#when Monica cut her wrist

[icat4ever]

Carl Gallagher is autistic. It all makes sense to me

[ddejavvu]

can you do Spencer Reid x reader who has a habit of scratcing themself when nervous??

Spencer hears your nails grating against your skin before he sees it. He hears the faint scrape of your forearm starting to sting, and meanders into the living room to find you hunched over your laptop.

Sure enough, you're scratching. Your left arm has faint white stripes on it, each one caused by a swipe of your nail.

You scratch back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, not noticing Spencer until his hand falls on your shoulder.

"Oh!" You squeak, turning your head to peer up at him, "Hi, Spence."

"Hi, Itchy." He grins, glancing at your screen, "Coordinating another meeting?"

"No one can meet at the same time," You huff, launching into a spiel, "Monica's out until Tuesday 'cause her kid's sick. Sam won't be in the office tomorrow because he's running a training course. Sophia can't operate zoom because the IT guy hasn't fixed her computer. Jana can only meet at 6:30, AM."

"Sorry, honey." Spencer croons, leaning down to kiss your temple, nudging your face slightly with his nose, "Why don't you make a sign-up sheet? A table with all the times you're available, and everyone can figure out their own schedules. They'll sign up whenever they're ready, and you can choose the time with the highest attendance rate."

"Those doctors were right," You decide, staring up at him with shiny eyes, "You are a genius."

You pop a soft kiss to the chub beneath his chin, rolled from the way he's peering down at you. He squirms as it tickles him, reaching for your hand that's paused mid-scratch.

"Time to cut your nails?" He wonders, looking at the slivers protruding well past your fingertip.

"Oh. Uh," You look sheepishly at your marred arm, skin burning hot and fiery, "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Why don't you put on a jacket?" Spencer reaches for your sweatshirt that's draped over the edge of the couch, "That way you can't get to your arm absentmindedly, you've gotta work for it."

This time, 'genius' sounds more like an insult than it did before, grumbled as you slip your head through the neckline of your hoodie. He's waiting for you as soon as you emerge from the fabric, face hovering, eyes closed, lips puckered.

Instead you lean backwards, raising your stinging arm and peeling back the sleeve, pressing the heated skin to Spencer's lips.

His eyes flutter open when he feels your smooth forearm instead of your plush lips, but he grabs your wrist with care, angling his cheek against your skin so that he can press soft, sweet, feather-light kisses to your skin. Once he's smothered the raw patch in love, sticky kiss marks littering your arm, he reaches for your chin, tilting it up to kiss you for real.

"Love you, Itchy." He murmurs against your mouth, all soft words and sweet touches.

"Love you, too, Genius," You whisper, kissing at his bottom lip, "Thanks for your help."

[astaraels]

hit 5k words on the shameless soulmates au draft I'm so fucking pumped y'all

I promised a preview so here's the beginning, I hope you enjoy it

—————

For as long as Ian could remember, there was a golden thread around his sister’s wrist. The same swirls were mirrored on her best friend, who also had a bold red pattern along her collarbone to match her boyfriend. Ian had seen all of those marks for years now, knew the story about how Fiona and Veronica just knew they’d be friends for life. How Vee and Kev weren’t legally married but they might as well be. They were perfect together.

He’d also seen the blue lines along Frank’s side when his father was passed out half-naked and drunk on the kitchen floor; vaguely recalled Monica flashing them all at breakfast one time to show off her own matching marks in the middle of a screaming match with her husband. Ian didn’t remember what they were fighting about—it never mattered, really, one argument turning into another into another—but something about how they were meant for each other, how Frank needed to leave that prissy bitch who can’t even handle a line of coke. Ian knew how bad both of his parents could be on their own, but how together they were even worse.

Soulmates could cut both ways. It was one of the earliest things he learned.

On Ian’s left ankle, he had an orange mark like a sunburst that matched Lip—his big brother, his best friend. Fiona used to tell them how when Ian was still a toddler, she showed Lip how to hold him. Lip in Fiona’s lap, Ian in Lip’s. Then Ian cried, and Lip knew he was hungry just like that—Fiona said that was when she saw their marks solidify, the color slowly spreading across like a sunset.

“I barely knew anything about soulmates back then,” she’d told them once over a shared bottle of beer, the three of them passing it back and forth as they sat on the couch. Some stupid reality dating show played on the TV, which was how they'd gotten onto the topic in the first place. “Frank and Monica ain’t exactly the picture of what you want outta romance, after all. But I heard some of the kids at school talk about it—brothers and sisters being your first soulmates.” She didn’t have a mark to match any of her kids, as she called them all, but it didn’t matter. Fiona was more like a mom to them than a big sister, anyway.

Ian could feel the faint trace of another mark wrapping around his left wrist, too. Another along his right thigh. Neither had filled in by the time he turned fifteen. Not that he minded—not that it mattered—because who gave a fuck about him besides his family? As long as he could remember, it’d been him and Lip against the world, helping Fiona with each successive younger sibling. Gallaghers took care of their own, after all. They weren’t the only ones to have matching marks, either; Debbie and Carl had them, too, splashes of dark green down the backs of their right legs. Liam of course was still too young for his marks to show up yet, but it wouldn’t be long now.

Fiona always said that romantic marks were bullshit, and Ian found himself agreeing with that more and more. Hell, the only people he knew that had made it work were Kev and Vee, and they seemed to be the exception to the rule. But part of him couldn’t help wondering who his other marks were a match for. He might be a jaded South Side hood rat, but fuck, didn’t everyone wonder now and again? A guy couldn’t help being curious about this sort of thing.

They always did say be careful what you wished for.

[marjoch]

MAY YOUR DEATH BE SWIFT

slowburn ellabs fic set four years after santa barbara

early updates on ao3 @ josmarch

chapter 1

In a world ravaged by an infection that seemed doomed to take over, humanity found societal connection to be the strongest line of defense. There was power in numbers. What one could do well, two could do better, and ten could do best. Almost thirty years after the initial outbreak, nearly all the remaining survivors lived in fortified towns — nearly all, as a rare few stragglers found themselves able to live on their own. And even more complex: those that lay in some in-between, finding refuge near the boundaries of towns, either inside or outside. Laramie, Wyoming was no exception to these individuals, as they had one of their own.

A dark and dismal one-story house on the outskirts of town was home to the loner. Apart from the appearance, the place had good bones, which is probably why Ellie Williams had decided to stay there instead of moving on like she’d originally planned a year ago. There were minimal furnishings inside, including an old couch and a coffee table, a small kitchen table with a single chair, and her bed in the room down the hall.

The front door burst open, then, and the inhabitant of the house stumbled in. She slammed the door behind her with her right hand, then went back to clutching her injured left forearm. The wound wasn’t visible yet, covered by Ellie’s long sleeves, but she knew what would be staring back at her when she got to the bathroom. She continued her unstable walk until she reached the room and looked into the mirror before ever addressing her ailment.

The Ellie that stared back at her was much older than she remembered. Since returning from Santa Barbara, she’d been aimlessly fighting in patrols around the state. She finally settled in Laramie, but not without a stark reminder of the Jackson she’d left: a large scar across her right eye, cutting a second parallel line through her eyebrow and continuing onto her cheek. There were less permanent details on her face such as blood and dirt, but she paid no mind, too focused on unbuttoning her shirt. She slowly pulled off the left sleeve, wincing, and let it drop to the floor. “Fuck,” she murmured, looking at the fresh bite mark above her wrist.

Ellie opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the alcohol and one of the many strips of cloth she’d rolled up and stashed away. She turned on the faucet. Running water was a luxury, and it barely worked. She rinsed the blood off of the wound and gritted her teeth as she opened the alcohol bottle. Nothing but a sharp gasp during the initial pour left her lips, a sign that this wasn’t new to her. Other signs were more physical. Now that she was standing in just a tank top, it was clear that there was evidence of other bites, mangled by acid and tattooed over by a new artist. And when she stripped down to shower the grime off of her body, they were everywhere: the branch of a palm covering up the small bite she earned in Santa Barbara, a large fern across her hip, a solar system covering a series of burns on her left thigh. She dressed her wound after putting on clean clothes, and she left the old outfit on the bathroom floor.

She was headed straight back outside, but not into battle. She had a single friend in the entire town, a woman of twenty-eight named Monica whose relationship with Ellie was tumultuous due to Ellie’s avoidance and Monica’s marriage. Born just a year after the outbreak, Monica was raised in a world that struggled to find its footing in the chaos. Ellie felt sympathetic for her experience despite not fully understanding. When Monica spoke of her upbringing, it made Ellie feel lucky. But regardless of their differences, Monica was still a skilled tattooist, and Ellie was a woman who needed a cover-up job.

Ellie grabbed her jacket and left, barely pulling it over her arms before she was out the door. The April air was still chilling to the bone, and there was snow piled up against the fence. She wondered if she’d have a decent birthday this year, if the weather would be nice by late May. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be twenty-five.

She opted to walk to Monica’s. Ellie had acquired a pickup truck somewhere during her travels, but she didn’t waste gas if she could help it. She usually used it if she picked up a patrol shift far outside of town, because she didn’t want to push a horse to the limit. She felt bad burdening a living being. She couldn’t remember how she’d ever done it before. Her old routines had completely fallen away, and her recklessness was a symbol.

The walk was nearly a mile, but she barely felt it, acclimated to the journey. Ellie had spent many nights making the trip back in the middle of the night after Monica’s husband returned late. He knew of Ellie, but she still wasn’t sure he knew the extent of what she’d done to his wife. As far as he knew, they were friends at best.

He was at work today. Monica was tucking her toddler into bed for a nap when Ellie knocked on the front door and stood outside looking like a forlorn lost dog waiting to be welcomed back into an old family. When Monica opened the door, she initially looked pleased, but then she caught Ellie’s eyes, and just sighed. “What now?”

“Can I come in?” was Ellie’s response. Monica just held the door open for her, and Ellie entered the home. It was much more well-furnished than her own place of residence, with multiple places to sit in the living room, framed art on the walls, even a potted plant in the corner. Ellie didn’t have time to take in the familiar space before Monica cleared her throat, claiming the attention in the room. She didn’t prompt the younger woman to speak: Ellie just rolled her eyes and pulled up her jacket sleeve, revealing a gauze wrap that had nearly bled through already.

“Jesus,” muttered Monica, rolling her eyes in a mirror gesture, hers with much more tone. She was some mix of disappointed and annoyed that Ellie couldn’t quite place. “Again? I’m going to have them take you off the patrols.”

“Come on, it’s been months.”

“I’m serious, Ellie.”

“Months, I’m serious too. Come on, Monica. I haven’t been bitten since January.” Ellie pulled her sleeve back down, doing her best to hide the pain but wincing just the slightest. Monica didn’t miss a beat.

“No, I’m fucking serious. People go their entire lives without being bit, and that’s the end of the road for them. You’re just fucking around, you shouldn’t be on patrols. This is everything to some people. Get a grip.” Her words sounded harsh towards the end, and Ellie stood there for a moment, processing. Then she sighed, sounding disappointed just as Monica had before.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, it was an accident.”

Monica was already getting out her sketchbook. “That’s what you said last time.” She was busy flipping through for an empty page. “Do you still dream about her?” No response from Ellie, so Monica looked up after finding a blank space to draw. “Ellie.”

“No,” was the all-too-quick response. Ellie shook her head and exhaled, as if that would change the fervor in her tone. “No.”

“Look me in the eyes,” Monica commanded. When Ellie’s eyes finally met Monica’s, the older woman just sighed and began working on her sketch. “You have to stop. Either I have Geoff take you off the patrol, or—”

“I’m thinking of going south.” Ellie’s interruption stopped Monica mid-sentence. When Monica seemed speechless, Ellie continued. “Texas. I don’t know. Somewhere along the way? I can’t stay here, I’m too restless.”

Monica kept working on the sketch, not looking up as she responded. “You can barely make it through the patrol without running into trouble. Are you good to head south on your own? Do you even have a plan?”

Ellie laughed wistfully. “Yeah. I’m taking my truck. I wanted to ask you about that, actually—”

“What, you want our gas? You think you’re in a position to bargain? You know I’m already doing a lot to keep your secret safe, Ellie. I don’t even charge you for the work I do. I make a lot off of everyone else that comes here, you just show up and expect me to help. What do I have to—”

Ellie cut her off, then, swiftly moving closer pulling Monica into a heated kiss. When she pulled away, she didn’t go far, kissing Monica’s neck before breathing quiet words into her ear. The older woman stood there, captivated. “What do you have to gain? Something more satisfying than your husband could ever do for you.”

Monica stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m worried about you. I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve heard that.”

Ellie threw up her hands, her frustration showing through her attempt to stay calm. Monica sat down, not amused, continuing to work on the sketch. “What do you want me to say?” Ellie started. “I can’t stay here. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You say that every few weeks,” Monica remarked. She looked up when Ellie failed to reply. “Ellie. Are you serious? You’re actually going?”

“I’m actually going,” said the younger woman. Silence remained between the pair, and then Monica turned around her sketchbook to show a drawing she’d drafted of a songbird. Ellie nodded. “I like it.”

“Great,” Monica said. “If you’re leaving soon, we’ll need to do it soon. You know the process, though. It’s going to be—”

“A month or two, I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You don’t have to interrupt me all the time,” Monica remarked.

Instead of an apology, Ellie just nodded. “This time next month, then?”

Monica went back to her sketchbook, not thrilled by Ellie’s lack of focus. “I’ll see you then if not before.”

No verbal goodbye, no words. Ellie leaned in to kiss Monica again, this time quickly. Then she left as quickly as she’d come, walking back down the long road home. Snow started to fall, and she cursed the springtime, reminiscing something she’d lost.

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #4: “Fighting for Family” Ch. 5

That night…

At a abandon warehouse, La Smaragdus sneaks in while cutting a chain with a garden shed and sneaks in while turning on the lights and the machine starts.

La Smaragdus: Oh hell yeah! I got you now you damn priceless diamond!

La Smaragdus approaches the diamond but then, the machine starts working as she gasp!

La Smaragdus: Yes! I’m gonna be rich!

Suddenly, she sees a shadow and gasp. Then, suddenly a metal claws grab her as she scream. She tries using her diamond powers but the claw throws her to the wall as she screams.

La Smaragdus: What the fuck?! Grr!

La Smaragdus then runs out of the factory and into the junkyard as she searches around for who is responsible for this.

La Smaragdus: Where are you?! Come out you coward!

Then, suddenly, she sees Jamie, Darcy and Miss Frankie throwing down a pack of knick knacks as she screams and slips on them.

Darcy: Suck it up, bitch!

Jamie: Alright!

Miss Frankie: That’s what we’re talking about!

La Smaragdus: Why you-

Then. A laser was blast at La Smaragdus but she duck and sees Kevin and his family with Principal Cooke and Randall and Janice on a laser machine.

Randall: Taste laser! FIRE!

The group fires the laser again at La Smaragdus as she screams but then slips on an oil spill as she screams and gets hit in the face by a wall.

La Smaragdus: DAMN IT!

Louise: offscreen Nice slide bitch!

Trevor: offscreen Hell yeah!

La Smaragdus looks up and growls upon seeing spill oil cans near Louise, Trevor and Phoebe and Stacy G.

Stacy G: Eat that bi-atch!

La Smaragdus: Enough! shoots her diamond powers at the people, who dodge it I AM GONNA CRUSH YOU GUYS ONCE AND FOR ALL!

??: Ahem!

La Smaragdus turns around sees Monica, who Krav Maga’d a bracelet out of La Smaragdus’ wrist and it shatters into pieces, much to Smaragdus’ horror.

Monica: Sorry not sorry.

La Smaragdus: No! You fools! This isn’t over! I’ll rock you! And smash you and crush you like-

A giant metal claw taps La Smaragdus on the right shoulder as she turns around.

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Like, Lady?

La Smaragdus: What?!

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: You’re a bad actress!

Human Jesse then aims her claw at the gemstone on La Smaragdus’s forehead and rips it out as she grows powerless.

La Smaragdus: NOOOOOOOO!

Human Jesse Solar-Opposites: Come on guys! Let’s skaddadle on our new spaceship family bus!

Then, a spaceship bus arrives and Human Korvo and Human Terry opens the door as they help their friends up and look down in triumph as La Smaragdus.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: How you like them apples?!

La Smaragdus: What?! Who the fuck are you two and what have you done?! You ruined everything!

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: We’re the new neighbors the Opposites, and when you mess with Earth-4, you messed with its inhabitants!

La Smaragdus gets up.

La Smaragdus: This ain’t over! I’ll be back for revenge and-

Then, the police arrives.

Sheriff: La Smaragdus! You’re under arrest!

La Smaragdus tries to use her powers but to her horror they’re gone!

La Smaragdus: NO!

Sheriff: Cuff her boys!

Ms. Perez: comes up to them with the stolen jewelry And here are the gems she stolen.

La Smaragdus: No! You will regret this! I was going to make millions!

Sheriff: Yeah! Yeah! Tell it to the judge, Smaragdus!

As La Smaragdus is driven away Human Korvo removes his hair tie.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: So, what do you think of this hairstyle, Terry? flips it back and forth

Human Terry blushes and stammers.

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: O-oh! M-m-m-y G-g-od! You look so hot baby!

Human Korvo chuckles and speaks Spanish to seduce Human Terry.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: You sure this new life is sexy for you, mi amore?

Human Terry Solar-Opposites: Oh ho ho! You know what Spanish does to me.

Human Korvo Solar-Opposites: I sure do. And I love it!

The two human alien husbands kiss as they moan

Special thanks to @avaveevo, @asikreading, @themagicwolf6677, @king-of-squishmallows and all of my watchers for their ideas and support.

[vvkiflo]

Monica & Irene - based on a real story.

i have a perfect life.

im popular in school

i have many friends

my home life is not so perfect

but im happy.

sometimes.

everyone has voices in their head,

they’re either the good voices

or the bad ones, no in between.

but mines is right next to me

its a girl at my school.

shes not real.. at least i think.

shes odd.

she sticks to me at school and tries to talk to me.

i ignore her, of course.

because shes not real.

but theres some moments where she will speak directly to my friends.

i don’t.. have an explanation for that.

like i said,

shes odd.

Irene is odd.

“Monica!”

i ignore her.

she starts talking about herself.

Irene tells me that she cut herself last night.

why would she tell me that?

i mean, i cut myself too. but i don’t tell anyone.

but then again,

Irene isn’t real.

she isn’t real.

but when i walk into the bathroom and i see tissues and tissues used to clean up blood…

why do i think of Irene?

im going crazy.

that night, i cut myself.

i haven’t done that in awhile.

it felt good.

the next day, Irene asks me if i cut myself too.

i am not surprised that she knows.

because after all, Irene is me.

I think.

I ignore her again.

I walk into my class and she walks into hers.

I talk to my friends and act like nothing happened.

one day, Irene was gone.

she disappeared. literally.

i thought i finally stopped hallucinating.

the voice in my head was gone.

finally.

I soon put two and two together and realize Irene was put in a mental hospital.

good. i thought.

but doesn’t that mean shes real?

Irene comes back and starts telling me about her mental hospital visit.

i ignore her.

suddenly, she grabs my wrist and starts running with me.

it was embarrassing.

but Irene was laughing.

she looked happy.

this time, it was impossible to ignore her.

i ask her, “who are you”

Irene looks at me in confusion.

she doesn’t get the chance to answer me.

a school counselor takes her from me and walks away.

I pay no mind and go to class.

she isn’t real. she isn’t real.

i repeat to myself over and over again.

im going crazy.

now theres more voices.

im hearing too much.

they tell me to get up and go to the bathroom.

they tell me to go into a stall and cut myself.

they tell me, “go deeper, Monica”

“Kill yourself, Monica.”

before i knew it, i had seriously cut myself.

id need stitches.

i start to cry.

i miss… Irene.

I walk out the bathroom with a bloody arm.

I make blood marks where i walk on the floor.

wheres Irene?

I miss Irene.

obviously, someone comes up to me.

They tell me something, they look concerned.

I look beyond them, wheres Irene?

they ask me questions.

i don’t answer. more like, i cant hear them.

nothing makes sense.

i feel like i am floating.

off into the ocean

with my two arms and legs paralyzed.

i cant move.

do i even have arms and legs?

who am i?

when i come to, i find myself in a hospital.

there are two people tending to my cut.

i still cant understand them.

are they speaking english?

are they speaking spanish?

i cant tell.

they put me in a wheelchair and wheel me to a different room.

in this room, there are more kids.

they look crazy.

i shouldn’t be here.

wheres Irene?

i still don’t know whats going on.

i want to tell Irene what happened.

i want to tell Irene that im scared.

the voices in my head speak to me again.

Monica, you have to run.

Monica, they’re trying to hurt you.

Monica, please get to safety.

Monica, theres someone behind you.

woah. what was that?

Monica, if you turn around, it’ll slit your throat.

I listen.

I look straight ahead to where the nurses continue to communicate with me.

they cant see the person trying to kill me right now.

I sit there and refuse to move for who knows how long.

the voices speak again.

Monica, it has a knife to your throat.

Im scared.

I turn around and look for the killer.

no one is there.

its a wall with animals dressed as nurses, telling kids to brush their teeth.

I let out a sigh of relief and cry.

I am crying so hard i think i might die.

I feel something sharp on my wrist.

ice.

the nurses are pressing ice against my wrist to bring me back.

they put me to sleep and i let them.

when i wake up, i can understand them this time.

they ask me if i remember yesterday.

i tell them no, i can only remember Irene, the cut, and the killer.

they write all of this down, i assume.

they ask me, who is Irene?

I tell them Irene is a physical voice in my head.

I tell them Irene is me.

They ask me on my interactions with Irene.

i tell them i ignore her, because shes not real.

i tell them she talks to the people around me sometimes, which i don’t understand.

they ask me if i see her outside of school.

i tell them i only see her at certain times at school.

They tell me Irene is real.

I tell them no shes not, and that they’re crazy.

They move on and ask, “who’s the killer?”

“I don’t know, I just met him.” i say.

They write this down and ask me more questions, but i don’t really remember them.

They tell me they have decided to diagnose me with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Anxiety, and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

i freak out when they tell me this.

“Im not crazy!” i yell. i tell them to let me go home, im not crazy.

i start crying and get up to leave.

the nurses grab me by my arms to get me to not leave.

I start sobbing and i cant stop.

a nice nurse sits me down and helps me calm down.

afterwards, a therapist comes in and talks to me about my new diagnosis.

i don’t listen, im tired.

once the therapist is done, they send me to sleep.

i miss Irene.

i don’t really remember the rest of my visit. i lost track of time.

soon, they told me i was well enough to go back into the real world.

i was scared.

the killer was going to come back and slit my throat.

someone was going to kidnap me.

but its okay, because in the real world, Irene was there for me.

This time, i would welcome her.

kiss her on the forehead and greet her with open arms.

[angyvalentine]

«Aiming first at the eyes? Good choice.» he chuckled, softening the grip on her wrists. He heard Lysandra shuddering, taking quick breaths to calm her racing heart. When she tried to move her arms, he slowly let her go. He didn’t expect to scare her that much – well, thinking again about the circumstances, Kratos couldn’t blame her if her first instinct was going for his eyes with her fingers - she was sleeping, and he’s been away for months. Thankfully, the moonlight from the window helped him – it wouldn’t have been… nice, getting blinded by his very own wife’s thumbs. Kratos felt her trembling hands on his cheeks. It was... somehow strange, but not in a bad way. He wasn't used to feel such a gentle, caring touch on his skin. He was a warrior, since he was a child he’s been way more used to cuts, scratches, punches. But now Lysandra's touch was so soft, as if he was made of glass and she was scared of hurting him. «You're back.» she whispered, searching for his amber eyes «You came back to me.» «Nowhere else.» his voice was low, rough - hiding all of his hunger for her. Weeks, months without her - dreaming of her voice, her body, all of her - resisting the temptation of giving himself hollow pleasure to soothe his desire to feel her again. It was something new for him - it was the first time he came back to Sparta as husband, to someone who was waiting for him, for his safe return. Lost in his thoughts, he felt Lysandra's arms linking behind his neck, in a timid attempt to hug him - and something snapped in his mind. His massive arms held her in a tight embrace, his hands gripping her flesh as to anchor her to him – to ensure himself that she was there, finally there with him. He chocked her sob in a feral kiss, pressing her against the hard surface of his chest. That wasn’t an illusion. Lysandra was there in flesh and bones, her body warm and soft – and they were both so ready to devour each other in the mutual desire.

Kratos and Lysandra- God Of War © Santa Monica Studio

Art © MeH

God of War Masterlist

Commissions are OPEN! | Carrd Profile

[claudia-nomusaabara]

Vanessa Leverett

Age: 31-34 (Introduced in Season 3 of Metalocalypse)

AKA: Nessa, Lady Lovely/Mistress Lovely, Dr. Leverett, Doc (From Magnus), and Smartass (Again from Magnus)

Birthday: September. 8th, 1979

Zodiac

Sun: Virgo

Moon: Cancer

Meaning of the Name: Butterfly

Gender: Cis female

Voice Canon: Theresa Randle (Girl 6 specifically)

Singing Canon: Monica, imagine Monica doing "Man Down" and " Work" by Rihanna. Throw in "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley with the Jamaican accent appropriate for those songs. 

(Acapella)

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Romantic Orientation: Hetero-romantic

Favorite Meal: Jerk chicken with Plantains and rice, n peas

Favorite Drink: Breadfruit Juice

Favorite Snack: Butter Sugar sandwiches

Verses: Metalocalypse and Original story

Languages Spoken: Jamaican Patois, English, Japanese, Norwegian (Learned from Toki)

Occupation: Waffle House waitress/cook (Season 1 - Season 2), Dominatrix (Season 2 through early season 4), Psychology Doctorate student (Season 2.5 - Season 4), Psychologist (Season 4)

Appearance

Height: 5’8

Eyes: Golden hazel brown

Lips: Plump

Hair: She has type 3C black hair that’s often in braids. Her hair was in long ropey braids during Metalocalypse Season 1 and cut to mini twists in Season 2. Then her hair grew back enough for shoulder-length braids, often in Bantu knots, in season 3. Finally, her hair grew to her waist for box braids in season 4 before it was cut short by Magnus in Doomstar.

Body type: Pear-shaped body heavier around her butt and hips than her bust. Taut muscles from regularly practicing karate and working out.

Tattoos: There’s an ackee fruit on her left wrist, a Sankofa heart on her left shoulder, and a Doctor Bird around her right shoulder.

Extra details: Dimples, prominent when she smiles

Hobbies: She loves video games, particularly Street Fighter, reading, watching kung-fu and samurai movies, listening to music, singing with Tina, and playing with her dog Odin and Tina’s cat Ogre.

Turn on Spots: Running hands up her back and legs, her hips, and biting the skin around her collarbone and neck.

Family

Vernon Leverett: Father, (46-47)

Pearl Leverett-Bonaventure-Hicks: Mother (45-46)

Tina Yvonne Leverett: Younger sister (21-23)

Beau Bonaventure-Hicks: Maternal Uncle (51)

Magnolia Broussard-Hicks: Maternal Grandmother, deceased (passed from a second stroke when Vanessa was ten, two months after Tina was born)

Clifford Hicks: Maternal Step-Grandfather, (75)

Adio Leverett: Paternal Grandfather (75)

Tashelle Leverett: Paternal Grandmother (74)

Alvita Leverett-Barrel: Paternal Aunt (50)

Arley Leverett: Paternal Uncle (43)

Odin, Staffordshire pitbull mix: 3 years old

Ogre, Tina’s cat: 2 years old

Relationships: 

Magnus Hammersmith: Ex-lover (Season 3), it started as a sexually casual relationship before they developed feelings, they had their friends-with-benefits relationship for five months before he broke up with her.

Toki Wartooth: Current boyfriend (Season 3 Fertilityklok)

[bellarkeselection]

Little B's birthday

Part 14

Thank you to everyone who sent in ideas.

Everyone gives her gifts @CoreBore123 on Wattpad

Kayce gets her a dog @15kmudd on Wattpad

Y/n has flashbacks of her and kayce riding horses. She gets injured but he tells her to trust him when he says get back on the horse and beat the fear @Ash54817 and @coffer-bish both on Wattpad

(Bree's dog)

Weeks have gone since Kayce left the ranch with Monica and Tate. But I don't want to worry about that today or tomorrow. Because tomorrow is Bree's birthday, September 10th. John has given everyone working on his ranch two days off to help set and celebrate the party. My phone rings as I'm driving to pick up her cake and my present which is a golden necklace with a picture of our family inside. "Y/n don't hang up please. I just wanted to hear your voice. I love you and I'm sorry for continuing to lie to you-" I cut Kayce off taking in a deep breath. "Kayce lisen to me. I don't want to talk about our messed up relationship. I - just..." Trailing off I see the picture of me and Beth holding baby Bree with Lee, Jamie and John all together at the hospital laying on my dashboard. "Bree's 11th birthday is tomorrow. That's all I'm focused on. So can you just be a good father and show up, maybe bring a present. Tate and Monica can come too if they want. Tomorrow is all about her, nothing else."

He replies through the phone. "What times the party?" I responded with. "1:00, at the ranch obviously." He clears his throat as I pull into the parking lot of the cake store. "I love you Y/n. That's the truth. Trust me-" Opening my car door and hanging up our conversation quickly I headed to grab the cake. "If only it were that easy. See ya tomorrow Kayce." Bree's cake is a chocolate and Strawberries are on the inside. Driving back home I set it in the kitchen hearing John coming down the stairs. "The cake looks great. She's upstairs asleep." Leaning my back on the Island I questioned him about birthday presents. "So what did you get her for her birthday?" He picks up his brown hat off the wall hook placing it on his head. "Well I know I can't get her another horse. She's already got her hands full tending to Holly. But I went into town a few days ago and saw this little play ranch set." I nod with a smile as we both stepped onto the back porch eyeing the Dutton graveyard a few yards away from us. Running a hand down my face I still hear Kayce's words from our phone call. Trust me. He'd said that to me a year after we'd been dating.

The wind blows through my hair as we both rode through the fields up to this place he said there a breathtaking view of the valleys of the ranch. I'm still getting the hand of riding horses. We reach the top of the hillside. The hills drop down into different ray's of green and a bunch of trees. Kayce dismounted his horse tieing his horse's reigns to a wooden post so it can't run. "This is beautiful Kayc." I awed hearing a low growl making me glance over my shoulder I gasp seeing a wolf watching my horse. "Uh Kayce..."

He turns his head but doesn't have time to respond before my horse starts freaking out. I try pulling the reigns getting him to stop but it doesn't work. Kayce hollers out to the wolf telling it to run. "Go on, go on get!" The wolf runs off as I cry out trying to calm my horse. But he stands on its back legs throwing me onto my back harshly into the dirt. I land hard on my right wrist and feel it twisted the wrong way making me cry out. "Ah!" Kayce gently grabbed the horse's reigns holding him down. He slowly breathed out brushing his hand over its fur shooshing it. "Easy boy. Easy. You're alright."

He ties the horse up with his bending down on his knee brushing hair from my eyes. "I'm sorry baby." He sees my wrist brushing his hand over it. "It seems to just be sprained." I just nod my head with him helping me to my feet. I stare at the horse shivering in fear. The horse neighs at the ground seeming calmer now. "Hey Y/n look at me. It's okay now." He clearly sees me shivering, my eyes holding fear.

"Kayc I - I can't ride him again..." I stuttered out burying my face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around me resting his chin ontop of my head. He kisses my hair tilting my chin up so I stare into his brown eyes. "Lisen to me darlin'. Horses are difficult like people. But I've learned that if something scares ya you gotta learn to fight against." I try to argue back to my boyfriend. "But what if he throws me again?" He rebuttals with slowly leading me towards my horse. "He'll feel your scared. That's why he tossed you backwards. But if you show him with your body language that everything's going to be okay. He'll treat you just fine."

He intertwines our left hands resting them on the saddle. "Y/n..." He trails off squeezing my right hand in his freehand. Glancing to him from the corner of my eye I mumbled his name. "Kayce..." His eyes shifted from mine to the foothold on the horse. I slowly put my left foot into it, swinging my right leg over the saddle. Kayce keeps holding my left hand rubbing his thumb over it. "Just trust me. I'll never steer you wrong honey." He squeezes our intertwined hands staring into my eyes deeply. He released my hand so I placed both hands on the reigns kicking the horse and it gently rides ahead.

I wish it was simple now. To just trust him like he'd never lied to me. Never chosen somebody that isn't me. Never left this family. The next morning Ryan woke me up from the sun had risen warning me to be quiet with a finger to his lips. Climbing down from our bunk above Lloyd's gently enough to not wake her he holds his hands over my eyes making me confused as we exited the Bunkhouse. "Ryan, what are you doing?" He replies removing his hands once we're outside. "Trust me you're love it." Adjusting my eyes to the darkness I see little lantern lights strung up above some picnic tables and hanging at the entrance door to the Bunkhouse. Presents sitting on one end with all the Bunkhouse cowboys and Teeter smiling at me. "You all did this?" I gasped walking around the cute birthday set up.

"Boss said we should do something special." Ryan spoke up leaning down kissing my cheek. "Besides little B is a member of the Yellowstone after all." I jump into his arms smiling and he gently hugged me back. "Thank you - thank you all." I broke away gesturing with my freehand to everyone else still grinning. The sun had finally risen over the horizon when Rip, Beth and John showed up sitting their presents on the table. Bree was wearing a simple yellow dress with leggings underneath and brown boots, her hair in a braid down her back. I'd changed into a orange flannel with a tan jacket thrown over. Blue jeans and black boots with my hair partly pulled back with a hairpin. Everyone is sat down as I'm about to say something a black truck entered under the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch sign. He actually came.

A car door flings open and I hear Monica cry in warning as he races to hug Bree. "Tate!" Hearing that reminds me the day my life completely changed once again. The day Kayce came home. Bree squeals rushing to him tackling one another in a tight hug. "Tate!" It warms my heart seeing the pair so happy after the incident months ago. "Happy birthday. This is for you. I made it." He pulls out a bracelet that has multiple fall colored beads attached to it. He slipped it on her wrist showing her his matching one of his same wrist. "Thank you, Tate. It's really cute. "I responded giving him a hug that he equally replicated as his mother walks up. "Thank you for inviting us Y/n." I smile lightly seeing Kayce finally come out of his truck. His brown eyes trailed my body with a weak smile. Yet my eyes stay trained on his eyes, feeling tension between us.

Walker thankfully broke it picking up his guitar trying to find the right toon. "Let's sing and eat cake ya'll." Picking up Bree in my arms I sit her in front of her cake with 11 candles lit ontop. Everyone gathered around. Kayce and I standing on each side of our daughter as Walker started playing Happy Birthday on his guitar. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday Bree. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday Bree." Everyone sang before she blew out her candles and I hear a camera from a cellphone flash. Ryan grins showing me the picture he took. "Got it." Kayce is on her left with me on her right as she blows out the candles. We're both smiling huge grins. Beth sits down her bottle of alchohol clapping her hands together smiling. "Present time, my adorable niece."

She sits down a pink box watching Bree open it to pull out a black leather jacket and light orange-pinkish shirt with a horse on the front. Rip tips his hat voicing out the jacket. "I thought she needed a cool jacket to go with it." Next Colby and Lloyd stepped up handing her a tan cowgirl hat with jewels attached and she sits in her head grinning. Ryan gives her a long box and she tosses the wrapping paper to see a jewelled belt buckle that looked fancy like all the boys have. Teeter hands me two tickets. Flipping them over I read that's it's for a bull riding event. Raising my brows in confusion she clarified. "For when she's older. I'd like her to get a ride on a beast." She flips her baseball cap around smacking her gums together. Walker sits a tiny guitar case on the table and she opened it to see a tan colored guitar like his own. "We'll start lessons later, babydoll." He grinned matching her smile.

"Here you go little B." Finally her grandpa John steps up with a small box. She ripped the paper and squealed excitedly. "Horses mana!" Kayce chuckles alongside me as she takes them out of the box. Setting up her own little ranch set up. Bree gets to her feet pointing out a older cowboy labeling him. "He's you uncle John." John smiles helping her set up her ranch until Kayce clears his throat making everyone turn the heads his direction. "Bree do you wanna see my present?" She nods excitedly seeing him go open the backseat of his truck smacking his hands on his knees he said. "Come on boy." Kayce what did you get her. A dog's bark boomed through the ranch as we see a golden retriever come running alongside Kayce. He got her a dog.

Bree jumped from her chair racing to the dog as he sits wagging its tail happily. "Puppy!" She runs her hands over his fur and Tate even comes up join in her fun. Bree grins up at her father as he bends down clipping a red collar around his neck. "He was a stray at the shelter. When I saw him I thought of you. How does the name Maxon sound, sweetheart?" Bree jumped into his arms giggling even getting a smile from Tate. Finally I step up causing him to get to his feet with everyone else going to check out the new doggy. "I never expected your gift to be a dog, Kayce." I spoke once we'd walked a few steps away from the others. He shoves his hands in his pocket glancing to his feet instead of looking by direction. "Y/n, trust me. It was just to make her happy."

"Kayce I -" I started to speak but really had nothing to say. He finally looked at me staying true to his word, this time at least. "Hey like you said yesterday. We leave our romance trouble for tomorrow. Today is our daughter's birthday." He leans forward planting a kiss to my forehead walking over to play with the dog with the others. Bree wears her birthday necklace as her and Tate plays fetch with Maxon. Kayce's right. I should listen to my own rule and wait until tomorrow.

Comment you’re thoughts and reblog 🤗

Hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving to whoever celebrates

Tags- just ask to be added

@rosie-posie08

@whateverthecostner

@stellarosedutton

@lizzydutton

@kcloveswrestling

@kaymudd

@the-morning-star-falls

[ryanflrblog]

The ceremony

I just had to say something!

As with a lot of males, I sometimes shoot off my mouth at very bad times. One of those led me to this moment, and though I was ragingly turned on by it, I still regretted having said it.

My girlfriend Monica and I are in a Female-Led Relationship. She makes the decisions and imposes rules for my behavior. I am spanked at least once a week, most weeks more frequently.

Yesterday, when she told me I was to be spanked, I had mouthed off - “I missed the ceremony where we formalized our FLR.” Monica had paused, looked at me, and smiled slightly.

“Very well,” she’d told me. “We’ll formalize it.”

She didn’t speak to me the rest of the night. The next day I went to work, then walking to my car, I was approached by her sisters, Marlene and Maeve.

“Hello Ryan,” Marlene greeted. “We’re here to take your to your ceremony.”

My jaw dropped - I had no idea that Monica had told her sisters about our FLR. Without another word, Maeve had moved behind me and handcuffed my wrists behind my back. I was placed in Marlene’s car in the rear seat with Maeve sitting beside me and Marlene drove to my home with me, a prisoner, in the rear seat, speechless, embarrassed, and hard as a brick.

When we arrived at the house, Marlene pulled into the garage. Once the door was down, I was removed from the car and escorted, with a woman holding each arm, into the house. 

I swallowed when I saw the room all lit with candles. Monica sat on a counter, her feet toward me.

“I see the prisoner has arrived,” she announced. “Ladies, strip him naked.”

My eyes widened, but Monica’s sisters stripped me, sliding my clothes off me and cutting off my shirt, since I was handcuffed. They laughed briefly at my erection, and I blushed all over, embarrassed beyond all hope.

“Now, slave,” she told me. “This is your formal ceremony. You will approach me, kiss my feet, and pledge to not only surrender to me, but also to my sisters, who will now have disciplinary authority over you forever. And remember as you obey, that the same mouth kissing my feet is the same mouth that got you into this embarrassing ceremony in the first place, and why I chose to involve my sisters.”

She paused. “Lips to my feet, now!”

The sisters led me forward, and I felt all hope of freedom vanish as I put my lips to my girlfriend’s feet and surrendered.

[anders-hawke]

Day 21: “Help Them”

Episode: “Existence” | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat | AO3 | @today-in-fic​

As soon as he sees her, it’s like a part of him that’s been on edge since they parted has quieted down, content now that he can see her, and cup her cheek, and brush away her sweat-stained hair from her face. “Scully,” he says, arms half wrapped around her and their baby, who’s pink and wailing—healthy in the lungs and very human, he sees. He smiles for a brief moment but it flies off his face when she doesn’t respond.

“She needs doctors, she needs a hospital,” Agent Reyes says, bustling around the dilapidated building. “She started slurring her words, and there’s a lot of blood.”

“Mulder,” Scully finally murmurs, and he lets out a choked sigh of relief.

He digs underneath her and tangles the sheet around her legs, ignoring the soaked mattress as he secures his arms around her. “I’m here, baby, I’m here. Cover his ears, honey.” He lifts her up into his arms and she hisses as Monica strides over and gently scoops the baby into her arms, wrapping him up in a blanket before pulling her coat around him even though the heat is inescapable.

“Go!” she yells, jogging past him to the door, and he follows her, walking as fast as he can.

Mulder squints against the debris being whipped in his face and looks down briefly when he feels Scully turn her face against his chest, eyes squeezed tight. “It’ll be okay, Scully, I promise,” but he has no confidence in his answer as the helicopter’s pilot helps him move her inside, and he sees blood all the way down to his wrist, a couple drops sliding down his arm.

—

They land without permission from the nearest hospital ten minutes away, the pilot trying to convince the obstinate people even as he lands, even screaming at them to get the fuck out here as he turns off the helicopter and turns around in his seat to look at the four of them. Seconds later, medics come streaming out the doors and help Mulder ease Scully onto a gurney, retrieving the baby from Reyes’s arms.

“Help them,” he pleas, jogging after them, heart in his throat at the sight of Scully’s unmoving body.

He panics for a moment as they burst through the doors and into the hospital, but Reyes grabs his arm. “Go with her. I’ll stay with the baby.” She doesn’t give him time to respond, instead rushing off to follow the nurses with his son.

“Sir!” one of the many medics bustling around says, coming between him and Scully as they whisk her away. “What’s your name?”

“Get out of my way,” Mulder growls, holding her in place as he walks around her and follows the medics wheeling Scully towards a hallway labeled Surgery.

The nurse steps in front of him again. “At least show me some sort of ID! I can’t let you go with her without an ID!”

“I don’t have anything! I need to be with her!”

“You need to scrub up before you go anywhere near her operating room, sir.”

“Call 202-597-0194. He’ll verify that it’s me.”

“And who are you?”

“Fox fucking Mulder. Let me see her.”

—

He stands by her head and brushes his fingers through her hair with gloved hands, trying not to panic or give the surgeon and nurses cause to kick him out of the room. He tried to watch what they were doing but then they started cutting her open low on her belly and he had to look away. Mulder hasn’t looked up from her face since, focusing instead on how Scully’s steady breathing with the help of an oxygen mask pushes her bunched-up shirt up and down with her chest.

Alive alive alive, he thinks, and presses a trembling kiss to her forehead. He tries to ignore the fact that there are several tubes inside her and that a monitor shows the interior of what he knows has to be her uterus. Mulder shuts his eyes and chants alive alive alive in his head, a mantra.

—

They wheel her out of surgery hours later and he steps aside, watching as nurses insert IVs and all sorts of medical equipment that he’s sure Scully would be explaining were she awake. Mulder pulls a chair over to her bedside to sit down when they’re done, only realizing that he needs to take off his scrubs and find the baby when a nurse rolls in a bassinet, Reyes close behind. “Mulder,” she says, almost surprised, as he stands up, suddenly shameful; Scully deserves better than a man who goes so out of his mind with worry that he doesn’t register the obnoxious crinkling of his second layer. The nurse leaves. “I’ll stay. Go change. I’m sure you have some phone calls to make, too.”

He nods and follows her gaze to the baby. “Is he—?”

“He’s doing great. Called him a little champ.” Reyes looks up at him and inhales. “I wasn’t sure... They asked me what to call him, what to put on the bassinet label there.” She gestures to the Scully-Mulder on the side closest to his wiggling feet and he smiles wryly.

“It’s fine. We never...got around to talking about it, anyways. Scully can tell them when she wakes up.”

Reyes nods and looks over at his partner, a weight seeming to lift off her slender shoulders even as her brows furrow slightly. “How long did they say?”

“Anywhere from a few hours to half a day. She lost a lot of blood, so it might take a while for the anesthetic to wear off.” He studies the other agent for a moment before clearing his throat and stepping forward, embracing her in a loose, awkward hug. “I just, um, wanted to thank you. This—she—the baby... Thank you.”

She chuckles and squeezes him close like a sister before letting him go. “It was the right thing to do—the only thing to do.”

—

Skinner picks up almost immediately. “How is she?”

“She’s doing alright.” He doesn’t press for details and Mulder doesn’t offer them. “She’ll live.” He clears his tightening throat. “She’s alive.”

“And the baby?”

“A healthy baby boy. It doesn’t seem real.”

Skinner chuckles. “Better get used to it. I’ve heard they don’t let you sleep through the night until they’re ten.”

Mulder leans against the wall and lets his eyes fall closed. “I just don’t understand why they didn’t take him.” He sighs heavily. “I mean, Scully and I have both been infected with different strains of the alien virus. If they wanted him, it would be because those infections somehow accomplished what they set out to do... Yet the super soldiers didn’t take him. It makes no sense.”

“Maybe it never will. You know, Mulder, sometimes you meet people who get so deluded that all reason and logic cease to exist to them.”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows. “It’s not all a delusion.”

“If this alien invasion thing is real, they’re deluded in trying to stop it. I mean, they’re goddamned aliens, Mulder. And I’ve heard a million different variations of the story. They were here first. They just want power. Etcetera. We can’t fight an invisible enemy.”

“I—”

“Stop worrying so much, Mulder, and be with your family. If there’s a way to stop this, it won’t come from trying to be a martyr.”

—

Mulder feeds the baby from the tiniest bottle he’s ever seen, sitting in the chair at Scully’s bedside. He drains the bottle quickly, eyes closed the entire time, and Mulder wonders what color his eyes will become. Nurses come and go to check on Scully, less often to check on the baby. He eats in the hospital dining hall and peruses the gift shop to pass the time, chuckling when he finds a card depicting a cow mooing up at the moon that reads I love you to the moooon and back on the inside. He pays the three bucks for it and answers his phone.

“Fox, I found a flight to Atlanta that arrives at ten o’clock. Mr. Skinner and I are flying down together.”

Mulder nods. “We’re at Enid Falter Memorial Hospital. We’re in room 310, it’s on the third floor.”

“I’ll see you soon, Fox.”

—

Skinner and Reyes talk in hushed tones outside the room as Maggie sits across from him, cradling the baby in her arms as he brushes his thumb across Scully’s knuckles. He starts wiggling and she coos. “He’s probably hungry,” Mulder supplies, pressing the Call Nurse button.

The baby whimpers and starts to cry, and Scully squeezes his hand. A nurse comes in and Maggie relays the problem to her; Mulder doesn’t take his eyes off of his partner, whose eyes start to flutter. “Scully?” he breathes, scooching his chair closer.

She moans and forces her eyes open. “The baby,” she whispers, sounding parched.

Someone hands him a glass of water and he holds it as Scully drinks it through the straw, calming down as the baby’s distressed cries disappear once he latches onto the bottle Maggie has. “He’s okay, Dana,” she says, looking up at her daughter with tears in her eyes. “I’ve got him right here.”

“Mom,” Scully squeezes out. “I was so scared.” She turns her gaze to Mulder, and he lifts her hand to his lips.

“You’ll be alright. Fox was with you the entire time, weren’t you?” He nods. “And the other agent, Monica Reyes, kept my grandson company.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, and the baby moves his head away from the bottle, prompting Maggie to set the nearly-empty container of formula on the bedside table. “I want to hold him.”

“Here he is,” Maggie murmurs, gently setting the baby in her daughter’s arms.

“Oh, William,” she sighs, closing her eyes as she presses a lingering kiss to his fuzzy head.

“Is that his name?” Mulder asks, stroking his son’s impossibly soft leg.

Scully nods tearfully. “After our fathers.”

“William,” he tries out, grinning, and his partner lets out a joyful laugh despite the tear tracks on her cheeks.

“It’s a wonderful name, Dana.”

“It’s perfect,” Mulder agrees.

[mviswidow]

i can’t feel it

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,727

Warnings: wandavision spoilers!! i recommend catching up before reading this if you haven’t already. also, i cursed like, twice.

A/N: this was literally edited while i was falling asleep, so if there are mistakes, that’s why. Please pm or reply, telling me and I'll go back and fix it.

Prompt: hi!! what about a wanda x reader where r has similar powers to wanda & enters the hex to talk her into letting everyone in westview go & coming home with r? :)

Summary: R has to convince Wanda to let everyone in Westview go.

    part two

“Are you sure you remember everything?” Jimmy asked you, concerned about how fast you were being thrown into everything. 

You nodded confidently, you were nervous, kind of scared, but ready. After getting a call from Monica, you knew whatever was going on was important, and you made your way to the outskirts of Westview, New Jersey before she even had to tell you what was going on. “Wanda’s robot boyfriend-”

“-Synthezoid,” Jimmy corrected before seeing the look Darcy gave him. “Sorry.”

“Synthezoid boyfriend died because Thanos pulled the mind stone out of his head, she had to watch him die twice and freaked out, stole his body from S.W.O.R.D., and created a fake sitcom reality where she goes through decades because she’s a grieving 30 year old with an odd obsession with tv shows. Oh, and she’s mind controlling a whole town and I’m supposed to convince her to let them go. Almost forgot that one,” You said, pointedly making the lighthearted joke because of Jimmy’s evident stress, chuckling softly.

“Just be careful,” Darcy cut in, “Wanda doesn’t seem to want to leave and we won't know if things go wrong because she chooses what goes in her show and what doesn’t.”

“I’ll be just fine. Let’s go,” You sighed and the four of you started to head out the door, but Hayward pulled you aside before you could leave the building. You told them to go ahead and you would meet them by the car.

“Ms (Y/L/N),” Hayward nodded, and you nodded back to him. Warm greeting, you thought. “Director Hayward.”

“If you cannot get Wanda to submit and release the people of Westview, I want you to fight her. Do whatever you have to, I need the Vision’s body back in S.W.O.R.D. custody and the citizens of Westview to be freed.”

Your brow furrowed, “My assignment is to try to persuade Ms Maximoff. I’m not fighting her, Sir. She’s grieving. I just got here and I can tell. She seems like she just wants to be happy.”

He scoffed at you and shook his head, “Her happiness means nothing to me. Ms Maximoff has thousands held captive. So, I think you’re misunderstanding me, Ms (Y/L/N), I am ordering you to kill her if needed. We need her to bring that barrier down.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Director. I’m just here to try to work things out, not to fight anyone,” You retorted.

“So you would let her continue to mind control the people of Westview? To continue controlling a sentient weapon made of vibranium?” Hayward asked pointedly, but you weren’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, you seem awfully concerned about the Vision when there are ‘thousands held captive’. And regardless, do you have any idea what would happen if Wanda died while all those people were in there?” You paused for a moment, giving him a chance to answer. “I didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and huffed, quickly making your way to the car that was waiting to take you to the border of the hex, Darcy, Monica, and Jimmy sat inside of it.

“What did he want?” Jimmy asked.

You sighed and started playing with the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, “He wants me to kill Wanda if she doesn’t stop mind controlling Westview.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, “Sorry, what?”

You looked up at her and saw her concerned expression, “Oh, I’m not going to.” You said quickly, not wanting any of them to get the wrong impression. “He isn’t in charge of me. Wanda doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone in Westview, and besides, it would be foolish when we know nothing about what would happen inside the barrier if she died.”

Darcy nodded as Monica parked the car and the four of you got out of it.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/n),” Monica smiled softly as you reached the hex.

“You know I’m always willing to help you when you need me,” You smiled and looked towards the barrier.

You knew the trio was watching you intently, with the other agents standing outside, waiting for you to go in, but your heart was racing and you had to take a few deep breaths before bringing your hands up, moving your fingers in a way that they recognized to be similar to the way Wanda did, and you stepped closer, the blue light from your powers flowing forward and hitting the hex.

It kind of looked like when food coloring is dropped into water, and the color spreads, except your powers were the food coloring, and the hex was the water.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you pulled your hands further apart and groaned as you slowly but surely pulled apart a section of the barrier that was big enough for you to fit through before walking right through it.

As soon as you were through, you looked behind you and saw nothing. None of the S.W.O.R.D. tents or buildings or cars, Darcy, Monica, Jimmy, and all the other agents who were outside were gone. It was just a plain old normal street.

You looked down at your clothes and chuckled, the 80s. If Wanda had anything, it was a fashion sense, whether it was conscious of it or not. You were dressed in a fitted white shirt, and an electric blue skirt and cropped blazer set. Was it a bit tacky? Sort of, but you couldn’t help but love it. However, you were very pleased that the white boots you were wearing didn’t have too high of a heel. 

You sighed and knew you needed to go quickly. Vision had just left for work and this was the best chance you were going to get to talk to Wanda. You doubted she would let you convince her to let everyone go if Vision was there with her.

You extended your arms to the ground below you and used your powers to lift yourself up into the air, waiting until you saw the house you recognized to be Wanda’s to fly down to a street that had no one on it that was close enough for you to arrive quickly.

Your hand trembled as it reached up to knock on the door, but before you could overthink any longer, you tapped your knuckles against the wood three times and waited, playing with your fingers.

Wanda opened the door and smiled, though she wore a confused expression on her face, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?”

You offered a smile and shook your head, “We haven’t, I’m (Y/n).”

“Wanda,” she said, with a lilt in her voice.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you aren’t busy? It’s important.”

She gazed at you curiously before nodding and stepping out of the way, “Come inside.”

You walked inside her home, the feeling you got was weird. You’d seen it on Darcy’s tv, but it was different to actually be in the room.

Wanda noticed the way your eyes flicked around her living room, looking at the couch, the photos hanging, the random decorations, and the few toys on the floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” She asked politely, before noticing you staring at one of the toys Tommy happened to favor. “My boys are upstairs.”

You smiled politely and shook your head, “I’m alright, Wanda, thank you. I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.” You started, not very strongly, but it wasn’t like you could just blurt out what you needed to say. This was a difficult situation.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head, not catching on, but she looked worried.

“I know about your powers, you’re controlling everyone in Westview, and Vision is starting to-”

“Leave,” Wanda extended her hands and tried to levitate you out, but you put your hands at your side and grounded yourself, blue mist surrounding your feet.

Wanda faltered and her eyes widened at the sight of your powers, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I was sent here to convince you to let everyone in Westview go. I promise I don’t mean you any harm, I just want things to go smoothly so no one else gets hurt.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can't just let go of this, I finally have everything I want.”

You sighed and nodded, “I understand how you feel, I have lost family too, but the people of Westview, they have their own lives and families. They’re in pain, Wanda. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Her eyes snapped up and met yours, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She shook her head, “I can’t feel it.”

You stood for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, before taking a breath and letting the blue mist that was keeping you grounded fade away. Cautiously, you walked closer to her and let out a breath of relief when she wasn’t backing away or looking like she was going to attack you.

“You can look into minds, can’t you?” You asked, knowing that showing her the pain she was unknowingly putting these people through was the best chance you had at convincing her to do the right thing. 

Wanda nodded without saying anything and understood what you wanted her to do. Shakily, she lifted her hand and bit her lip, she looked scared.

You blinked a few times, thought, fuck it, and gently held her wrist, bringing her hand up to your temple. You watched her eyes glow red before closing your eyes, allowing Wanda to see inside your mind.

All Wanda could feel was an unbearable amount of agony, she heard thousands of voices overlapping each other, panicked screams and crying. It was too much. Everyone sounded so scared. She did this.

The feeling was excruciating and let out a strangled sob, which made your eyes open on instinct.

Tears were flowing freely down Wanda’s face and she slowly sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You got down on the floor in front of her and held one of her hands, using your other one to tilt her chin up towards you, “It’s okay, Wanda.”

She shook her head furiously and squeezed your hand, leaning forward, into you.

You wrapped your arm around her and let her cry into your shoulder. Your stomach felt twisted and you couldn’t believe Hayward had asked you to kill Wanda if she refused to comply, not when she was reacting like this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” She managed to get out between deep breaths and whimpers. “I just - I wanted Vis back.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you ignored them, knowing that you had to focus on Wanda, “I know, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. You just have to put down the barriers around Westview and stop mind controlling everyone.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, but she nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked. Surprised at how you managed to get her to listen to you.

“I’ll do it now,” She sniffled and wiped her tears, standing up slowly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Well, hold on, don’t you want to see Vision first? Or call the twins down here?”

Her lips pressed together as another tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I allow myself to see them again,” She said quietly.

You nodded and stepped back, letting her go about this whatever way she wanted.

You watched her work, even though the two of you were inside, you could see out the window that the sky had turned red and it was gradually getting more blue, looking like she was chipping off pieces of the sky, if the sky was red, away from the inside out. 

Before you knew it, the house the two of you were standing in had been reduced to the foundation of a home, just concrete laying on the floor in the shape of the house Wanda had been living in. 

She was wearing a burgundy shirt, a jacket, and jeans instead of the big jeans and plaid shirt she’d had on before, and you were back to wearing your comfortable grey long sleeved shirt and jeans.

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned towards you before her breath started to quicken.

You wore a pained expression and stepped towards her, holding your arms out. You thought she was going to deny the embrace you were offering her, but she walked forward and buried her head in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her, “I’m really proud of you, Wanda. It takes a lot to be able to give up something that important to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. You stood there for about two more minutes before her breathing had calmed and she’d stopped crying. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded and smiled sadly at her before you both looked towards the red buick that was now sitting in her driveway, “I think I’m going to have to take you back out of Westview with me. I’ll get in trouble if I just let you leave, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” She fished the keys to her car out of her pocket and played with the keyring. “Do you think you can drive us? I kind of want to look around before we leave.”

You took her keys and she let out a breath before quietly thanking you and walking to the passenger seat of her car.

Before you pulled out of the driveway, you spoke, “How did you do all of this?” You asked curiously. Sure, you had magic yourself, but there was no way you could even dream about pulling off anything like this.

“I’m not sure. All I remember is feeling so completely alone and sad, and I went to S.W.O.R.D. to see Vis for the last time before coming here, because Hayward wouldn’t let me take his body to give him a funeral or anything, so I guess I made a version of him here. I really don’t know how I managed though, because -”

“Sorry,” You interrupted, turning to look at her with your brows knitted together. “You said the Vision stayed in S.W.O.R.D.?”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What is it?”

You huffed and started the engine of the car, pulling out of the driveway, “The lying bastard. Hayward edited security camera footage to make it look like you stole the Vision’s body and used it here.” 

“That’s ridiculous. I know better than to make myself a criminal again. Well, I mean-” 

“It’s fine Wanda. You didn’t mean to,” You continued driving, enjoying the neighborhood.

When you were getting close to the edge of town, she spoke again. “Am I going to jail?”

“I won’t let them put you in jail,” You said simply.

“What, why?” Wanda asked, and it was clear that she was asking because she thought she deserved it and she was expecting it to happen.

“You don’t deserve it,” You shrugged. You didn’t want her to suffer alone, again. She already tried that, and look where that got everyone.

Wanda shook her head, “You know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is. I know that your actions were wrong, but Hayward was wrong for denying you when you asked for Vision’s body to bury. It wasn’t his to have. All he cares about is money and power and the Vision would cost a lot of money and would give him a lot of power. I mean, realistically, he’s kind of the cause for this. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was never your intention to hurt these people and it’s not fair to you that he set you up like this.”

“And what will you do if they try to put me in jail?” Wanda asked curiously, her voice low.

You sighed as you started to be able to make out Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy from far away. “I dunno, maybe we can run away together or something.”

[writing-in-lesbian]

Salvation in Disguise

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female reader (platonic) Tags: angst, cursing words, minor assumed violence, mentions of homophobia, legal age gap. Translations: pozhaluysta = please. Synopsis: When Wanda is leaving Westview, all its habitants felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from Wanda again. Except for you. You were left with an important decision. Her spell and control over your family gave you an escape from their control and mistreats towards you. So when she's driving away, you had a few minutes to save your life.

You were at the park having a rare time for yourself. Your parents allowed you to go and walk around before you have to go back for lunch. A rare occasion indeed, since you were 99% of your time with your parents and siblings, despite being legally out of age and with a well-paid job. 

For some reason, that seems normal to all your neighbors, living at your parent's house feels normal, but to you, there’s something else. You can’t explain it but you feel something is not quite right, but since you have so much fun when you’re with them you don’t question the nagging feeling in the back of your head.

With the day off, you decided to take on Agnes' advice and try that coffee shop in front of the park. Has it always been here? You can’t remember seeing it before, but with so many things happening lately and your constant daydreaming you think it might have been renovated and you never noticed.

You ordered the special of the day a “dirty chai” (which is just a chai latte with an espresso shot) and an integral muffin (balance) before going back to the park to do your favorite activity: people watching. 

Choosing your favorite bench in front of the fountain, you enjoy your small snack hoping to see at least from afar your favorite person in the whole town. Wanda Maximoff. 

You don’t remember when they moved here, maybe you never paid any attention to the people around your hood, but when it came to her? It was unavoidable not to. You formed a good relationship after the twins were born, helping her babysit for a few days after Monica went back to her hometown. The boys grew so fast (almost in the blink of an eye) but they were your favorite ones to watch. You even like Vision (was it an odd name? Sure) despite he being the one married to your crush. 

You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts you don’t notice Wanda running into the park. It’s not until you heard a loud crash you turn your eyes to the sky and see it.

Agnes. 

Floating up there in the sky and throwing what it seems flashes of lights.

And Wanda. Beautiful and innocent Wanda.

Floating as well.

You see a purple light go straight to her.

You drop your muffin and get up from the bench so fast. “WANDA WATCH OUT!”

You’re not sure if she heard you but before you can yell at her again that same light hits you square on the chest, sending you a few meters away and impacting your body against a lamp post. Everything goes black.

… … …

”I’m not a witch. I don’t cast spells. No one taught me magic”

“Your powers exceed that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It’s your destiny to destroy the world” … … …

You hear a lot of commotion, you grunt and try to open your eyes. Everything is dark, a red mist covering the sky. You desperately look around for Wanda. You have a horrible headache, it’s as if something trapped in your mind is trying to get free. You try to get up but your body refuses, managing only to sit up.

You hear Agnes's voice up above you and when you look up at the sky, Wanda is there, surrounded by the red mist. It looks as if it's coming out of her. Her previous red hoodie is now a red top, on her forehead, there’s a tiara.

Standing there open-mouthed you can’t help but appreciate her beauty and strength. Even Agnes (did she call her Agatha?) Is it a weird kind of purple robe? You hear the twins and Monica around you, you even saw a flash of something red and white flaying on the other side of the park but you don’t have eyes for anyone else but Wanda.

A big explosion surrounds you and the park. And then everything goes black again, but you’re conscious this time. You know you should go back home, you’re not sure what’s happening but you’ll probably be safer at home.

There’s this nagging feeling again inside your head. At this point, it might explode from the pain. Migraines are nothing compared to this, but you can’t move. You are glued to your spot. You can’t stop outlook out for Wanda.

Suddenly, the sun comes out again (did it ever went down) and everything is bright. You see Monica in a black and white uniform in front of the twins, Vision s there as well but he’s….red? (You. Might have hit your head harder than you expect it. Westview was known for weird shit happening but this is extreme). 

When you see Wanda again, you see her talking to Agnes, and right before your eyes, her clothes change, her angry and scared voice goes back to being the overly sweet lady you once knew. You stand up and run back home despite your mind screaming not to.

// // //

It’s past midnight when you feel it. You were awakened by this flash of light bringing you back from dreamland gasping for air. 

Your mind is racing 3000 miles a second. Memories of your life coming up to you. 

Being yelled at, hit and slapped, punished by the person’s that should love you no matter what just for loving another girl. 

Been kept against your own will at the house.

The constant verbal and physical abuse. 

The loneliness of being taken far away from your friends and your ex-girlfriend and going to live in the middle of nowhere town when you were 16. A town so small no one would even think about looking out for you here. 

The hopelessness of not being able to run away because your father was a retired high-rank government officer. 

You check your thighs and wrists. The fading scars are there. The ones where you cut to numb the paint make you forget and maybe the final one that takes you out of this realm. 

You remember one day being up in your room crying yourself to sleep when your headaches started. You were no stranger to migraines, but this was worse, so bad you wanted to vomit. 

You ran to your bathroom. Next thing you know, you were having family dinners and going on Sunday family trips. 

And you knew everything was related to Wanda. Things changed when she came to town.

Wanda, the park, Agnes (guess is Agatha know). You suddenly put 2 and 2 together.

Wanda.

You need to see her.

You know you need to run to her. She might be your salvation.

You think you probably have a few hours before everyone is starting to get up and getting their memories, but the noise coming from your parent's rooms tells you it’s not that much.

Throwing a few changes of clothes, the few money you had saved from your babysitting days, you take your bag and slowly and quietly make your way downstairs. If the clock is right is almost 3 am.

You reach the main floor when the door of your parent's rooms cracks. You hold your breath, praying to someone they don’t notice you. The bathroom door closes a few seconds later. You make your way to the living room, only noticing the one picture is there. You stand there, behind your parents and where they used to be your siblings, you see there’s nothing there. It was just part of whatever Wanda created for you.

You take the opportunity and open the living room window and jump through it. The main and back doors are locked at night and only your father has the key. One night when he left you outside all night after getting late 3 minutes after your curfew, you made sure to break the lock on the leaving room window in case of an emergency. They never opened it so never noticed it.

You see the bathroom light is still on. You count to ten before sprinting toward the driveway and towards Wanda’s house, hoping to find her. At this point, you’ll be happy to find Agatha or even Monica.

Before you arrive at her house you stop. You don’t even know if your theory is correct but at this point of your life, you’re ready to risk it. 

You get there and look for her house. All you see is an empty lot.

No house, no construction, not even the reminiscent of anything. You start to panic.

“No, no, no, no”

Your breath gets shallow and your eyes are burning from your tears. You look frantically trying so desperately to find a sign of her. Anything but there’s nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here… Y/N”

Her thick accent makes you turn so fast your neck hurts.

“Wanda” you say with relief in your voice. She’s taken aback, clearly not expecting it. Her eyes are swollen and her red outfit is nowhere to be seen. Instead, she’s wearing a black hoodie.

You take a step towards her but she takes one back. You stop. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I…”

You don’t know. You just wanted to see her. The night air is colder or maybe is just your nerves. You hug yourself in order to get some warmth into your body. Your pj’s aren’t exactly the warmest ones.

She sees this and conjures a thick jacket around you. When you say nothing she continues putting some bags into her car. A black and heavy-looking bag pack at her shoulders. 

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t think I’m welcoming here anymore Y/N. You should go home”

It’s the panic of not seeing her again, of her leaving you that has you getting closer to her and taking her wrist, stopping whatever task she was doing.

“Take me with you”

“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper but in the silence of the night is so loud she might be well yelling at you.

“Take me whit you Wanda… please”

You don’t beg. Never. Not after learning at a young age it only brought more problems, your father never stopped if you begged, it just enraged him more, so you learn to never beg, for anything.

She sees your hand on her wrist and feels the emotions swilling around you. She dares not to look at your mind but your thoughts are so loud she can’t help to see half of the abuse you have suffered. 

A small gasp leaves her lips.

“Why do you want to go with me? I’m a monster. You saw it yourself”

“You’re not a monster. Not to me”

She’s still watching your hand. Your voice is just a whisper.

“I trapped you here”

“You freed me”

“I controlled your mind!”

“You saved me!”

“You... I… what?” She’s speechless, her nose scrunched in this little way you always thought cute.

“I don’t know the extend of what happened or how it happened, All I know is that my life was hell, literal hell and then you came into Westview and���”

“I should never have done what I did Y/N. You should be afraid of me”

“I’m not”

“Well you should”

You can tell she’s getting exasperated. Her eyes flashing red.

“Wanda… pozhaluysta”

It’s that little world in her native langue that has her seeing you for the first time this night. She sees your eyes and sees all the pain and anguish you have. She sees the same reflected in her eyes.

A plea in your eyes. You don’t see her as a monster or the Scarlet Witch. When you see her, she can see hope in your eyes.

She joined the Avengers and fought at their side to save people. The recent events after Thanos sidetracked her and blinded her. She was grieving and in pain… and did things she never thought of doing. Was she really what Hydra, Ultron, Agatha, and a lot of people said she was? Someone to be afraid of?

But you were here and as much as she just wants to grieve and is suffering, she has the chance again of being a hero. To make the effort and fight for once she once fought, to be worthy again, to make Vision sacrifice worth, to fight for the love she once felt.

“Okey”

The smile you give her is prof enough she can start again.

When Wanda left Westview and all its habitants, they felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from her again. Except for you. 

You were leaving with her, escaping from the real prison you lived before she came into your life and offered you your salvation in disguise.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Wanda//for it is only temporary

Request: Can I request A Wanda Maximoff x Reader, where reader's part of sword and they get stuck in Westview somehow, maybe they get powers similar to monica, and go to wanda for help

hey! i hope you like this!! this is my first wanda request so i’m sorry if it sucks, but here you go anyway! and thank you @statticscribbles for helping me with this! i’d be lost without you.

“Hold on, what?” Jimmy says and you stop to look up at him. You’re met with concerned eyes from everyone in the room, including Hayward and your own eyes widen a little in surprise.

You cough and look away, busying yourself with the suit that you’re hoping is intact and ready for a trip through the hex. You can feel them staring at you, and it makes your skin crawl, despite the majority of them being your friends as well as colleagues. 

They’re waiting for an explanation so they can tell you how bad of an idea it is. And you know it is, you don’t need them to tell you. You’ve spent enough time sat beside the invisible wall trying to find a way in and maybe whatever has caused Monica to rewrite her DNA has seeped into you, but even if it has, at least you haven’t been through it, you’re less likely to...well, to die. And you’ll take those odds, it’s better than the almost guaranteed death of Monica. 

“Think about it, Monica can’t exactly go back in, I mean it’s changed her DNA...no offence.” You send her a sympathetic look and she crosses her arms, a small scowl pulling at her lips. “But I haven’t been in, and I know Wanda, well I know her more than all of these people with guns that are gonna be pointed at her as soon as they find her. I can talk to her, like Monica said, she clearly needs help and well, I know what she’s going through, if anyone can help her and those people that are stuck in there, it’s me.” 

“Y/-” Darcy starts but you cut her off, the tension in the air is already too heavy, it sits on your chest, making it harder and harder to breath and it’s not helped by all of the concerned looks you’re getting. 

“Plus, what era are we in now? The 80s? I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with a perm.” You try to ease the tension with a joke, but the best you get is a forced smile from Jimmy that just makes you feel worse. “I’ll be fine. I have hundreds of people monitoring everything that goes on in there, and I have you.” You look at Darcy and her expression softens. “I know that as soon as you notice one thing wrong, you’ll be the one leading the army in, but please, trust me.” You squeeze her shoulder and she sighs, slumping back in her seat. “Just let me try.” 

“Please, don’t kill me!” You panic and throw your arms in the air. Wanda’s hand lowers a few centimetres, but her eyes still glow red and you remind yourself not to breathe too hard, you know, just in case. “I need your help.” You add and her arm drops to her side. She looks behind her, at the sage coloured house that keeps the three people she holds dearest to her. She knows exactly what each of them are doing. Tommy and Billy are using their dad as a climbing frame, and she should be in the kitchen, making them dinner and smiling as she listens to their laughter. 

But then she see’s the panic in your eyes. You look scared and she knows she doesn’t know you, but somewhere deep down she feels like she does. Maybe in another life you were friends, maybe if things were different, you would be friends. 

“Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.” You slowly walk closer to her and she stands straighter. “But there is a bunch of people outside of this place with guns and bombs and god knows what, just waiting to come in here and destroy it. But I’m not one of them, and neither is Monica or Darcy or Jimmy. In fact, Darcy and Jimmy have been enjoying this maybe a little too much, but that’s not the point. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if you keep kicking us out, because the people with the guns will come in and they will tear this place down, no matter what.” You explain and you watch her expression change. It goes from confusion, to anger and finally settles on sadness as tears pool in her eyes. 

“So why are you here?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks you up and down. 

“Because I wanted to talk to you.” You say and she raises her hands, twisting and turning them together and your eyes widen in panic. You quickly stand straighter and wave your hands around. “But, not anymore.” You add quickly. “Listen, before I came in here, I couldn’t do this.” You say and your eyes change from their normal colour to an icy blue. 

“Oh.” Wanda says confused and you nod slowly. 

“Yeah. I also wasn’t bulletproof and I could barely fight my way out of a sleeping bag that one time I went camping, but I can now have people on the floor in seconds without breaking a sweat. I don’t know what to do. On the way here, an older woman asked how I was and I threw her into a house across the street.” You frown and watch her think for a few seconds. “So, please help. Because, well I can’t seem to control these and I actually quite like not assaulting random people.”  

“What do you think I can do?” She blinks and glances back at her house again. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But you created this place, and you seem to be pretty good at controlling your powers...most of the time.” You mumble the last part and she glares at you. “But well, I figured who better to talk to when you suddenly find yourself become a superher-Oh, holy shit! Am I gonna be an avenger-right sorry, not the time.” You shake your head and she stares at you blankly for a few seconds. “I’m Y/n by the way.” You add quickly and she rolls her eyes. 

“Fine.” She nods. “I’ll help, but any mention of destroying this place and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to use your newly found powers anymore.” She threatens making you gulp. 

With a flick of her wrist, your suit is transformed into a pair of blue jeans and a very loud t-shirt. Bright eye shadow irritates your eyes and when you try to move your hair from your eyes, your met with tight curls and your face lights up. 

“Did you just give me a perm?” You ask and she looks at your hair before nodding. 

“I thought you’d like it.” She shrugs. “Don’t get used to this. You’re only here until you learn to control your powers and then I’m kicking you out and nobody is going to bother my family again.” She says lowly and you gulp. 

You’re about to reply when footsteps come running down the path towards you. You look up and see Tommy and Billy running towards you with bright smiles on their faces. Vision follows shortly after and you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, it’s like you’re looking at a ghost. He smiles at you and you return it before focusing your attention on the boys, it’s too much to see Vision alive and well right now.

“Boys, this is Y/n, she’s just moved in across the street.” She introduces you to the twins and they grin and wave at you. 

“Hey,” 

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds before Wanda jumps in and paints a bright smile on her face. 

“Why don’t we welcome her to the neighbourhood and go bake some cookies for her!” She says and the boys cheer before running back into the house. 

Vision waves at you, but it feels off, it’s like he’s trying to figure out if he’s seen you around. And he has, just not here. 

“Dad!” Tommy shouts and Vision pulls his gaze away from you. He blinks and follows his sons back into the house.

It’s just you and Wanda now, and as soon as Vision walks through the front door, her smile falls. 

“Remember what I said.” She says and you nod quickly. 

“Yep, only temporary.” You reply and she gives you an approving look, before walking away. You look around, hoping that Darcy and Jimmy are watching and send them an unsure thumbs up. 

The credits roll, over a freeze frame of your face, and Darcy and Jimmy stare at each other. 

“Shit.” Darcy mumbles. 

support my writing! if you want! 

[soldiersweiner]

What a Shift (I can't believe I got to write another one omg?)

(Imagine 2)

Summary: “D'you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?”

Warning: DUI accidents, mentions of drugs, EMT stuff

I apologize for any errors (English isn't my first language and all my works are not beta-read) and the inaccuracy (I tried my best to research as much as I can). I also use gifs to only show what is happening (actions, gestures, etc.) and not to show the physical appearance, etc. of the reader. Feedback is very welcome, let me know where and how I can improve <3

~

"Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun." You murmured under your breath while slowly making circles with your fingers on your temple, all the while putting pressure as the headache grew.

You were thankful that it was your turn to be behind the wheel and not the one hopping out of the vehicle to scan the area for the caller, you watched as your partner turned her head from left to right before leaning to the device on her shoulder to radio in your dispatcher and inform them of your current status.

You already had a hunch that it was a prank call from the start when your dispatcher spoke to both of you while on the way to the location they received the call from. You haven’t heard of anyone using a telephone booth in years, let alone aware of any telephone booths still existing in New York in this day and age!

'We already rang them back three times but there was no answer.' They said, their voice static through the radio. ‘But the caller did request an ambulance.'

‘If you wouldn’t mind having a quick drive-by, see if anything’s going on?’ They added before ending the call.

"Well, that stinks - literally.” The door opened, hands on her hips and brows that were furrowed to meet in the middle of her forehead - the look of disappointment and annoyance that mirrored yours. “What a bunch of assholes - an absolute waste of time.” She huffed some more before climbing back in.

“Tell me about it.” You answered with a frustrated sigh before turning to your side and reaching for the latch of your seatbelt and buckling it back. “Can’t believe some kids would think it’s fun to do this.”

“If they don’t use their heads, they better give it away, then.” Monica shook her head while clicking her tongue, already buckling her seatbelt and leaning back on her seat. “They’re costing us money.”

“They’re costing us lives.” You almost exclaimed as you started the engine, shifting the gear stick and letting the ambulance move away from the prank caller’s location. “Do they not realize that we could have been saving lives, responding elsewhere?”

“Right?” Monica agreed, both of your moods already declining and it wasn’t even halfway through your 12-hour shift.

“They got a special place in hell.” She said just before the monitor in the middle of the dashboard beeped, alerting the two of you of another emergency.

“Oh, lookie here,” Monica said, her spirits suddenly perked up as she sat up more attentively to see what it could be this time.

“What is it?” You asked as you turned on the sirens along with the flashing blue and red lights on top of the ambulance, occasionally honking at cars that won’t move out of the way.

“Vehicular accident involving a sedan and a motorcycle,�� Monica spoke the information out loud to you as you continued your drive to the location, following the route that was sent to your ambulance’s GPS. “According to them, the sedan was beating a bunch of red lights before t-boning the motorcyclist.”

“Ouch,” you reacted, your face wincing at the visualization your brain brought up in your head.

“Hello, ladies.” You heard Darcy, your dispatcher, again through the radio. “Cops are already on the scene; we’ve also called for EMT backup.”

“Apparently, the sedan caused more damage as we speak.” She added.

“What’s gotten into the person?” You asked, more to yourself than to Monica and Darcy.

“Police said that the driver of the sedan was DUI, but we’re still waiting on their final reports,” Darcy answered.

“Alright, thank you, Darcy. We’re already around the corner.” You informed her before ending the call.

Just up ahead, you saw similar blue and red lights flashing on top of at least 3 police cars. Some of the officers on site were already guiding and rerouting other cars that were driving in the direction the accident took place.

Unbuckling your belt and stepping out, you opened the side of the ambulance and handed over Monica’s EMT bag, and slung yours on your shoulder before meeting with the police officer who was walking up to you.

Your eyes were already scanning the premises trying to decipher each person, be it the officers, the victims, or some nosy people who were standing on the side to watch.

“The motorcyclist took most of the brunt-” the officer was almost panting as he spoke, most likely out of breath from the adrenaline and exhaustion of chasing down the suspect. “-before hitting the front of an SUV.”

“Where’s the motorcyclist?” You asked as you neared the crowd that was huddling around to get a good look at the scene.

“Right this way.” The officer parted the crowd as more of his colleagues tried to corral the people away. “Seated by the curb - male, in his 30s.”

“And the SUV?” Monica asked.

“A family of four - 2 adults, both in their 40s, and 2 minors.” The officer informed.

“Okay, I’ll take the one with the kids,” Monica glanced your way before asking the officer to lead her to them, leaving you to take care of the t-boned motorcyclist.

Your eyes scanned for the man the officer was describing and sure enough, you found him seated at the farthest edge of the scene away from the onlookers.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You spoke, a smile almost showing with your hands on your hips as you walked up to him. “And here I thought the Winter Soldier was indestructible.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky almost snapped his neck at how fast he looked up. The worry lines on his forehead disappearing, the anxious heavy feeling in his chest was already replaced by a light skip in his heart, and felt little flutters in his stomach at the familiar face he was seeing.

“I’m glad you find my pain amusing, doll,” Bucky said, almost chuckling but wincing at the pain he felt on his side.

You ignored the tingling feeling in your stomach at the pet name before you gave a small comforting smile as you dropped your bag to the side, kneeling in front of him to assess his situation.

“Does Steve know?” You asked as you took your little flashlight from the breast pocket of your uniform, already laughing internally at the mother hen-like personality Captain America has for his best friend when he finds out what happened to him.

“He already beat you to it.” Bucky smiled, nodding his head to the side before looking back at you, his blue eyes giving a little sparkle - you weren’t sure if it was the noontime sun or something else that did it.

Looking at the direction he gestured to, you saw Steve already conversing with some of the police officers, his eyes would travel back to the person who caused all of this from time to time before glaring at the man.

“If looks could kill,” you chuckled at his remark.

“Okay, can you look ahead, Buck?” You requested before clicking the small flashlight and pointing it at Bucky’s eyes; inspecting their reaction, the light stubble on his jaw tickling the skin of your gloved palm as you steadied his head.

“You know, you shouldn’t have gotten up right away.” You informed him before clicking the flashlight off and tucking it back in the pocket, satisfied with the eyes' reaction to the light. “Can you feel this?”

You started to tap on his upper right arm and down to his forearm then to his fingers.

“I’m fine,” Bucky replied before answering a yes to your question.

“How ‘bout this?” You then started to tap on the side of his thighs and the rest of his leg. Again, he answered a yes.

“Were you wearing your helmet?” You asked again, now putting your attention in inspecting his head.

“I was,” he answered, gesturing to the now broken helmet just a few feet from his Harley that was laying on its side.

You were glad that he wore it today knowing that sometimes, the veteran in front of you would purposefully forget his headgear, reasoning that wherever he was headed to was nearby. Your hand brushed back the locks that fell on his forehead, did the same on the sides and the back of his head, inspecting if there were any bumps or cuts.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” You asked before looking down at his sock-covered feet, his toes doing as you say. You then heard him mumble something along the lines of ‘You’re starting to sound like Steve.’

“Okay, no cuts here and I can’t feel any bumps either,” you hummed to yourself as you continued to part some of his hair. “Do you know what day it is to-”

“Y/N, I swear I’m f-” You can hear the annoyance in Bucky’s voice as he reached for your wrists to stop your hands from trying to look for any more bumps in his head and push you away, you knew he hated being coddled but it was protocol and logical that you check everything.

“You’re hurt.” You told him. “You shouldn’t have moved, it could’ve caused you much more serious damage, y’know.”

He only sighed, knowing that you were right from all the stories you’ve told them of your past experiences and encounters working as part of the EMT team.

“Okay,” you say more to yourself, satisfied that he still has feelings in his limbs and that his helmet protected his head and face. Getting the alcohol-soaked pads, you carefully cleaned the scapes, cuts, and nicks that littered his right cheek and neck. “I saw you winced earlier, where’d the sedan hit you?”

“Right side, feels more like an ache,” Bucky replied looking back at you before trying to shrug off his leather jacket much to your dismay with the movement he was doing while injured. “I’m guessing it’s a broken rib.”

He ignored your nagging and protests to stop moving and that you had scissors to cut the fabric of his shirt but he proceeded to lift the clothing anyway from his troubled side; you can instantly see a bruise was starting to form there.

“Why are you so hard-headed,” you mumbled.

“You still love me for it, don’t you?” He teased, the glimmer in his blue eyes still present.

“Okay, can you rate your pain for me from 1-10?” You asked, ignoring his teasing remark as you tried to gently press on to the area he was having trouble with and looking at his face to gauge a reaction, the blue eyes rather hypnotizing as he looked back at you.

With the sudden feeling of warmth on your cheeks, you looked back down on your hands and ignored the unexpected feeling of closeness between the two of you. You heard him clear his throat as you continued to probe the right side of his torso, trying to feel for any bumps or sunken parts that might confirm his hunch.

When you heard him hiss as your fingers touched a tender part just below his second to the last rib, you looked up.

“That’s an 8.” He panted, his face contorting in pain. “I guess the serum’s taking its sweet time to work.”

Bucky groaned from the ache as you helped him pull his shirt down before taking notes with the pen and clipboard beside you, making sure to be as detailed as Helen wanted the medical finds to be.

“Isn’t that a bit too much, Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking down at the clipboard you were writing on beside him. “And how’d you know some of the information there when I haven’t even told them to you yet.”

“Bucky, I know.” You answered with a little laugh as you looked back up at him and caught Bucky with one brow up and a smirk playing on his lips.

“You stalking me now, doll?”

You rolled your eyes before you heard someone jogging in your direction making both you and Bucky look up to who it was.

“Y/N?” Steve called, almost surprised to see you here. “I didn’t know you were on duty today.”

“Hey, Steve.” You greeted before standing up and letting him envelop you in a side hug.

“EMT reshuffled their schedules, so here I am.” You answered with a smile. “I’m glad that Monica and I got the call. At least now I can directly send these to Helen.”

You waved the clipboard in your hand before kneeling back down to put it back in your bag.

“I’m guessing you can stand up?” You asked Bucky, seeing that in the past he would protest and whine against being wheeled in a stretcher or wheelchair no matter how much persuasion.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He answered before Steve crouched down to his left and looped an arm around his friend’s torso, careful not to touch the tender spot on the right.

You did the same on the other side, careful that you don’t hit the alleged broken rib.

“Okay, one, two-” Steve counted before the both of you hoisted Bucky up and waited for him to adjust his footing.

Slowly walking to the ambulance, you managed to make him sit on the steps of the vehicle.

“So what’s the verdict, doc?” Steve asked as he sat beside his friend. Two pairs of blue eyes looked at you and waited for your answer.

“Bucky’s hunch might be right, one or two broken ribs on his right,” You started as you looked back down on the list on your clipboard.

“There also might be bruising on his right leg, I saw him react earlier.”

You looked at Bucky pointedly as if to tell him that you were eagle-eyed and he can’t hide anything from you.

“What did the cops say about the person driving the sedan?” You asked, tucking the clipboard under your armpit before getting the blood pressure monitor and latching it to Bucky’s arm.

You busied yourself in doing all the basic necessary checkups as you listened to Steve.

“The punk was high and drunk.” He answered with a click of his tongue, Bucky shaking his head too at the gathered information. “They don’t know how the guy drove for so long before finally hitting-” He gestured to Bucky.

“What’ll they do with him?” Bucky asked.

“Put him behind bars, that’s for sure; they said that they’ll also do an investigation on who sold it to him,” Steve informed.

“At least now he’s being dealt with, and hopefully he won’t lead the NYPD in another car chase.” You said before instructing Bucky to sit further on the step and excusing Steve off of his comfortable seat beside his friend to reach for the small oxygen tank and mask.

“Would you mind holding this for me?” You asked Steve as you handed him the small tank.

Fiddling with the equipment, you managed to turn it on and set it at the right amount.

“Here, put this on.” You carefully stretched the garter over Bucky’s head and placed the mask on his face, covering his nose and mouth.

“I already saw you were having difficulty breathing - this might help.”

“You can put it down now,” you told Steve nonchalantly before putting on your stethoscope and gesturing for Bucky to lean forward so you can reach his back.

“I have to check again so this may be a little bit cold.” You warned.

“I can handle it,” Bucky spoke before you lifted his shirt to listen, taking your time on each side to try and hear for anything that may result in further damage.

As you squinted your eyes in concentration, you stiffened at the sudden cool and warm hands on your hips. You tried to ignore it but the sudden feeling of thumbs running smooth comforting circles on your stomach made you draw back and stand with your own hands reaching for his and placing them on his lap.

“Oh, c’mon, Buck. Seriously?” Steve groaned. “I don’t take you for the PDA type.”

“Quit it, Bucky. I’m trying to listen.” You warned at the same time.

Bucky only rolled his eyes at both of your scoldings knowing that the two of you were not as serious before you went back to listening to his breathing.

After a few minutes, you removed your stethoscope and hung it around your neck before leaning to your right shoulder.

“Monica, it’s Y/N. I might need to bring the motorcyclist to Helen.” You radioed your partner. “Suspected broken rib, the patient is already having difficulty in breathing.”

“Copy, Y/N. I’m still assisting the family with our backup EMT. We’ll meet you back at the base.” The static voice of Monica was heard over the radio before you went ahead and called for Helen.

After arriving at the Tower where Dr. Cho instructed you to bring the injured Avenger, you and Steve managed to persuade - it was more of a threat, really - Bucky to be escorted in a wheelchair to Helen’s floor that contained the cradle - this way, he won’t exert much effort and tire himself out and lose oxygen.

As you waited for Steve to return with the wheelchair, you busied yourself by prepping your EMT bag to take with you before you heard Bucky clear his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Your instinct to check on your patient suddenly activated as you turned around from the inside of the ambulance and dropping everything on the makeshift table before you stepped out and stand in front of Bucky.

Scanning for any signs or sources for his discomfort from head to toe and finding none, you looked back up at him. “Do you feel any pain?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” Bucky reassured, his eyes looking down on your hand.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Married?”

“Yeah,” You replied, relieved that he wasn’t in pain before looking down on the gold band on your ring finger with a smile. “You?”

“Taken, as well.” He answered, looking down at his own golden band - a stark contrast on the darker vibranium color of his arm.

“Wife’s probably going to get mad when she finds out what happened.” He started.

“How come? Wouldn’t she be worried?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest, curious why the missus will be more mad than worried.

“She’ll be mad when she finds out I stained my shirt. You know, blood stains are hard to remove.” He answered, his lips pursed as if trying to hold back his laughter.

There was a quiet pause before a deafening smack echoed in the garage.

“You bet your ass I’m mad at you, Barnes!” You almost growled, not really caring at the moment that Bucky was your patient. “Just wait until my shift is over.”

“Ow!” He groaned and tried to soothe the already warm stinging pain radiating on his right arm with his left hand. “What was that for?”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?” You were still not over at the sight you saw him in - seated on the curb looking defeated and in pain, the tears you were holding back almost an hour ago were starting to fill the rims of your eyes.

Gone was the hurt and annoyance that Bucky felt at the unexpected smack you gave him as his face softened at the sight of you, he could only offer you a reassuring smile before his hands reached for yours and pulled you to him.

Enveloping you in a tight hug, you tried to breathe in and normalize your heartbeat. You were sure that Bucky could hear it as his head was against your chest, your chin on top of his head.

“I hope what happened finally convinces you to never leave your helmet at home.” Your voice a little muffled as you spoke against his hair, you looked up trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill at the sudden imagination of what might have happened if he did forget his helmet at home.

“I promise-” he spoke as he pushed away from you to look you in the eye, “- I won’t leave it anymore.”

The contrast of hot and cold gave you a sense of comfort as he cupped your face in his hands before pulling you down to him, planting a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ah!” Bucky groaned again, pulling away from the sudden insult of a pinch to his left side.

“I’m still mad at you.” You glared before giving him another peck on the lips.

~

Did not expect it to be that long, tbh. Hope you liked it!

[julescarstairs]

If Aught but Death: Epilogue

Aaaand…Finished. Julian stepped back to study his work. It was a painting, one he’d completed after several tubes of white, blue and grey paints, and hours of work. It wasn’t exactly how he’d initially pictured it in his head, he thought, but… in retrospect, his original idea wouldn’t have put across the message he wanted it to. His initial plan was more despairing, not something you’d want to be hanging on the wall of your new home, as a part of your fresh start. The final product, the painting before him, had the hopeful, warm tones he wanted to convey. It was better, he decided. Not perfect, but better. He was pleased.

It only took a few more moments of staring before Julian decided he wasn’t pleased. Muttering to himself, Julian reached for his paintbrush. It could use another coat of white—

“It’s good,” Emma’s hand looped around his wrist, stopping him from grabbing the brush. He looked up at her with a bashful smile as she placed her other hand over his, too. “It’s perfect. If you put another layer on she’ll be able to cut it like a cake. Besides,” she added, gesturing to the crumpled and flattened tube of white paint beside his palette. “You’ve squeezed all possible signs of life out of that tube of paint. It’s time to leave it to rest.”

Julian chuckled, but put his paintbrush back. He looked back at the painting he’d produced. Such was the life of an artist: you never could really see your work through the eyes of someone else. What you thought was awful may be a masterpiece in someone else’s eyes. Such as Emma’s eyes, though Julian had the suspicion that Emma loved everything he drew, even if it was a doodle on the corner of a napkin. Still, he knew she was right. Upon second glance, the little parts he felt needed touching up just added to the humble nature of the piece. That sleight of hand movement he accidentally did on the first coat? A reminder that he was the one that made it. His own touch. “I guess you’re right.”

“… which assumes there are times I’m wrong?” Emma elbowed him playfully. “When am I ever wrong, Julian?”

Julian raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Do you want the honest answer? Or the answer you want to hear?”

“The one where you tell me I’m always right,” Emma laughed, and he laughed too. It was nice, having their banter back. Having Emma back. It had been a couple of weeks since his trial, since Emma had been reunited with him, and since he had explained the whole story to his brothers and sisters (which had gone down relatively well, save for a few lectures from Helen) — and finally things were settling down again, going back to the way they had been.

Well, save for a few obvious changes. Los Angeles had a new High Warlock: Eris Flake. Julian had been surprised to hear that the Consul had passed his suggestion to make her High Warlock — which he had made to Mark — as reasonable, and was even more surprised to hear that Eris had taken up the position so eagerly. She’d moved from her apartment in Vegas to a small rental in Santa Monica in a matter of days, and visited regularly. On her first visit to the Los Angeles Institute, she had sought him out, reached out, and grasped his shoulders with such tenacity that he swore he could feel her nails penetrating his blood vessels.

She had said, “Boy, you’ve saved my life more than once. I don’t know how you did it, but you did.”

It had remained in Julian’s mind for days, weeks, after that. He knew he’d saved her once, with the suggestion to make her High Warlock, but the second time had been something he couldn’t figure out. Until he remembered Cesar, and the things she had said when she had interrupted his trial. She had spent most of her life, short of 300 years, trying to raise Cesar from the dead using dark magic. She’d compared it to a plague.

He hadn’t realised that when she said it, she meant it literally.

It was that revelation that prompted him to produce the painting before him now. It doubled as a housewarming gift and a reminder to never go back. At least, he hoped it would.

“Is Eris still here?” Julian asked Emma after a moment. He stretched, and peered out of the window of his studio. The sun was beginning to set below the horizon, painting the sky a dark orange hue. Emma nodded.

“She’s watching a movie with Dru. I think,” Emma rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well, she was with Dru. It’s been a while since I was with her. She could be anywhere. But I know she hasn’t left.”

Of course not. Eris usually made the rounds to say goodbye to everyone before leaving, unless “important high warlock duties” called her, and she only said goodbye to those she ran into on her way out. And, besides, it was rare that Eris left before dinner when she did visit, whether she simply hung around for something to eat or was industriously taking notes on what was being done. Eris, despite being alive for a very long time, apparently knew nothing of how to cook her own meals. Which was why Julian didn’t mind her watching over his shoulder as he cooked. Everyone had to start somewhere. Julian wished he’d had someone to learn from when he was younger. The least he could do was be that role model for her.

“Do you want me to go get her?” Emma’s cut through Julian’s thoughts. With one last glance at his painting, he shook his head, and took Emma’s hand in his.

“I’ll come get her,” he said with a smile. He’d been hiding from her all day, so she wouldn’t come see the painting before it was finished. He wanted to be the one to show the art to her. Together, the two of them left the studio, in search of Eris.

They found her in Tavvy’s room — more specifically, in the tent inside Tavvy’s room — sitting with her legs tucked beneath her. Tavvy was clinging to Eris’s side, his cheek mashed into her shoulder, as she read to him from a book. “That’s my favourite part,” he was saying as Emma and Julian entered the room, and was pointing at a page in the book. Eris leaned forward to look at the part in question, and nodded her head with a soft smile.

“I think it’s my favourite part, too,” she agreed, ruffling the little boy’s hair. Tavvy lit up, a sweet little grin rising up on his cheeks.

“Really?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t say it was if it wasn’t, silly,” Eris blew a raspberry on Tavvy’s cheek at that, which made him squeal and giggle, and push her face away.

“Stop!” Tavvy was protesting, before he took notice of Julian. The small boy then grinned and shot to his feet, running over and hugging Julian’s leg. “Jules! Eris has been reading to me all afternoon.”

“Has she?” Julian looked over at Eris with an eyebrow raised, and Eris nodded. Julian only then noticed that there was an elaborate pile of children’s books stacked up beside her. But she didn’t look to be particularly upset about it. If anything, she looked quite comfortable where she was. He crouched down to his brother’s (and Eris’s) level. “Can I borrow Eris from you for a little bit? There’s just something I need to talk to her about. I’ll bring her back as soon as I’m done.”

“I’m right here, you know. Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Eris said, but it wasn’t without affection. Still, at Tavvy’s assenting nod she got to her feet and clambered out of the tent. She handed the book over to Tavs and pat his head fondly. “Make sure you don’t lose our page. I want to finish Clifford Gets a Job before I go home.” At her request, Tavvy nodded and lifted his chin as though Eris was bestowing a great responsibility over him. He kept the page with his tiny thumb and forefinger as he climbed back into his tent.

“Not going to ask me to raise someone else, now, are you?” Eris asked Julian as they began to walk back down the hall. She quirked a fair eyebrow, and grinned cheekily. “You know I’m on probation, Julian. You little devil.”

“It’s not that,” Julian rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t thought of asking Eris for one last favour in the past. Because although Emma was returned to them, there was still one seat at the table that still remained empty after everything settled. Even now, he still felt a hole in his heart where Livvy had been. He looked across at Eris, whose eyes were shifting minutely as she read his expression. Julian added, “I just have something for you.“

“Thank the Gods for that,” Eris chuckled, shoving her hands in her pockets. Julian looked over at Emma as she let out a jarring gasp and hurried over to his other side, where Eris was walking. For a moment Julian thought something was seriously wrong— that was, until Emma gestured wildly Eris’s bare shoulders, which were red and raw.

“Is that sunburn?” Emma touched the patch of burnt skin, and Eris hissed and slapped her hand away.

“It might be,” the warlock hunched her shoulders with discomfort, and possibly embarrassment, too. Julian could see now that her cheeks and nose were also bright red, and suppressed a small smile of his own.

“Enjoying the sun, then?” He asked, which granted him a dark look from Eris. Her tail flicked about in jittery moves that matched her agitation. He found keeping an eye on her tail made it easy to discern her mood even when she was wearing a mask over her expression.

“I had been,” she said indignantly. “Until it burnt me. Though I guess I had it coming. I fell asleep outside. It was so warm, you know? After years of hiding in a dark office you kind of find yourself craving the sun. Maybe a little too much.”

“Understatement of the year,” Emma laughed, and pat Eris’s arm where it wasn’t burnt. “I have some sunburn cream in the bathroom. I’ll go get it. You go with Jules.” Emma exchanged a look with Julian, and he nodded. She was giving them privacy. Emma knew what this painting meant to him, and how much it would mean to Eris. And though Emma was the bridge that had connected their two words, she didn’t want to invade the moment. Because Eris hadn’t helped Julian because of Emma. She had helped him because of himself. She knew that now, and he did, too.

Eris and Julian continued up the hall towards his studio as Emma broke off to duck into the bathroom in search of sunburn cream. “So this thing you want to show me better not be a fridge full of bodies. I had to put up with that last week, and I’m telling you, it was possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been dealing with the dead for the best part of 400 years. I was almost sick.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” Julian laughed despite himself— despite the fact that the statement gave him an odd sense of deja vu. When had he heard that before? That’s right. Emma had said something similar right before he had showed her his collection of paintings of her. “Why does everyone think it’s a fridge full of bodies?” He asked aloud, but found more humour in it than anything.

Eris snorted, covering her mouth with her hands. “I was only kidding, Julian. But usually it’s because when you say I have something to show you, all cryptic-like, humans assume the worst. It’s like saying we need to talk,” she shrugged, crossing her arms. “Actually, I just think people assume the worst at the best of times. For instance, I was meeting with someone yesterday who thought I was a necrophile because I practiced necromancy,” Eris paused, and cleared her throat with a deceptive nonchalance as Julian let out a sound of surprise. Despite Eris’s aloofness about the matter, Julian couldn’t help but feel a low rush of dismay towards whoever had said that to her. They didn’t know her like he did. They hadn’t seen her stripped of all of her protective masks that she wore. They didn’t see how much she really cared about others.

Eris went on, steepling her fingers. “I had to clarify that I never once did or felt anything of the sort, and that most Necromancers wouldn’t appreciate being called such things,” at that, she sighed. The sound made Julian look at her with renewed concern. “Such is the way of redemption, I suppose,” she murmured. “It’ll take a while before people see me for who I am, not for my crimes.”

“It will,” Julian said quietly as they reached the door of his art studio, and he stopped in front of it. He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder companionably. “It will take time, but they’ll all come to see you in due time. Most people just get nervous when they’re approached with things they don’t understand, or are afraid of. Once they realise that you don’t do anything like necromancy anymore, they’ll see you for yourself, instead of your past.”

Eris smiled bitterly. “One would hope so.”

Julian sighed, averting his eyes for a moment. He found that words of comfort didn’t work immediately for Eris. Eventually she would come to see reason, though. He could only ride it out until she thought back on what he said.

Which meant it was time.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s not a fridge full of bodies,” Julian said quietly, and to his relief Eris smiled at him, looking amused. “It’s… a gift, actually. A housewarming gift. Something you could hang up in your home to make it more like your own.” I hope you like it, Julian thought but didn’t say, as he pushed the door open, displaying the painting he had made for Eris directly in her field of vision.

It was a painting of Eris with her twin brother, Cesar. It was not unlike a family portrait of the two of them — Cesar’s arm was curved around Eris’s shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug, and the two of them had almost identical smiles on their faces. The only difference was that they stood on a beach-scape rather than in a traditional space used for a family portrait, and Eris was looking off over the horizon, where (implied by the lighting) the sun was setting.

But Cesar looked straight ahead: it was though he were looking back at whoever was looking at the painting. There was a smile on his face, a smile Julian knew he saved only for Eris.

And he knew that because Cesar’s ghost had come to visit him several times whilst he was working on the painting. The warlock had made himself visible on a number of occasions, pointing out little details he would have liked to see, and little details he thought should change. He was a surprisingly fussy ghost, Julian thought in hindsight. Nonetheless, Cesar spoke very fondly of Eris — he could hear the pride in his voice when he talked about how happy he was that she had moved on and started fresh — and when he did, Julian had watched him, watched the candid movements of his face. And he only smiled the way he did in the painting when his twin sister was the topic of conversation.

But Julian wouldn’t speak of Cesar’s visits to Eris. Not yet. He knew Cesar wouldn’t want that.

At first sight of the painting, Eris only gasped. She was frozen, save for the heavy rise and fall of her chest, and stood in the doorway with her fingers knitted tightly together in such an impossible way that it made Julian’s own fingers hurt. Her eyes were wide, and shining with tears. “Eris,” he said quietly, his heart sinking. Didn’t she like it? “If you don’t like it…”

Silently, Eris crossed the room with more quickly than he’d ever seen her move. She stopped before the painting, inches away, and Julian realised with a pang that she was looking into Cesar’s eyes. Before he could give Eris warning that the paint might not have yet been dry, she dropped her forehead forward, so that hers was pressed against her brother’s. Julian moved into the room, slowly, and pulled the door shut behind him; the last thing he wanted was somebody bursting in uninvited whilst Eris was so vulnerable. He watched as her shoulder’s shook with silent sobs, and she reached up to touch the painting lightly with the tips of her fingers. She still didn’t speak, only silently admiring the painting from up close. She stayed like that for a long time, the only sound in the room her quiet sniffles and sobs, and the occasional whisper of Cesar’s name. To Julian’s relief, the painting was unmarked when Eris stepped back. Thanks to the unnatural warmth of the room (more than likely Cesar’s influence) the paint had dried quickly.

“Eris,” Julian repeated again, as she stared on at the painting, tracing the outline of her own face, and her brother’s too, with wonder in her eyes. Whatever she was thinking, Eris wasn’t with him in the studio at that moment. Indeed, she was far away, possibly waist deep in memories of her past, memories of her brother. After all, the painting was probably one of the most accurate depictions of Cesar that Eris had seen in centuries. Or maybe Julian was just giving himself too much credit. “Are you alright?”

Eris’s eyelids fluttered suddenly, as though breaking free from a reverie. She turned to look at him, and a heartbreakingly joyous smile broke out on her face. “It’s perfect,” she said quietly. She looked back up at the painting before her, her fingers curling on the canvas. “Julian, it’s perfect. It’s Cesar. You painted Cesar. He’s just like I remember.”

Relief lead Julian to rock back on his heels with a sigh. It was always hard, showcasing art this way, because you never knew how people would react. This was the best possible outcome, as far as Eris was concerned. “I’m glad—“ Julian began, but before he could finish, Eris had pulled him into a tight hug, her wiry arms squeezing the air out of him. With all her thinness and short stature, Julian had made the mistake of assuming she wouldn’t be capable of squeezing so hard. Still, he reached up and hugged her back. He felt oddly honoured by the whole situation: Eris, who seldom let people come near her let alone touch her, hugging him. He pat her back gently as she let out a final, dry sob. “I— well, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Julian said, otherwise lost for words.

“They’re happy tears,” Eris chuckled softly. She pried herself away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. “I won’t lie. I wanted to hug you the first time you walked into my office. You just looked… huggable? I suppose?” She shrugged, a placid smile on her face. “You also looked deeply upset, and I felt bad— you know what? I just think you’ve made me go all soft, Julian.” Eris gently shoved his shoulder, a spark of her usual self coming through in spite of her vulnerability. “Shame on you.”

“I don’t know. I think I like soft Eris better,” Julian said, though he wasn’t sure he knew what the other Eris had really been like. “I think we all do, here.”

“Well, soft Eris isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” the warlock lifted her chin, before sniggering quietly. “God, that sounds so stupid. Soft Eris.”

Jules laughed softly despite the atmosphere of the room. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I like it,” Eris bobbed her head in a nod. Her eyes shone with joy instead of tears, now. She looked back at the painting, and for a moment her eyes raked over it, taking in the entirety of it. The corner of her mouth then twisted down, and before Julian could ask what was wrong, she said, “You didn’t sign it.”

Not what he’d been expecting. He peered at Eris quizzically. “It’s a personal piece. Why would I sign it?”

“Because I want to remember long into the future that it was Julian Blackthorn who made it for me,” Eris picked up a paintbrush and lightly stroked its bristles against her fingertips. She looked at him once again, “Why do I want to remember you? Because you were the one that helped me break the cycle that my life had fallen into. You made me realise that there was far more to life than what I’d been doing. And,” she added, looking away shyly. “You are one of my first good friends in centuries, Julian, and I’m not going to let myself forget you.” She then handed him the paintbrush, closing his fingers around it. “Unfortunately, I will live on longer than you possibly could, and with so much time ahead of me, my memory will be challenged. So, please, sign the painting.”

Eris’s monologue made Julian’s heart ache in his chest. He had done the right thing in befriending her, but he hadn’t thought about what would happen long into the future, when he and his family, and Emma, had all succumbed to their mortality. He never really thought about that at all— because who did? But for Eris, it was important. She seldom ever let people in out of fear of how much the grief of losing them would hurt her. The least he could do for her now, to make her future just a bit brighter, was sign the painting.

So he did.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, Eris. None of us are,” Julian reassured after he finished, and Emma had slid into the room carrying a tube of sunburn cream. He added, at the sight of her, “Well, actually, Emma and I are going off on our travel year soon, so we are going somewhere, but nowhere you can’t follow. Not yet.”

Emma grinned, nodding her head. “I’ve already died once,” she said way too casually for Julian’s liking. The concept still made him uneasy. “I don’t plan to do it again for a long time.” And the warlock burst out into laughter at that, putting her hands on her hips.

“Well, even if that does happen,” Eris said with a tone of finality, and dropped a conspiring wink in Julian’s direction. “You both know what I’m capable of.”

Indeed they did. They knew that better than anyone else.

Though, neither of them had ever really figured out whether Eris Flake had been kidding that day.

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