chuckle left your lips at the feeling. Soft delicate touches reached forward and you began to feel the roughness of facial hair along his jaw, your smile grew wider. “Cyar’ika,” Din’s deep voice tingled your ears.

Oh, you thought, you could never get used to this but you’d welcome it all the same. “What is it, Din?”

“Open your eyes,” he asked softly, nearly a murmur, “let me see your eyes.”

Your heart fluttered at this. Uncertainty pushed far to the center of your mind. “Din-,” you began.

“Don’t worry your pretty mind with anything, just,” he stumbled, “please let me see you.”

“But The Way-,” you began.

“The Way doesn’t have to be the only Way.”

A heartbeat passed. Two. Three.

Opening your eyes was likely the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life, all these worries infested your mind but that voice, that pleading. It was so hard to resist when Din’s sweet voice asked so softly to see you.

Those small blinking lights casted a soft glow on the face in front of you. The first feature you noticed were his lips, by the stars, his lips. Your gaze trailed upwards to his well groomed mustache, a feature you’ll likely store away for later in your mind, his sharp prominent nose, and finally his eyes.

Stars, his eyes.

He gazed upon you like it was your first time seeing each other, truly seeing the other. And it was, in a way.

“Din, you’re so handsome,” you spoke softly. His lips twitched a smile at your admission. He leaned his head forward and gave you yet another Mandalorian kiss. You threaded your fingers to the back of his head, feeling the soft curls beneath your fingers as the two of you inhaled each other’s presence. You whispered, “Kiss me.”

Tentatively his lips touched yours and it wasn’t perfect by any means but you still felt as if you were as light as a feather. His mouth moved in tandem with yours deepening the kiss the two of you always wanted but never let yourselves have.

Not once have you seen more beautiful brown eyes.

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

New beginnings [P.P]

A/N: I guess I’m unofficially back or in other words I got too excited that I finished a fic and wanted to post it. I was inspired by the picture of Tom in a graduation cap and I really wanted to write Peter’s graduation which hopefully we’ll see in the movies. Anyway enjoy and now I’m gonna go hibernate until I can actually write the next chapter of tale as old as time. 

I’m also looking for a new beta reader for my fics so please let me know if you’d be interested! 

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: some angst and tears but mostly fluffy fluff

Peter took a deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror. It almost felt like a dream version of himself staring back as he looked at the black robes and graduation cap that sat on his head. He’d dreamt and wondered about this day for so long and now it was finally here. His high school graduation. 

His eyes flickered over to the photo frames that stood on his dresser, two men stared back at him and Peter imagined their proud faces. He wished with all his heart that they could see him walk across that stage or give his speech. 

“They’re still here with you and they’d be so proud Peter.” 

Peter turned as he heard his aunt’s voice from the doorway. He sniffled and nodded, not realising that tears had started to form in his eyes. May wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. He melted into the familiar comfort and hugged his Aunt just as tightly back. 

“Thanks May.” 

She pulled back and adjusted his cap, smiling proudly at her nephew. He’d been through so much even death and yet here he was, valedictorian of his class and ready to graduate. 

“I’m proud of you too.” 

Peter could sense May began to cry and he quickly shook his head with a laugh. “If you cry, I’m gonna cry and then neither of us will get to the ceremony on time.” 

She gave a watery laugh and patted his cheek, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m gonna go get the car ready.” 

“Thanks May!” He called after her as she left his room, closing the door behind her and leaving Peter once again to his thoughts. He rehearsed his speech again and then again, nerves growing in the pit of his tummy. 

Just as he was leaving his phone buzzed. He worried that it would be an alert of some kind but Peter was pleased to see your name staring back at him with the words “Good luck!” and a dozen heart emojis underneath. He smiled wide as he headed to the car and met May, suddenly feelings less nauseous than before. 

May tried to speak to Peter on the drive but he could only focus on one of two things: you and his speech. He imagined what you would be wearing and the smile that could instantly make him feel better as it lit up a room. May noticed a pink tint forming on Peter’s cheeks and smiled to herself as she saw you waiting for him outside the school.

“Ready?” She looked over at her nephew and smiled, sighing softly. May couldn’t believe how much Peter had grown and how far he’d come in such a short time. He wasn’t the scared kid she knew anymore, he was braver and stronger and he’d faced everything that life had thrown at him. He deserved this moment of happiness. 

Peter nodded and took a deep breath, his hands tightly clutching the cards on which his speech was written. 

“You got this.” May encouraged with a smile. “And it looks like it’s not just me cheering you on.” She nodded to where you were standing, waiting patiently for Peter. He looked over and the smile that broke out on his face was wide enough to squash all his fears. 

You were wearing a pretty mid-length dress under your gown with a pair of sneakers and your hair perfectly styled underneath your cap. You looked beautiful. He told you so as he walked up to you, both of your eyes lighting up with happiness as Peter hugged you, practically picking you up off the ground. 

Peter always made you blush with his compliments and he’d love it when your cheeks went red because of him. He thought it was the cutest thing. Even on your worst days, Peter would always tell you why he loved you and why you were the best thing that ever happened to him. 

You and Peter had been dating for a little over a year now and there wasn’t a moment you would change. Even through the hardships and the fights, every moment with Peter was worth it. The biggest challenge had been college acceptance letters. 

Peter had got accepted into Empire State University and you had chosen to go to Columbia. Luckily it was only a 25 minute drive but even you both knew how crazy college would probably get. You’d heard about relationships, not even just the long distance ones failing because of the workload of college plus with Peter’s spidey duties there was added stress but you had both made a promise to try your hardest to make it work. You couldn’t lose each other, not after everything you’ve been through. 

He was always amazed by how perfectly your hand fit into his as if it were made to be held by him. You noticed as you walked closer to where the ceremony was taking place that Peter’s grip became tighter and his palms became sweatier. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” 

Peter looked at you and took a deep breath, nodding. He smiled as you cupped his cheek, leaning into your touch as it comforted him. 

“Thank you princess.” 

He leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, letting himself get distracted by the taste of your lips and the way they moved against his own. As he held you close he felt his nerves fade away and he felt he could take on anything. You were his anchor as his whole body felt on edge. 

Peter had never been one for public speaking. Sure he would give speeches as Spidey when he needed to and even though he was still awkward and nervous, he was hidden behind a mask and no one would be able to make fun of him the next day. 

As if you had read his mind, you placed your hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. “Pete, it’s the last time you’re gonna see most of these people so who cares what they think. Just keep your eyes on me, you got this.” 

Your words brought comfort to Peter as he held onto the cards for his speech. He could feel the kiss on his cheek lingering and it made him feel stronger to know he had you to support him. You took his hand in yours once again and smiled before leading the way to your seats, right next to MJ and Ned who both gave Peter a thumbs up.

He waved at May a few rows behind them and smiled, remembering to focus on his breathing as the time drew nearer. He tried not to focus on how many people there were or the different sounds that made him on edge. You knew that when Peter was nervous his senses started to make him feel on edge so you squeezed his hand and leaned into his side. 

Peter noticed your small gesture and focused instead on you; the smell of your perfume, the hum of your heartbeat and the way the sun was catching your face in a serene way. He calmed down almost instantly but it didn’t last long as soon after his name was called by Mr Harrington. 

“I’d like to welcome your class valedictorian, Mr Peter Parker.” 

The crowd of people applauded and it took Peter a moment to process as you pushed him lightly onto his feet. With one last squeeze of your hand, he pulled away and gave you a nervous smile as he walked up the small stairs to the stage. 

Peter stood behind the podium and placed his cards down, his eyes fixated on them for a moment before he looked up at the audience. He took a deep breath, trying to stop the shake of his hands as he gripped onto the podium. 

“Woo Penis Parker!” 

It didn’t take two guesses to know who was shouting in the crowd but Flash was quickly shut down by MJ who kicked him in the shin. Peter smiled at that before his eyes found yours and he felt the anxiety in his mind quieten just enough for him to start speaking. 

As he spoke and delivered his speech about gratitude and learning, his eyes rarely left yours. He rambled a bit off text as he thought of funny anecdotes to tell about his time at Midtown and he noticed the proud smile on your lips as well as the tears that had started to gather in your eyes. 

“My time at Midtown has been interesting for sure. I’ve done things in the past 4 years that I would never have dreamed of and at one point I wasn’t even sure if I’d make it here.” 

You sniffled, remembering when Peter had gone to space and left you and May worried and how the blip had almost threatened to tear you apart. You remembered the night that you first saw Peter after the battle, his face was bruised and the marks of cuts still lined his face but he was more broken beyond that. The emotional scars he’d suffered were far worse than any physical ones. 

He used to lay in your arms and cry most nights and whenever he slept he’d wake with terrible nightmares. Sometimes he’d space out or have flashbacks that left him shaking but you held him through it all. 

“I wouldn’t be here without my friends,” Peter gave a subtle nod to MJ and Ned who smiled back at him. “My family,” He looked over at May who was wiping her eyes with a tissue and Happy who was smiling back at him. “And my love.” His eyes finally met yours once again as he smiled wide. You felt a tear slip down your cheek but you didn’t even care as you smiled back. 

“I am proud to be standing here as your valedictorian and you should all be proud of yourselves too. Part of the journey is the end and tomorrow will mark the start of the new ones we take wherever they lead.” 

Peter smiled as he finished his speech, being met with loud applause from the crowd. You made sure to be extra loud and even gave a whistle which made Peter laugh. His cheeks were red but his smile was brighter than the sun as he walked off of the stage and came back to his seat. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and kissed his blushing cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you baby.” You whispered as you both sat back down, Peter’s smile widening at your words as he took your hand and squeezed. 

The rest of the ceremony went by slowly as you both waited for your names to be called. You watched MJ sigh as she went to grab her diploma but you could tell she was excited and that there was the hint of a smile playing on her lips as you, Peter and Ned all cheered for her. 

Ned almost tripped up the stairs as he got his but quickly laughed it off and happily accepted his diploma. His family cheered just as loud as his friends and Ned walked off the stage with a wide smile, being careful not to trip again. 

When it was your turn, you could feel the pace of your heart pick up, every nerve in your body was tingling. Peter kissed your cheek before you got up and made you blush as you went to accept your diploma. You swung the tassel of your cap to the other side and did a little bow which made Peter and your supporters in the crowd cheer even louder. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry more as you walked off stage. 

Peter almost looked startled when they finally read his name. He got up quickly and walked up onto the stage, feeling more confident than he had before his speech. He smiled at the teachers and members of staff as he passed them before shaking hands as he got his diploma. He smiled out at the crowd focusing on you and May as you both cheered him on. 

Peter wished he could freeze the moment, the two most important people in his life smiling proudly at him and he knew that if Tony and Ben could be here they would be too. And for the first time in a long time, Peter was proud of himself as he stood on that stage. 

Soon enough all the names had been read and the ceremony was coming to a close. There were so many mixed emotions as the principal said the last words of his speech about moving on and wishing luck to all the graduates. It felt strange, like a dream. This chapter of your lives was really ending. 

Peter watched all the graduation caps being thrown up into the air, it almost felt like slow motion as they fell to the ground signifying the end of his high school years. He was grateful and sad and happy all at once. Yeah there had been bad times but the good times far outweighed them. 

He smiled as stole a kiss from you as you parted to go be with your own families. Peter headed towards May and Happy, accepting hugs from both of them. 

“You did so good, honey!” May ruffled his curls, making Peter roll his eyes fondly. “Happy cried too.” 

Happy gave May a look before looking back at Peter with a laugh. “Your speech was really good Peter.” 

“Thanks, both of you.” Peter smiled at them, he owed a lot to both of them especially May who had raised him. She hugged him again tightly and kissed his head before noticing you walk up to the three of them. 

“Congrats Y/n!” May pulled you into the hug with Peter, making both of you laugh. Peter was the first to pull back, his cheeks almost bright red as he gave his aunt a knowing look before asking if he could go with you. May nodded but not before kissing his cheek. 

You swung your hand with Peter’s as you walked away with a giggle. Peter lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it, making you blush. You smiled and giggled with Peter as you walked away from everyone else, soon stopping at a nearby tree which you instantly recognised. 

When Peter had first asked you to be his girlfriend, you were sitting under this tree reading as you sat between his legs on a warm summer day. You remembered the small shake in his voice as he asked you and how his smile had widened as you said yes. It was as easy as answering your own name.

Peter showed you a little tool knife which had his uncle's initials engraved and smiled. “I thought we could officially make this our spot.” You smiled wide and nodded, squeezing his hand before he started to carve both of your names with your help. 

You both smiled proudly at your work, Peter tracing his fingers over the carving of your names with forever written underneath. “It’s perfect.” He turned to face you and cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “just like you.” 

You blushed and leaned into his touch, smiling softly at your boyfriend. Both of you felt so lucky to have each other especially after the blip. You never wanted to take each other for granted and you made sure you never did. 

Peter’s hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small box, looking like it contained a ring. You looked at him with wide eyes in shock. 

“P-Peter, I- are you-?” 

Peter furrowed his brow before realising what you were saying, his eyes going as wide as yours. He quickly shook his head and blushed with a laugh. “N-no. Maybe one day but no I’m not proposing.” 

You smiled at the mention of the future you hoped with Peter and let out a small sigh of relief. After all, you had only just graduated high school. That was a big enough life milestone for today. 

“This is a promise ring.” Peter spoke as he opened the box, showing you a beautiful silver ring that was engraved, For me, there is only you. “I love you Y/n, i don’t know what i’d do without you and I don’t want to be without you. These past few years have been crazy for sure but you’ve been my anchor through it all. This ring is to remind you that even though we might be in different places and we might not be able to spend as much time together as we want, I will always be yours. It’s only you, always has been, always will be.” 

You sniffled and wiped away a tear that escaped from your watery eyes. “Pete I-” You shook your head, feeling speechless as you held out your hand and Peter slipped the ring onto your finger. You didn’t know what to say so you said the only words that made sense in that moment. “I love you.” 

“I love you too princess, so much.” Peter caught your tears before pulling you in for a kiss, locking his lips effortlessly with yours. 

Peter knew that he’d lost a lot in such a short time and the pain of those losses might not ever go away but he had you and May, his friends and a new journey ahead of him that he was ready to take. Saying goodbye to a chapter of his life was hard but he had to focus on what laid ahead. After all, as a wise man once said; part of the journey is the end.

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[ikeromantic]

Strength

An Ikesen Mitsuhide fanfiction, approx. 2000 words. This scene occurs toward the end of Ch. 12 in the romantic route.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: The Greatest Harm

Mitsuhide found Motonari in gambling house, as expected, but at the promise of violence to come, he was easy to persuade.

“We’re gonna march on tha shogun tonight, huh? ‘Bout time. My gun is gettin’ rusty with all tha waiting!” Motonari walked beside the kitsune warlord, almost bouncing. “I can send my men over to get tha guns and powder in tha mornin’. It’ll take that long ta get there and set a camp. Too bad we can’t just rush tha castle an’ get tha party started tonight!”

It was strange to think the man genuinely enjoyed fighting. For Mitsuhide, battles and killing were a means to an end, but he never sought them out. Still, it was good at least that the pirate was on his side. He’d rather point this avatar of destruction at a target than to be the target.

“Yer awful quiet, fox. Get in a tiff with tha woman?” Mouri chuckled. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mitsuhide gave the pirate a thin, sharp smile. He couldn’t let the man goad him, not tonight. Not with so much on the line. “My little mouse is fine. It is not easy for her to stay here while I go to fight.”

“Huh. Ya sure that’s all?”

The man was too damn perceptive. But they said madmen often were. Mitsuhide chose to ignore the comment.

Kennyo was staying in a widow’s home at the edge of the market. Of course, Mitsuhide was not supposed to know that - but the abbot knew he knew, and his arrival should not overly alarm the demon monk.

He sped them in that direction. The sooner the three were on their way, the less chance to slip and break this fragile alliance. It had to hold until Ashikaga’s head left his body behind. That was what Mitsuhide focused on. Not the last look he’d shared with his little one. He couldn’t think about the tears in her eyes, or the way his heart felt torn in two when he considered leaving her behind.

“What are you doing here, kitsune?” Kennyo’s deep growl came from a shadowed walkway in front of a closed shop.

“Looking for you.”

The abbot stepped out into the moon’s silver glow. His scar was a black crevasse across his face, a crack in the universe through which hell could be seen. His eyes burned with a dark and lightless hate. “You came to betray me?”

“He came ta tell ya we’re leavin’! Time ta make tha shogun pay fer ruinin’ my fun.” Motonari put his hands on his hips and leaned back on his heels. “Ya comin’ er did ya decide ta tuck yer tail and go back ta prayin’?”

Kennyo growled, a low rumbled in his chest like distant thunder. “Demons do not pray, nor do good men pray for the deaths of others. If it is time, then let us go. In silence.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “Do you need time to pack?”

“I have all my worldly possessions on me now. And what I need most is always to hand.” He tapped the bottom of his staff, and the dark street rang with the sound.

“Then I will meet you both at the edge of town when the moon touches the mountain tops.” Mitsuhide gave them a nod.

“Goin’ ta smooth things over with tha lady? Ya know if ya need some help, I -”

“Will be silent because your voice grates my nerves as surely as a stone in my sandal.” Kennyo interrupted Mouri with a grimace.

Mitsuhide gave the monk a look of gratitude before hurrying off to the inn.

His little one was gathering the last of his things when he arrived. And seemed in much better spirits. She even smiled as he came in, though there was still an edge of sadness to it. “Everything is packed and ready to go.”

“Good. Mouri will be sending people for the guns tomorrow. Be ready.”

“I will.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say in that moment. Promises he couldn’t keep. Words of love that would only make it hurt more to be apart. Mitsuhide was good at speaking - when he was playing a role. When it was the truth of his own heart, he found it hard to put the feelings into words. He was no poet. Not like Yoshimoto.

His eyes went to the floor, where the letter had fallen. It wasn’t there anymore, but he spotted the creased paper soon enough. Sitting on the desk, open. Was that the reason for her mood? Had Yoshimoto’s poetries cheered her where he could only seem to make her cry?

In silence, he picked up his things and together, they went to saddle the horses. They, at least, seemed happy to finally be traveling somewhere. Being cooped up in the stables was hard on war-trained mounts.

“Can I come with you? As far as the meeting point?”

Mitsuhide nodded. “Of course.” He couldn’t help the bitter twist to his smile. “I wouldn’t deny you that.”

Neither of them said much on the ride through town. The air felt heavy, and it seemed wrong to push sound out into that darkness. Though unspoken words churned in his chest.

The chatelaine looked lost in thought as she rode. Her posture in the saddle, relaxed. Her eyes forward, looking at some distant point and trusting her mount to navigate the empty streets. It made Mitsuhide proud to see how far she’d come. How much she learned. He held back the compliment though, worried what other words would escape with it, should he speak.

Soon enough, they passed the city gates. The last of the dim torchlight fell behind them, and ahead lay only rolling fields and an endless expanse of stars. Mitsuhide felt lost in it. He had messed this up, as he’d known he would. Giving his love only tears. If Yoshimoto could make her smile with only words on a paper . . . perhaps . . .

The dark figures of Motonari and Kennyo took shape in the darkness ahead. Their horses stood in the field nearby, heads down and grazing. Mitsuhide stopped as they got close enough to make out their allies’ faces. He turned to his little one, feeling brittle like rusted iron. “This is as far as you may come. Turn your horse and go back to the inn.”

Not the parting words of a lover but right now he couldn’t trust himself to be himself. He needed this mask. The kitsune warlord, heartless and cold. It would hold him together. It had to.

“I will.”

Motonari scoffed. “Is that all yer gonna say? Ya know, in tha west they kiss to say goodbye. Ya should try it! Maybe slip her some tongue -”

“Keep your vulgar thoughts to yourself,” Kennyo rumbled. “Your bellowing is disturbing the horses.” He threw the pirate an icy glare. Without looking away from Mouri, he said, “Mitsuhide - we will go on ahead. Do not keep us waiting.” Then he grabbed Mouri’s arm and pulled him toward their mounts.

Mitsuhide didn’t know if he should be grateful or resentful of the courtesy. Now he was alone with his love, and his heart trembled near to shattering. Conflicting emotions tore at him. Jealousy and worry, love, anxiety, doubt . . . he couldn’t let any of it show.

His little one dismounted, beckoning for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did.

Her face was angelic in the starlight. Like a spirit. The silver moon shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Mitsuhide, I want you to have this.”

It was hard to look away from her beauty to see what she held. When he did, his eyes widened. “This -!” The bellflower hairpin. He felt stunned, frozen in place. What did this mean? Why? His gaze lifted to meet hers.

She reached for him with her empty hand and touched his cheek. “This is my prayer for victory. Kyubei told me that’s what it symbolizes.” She pressed it into his hand. “I want you to keep it with you while we are apart. Don’t lose it though! It’s my only precious bellflower.”

Her smile was radiant.

“You are a wonder.” Mitsuhide could not stop a tear escaping his eyes, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could fall. “I thought . . . I thought you would wish me goodbye in tears. Or -” Or tell him she’d had enough of this life, that the shadows around him were more than she could take.

His little mouse nodded. “I might have but I came to a few decisions about myself. Most importantly, that I’m tough enough to be by your side no matter what.”

He blinked. “You . . . decided that as you packed? And . . . read that letter?”

“Yep.” She laughed softly. “It’s funny, actually. I was beginning to doubt myself. I am not the kind of strong you are. I am not a warrior. But I am strong like me - you taught me that. To trust myself and my ideals.”

Her eyes were so warm, and Mitsuhide felt himself leaning into her touch.

“That letter from Yoshimoto reminded me of the things I’ve done. And all the lessons you taught me so that I could survive in this world. We make each other stronger.”

Mitsuhide put his arms around her, still holding the bellflower hairpin tightly. “All of that, you decided in such a short time, hm?”

She laughed again and nuzzled his chest. “It was already inside me, I’d just forgotten how to use it. And now I can access that strength when I need to.”

He stroked her hair, enjoying the closeness. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest, but the anxiety was fading. Leaving behind it only his love for her and the promise of a life together. How had he lost sight of that, even for a moment?

“I want you to remember your strength too. You don’t need to burn yourself out to protect me. Use your strength to fight your hardest. I will be here, waiting for you. Safe.”

Mitsuhide whispered her name into the night, full of his love for her. His heart in each syllable.

“Make sure you come back to me, Mitsuhide.”

His lips curled up in a genuine smile. “You surprised me again, little one.” He pulled away enough to see her expression. “Instead of tears, my weepy little mouse wishes me good fortune. With a smile like the sun.”

“Hey! Did you call me weepy?” Her laughter rang out, fierce and full of joy. “I’ll make you weep for that!”

“Mmm, and it is that fiery tongue and heart that never breaks that made me fall in love with you. Thank you for reminding me.” He tucked the bellflower beneath his armor to keep it safe. Then lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her wrist, feeling the beat of her heart through her warm skin. It matched the rhythm of his own.

She shivered at the touch and her cheeks pinked. A reaction he loved to see. It made him wish for homecoming sooner rather than later.

“You’ve shown me resolve, beloved. And as your future husband, I must show you I can do at least as much. I will return to you.”

His little one studied his face for a moment, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

“You should save those words for my return.” He felt his grin widen but he couldn’t help himself. “Because when I do, I will give you cause to say them so much that you grow tired of repeating yourself.”

He pulled her close once more, wanting to feel her warmth a little longer. Only knowing that Kennyo and Motonari stood a little ways off stopped him from doing more than holding her. “I promise you,” he said softly, his breath tickling her ear, “when I return, I will tease you mercilessly. I will tease you until all you can think of is my touch. And I still won’t stop . . .”

She took a deep, trembling breath. “I am looking forward to it. And you know . . . you aren’t the only one that can tease!” Then she stepped back. “I should let you leave. Good luck, Mitsuhide.”

His smile held his gratitude and love. With one last wave, he watched her mount her horse and turn back for the city gates.

“That’s one wide grin yer wearin’” Motonari chuckled as he approached. “Ya slipped her some -”

Kennyo’s growl cut him off before he could finish. “Speed and silence.”

“Yes, let’s not keep the shogun waiting,” Mitsuhide agreed. He should have been tired, but he felt full of vigor. This would not be easy - but he knew they could do it.

The three men mounted and rode into the night.

Next: Siege