#let me just perpetually nap on your couch

[m3tth4ws]

#cozy #auston matthews #is my favourite #let me just perpetually nap on your couch #with a bottle of wine and #with your dog oK thanks

[kedreeva]

as someone who is ace and entering college years, how has your dating life been as an ace? what other struggles have there been that you have advice for? i dont know any aces or similar around me older or otherwise. thank you for your time and i hope you have an easy day!

Okay this will get a little long so I'll put it behind a cut

Honestly I'm probably not the best person to ask, since I never really...struggled? Not specifically with asexuality or with anything related to it. I can tell you my experiences, though, and you can decide if there's anything worthwhile to take away from it!

I grew up in a house run by science and math. I knew the prefix a- meant without/not and I knew there was heterosexual and bisexual and homosexual, so when young and, importantly, before really ever interacting with other queer folk, I went Ah ha, these are (prefix)(sexual) and so therefore I am asexual (without sexuality), and that was that. That was literally all the thought I gave to it. People had crushes on other people, I didn't have crushes on people, end of story. If, for some reason, I developed a crush on someone, I would deal with it then.

Maybeeeee midway through HS, a very good friend of mine asked me about it, and I said well, some people like everyone the same, and I dislike everyone the same. And she said well, then it sounds like you like everyone the same, that amount is just zero, so that seems like bisexual? (she didn't know the term asexual was an actual sexuality term either at that point, just the biological term for reproduction and, well, I could reproduce theoretically so couldn't be that) And I said well, alright then, and called myself bisexual for the next 6 or 7 years. THEN I found out asexuality is a sexuality not just a mode of reproduction and I said Ah Ha, I was Correct, and that was that again.

So I guess if I was offering advice it would be... you know you. Don't let someone else tell you about you if you think they're wrong. Make up a word if there isn't one. Use a new word if you find one that already exists and fits.

Also, that it's fine to not worry about it. Literally it's fine to just never think about it if you have better things to do. I think a lot of people get really wrapped up in finding the right label and/or "what happens if-" when like... you're not a canned good. You don't need a label. Worry about what-ifs when they come up, don't borrow anxiety if you can help it.

I dated a few people in HS, like... three people I think, and one Almost. One predatory mistake I thankfully recognized (HEY because I had older folks online I could talk to about it!) and got out of quickly, and one hot mess relationship that was a LOT of fun- my boyfriend, Sark, and then his ex-girlfriend, and then I stepped out so they could get back together, and then they said wait no, and invited me back in, and that went on for most of the end of HS, and nearly into college, when I stepped out again (and peacefully, I am still friends with both of them and I married Sark in the end). There was one guy whom I was always, perpetually, extremely fond of, and we hung out a lot, kissed once, and I think we would have had a lot of fun dating, but ultimately it was a near miss that became a fond memory, because we were never in the right place together. Sometimes life does that, and that's okay, too.

In college, I simply didn't date anyone. I had better things to do. I met my best friend, @idkfandomwhatever, online that year (and still talk to her almost daily, sometimes for hours, despite that we are on opposite sides of the world!!), and in person @mishapeep who was the best roomie I ever had (hi!!!!! i love you!!!). I had great friends, I went on a TON of adventures, worked a cool job where I had awesome coworkers, and just all around had a blast learning stuff and napping in sunbeams or on couches at the food court. A couple of guys made passes, and I turned them down because I just wasn't into it, and we remained friends. There was one coworker at my dispatch job that I got along with like a house on fire, and everyone ELSE thought we should be dating, but neither of us ever brought it up- I can't say why he didn't for sure, but I know I never brought it up because I was 85% sure he didn't swing for the right team to date me, which I ALSO never brought up until he found me on facebook years later to tell me about his husband running for local election somewhere. so. again, don't let anyone else tell you what to do lol there was ALSO another guy that I had NO interest in that spent a lot of time around me, but we mostly sat in my bunk watching Queer as Folk, which I KNOW was his first exposure to queer material. I never talked about queer stuff with him otherwise, but I heard from a mutual friend of ours that he's also happily married to his husband. Sometimes just being yourself, openly and without shame about it, does more than you think, even if it's not doing anything directly for you (but it is, it's good for you too).

SINCE college ended, I dated one guy I met through an online game and that was great in person briefly, but ultimately didn't work out because he couldn't be a nice person, another guy I met through the same online game and that didn't work out at ALL in person, and then I started hanging out with Sark and co again. I was on the phone with him driving somewhere, and I said something to the effect of someday you're gonna find a gf and she's not gonna want you to keep going on adventures with your ex, and we won't be able to talk anymore and I had a real recordscratch moment where I realized absolutely NOT on MY watch, I wanted that boy in my life forever actually, and we've been married now for... this is year 8.

I may have landed in a soft place, but I didn't seek it out. I just lived my life and didn't worry about my sexuality or about who I was or wasn't gonna date. When I DID date, I was up front about what I wanted from any of those relationships and part of the problem with the relationships that didn't work out was sometimes that I did not KNOW what I wanted, yet. But, it was IMPORTANT I think, that I gave the chances I did, because I did learn about myself and what I wanted. That's probably the hardest fucking thing to learn, that relationships sometimes happen not because they're likely to be permanent, but because it may be fun or be a way to learn what you do or don't want. Maybe alongside of that, the lesson that it's okay to go "hm, actually this is Not For Me" and exit peacefully whenever possible. But it's okay to give temporary things a shot and see how it goes, even knowing up front it may be temporary (honestly maybe that even takes some of the stress of it off? if you don't have to worry about it being forever, and you don't have to worry about "what if I never experience other things," and you don't worry so much about messing it up so it feels easier to take chances saying and doing stuff you might otherwise consider too risky to ask for etc).

I'm aware I'm lucky that things went pretty smoothly for my entire life so far, insofar as dating or sexuality is concerned. Part of that was definitely because even the worst of the people I dated weren't really all that bad of people. A lot of it was that I just didn't date if I didn't want to. I didn't care about sex, so I didn't have sex for the first time until a few years after college, and only one guy ever pushed the issue at all (the guy in HS I immediately dropped all contact with).

The thing is... I dated or nearly dated like ten people, flirted with countless others (because it's FUN), and the only one I still have regular contact with (not just occasional friendly hellos) is the one I kept at the end.

But the friends I made in college? I kept a lot of those. I still talk to several of my college friends on a regular basis. I have made other friends since, some of whom I talk to every day, some of whom have become irregular contacts I am still fond of. But those bonds are important and the ones you make with your friends from here out do have the potential to span at least huge chunks of your life, if not the entirety of it. If you only take away one thing from this little novel...take that knowledge.

also this has nothing to do with asexuality but for pete's sake find SOME kind of hobby club to be a part of, or make one if there isn't one, follow your stupidest instincts for adventure on occasion (like playing freeze tag frisbee in a lightning storm on the PAC lawn at 11pm until the campus cops show up to make you go home), and take at least one "fuck it this sounds fun" class. Mine was archery at 7am, the only early-morning class I ever took. Worth it, we were all TERRIBLE but god it was awesome.

Good luck out there!

#you are always welcome to come talk if you need to #asks or chats or whatever #I will not always have answers or advice but I can listen #asexuality #asks #stories about ked's life #I'm leaving this rebloggable because I KNOW there are older aces following me #and y'all have got stories to tell too if you want to speak up

[garden-of-3d3n]

What couch would every Willow (2022) character own?

My friend asked me what couches Willow characters would own, so I figured why not share my thoughts here? In no particular order, here we go.

Boorman

Boorman is probably the easiest answer because he would clearly not even own a couch. That man owns exclusively folding chairs and I stand by that. If he did own a couch, it would 100% be taken off the side of the road and be the rattiest thing you’ve seen in your life that only he will sit on and maybe Graydon to be polite.

Elora

Elora would have a pull out couch and it would almost always be in use. I think she just loves having people over and spending time with them, so her furniture would change to accommodate for that. Even if no one was over, she would just sleep on the pull out couch instead of her bed to feel like it’s a change of scenery. I can’t even explain that one. I just think she would.

Jade

Jade’s couch would probably be small, maybe a loveseat, and it’s the most practical out of the entire group’s, maybe the least expensive (excluding the shit show that is Boorman’s living room). She doesn’t have many people over, except Kit, since she’s always out or visiting others, so she doesn’t take up too much space with furniture meant for visitors.

Kit

Kit’s couch would have to be big enough for her to lie down on (which isn’t saying much) and it’s excessively comfy because she takes midday naps in her living room. Barely anyone has seen the couch, too. I just know she’d be keeping her place off limits out of spite, so the heavenly couch is a thing of legend, only perpetuated by Jade’s descriptions of it.

Graydon

Graydon just owns an excessive amount of throw pillows and blankets. His couch isn’t even visible under the massive pile that occupies it. You try to sit down and just get consumed, never to be seen again.

Willow

Willow has owned the same couch for way too long and he refuses to get rid of it. You can tell it used to be nice, maybe leather, but he’s had this thing since before Mims and Ranon were born and they grew up on it, absolutely demolishing the thing. Mims has tried to convince him that it’s over for the couch, but he will not listen and the couch will stay.

Let me know if you think I’m right or wrong and I’m sorry for any formatting problems. I’ve literally never made a Tumblr post longer than a sentence lol

#willow disney+ #willow 2022 #jade claymore #thraxus boorman #elora danan #kit tanthalos #graydon hastur #willow ufgood

[petrichorium]

i must know more about the kitties you have with your husbands 🫶🏻 pretty pwease

WHEEEEEEE ofc ofc I will gush abt them all always 🙏🏻 on a base level none of these cats r purebreds or anything they’re all strays either organically found or adopted from a shelter/another home. also there r so many pics i cant make them smaller so everything is utc

Gagamaru and I have one cat that was originally mine, Kabocha. He’s very sweet but is a bit flighty and takes a long time to warm up to Gagamaru; the first time I rlly have the hes the one thought is when I walk in on him napping on my couch w Kabo tucked into the crook of his arm dozing away bc!!!! It’s the first time he’s been comfortable enough to sleep on anyone other than me. Very himbo cat, absolutely gorgeous but total dumbass.

Kuroo and I have three cats! I had two and he had one when we combined households we were veeeeeeery careful w introducing them 🥺 he’s had a grouchy old lady for as long as I’ve known him. Her name is Suki and he took her in as a stray after an elderly neighbor’s son let her loose; she adores him and it’s slow going but she comes to adore me as well. I had a cat that passed a few weeks after I met him and then didn’t have any pets for a while, but then abt half a year before we move in together he stumbles across a trio of kittens on his way to a date w me and the date devolves into us getting them care……. One unfortunately doesn’t make it :( but I end up taking in the other two; they’re a lil girl and boy named Mizuki and Hoshi. Old lady is tolerant of them but they’re def a bit too energetic for her so the only times they rlly interact r when they’re in a puddle together napping…. Suki is the calico, Mizuki and Hoshi r the white ones! Once they’re fully grown they’re both bigger than her, tho Hoshi is an absolute unit and is the biggest by quite a bit

I believe I’ve said this once but. I have a perpetual series of completely normal housecats w Jing Yuan pfft I try my best but they have an unfortunate tendency of hunting his finches :( I only ever have one-three at a time and ofc I adore them all but I do end up w like fifty over the course of our lives together LMFAOOOOO including a few lil lineages where I kept many generations down the line!!! But the three that I’ve thought about r Jade and her kittens Bei and Feng (Yanqing named those two……) bc they’re the ones I have over the course of Mimi’s life. Mimi is a co-parent in their odd little pride, she and Jade grew up together and are very bonded n constantly exasperated by their rambunctious boys……. just like me and mine, though Yanqing and Jing Yuan constantly protest that comparison 🫣

i Have talked abt shanks before but its funny to me so. this lil scrawny tuxedo kitten ends up following me onto the red force one day (bc i fed it) and nobody realizes until we've set off.... i am told i Cannot name it or get attached bc we Will be leaving it on the next island....... except the crew ends up getting attached and they name it sharkbait. SHARKBAIT. FOREVER bitter NEVER getting over it every time shanks and i get into any kind of fight i bring it up "ALSO YOU TOLD ME I COULDNT NAME THE DAMN CAT AND NOW ITS NAMED SHARKBAIT YOU STILL OWE ME" (he will never stop owing me)

Lil bonus bc he’s been on the mind for months now: Capitano is not a cat person in fact when I first ask for one he gets me a pair of massive guard dogs that I stubbornly refuse to name at first and then end up calling Fluffy and Cuddles out of pure spite. Then I bitch enough that he does get me a kitten who Absolutely Fucking Despises Him tries to rip him to shreds every time he gets in bed with me (a week in he admits he finds it endearing but she does get kicked out of the room regularly when he wants alone time) I call her Lady she is a very elegant girl when she is not trying to murder him and actually gets along very well w the dogs, much to Capitano’s chagrin

#ask.🌧 #mydiluc #I GAVE UP ON FINDING DOG PICS BTW im soooo not a dog person and it Shows #but like u get the picture im sure #ss.🌧 gagaplu #ss.🌧 tetsuvi #ss.🌧 yujing #ss.🌧 shuvi #ss.🌧 pluvitano #<- i hope that one is temporary bc its Bad ngl JLSHBDFJHB #SHIP NAMES R SO HARD

[jovalencia]

how has your day been? in as many words as possible pls

wow. aiming for the stars. bold since you know how much I love to talk but I’ll give the people what they want

my day was pretty good all things considered. the things we’re considering is that I worked 3-8 instead of 12-5 today and I don’t even have a show to watch with my family tonight. the bachelorette was crazy last night kallie you would have loved it.

anyways the play by play of my day was I woke up at 9:55 bc my friend has her radio show from 10-12 and I listen as often as I can. but it wasn’t even her on the radio it was some other bitch but I was already awake so I just stayed up even though I was up late last night reading fanfiction and texting bi guy jason and journaling. so I ate my breakfast which was an overripe mango which I ate peel and all over the kitchen sink and gas station potato wedges I got from work two days ago. it was fine. and I watched a youtube video on the barbie movie by a youtuber I’m subscribed to while I ate. but I was still tired and I had enough time to take a nap so I did and let me tell you the last fucking thing I wanted to do was get up but alas I did. and I was hungry so I had a struggle meal (so you could call every meal I have these days) it of an entire can of green beans. I heated them in the microwave ofc but honestly they were fucking delicious.

I left for work a little later than I wanted and that was stressing me out and I started listening to my playlist from last summer and I must have played that shit to death bc I skipped like a million songs before I got to one I could listen to. I got to work and I liked all my coworkers that were there which is a fucking miracle and my three favorite coworkers (the guy my age, the woman who got hired the day before me, and the manager who doesn’t give a shit how much work anybody’s doing and has been perpetuating the wheels vs doors debate for a week) were all there so I was content. even if all the customers were fucking cunts for some reason like idk what was in the air today but people were being such assholes but it was fine bc every time they walked away my coworkers and I would just talk shit about them. btw I didn’t like the woman who got hired the day before me at first but now me and her are like this 🤞 ily sandy. she’s so fucking real and every time I tell her that she’s so real she laughs bc she thinks it’s such a funny phrase. but she literally is I swear to god I would have lost it if I was the only new cashier. but apparently she got a way better training process then me bc she’s constantly like “nobody taught you how to do x or told you that you need to do y? that’s so weird” like yeah sandy it is weird. and both of us have the same irrational fear that every other one of our coworkers hates us but at least we like each other so it’s fine. bottom line I love sandy she’s my best friend and I hope when summer ends and I quit that she goes and finds a better job she deserves it. also both of us got soooooo excited when we saw the new halloween candy display like fuck yeah you know what time it is

all the coworkers were talking about arbys at work and I’ve never even gotten anything other than fries and I was starving and we have no food at home because my family sucks at grocery shopping so I went to arbys and got a french dip sandwich and some mozzarella sticks. the sky was beautiful on the drive home and when I got there my mom was sitting on the couch in the front room crocheting but I opted to be a hermit and eat in my room. I got some grease on my bedspread but it’s fine. I started the new garrett watts video bc I have to watch all of his videos it’s tradition. well it’s usually tradition to drink starbucks while I watch his videos. maybe instead of finishing it while I go through my drafts I’ll watch it tomorrow after work and get myself a lil drink as a treat. bc that tradition started back in 2020 when every thursday after my last online class instead of killing myself like I wanted to I would go and use my years and years of starbucks gift cards to buy myself a lil drink then go on a lil drive and go home and drink my drink while I watched the newest sweet boys (garrett watts and andrew siwicki) podcast episode while I embroidered. anyways after that greasy ass dinner I was feeling like collapsing and dying so I ate half a green bell pepper in the kitchen. and even though that was all like less than an hour and a half ago I’m really fucking hungry again. I literally don’t understand how I’m always so hungry. it’s pissing me off.

since then I’ve just been fucking around on my phone and I think I’m gonna write my diary entry of the day then take my shower (I have to wash my hair boo👎👎👎) then try and go to sleep I’m fucking exhausted. speaking of my diary thanks for asking me this bc I’m probably just gonna copy paste it instead of actually writing the diary entry for today. which I’m ideally gonna write in a week but I’m back to being two weeks behind on my diary again. I knew that was gonna happen with dani visiting and all but it still sucks. hopefully I can get my act together before school starts. thanks!

#I love talking!!!!!! #meemaw😨

[thehealingkind]

10 suggestions for putting yourself first.

Putting yourself first on occasion is not a matter of adopting selfish habits. It's a matter of nourishing yourself to allow you to operate at your optimum, to be the happiest version of you; for the sake of your mental, spiritual and physical health and for the sake of loved ones around you. How often do you berate yourself for getting easily irritated with loved ones because you're so worn out? How often do you berate yourself for eating rubbish during the week because you've nothing in the fridge? Do you have a perpetual feeling of running on empty? Perhaps it's time to start getting a little stricter on yourself and your busy schedule, by always ensuring there is adequate YOU TIME in the diary each week.

With that, here are...

10 suggestions for putting yourself first :

1. Use your calendar Seems simple enough, but actively scheduling your down time can become a pivotal move in the quest for de-stress. How often do you just barrel through your day bouncing from one meeting/engagement to the next. What if 'you time" WAS one of your meetings? If you're a 9-5'er, consider popping a park stop and book in your diary once a week (assuming summer climes of course). 2. Learn to say no For what purpose are all your 'yes's' serving you? Are they enriching your life, or merely stretching you too thin? You don't need to feel as though your value will decrease or people will like you less if you back away from certain tasks or engagements at times. What's more, it is ok to just say no - no explanation of 'why' necessary. In the interests of maintaining my energy (and knowing now what my limits are), I have a self imposed rule as to how many mid week evenings I'll go out and I plan them so that they are never back to back. I do the same in business. I will very comfortably say no to an opportunity if it means stretching myself (and my health) too thin.

3. Always have an extended break booked. The mere thought of something to look forward to is exciting and energising. The momentary daydream of the escape to come is like a trip in itself - refreshing. Do you have a trip planned? It need not be expensive if you don't have lots of extra cash, weekends away camping come summer are a great option. 4. Schedule weekend down time for yourself. A Sunday afternoon nap, some time on the couch with a book; it's important to consciously take time to reset before another week starts. Back to back social engagements can be fun but exhausting and heading into a Monday leaving you playing catch ups for the week is never ideal. So when do you find time to take a breath? Another self imposed rule for me is at least one weekend morning sleep in, where I don't have to get up to go anywhere - no racing out the door to meet someone, just me in my own relaxed pace, taking it easy (and to the parents out there, I'm sorry, I appreciate this is quite the luxury!). Whatever the case, let's refer to number 1 here and schedule it. 5. Weekly breakfast in a cafe. The smallest moments can be luxurious and it is that feeling of luxury that is rejuvenating. Go in search of this feeling. Take a book to your favourite cafe and take five (or an hour) once a week. A simple treat. 6. Monthly massage or facial. The traditional definition of putting yourself first for sure. Why? Because it works. It's nourishing, it leaves you feeling really good, primed for the rest of your week. If you are Melbourne based, my recommendation is Joanna Beecher of Still Beauty, a mobile masseuse (with magic hands). Once a month Jo arrives at my door - it's a recurring appointment that doesn't get moved for anything else. It's me time and it's golden. 7. Sunday baking and food prep. Fail to plan, plan to fail - spend some time ensuring you'll nourish your body for the week ahead! You ought to find a recipe or two on this site to help you in that department! 8. Personal admin. How much better do you feel when your personal finances are in order? Your bills are paid? Your hair is cut? Your car is clean? Oh how I loathe sitting down to a hectic working space - it leaves me feeling cluttered and disorganised. Personal admin is not a 'chore' I leave to my weekend. Admittedly, it's easier working for yourself to pick and choose your tasks, but if you're self employed, you ought to consider doing this too. I consider Friday afternoons a great time for this. My weekends are for down time, unwinding, not for pesky tasks.

9. Early morning space. This is all about having the TIME in the morning to set your intentions for the day. A rushed morning ends up with no such thing, and sometimes a super rushed morning leaves you feeling flustered for the whole day - you never recover! So, what do you need to do to create some morning space? Prepare the kids lunches the night before? Get up an hour earlier? Teach the kids to perform one of your morning tasks? I've long learnt that a rushed morning reeks havoc with my energy so for me it's always the same. Up at 6.00am for a morning meditation, followed by an hour walk with Wilson and a relaxed breakfast with a cuppa before hitting my desk at 9am (rarely before). And again, apologies to the parents without such flexibility. 10. End of day ritual. Repeatedly signalling the end of the day with a certain activity can prompt your body into relax mode. A bath, a book, a cup of tea, whatever you need; try thinking about creating a repetitive ritual that is easy enough to incorporate into your day. My end of day activity is a 30 minute walk with Wilson, always before dark, typically around 5pm. Post walk there is never any work on the agenda, and that's that!

[simplyotometrash]

MC Plays Otome Games!

The brothers with an MC who plays otome games!

MC is gender-neutral

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Absolutely none

I think you can tell who my favorites are-

You hummed and flopped onto the couch after a long day at RAD. You could go to your room, but you were sure you'd go into the sweet embrace of sleep if you lay on your bed. You didn't want to take a nap, not yet. It was hard to do what you wanted when you were at RAD during the daytime (what counted as the daytime in the perpetual night that was the Devildom).

You were lucky that you were even able to get these human world apps on your D.D.D. at all. Devildom otome games were...weird, to say the least. You didn't hate them, some were pretty good, but you really liked the ones you played from the human realm.

The app of your choice loaded up and you were in the zone. You didn't even hear him walk up behind you.

"What're you playing?"

Lucifer:

He had come to ask if you wanted to join him in his study after dinner.

But his eyes trained on the screen of your D.D.D.

"T-this?" You were startled by his question and presence.

He nodded, raising an eyebrow as he awaited your response.

"It's an otome game...a dating simulator. From my world. This one is called Ikemen Sengoku."

Dating simulator? He heard Levi talk about the same sort of games quite often. He seemed to be a bit obsessed.

"You need a dating simulator when we're already in a relationship?"

His voice was teasing but it did nothing for your nerves.

"I just think they're a lot of fun to play!"

He chuckled at your frantic response. You were quite adorable when you acted nervous.

You went on to talk about how you wished otome games let you pick your gender, you hated how the default was always women. You wanted to be able to choose.

Lucifer never actually judged you for your interests. You were entitled to whatever hobbies you wished.

He was half-tempted to tell you to talk to Leviathan if you really wanted to find more games that didn't solely have female main characters.

But he didn't actually need to. You and his younger brother were already good friends and talked about games often.

He patted your head gently. "You can tell me all about this game later. In my study after dinner, perhaps?"

Even though he didn't really understand it, he would always support your interests and hobbies.

Mammon:

"Did ya hear me? Whatcha playin'?"

Oh, you heard him alright. You were hoping you could pretend not to hear your boyfriend and he'd leave.

You really should have known better. He could be very nosy.

You just wanted to play a little of your game before you had to go do homework and study.

"It's a dating simulator." You glanced back at him, hoping his curiosity was sated.

It was not.

He urged you to move so he could sit next to you, peering over your shoulder at your phone.

"Like those games that Levi plays on his D.D.D. all the time?"

"Yeah, except these are games from my realm."

"So, what is this?" You knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Mammon was growing more curious by the second.

"Ikemen Vampire. Your goal is to survive a month in this mansion with these famous men throughout history, but they're all vampires. Since it's a dating simulator, there are routes for characters and you get to romance the character of your choice."

Mammon scoffed at your explanation.

"Sounds boring if ya ask me."

"It's not for everyone. I really like these games, they help me unwind."

"That's not what I mean."

You tilted your head, giving your boyfriend a confused look.

"I mean, why have a pretend romance with a fake guy when you can get the real deal with the Great Mammon!"

You burst into a fit of laughter and pressed a kiss to his cheek. No game could beat your Mammon.

Leviathan:

You didn't even have time to react before Leviathan pushed his way onto the couch to look at your phone.

"I've never seen this game before."

You and Levi played otome games, it was no secret to either of you. You would often play them in the same room together, lamenting about your favorite characters.

But you had yet to show him your human realm otome games.

"This is Mystic Messenger. It's a game from my realm and it's really good! It's very interactive. You do chatrooms, have phone calls, answer fake emails. Everything is important to raise affinity with the character of your choice in their route. There are multiple endings per route, too!"

"And which route are you doing right now?"

"Yoosung's. He's a student and he LOVES playing video games. He's the nervous type at times but he's so cute."

"How unfair," your boyfriend muttered and glared at your game.

He didn't even realize that the description you just gave fit him pretty well!

"What's unfair, Levia-chan," you asked gently, reaching to take your D.D.D. in one hand and his hand in the other.

And his face immediately turned red. He buried his face in the crook of his other elbow but it didn't hide the fact his ears were also turning bright red.

"You sound like you like this fictional guy more than me."

"You mean the way it always sounds like you like Ruri-chan more than me?"

"I love Ruri-chan, but I could never love her more than you! You're number 1, my player 2!"

His head snapped around so he could look at you and you surprised him with a kiss.

"And I could never like Yoosung more than I love you. You're better than any fictional character."

Satan:

You looked back at him, your face suddenly feeling hot.

You weren't sure why this, of all things, embarrassed you.

Satan knew of your hobbies, he listened to you talk about these characters all the time. This was nothing new.

"This is The Arcana. It's an interactive visual novel and otome inspired dating sim. It has an incredible story. It's also very inclusive. The main character can be any gender and sexual orientation that you want, unlike other games where the main character is usually female."

Satan peered at your phone a little more and smiled.

"I quite like the art style of this one. Have you told me about this game yet? I don't recognize the name."

"No, this one is one I've not talked about. It's really good! I think you'd like the plot."

And this launched you into an hour-long detailing of the story, avoiding any actual spoilers, the world, and the characters.

You played a little just to show him some more of the characters.

"So it's a fantasy romance game and the plot has a bit of a mystery to it. This also takes place after a great plague, and that's why this character has a plague doctor mask?"

"Yeah, Julian was a plague doctor."

"He's the one who was charged with killing the count, yes?"

You nodded and he chuckled.

"And he's your favorite. Why am I not surprised?"

He kissed your temple and pulled you in closer.

"You can keep playing. I think I'll read along with you. I'm pretty interested in the story. I know you probably don't want to play a romance game with your boyfriend right here, but I promise I'm not judging you."

Asmodeus:

Shit, you forgot that you were supposed to go to his room when you got home. He wanted to show you some new outfits he had bought.

The pout on his lips shifted as his expression turned curious.

"Ooh, this character looks really cute! I like their style. What is this?"

"Mr. Love Queen's Choice. It's a visual novel otome game but it's got a very long story. I mostly like collecting the cards, reading the dates, and getting the phone calls."

"Which character is this one?" He pointed to the character on your screen.

"His name is Kiro. He's my favorite. He's a superstar idol. He's a musician and an actor."

"He's such a cutie! Show me the other characters!"

You showed Asmo each character in the game that were considered love interests and he ranked them based on looks and your description.

His favorite turned out to be Gavin.

"His eyes are so pretty and I like his personality! He might not have the best fashion sense, in my opinion, but I think he's the best out of the ones you showed me! Your Kiro can rank second, he's still cute."

Asmo nuzzled your cheek lightly, making you laugh.

He was very supportive of your hobbies. He never judged you. He had already stopped judging Leviathan for having similar hobbies because it'd be unfair. If he judged Levi then it'd be the same as judging you.

It got a little embarrassing when he asked to see one of the dates you mentioned.

So you ended up playing through your favorite date that you had unlocked.

Which turned into doing a date for each character because he hadn't realized they had voices and he wanted to hear what they all sounded like.

"I still like Gavin, but that Victor has quite the sexy voice."

"These characters are cute," he said softly, "but they're nothing compared to me."

Beelzebub:

He had come to see if you were hungry. You'd given him all of your snacks at RAD because, unfortunately, his hunger was something that literally could not be sated.

And Beel wanted to make sure you were fed and full. He liked food, sure, but he hated how his stomach never seemed to be pleased.

Then he saw your game and got curious.

He had seen you playing these kinds of things a lot. They reminded him of the games Levi played.

He had never really looked into the games, though, since it wasn't something that normally interested him.

"This? It's called Dangerous Fellows. It takes place in modern times but it's set in an apocalypse! There are zombies!"

He chuckled and sat on the couch. He loved seeing you excited.

If there was anything that Beel loved more than good food, it was seeing you or his brothers happy. Especially you.

He opened a couple of snacks up and settled in to listen to you talk about your game.

He really didn't understand the excitement over a game but it was nice to see you smiling from ear to ear.

"This game is different than a lot of others I've played. I wish the character could have been at least gender-neutral, but I like her spunk."

"I can't imagine living in a world like that. Zombies and everything in ruins. I think I'd be okay if all of you were there, too."

Typical Beel. He loved you guys dearly and felt that he could overcome anything if he had all of you with him.

It was sweet.

"Why do you play these dating simulator games?" He tilted his head in question. He wasn't judging you. Your boyfriend would never do that.

"I just think they're a fun escape from reality. I am quite happy to have my real boyfriend right here next to me, these are for relaxation purposes. Some of them have really engaging stories that are fun to read."

Beel nodded. As long as you were happy then he was happy.

Belphegor:

This was one of the first times he had actually seen you playing your otome games.

He knew you played SOMETHING while you two were in bed, mostly while he was dozing off or asleep but you weren't tired.

He'd seen glimpses here and there but never paid it any mind.

You had expected him to already be napping in his room or the attic, but he was wanting snuggle time. He had actually gone to RAD and was forced to stay awake because of threats from Lucifer.

"It's an otome game. A dating simulator."

He yawned as he sat down, slumping to rest his head against your shoulder.

"Like those things Levi plays, got it. What's this one? I've seen bits of the others you've played but this one is unfamiliar."

Your face warmed at the knowledge that he had seen you play these before since you never talked about them.

"It's called Ikemen Revolution. It starts in 19th century London, England, but the main character ends up in a magical world where there are two armies at odds. Then the typical routes for the characters start after the prologue and you can romance the character of your choosing."

"Sounds dumb to me. Why would you need some fictional man anyway?"

"Now, now, don't take offense. You know I love you more than a fictional man."

"Tch, whatever."

"I just like to play them. They're fun, they can have good stories and artwork. The music is pretty nice, too. It's just a nice experience."

You knew he rolled his eyes, it was a habit of his.

"You can like what you want, I'm not making fun of you."

"I know you're not, Belphie. You're just being a brat."

He huffed and slumped further in his spot.

"I am not. I just don't get the appeal. You and Levi both like these. I'm still not sure I get the appeal, but you can do what you want."

You petted his head lightly as he sank down to lay his head in your lap.

"You know you can share these with me if you want. I may not see why you like them, but I'll listen anyway. You like them and I like listening to you talk."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fluff #obey me x reader fluff #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me one master to rule them all #waylonwrites

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 9: Chink in One's Armour

Y'all when I tell you I had to rewrite this chapter so many times just to get the right vibe, ughhhh. So yeah, I am so so sorry for the nearly-a-month without a new chapter. But I hope y'all like it.

Silco content? On my page? It's more likely than you'd think.

Masterlist

A few days pass with minimal note. There’s the underlying stress of everything; Benzo’s been staying up late going through your accounts, Silco’s coming home exhausted every night after talking to his boss about pay raises, you're pulling all-nighters in the living room to tinker and create guns, lanterns, anything you can sell. But Vander? He’s been…uncomfortably stand-offish towards the whole thing. He’s distant, especially when anyone even mentions the topic of his father, but overall he just seems intensely focused.

Getting back from the bar had been…uncomfortable, to say the least. He’d been half-asleep of course, you struggling under his weight to carry him through the door and drop him on his bed. Exhausted, you'd wanted nothing more than to curl up into your bed and sleep for a couple of hours, only for you to realize a few minutes later that Benzo was…preoccupied in your shared room, forcing you to the couch for the night. But then the sun had risen again, a new day had started and…nothing from Vander.

No acknowledgement of the previous night's words or actions, no knowing looks or flirty remarks, not even a smile when he bid you good morning. There was nothing to insinuate that he even remembered any of it; the talk, the drinking, the kiss. He hadn’t even looked at you twice. He was the same dumb goofy giant you’d known for years, only…slightly off. The flirting was gone, and he always had perpetual darkness in his brow, hidden under a poorly fixed facade that any of you could recognize.

But nobody brought it up, Vander’s behaviour going unsaid, as did your shared actions of that night. They fell to the wayside, untouched, and although you gave into the unspoken agreement to leave it alone, it still bothered you. Maybe you were just being selfish, though, taking his unstable emotions personally when he already had so much going on with his Dad…

You audibly sigh, flopping down and your back hits the ground with a satisfying ‘thump’. Pushing your welding goggles up onto your forehead, you stare up at the cracked ceiling.

When did all of this get so complicated?

“Me too man.” You hadn’t even heard Benzo walk in the door, and your head flops to the side as he kicks off his boots by the entrance. He’s in his nice clothes, a button-up and vest that he wears when he’s working at Laou’s, and in his hand, he holds a large paper bag. “Long day?”

“Long year.” You joke, forcing yourself to slump back up to a sitting position. You’re at your coffee table/makeshift work bench, a partially taken-apart machine gun taking up most of the wooden surface. The metal glints in the low lighting, the darkness outside causing you to use a little oil lamp that cast a dull yellow light all around the room. Despite the poor work lighting, however, the gun had actually been cooperating. Still needed a firing pin though…

“Well y’fucking look like shite so that tracks.” You flip him off for this, but he just ignores you. “This is like your second all-nighter, Fishie. When was the last time you slept? Or ate something for that matter?”

“I had a coffee this morning.” You shrugged, and run your hands over your face. “And took a nap on my lunch break.”

“Coffee isn’t a meal, dickhead."

“Well, it’s a good thing you eat enough for the both of us then, you dick.” He tells you to go fuck yourself, which makes you snicker.

“You know, you should be nicer to me! After all that trouble I went through for getting you dinner.” He reaches into the paper bag he’s holding, lifting up a familiar bowl container. Immediately, your interest is piqued and you lift your head from the floor.

“Jericho’s?”

“We can't afford anywhere else.” You let out a noise that was somewhere between a purr and a strangled cry of joy.

“I love you, Benzo.”

“Oh, I know you do.” He smirked, placing the bowl on the table before flopping on the couch in front of you. “Tell you this, if every woman’s love was so easily bought as yours, I’d be a lucky man, Sewer Fish.”

“You seem to be doing just fine. Speaking of, how’s Niya?” Your chuckle is mischievous, the corner of your lip curling like a cat’s. As you open the lid to your bowl, the flavourful steam of your mother’s cooking fills your senses and you feel the overwhelming urge to cry into your dinner.

Benzo shrugs again, digging into his own meal. “Eh, don’t know. Haven’t reached out to her.”

“Dick.” What Benzo did and how he treated his one-night-stands was his business. After all, you had no right to judge anyone's promiscuous actions given how you acted in your more youthful years. But did he really have to do it with your friends? You didn’t have many female friends as it was, so you’d prefer to keep the ones you had.

Your mind crosses over to your and Niya’s conversation that night about the job, and your thoughts begin to stew on the subject. As much as you hated to admit it to yourself, your mind had been doing this quite frequently. During work, in one of your all-nighters, on the walk home, you’d begin to ponder Niya’s offer. Would working on that side of the bridge really be all that bad if it meant getting more money for Mikael? You hadn’t had the courage to bring it up to any of the boys yet, scared of how they’d react and at the possibility that maybe, just maybe, talking about it would make you realize that a part of you wanted to take Niya up on the opportunity. But looking up at Benzo, his tired expression as he munched down on his dinner, maybe this was the perfect scenario you’d been waiting for.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, the door opens again and Silco stomps in.

"Hey Mate, I bought dinner!" Benzo speaks up, but Silco just ignores him. Instead, the younger of the two drops his messenger bag and coat with a loud ‘thump’ to the floor, angrily kicking off his boots. His face looks sickly pale and hangs loosely off of him, the dark purple bags under his eyes very pronounced, and you wonder just how many all-nighters he’s been pulling lately.

Then he’s walking over to the two of you with purpose, and clapping the back of a chair.

"Let's do a job!"

The two of you blink, look at one another, then turn back to Silco.

"Mate," You speak up, "we just got home from jobs."

"Not work! Fuck work!" Silco spits, the way he waves his hand is somewhere between manic and drunken. "A job!!! Let's go across the bridge and raise some hell! Do some crimes!!!!"

"When was the last time you slept, bruv?" Benzo asks, putting his partially-eaten bowl down.

You scrunch your nose. "What's wrong with work?"

"Sleep doesn't matter. We haven't done a job in ages! Wouldn't it be fun, just the three of us? Out there, over the bridge, jumping around and causing havoc right under those Pilties’ spoiled noses! We could steal something really valuable, and in case you've forgotten we need the money."

"I quite like my work…" you muse.

Silco plops down on the couch next to Benzo. “Come on! You can’t deny it wouldn’t be fun. Think of all the great jobs we’ve done over the years! Benzo, man, you’ve got to have some sort of lead! You always have the good word.”

Benzo frowned, wiping a glob of soup from his lower lip. “What’s got you all…wound up for this?”

“Doesn’t matter!” After a moment, Silco's eyes turn to yours and you have the distinct feeling that he's practically dragging his irises to gaze down at you. The way his eyes look into you makes you uncomfortable like he's studying you disapprovingly, and a cold shiver runs down your spine. Your mind races through anything that you could have done recently to anger him, but nothing really comes to mind. So instead, you just meet his gaze with your own, inquisitive one, but he brushes this off and straightens himself. “Min, you’re with me, right? Get away from metalworking for a couple of hours? Give those powers of yours a breather?”

Your eyes thin into slits. “Bullshit, jobs always involve me using my powers.”

“This one won’t! I promise!” A pang of something sparks in his expression, too quick for you to read.

You look down at the gun parts in front of you and, admittedly, the idea is appealing. You’re so tired, craving sleep, but going over the bridge and wreaking some chaos would definitely get your blood flowing. It could also give you the chance to find some new material…

“I like metalworking…but I do kinda miss doing jobs, could be fun!” You hummed, and turn your hopeful eyes to the still apprehensive Benzo. “Didn’t you hear about something last night? That rich merchant ship from Noxus coming into the ports?

“Yesssss, I knew you’d know about something!” Silco hissed, sitting up straight and patting Benzo’s bicep. “What’s the job? What kind of merchant?”

Benzo remained stubbornly silent for a long moment, sending you a dirty look that you felt the need to shy away from. Eventually, however, Silco caught your eye as well and lifted an eyebrow. Without even missing a beat, you kept talking.

“Something about a supplier with guns and medicine.” You explain.

Benzo sighed. “You never could keep your trap shut for anything.” But Silco just persisted.

“In this market? That’s a goldmine! C’mon Benz…let’s go out there! Show Piltover we’re still kicking! Make those pigs in their coats actually work for their paychecks!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Vander’s still at work.” You blushed a bit at the mention of his name but hid it with a slurp from your bowl.

“So?”

“We don't do jobs unless both you and Vander give the say-so, that's how we've always operated," Benzo explains. “Besides, he’s our tank, what happens if shit goes sideways?”

“We don’t need Vander’s permission to do everything, you know. We can handle one little scuffle.” Silco pointed a thin finger into Benzo’s chest. The bigger of the two boys still looked unconvinced, his lips pursed and eyes squinted as he looked into his bowl. It wasn’t until you actually spoke up that he actually seemed to genuinely think the idea over.

“We’ll be careful. If anything goes wrong, we can always make a break for it.” You point out. “Besides, we’ve practically been doing this since before we could walk, what could go wrong?"

There were very few places where Silco felt more at peace than when he was running for his life.

There was such a…chaotic simplicity to it. Running was a mindless action, just kicking the ground and letting his heart beat quickly in his ears and his lungs panting heavily as he focused on the path in front of him. But when he were being chased, his mind was awake and alive, pure base surivial instincts kicking in as he took in every little detail around him and studied its every use. Maybe this crate could be used to get me higher, where am I most visible, could this corner lead to a shortcut or a dead end? It was easier that way, easier to have a head full of base instincts and rudimentary fight or flight, rather than being at home and brooding over his last conversation with his brother.

He was used to this feeling, having experienced it so much in his younger years (not that 27 was old by any means). He’d learned every alley and tunnel of the Underworld like the veins in his own body, every nook and cranny etched into his mind since the age of five. That’s why he was such an effective messenger; even when he was running from interceptors or gang members, people always got their communications in time.

It wasn’t like he was fond of the idea of dying, of course. In fact quite the opposite, but he lived for the rush. The feeling of dashing through the air, all his senses into overdrive, the feeling of power. Even if he’d never been strong like Vander, good at numbers like Benzo, or handy like you; there were always two things he’d always been good at, being smart and being fast. Sprinting while being chased was a good way to incorporate both those skills, and boy did he love to prove that he was good at it.

The city sirens were sounding loudly up on their poles, practically shaking the ground as you, Benzo, and Silco darted down the streets of Piltover. Silco, of course, revelling in the adrenaline as he took the lead. He could still smell the scent of burning gunpowder, despite now being well over a mile away from the now-burning docks, and he knew that if he looked behind him the night sky would be filled with dark smoke.

A passing thought considered whether you deplored the smoke, as it blocked off the stars you had so fondly noted. But he no sooner pushed the thought to the back of his mind, grinding his teeth as the grotesque, oozing feeling returned, creeping up on him. He couldn't think about that feeling right now, though. That's why he had suggested the job in the first place, to rid his mind of it.

"Motherfucker, we're going to get arrested again!" Benzo exclaimed over the sound of rushing air. All three of you were definitely feeling the effects of the lighter air now, getting winded and panting quicker than normal.

Silco growled under his breath. "We will if you don't move your stubborn, fat ass!"

"You wanna say that again, you fucking twink?" Benzo bellowed.

The tail end of the three of you, your voice suddenly cut in. "I don't think now is the best time for fights about weight!" With a sweep of your hand and a loud grunt, a nearby light post crashed to the ground, creating a sudden obstacle in the path of the Enforcers hot on your trail.

The job had gone perfectly according to plan. You’d all snuck across the bridge no problem, dodged any Enforcers that had been patrolling the docks, and even snuck up onto the ship without any conflict. The problems had started when you’d all gotten below deck, coming face-to-face with the captain's personal army of Noxian guards. They'd forced you all to fight and dodge through the ship's hallways, skidding into the cargo hold, thankfully, as that was where the goods were stored. As Silco had stuffed Noxian guns and medicines into dufflebags, as much as they could hold, Benzo had had to barricade the door as you scraped together a haphazard bomb out of disassembled gun parts. Much different for the stealth in-and-out mission you’d all had in mind.

So thus, here the three of you were, running for your freedom down the partially empty night streets of Piltover. A little bruised and scuffed, but overall in one piece.

One of the Enforcer-mandated capture devices, a ball that would be thrown out, shooting out three pieces of cable meant to spin around and catch the target's legs; whirred by Silco's head. The young man was barely able to dodge the thing, throwing himself into a nearby wall.

"Min!"

"They're too fast for me!" You shout back, hand in the air but unable to stop another device that spins itself around a nearby post, barely a foot away from your shin. "'Giving my powers a breather’, my ass!”

"Your sass right now? Not helpful!" Silco sniped. His mind was racing now, thoughts clambering and he heard you and Benzo run up closer to him. "We just need to get across the bridge, then we can lose them."

"The bridge is always crawling with Enforcers!" Benzo countered.

Silco shook his head. "Then we lose them in the water, we'll figure it out! Just go!"

Despite throwing each other cautious looks, you and Benzo follow orders, taking a kitty-corner and dashing straight into a huge marble courtyard. The wide-open area, usually crowded with people but now fully cleared, felt uncomfortable to the three of you in comparison to the cramped alleys you wet used to. Too many vantage points, you were too exposed; and your suspicions were legitimized why bullets cracked at the marble by Silco's feet.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

The adrenaline was pumping fast now, and Silco could practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. Running was one thing, but getting shot at? Silco wasn't a fan. It made him feel trapped.

"Silco-" You yelled, kicking the marble as hard as you could.

"Just get to the bridge!"

And you did. All three of you darted under the giant archway leading up to the bridge, one of a few extravagant metal platforms that conjoined the two ends of the cities; a portal to the other worlds.

And currently heavily trafficked by Enforcers.

About 30 of the helmet-wearing police officers stood along the length of the bridge, all armed. As the three of you clumsily tried to slide to a stop, now feeling the difference in traction between the cobblestone roads and the smooth metal, you felt dozens of cold gazes fall onto you underneath their shadowy faces. Shivers ran up all your spines as three pairs of eyes darting from officer to officer. Silco's grip around the two duffle bags tightened.

“Hey! You three! Hands in the air, now!” One of the officers called, and your and Benzo’s hands immediately flew up over your heads. Silco not so much, his fists remaining tightly gripped around the leather bags.

You whisper-shouted to him. “Silco!”

“Hands above your head now, sir. I won’t ask again!”

Benzo shot Silco a malice-filled look. "There's too many of them to fight mate, just give in!"

Silco? Give in? Never.

As Silco slowly moved his hands up, he tilted his head closer to you. “Min, how deep is the water on your side?”

“What?” The three of you were only a few meters onto the bridge, but the breech of the waves on the shoreline was well behind you.

“How deep!”

You glanced over, your short strands of hair blowing wildly in the ocean air. “I don’t know…8, maybe 10 feet? It’s dark, I can’t tell. What the fuck are you thinking?"

“On the count of three, we’re going to sprint over and jump.” A couple of Enforcers were now making their ways over to you, rifles up and at the ready as they reached into their back pocket, grabbing hold of handcuffs. "Min, you cover us if they shoot."

Benzo’s head snapped over to him. “Wait, what?!”

“3.”

“Mate, they’ll shoot us before we get into the water.”

“2.”

“Neither of you boys are good swimmers!”

“1!”

With the last number, Silco’s thin legs rocketed off towards the left, cutting in front of you as you, somewhat shakily, lifted your hands to rip the rifles out of the Enforcer's hands. As shouting emerged from the army in front of you, warnings and the cocking of guns filling the air, Silco also heard two sets of footsteps following in his stead. It only took a moment to reach the railing of the bridge, and Silco kicked off the ground, fighting against the gravity of the extra weight he was carrying, boosted off once more on the railing. And then, he was in the air.

Taglist (if you wanna be added, comment or DM me!):

@the-lake-is-calling @conretewings @officialjellydoughnut @ladyoakenshield157 @lovesleepybearwriter

#arcane #arcane netflix #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #vander arcane #Vander Arcane #vander x reader #Vander x Reader #vander x oc #Vander x OC #arcane benzo #arcane silco #young vander #young benzo #young silco #oc fanfic #original character

[narrators-journal]

Let the game finally begins

So, this was supposed to be the final part of this series, but it got super fucking long and incoherent at the end, so I cut it and trimmed it down. Part 5 will be up when I am able to rework it out of being hot ass and have a free moment to post!

Last part: Here

First part: here

If you had to describe the demons from your dreams, it would be shockingly hard. Not because you couldn't remember them, in fact, that whole dream was one of the only dreams you could recall almost as vividly as a real-life memory, it was just that the two were very similar. Emmet and Ingo looked alike, and while Emmet was the chattier of the pair, and far more expressive with his face, your encounter with them did a lot to prove that the twin with the perpetual frown was just as twistedly playful as the other. Which meant, you had no real reprieve.

So, you decided to finally bite the bullet and return to your own home after that dream. Not only because you worried for your friends and them getting caught in the crossfire, but because you honestly couldn't bring yourself to look either of them in the eye after your saucy nap. So, after a myriad of promises to report even the smallest occurrence of demonic activity to them, they reluctantly let you return home.

Naturally, though, you didn't breathe a word of your plans to them. It didn't take a fortune teller to know that if you mentioned wanting to retry the ritual and finally play a game with the spirits you had invited into your life they'd turn the car around and never leave you alone again. What's the other option? A lifetime of growingly frequent wet dreams? Wet nightmare? You asked yourself once you'd wished your friends goodbye and walked back into your home after what felt like an entire month away. Of course, the abode was mute, with not a soul within outside of maybe a pet or two, and while that was usually a bit of comfort for you, now it was purely ominous.

However, you steeled yourself to the anxious swirl of feelings in your stomach and simply went about gathering the candles you had originally used for the ritual and a marker, paint, or whatever would work to draw the symbols. Though, you couldn't use them until nighttime, when it was dark enough, so you were still forced to burn the remaining daylight before taking the plunge a second time. Hopefully, this ends soon. I can't take any more time off of work... you thought, sitting down to watch a bit of television while you continued to mull things over.

A lot had happened in a relatively short time. You were a simple woman, just aiming to do good and live a peaceful life. But now you were sitting on your couch with cold spots breezing by you repeatedly, never enough to leave a lingering chill, but enough to be noticeable to you.

Despite their games and lingering energies, you were able to mostly ignore, if not tolerate, their antics until they finally seemed to settle down around noon. Or, so you hoped.

For a while, you just enjoyed the quiet, simply watching your shows and keeping an eye and an ear out for any oddities. Though, after a few hours of finding no cold spots, nothing grabbing you, and no vague whispers or watchful gazes, you began to worry. What if they're going after my friends? Can they do that? you asked yourself, pushing yourself up off of the couch to pad around your home. Can they actually harm them though? Or even really leave me alone? the thoughts continued but did little to decrease how apprehension gnawed on you like a dog would its chew toy. In fact, it only increased when you peeked into your bedroom.

It was just as empty as the rest of your house, with the covers and sheets still thrown haphazardly around from you and your friends' mad dash for the door, and was as warm as you'd expect it to be on a sunny summer day. So, tentatively, you stepped into the room fully, ensuring the door stayed open behind you for a swift escape if needed, to walk around and try to find a localized chilly spot that might've been hiding. Yet, it wasn't until you were on the opposite side of the room that you found a spectral sign in the form of a swirling patch of air so cold that you could've sworn it was made up of that same icy fog your freezer sometimes spewed when you opened it.

    "Well, there's one of them at least," you told the non-existent audience with you, letting out a small breath of relief, only for it to be cut short by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut.

Instead of whirling around to look at what was sure to be nothing visible, you bit back the instinct to instantly run. You'd already faced these demons, you knew at least something of their personalities, so you had no real reason to bolt from the unknown. learning the unknown's name usually puts an end to that title, anyway.

So, instead of freaking out, you did your best to keep calm and just strolled back towards the door as casually as your drumming heart could allow. Making it to wrapping your hand around the cold knob before the twin demons seemed to hit their next horror movie marker. The door was stuck.

With a muttered curse word, you pressed yourself to the door, partially for support and partially to try and keep as far away from the spirit within the room with you. And you stood like that, in a thick silence so heavy that you felt as if your breaths were forced to come out shallow, for what felt like an eternity before you finally felt the cold snake around your waist.

It stayed there for a moment, sending melancholy ripples through your body. Is a ghost trying to fuck me? Is he gonna kidnap me? Your panicked brain questioned, cooking up a slew of scenarios at record speed while you tried again to get your bedroom door open. However, that glimmer of hope seemed to be torn away when out of nowhere, the spirit threw you onto the bed, which you almost bounced off of from the force of it.

However, before you could scramble away, the cold returned, this time to pin your back to the bed. If it weren't for how you could almost feel his hand grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, you would've thought the creature was just fucking with you, trying to scare you witless as some form of vengeance for continuing to not keep your word, but after your first true introduction to the twins, you couldn't be certain anymore.

      "U-uh, E-emmet?" You nervously guessed while you attempted to wriggle your hands free of the spirit, who hadn't yet moved from his position assumedly straddling you. "I-ingo?" You corrected after a moment, only getting another moment of silence before, surprisingly, the weight on your wrists lifted.

You decided to take that brief hint and almost threw yourself off of the bed, but, you didn't run out of the room. No, the last thing you needed was to instigate whatever predatory leanings Ingo had by turning your back and running. You instead kept your eyes on the bed as much as humanly possible while you walked to the door. When you found it released from the paranormal lock, you casually opened it and stepped out, not breathing again until you'd closed your bedroom door once more. Alright, guess I won't go in there anymore. You decided.

With that, you kept your word for the rest of the day. You stayed firmly in the living room and made sure to keep all of the ritual supplies in a plastic bag clutched protectively to your chest until evening finally settled and you could begin to draw the two symbols you had originally in your living room again. Then, you set about making the circles with candles and lighting them before turning the lights off once more for the final step.

Taking a deep breath, you watched the circles of flames flicker and dance, all too aware of the feeling of eyes glued to you as you stood just out of the reach of the main glow of the candles. Swallowing the lump of anxiety sitting heavily in your throat, you finally said the final line,

     "I'm looking for someone to play a game with, is there anyone willing to join?"

Once more, your question was met with silence, but this time you didn't brush it off as a dud, you now knew better. So, you instead just watched the flames flicker for a long moment in the darkness before speaking again,

     "I know you two are there, can you show yourselves?" You didn't get an answer for a long moment, but then the candles dimmed, and the shadows slithered into the symbols, slowly taking form until two dark figures stood before you. Shaking off the remaining darkness, they showed themselves once more.

          "Hello again, dear," Ingo hummed while he and his twin stared down at you with silver eyes, though this time, you could take a step back from them instead of being mindlessly rooted to the spot.

     "Does this mean you'll finally be giving us a game to play?" Emmet asked, his seemingly permanent grin showing off canines that you were at least halfway sure weren't supposed to be that noticeably sharp.

     "Uh, yeah, I just need to know if there are any rules that are mandatory," you said, your eyes locking on a bit of movement as you spoke, finally bringing attention to the tails they both had. How had you not noticed those in either encounter before?

     "We don't have rules that are required in each game." Ingo said, snapping you out of your thoughts, "The only requirement that must be included is that we both agree to the game and rules you set."

    "outside of that, and the need for a set time limit, we're verrry flexible," Emmet added, swishing his snow-colored tail as he spoke, obviously amused at how you watched it move until finally tearing your eyes away to focus on the conversation again,

     "Right, so...I guess the first step is to decide the game."

For the next hour or so, you tried to think up a game that would be least taxing on you while being entertaining enough for the two demons. Sadly though, none of your suggestions got accepted by the pair. Apparently, some form of card game like poker would be too easy, and board games were too boring, so you were forced to be a bit more creative.

It seemed they liked active games like tag or hide-and-seek, but you avoided offering those games since you already knew your fate on that track. Instead, you tried to find a middle ground, something that would be fun for them but gave you a realistic chance at victory. Which, after some thinking, stemmed an idea.

     "What if, we played something like green-light-red-light?" You asked, watching the brothers share a curious look before returning their attention to you,

     "A game where you can't move, but we can get as close as we can before you try to stop us? That's a verryy bold decision." Emmet pointed out,

    "I said something like it, not the game itself." You countered, making both demons raise their eyebrows. You now had their attention, "What if, one of the rules of this game was that you could only get closer to me under a certain condition? Like, when I don't look at you." You suggested, getting up from where you had sat on the floor to get a paper and a pen to note things down.

     "That's a very simple game, I'm not so sure it'd be fun for us," Ingo said, his calm, slightly monotone words laced with a verbal nudge that you ignored.

     "Well, maybe we can add in some other elements then. But right now, the rule is that you can't get closer unless I look away from you two." Neither disagreed with that, so you set about making up the rules with them, being sure that they not only knew the rules but wouldn't veto them.

After that, you had a pretty solid mixture of tag, hide-and-seek, green-light-red-light, and some balancing rules, like they couldn't use inhuman speed or transportation, kill anyone not in the game or hold anyone hostage, plus, dreams didn't count as them catching you. On your end, you got a day's head start, but only because they wouldn't be telling you when the game would truly begin. Once it did, however, you'd need to evade them until dawn or evening, depending on when they come after you. They could try a total of three times in three months to catch you, and if you could keep them from doing so, you got to go free with no more haunting and no repercussions upon your soul. If they did manage to catch you though,

     "You will be entirely ours," Ingo said, almost smiling slightly to match the dark promise within his words.

Looking over the rules and rewards again, you sighed. At least I have a fighting chance, you told yourself before looking back at the creatures,

     "So what now?" you asked them, the warm glow of the candles making the mischievous, dangerous light in their eyes all the more ominous as Emmet spoke.

    "Now all you have to do is blow out the candles! Then we'll be on our merry way until we decide to take a crack at you." With a nod, you got up from your spot again and set about extinguishing the flames one by one. The entire time, your stomach churned and twisted with a maelstrom of regret, anxiety, and excitement tha

#Ingo x reader x emmet #pokemon #Demon submas #pokemon black and white #x reader #demons #monsters

[randomshyperson]

THE SCARLET WITCH PROPHECY - Chapter VI - The Fourth Year (Final Part)

Gif is not mine, blessed are the gif makers.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. | Chapters Warnings: Heavy angst in this.

A/N: This took me a while, because i had writer block (and it's not over yet). Anyway, I hope people like this. Let me know if anything is confusing okay? Sorry about typos too.

Words counting: 11.344K

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

//-//

The Fourth Year - Final Part

Wanda was avoiding you. Well, not just you, but all your friends.

You told Gamora what happened, but you didn't have the stomach to repeat the story to anyone else, so your sister passed the news on.

You were coping well in spite of everything. You missed her terribly the whole time, but you were pushing the feelings down and trying to stay positive about everything.

By trying to put yourself in Wanda's shoes, you understood why she did what she did. You just had to find a way to prove to her that what you felt was real, and for that you needed to find out more about your magical bond.

Your best alternative to the lack of books about it in the library was to talk to the professors. Judging from your experience with them, none of the teachers would tell you anything. But Fury has been acting very differently all year, and although you don't agree with the way he has been teaching D.A.D.A. lately, you have the impression that he would tell you anything you asked.

That's why after a particularly exhausting class where he made all students practice the shield spell until one of the boys threw up, you waited until the room emptied to talk to him, watching with curiosity as he turned a small bottle he kept in his pocket to his mouth.

"What is it Stark?" He asked still on his back. You wondered if behind the eye patch he had some enchanted eye to see around things, but the idea seemed too absurd to you.

"Sorry, Professor Fury." You say. "I have a question about advanced magic and would like to clear it with you."

Fury put his materials away in his bag, and beckoned for you to accompany him into the private office, and you followed him into the small room, watching him set the desk on a coffee table and move toward a glass cabinet of magic supplies.

"Have a seat and make yourself comfortable." He said with his back turned. "I need to prepare a potion, but you can ask me what you want."

You stumble half-heartedly to one of the empty armchairs, and then clear your throat.

"It's about magic bonds, professor." You recount. "I... well, I think I have one. And well, I'm not finding much material on it, and I don't understand how they work."

Fury makes a noise with his mouth in understanding, his hands wandering through the cabinets behind ingredients you don't recognize, but he seems to be paying attention to both you and the brewing of the potion.

"Are you familiar with the concept of magical bonds and connections, Miss Stark?" He asks and you deny it. The professor cuts something that looks like mushrooms on the table as he speaks again. "The reason you can't find books that explain to you exactly the nature of this magic, is because no wizard has been able to decipher these enchantments correctly." He explains. "The magical bonds are one of the oldest and most powerful enchantments in the magical world, Miss Stark. Extremely dangerous, yet immeasurably valuable for some purposes."

You swallow dryly, but do not interrupt. Professor Fury bends down to reach a tin cauldron and places it on the counter in front of him, on a small makeshift stove. He deposits some ingredients inside.

"Have you ever heard about any of these bonding spells?" He asks and you think for a moment.

"I think I've heard about the perpetual vow, sir."

Fury gives a small smile, nodding. He sniffs a small bottle before pouring the contents into the cauldron.

"Yes, the perpetual vow is a great example of a magical bond." He says. "But it is still an active spell, you need to recite an incantation and both parties need to voluntarily close the bond. Some witches believe it's a contractual magic, much more than a natural connection." Fury explains. "I particularly prefer to use another example, Stark. The life debt."

Fury has a smile at the corner of his lips, and a strange gleam in his eyes when he looks at you for a moment, but you don't have the courage to ask. He turns his attention back to the cauldron, lighting the flame under the metal with his wand.

"I don't know what that means." You confess and the professor doesn't take his eyes off the cauldron.

"A life debt is a magical bond created when a wizard or witch saves the life of another magical being." He explains. "And I say magical being, not just another wizard, because I've seen it happen once for a centaur to owe a wizard their life. But never the other way around."

"How does that work?"

"It's very simple really." He says. "If you save someone's life, that person or creature will owe you a debt. The bond is created, without needing an incantation. The act of preserving a life is magical enough to create that bond." He explains and his expression turns almost somber. "The best part is that the person saved needs to pay back."

"And how do they do it?"

"A life can only be paid with another life." He declares. By now, the potion is smelling. You don't know what it is, but it looks like lavender, and it makes you a little dizzy. "I have witnessed a quitting in my time as an auror, Miss Stark." He tells you, and you already imagine that what he is about to say is not something you should tell a fourteen-year-old witch, but you don't think to interrupt. "The debtor throws himself in front of the Reducto incantation to prevent the death of the witch who saved him once. I still remember the pieces flying around the room."

You looked away, uncomfortable with the mental image you were given. The professor didn't seem to mind.

"But of course not all debts are paid off like that." He added as if he hadn't just told the story of someone tearing themselves apart. "Stopping a friend from falling off his broom in a game of quidditch might be enough to pay off a debt. Or to create one too." He counters. " This kind of magic has always been very difficult to decipher."

You murmur in understanding, keeping your gaze on the floor. The professor sighs lightly, moving away from the cauldron to sit in the empty armchair in front of you.

"But I'm guessing you're not talking about any of these bonds, are you?" He hints and you swallow dryly, feeling intimidated by the watchful gaze he gives you. You figure that lying is not an option.

"N-no sir." You reply. "I wanted to know more about protective bonds. Like... like the idea of someone you care about getting hurt, causes you a really bad feeling. And it makes you ignore your own safety and makes you go too far e...."

"Impressive." The professor interrupts, his gaze almost fascinated on you, and making you swallow dryly. "And how far are we talking about, Stark? What's the limit? Would the wizard put themselves in front of an unforgivable curse? Would they offer themselves up as a sacrifice? If one were to get hurt, would the bruises show up on the other, or does the very idea make your insides turn? Or…”

"Fury." You jump in fright when Strange's voice interrupts the monologue of the other man, who was very close to you now.

Fury looks annoyed that he has been cut off, but he turns away with a smile. "Pardon the interruption. I need to have a word with you on a matter." Stephen said, but he didn't look happy at all, and his expression was one of concern and disapproval, probably from the discussion he witnessed.

You stood up awkwardly, taking a step back, your heart still racing from the things the professor told you.

"Of course, Professor Strange." Fury spoke as he stood up. "Stark, I hope that has cleared up your doubts. If there is anything else you wish to ask me, you may come to my office as needed."

You bit your tongue to avoid saying that Fury only scared you rather than clarifying anything, and nodded in understanding.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts may not be my class, but I am also available to talk with you, Miss Stark." Stephen added softly as you passed him in the doorway. You mumbled a goodbye before walking out of the office, ignoring the horrible feeling that settled in your stomach.

//-//

You were really disturbed by the conversation with Professor Fury. The story of the wizard casting himself in front of a spell gave you strange dreams, and you could no longer be sure that you wouldn't do the same for Wanda.

Your friends were equally impressed by what you told them, and you ignored the feeling of dissatisfaction at the pit of your stomach that you felt because you wish you were talking to Wanda about it, and tried to be more grateful that you have someone to talk to at all.

You were thinking of talking to Tony about everything, and you thought you'd look for him in the Slytherin hall, and to your surprise, he showed up in your common room. You thought he was there to spend some time with Steve, but he really came to see you.

"Daddy wrote for us." He explains as soon as he greets you. The letter already open in your hands as he throws himself on the couch in the communal hall. It is Sunday, but the room is very empty because with the amount of free time and foreigners in the castles, most of the students are socializing outside. You had dismissed your friends' invitation to practice Quidditch in exchange for a nap, as you were upset by the way Wanda left the main hall at breakfast when she realized you were sitting at the Slytherin table with her brother.

"Finally." You grumble as you sit down in the armchair across from Tony, stretching out your arm to pick up the letter. It must have been the first letter in three months or more. Last time, your father had said he was overwhelmed with work and would not send any news for a while. You thought it would be days, but it was months. Jarvis at least wrote to tell that he was alive, working in the basement.

Looking down at the paper, you began to read:

"Dear children, how is school going? I hope you are studying as I have always asked you to do. I have been busy with an important project at the ministry, an invention to improve the astronomical forecasts of the wizarding community. Please forgive me for the lack of contact these last months.

Tony, I received the letter about the detention, and I was quite upset when I heard about the bet. You are the older brother and you should protect your sister, not put her in danger. But I am glad that everything ended well and hope that this kind of behavior will not happen again.

Y/N, dear, I heard about your willingness to start studying Muggle Studies, and I'm very glad..."

You stop reading the letter halfway through, frowning and looking at Tony next, who was lying with his head on the cushions and his arm under his eyes.

"What kind of crap is this?" you ask with confusion and irritation, causing Tony to let out a short chuckle. "Dad telling us to study? What the...?"

"It doesn't sound anything like him, I know." Tony interrupts and then sighs, sitting down on the couch to point to the paper. "And see how he doesn't make any jokes about the dare, or any comments about your incident at the lake? It sounds so mechanical and vague."

"Do you think he hasn't read our letters? He only mentions the one from school." You say and Tony leans back on the couch, thoughtful.

"I don't know. It just doesn't sound like him." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Jarvis wrote it."

"Why would Jarvis do that?"

"Because Dad hasn't spoken to us in three months." Tony retorts with irritation. "And well, you almost drowned and he didn't even bother to read about it."

"Tony..."

"No, it's fine." He grumbles, taking the letter from your hands and standing up. "Screw him." Cursed the boy in annoyance, tossing the letter into the fireplace in the room. You frowned, sighing. "We don't need him. I'll take care of you."

You were tired of this. Running a hand through your hair for a moment in frustration, you let Tony take your hands in his as he knelt in front of you next.

"I'm sorry I've been absent this while." He says surprising you. "I hated how all the adults were hiding things from us, and I did the same with you. I promise I will tell you everything from now on."

You nod in understanding, squeezing Tony's hand lightly.

"I need to tell you something too."

And you do. The whole conversation with Wanda and with Professor Fury shock Tony. And he has a frown creased in concern when you finish.

"I know it's a lot." You say. "But I'm terrified. I don't know what will happen to me if I lose Wanda, and all I can do is miss her."

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Tony says tenderly, releasing his hand to caress your cheeks and wipe away the dripping tears. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

"What if you can't avoid it, Tony?" you retort softly, your voice whiny.

"I will." He assures you. "I will help you. We'll figure out a way to break this bond, and then you and Wanda will be safe."

You nod, deciding to believe his words. Your brother hugs you next, and you wish he is right.

//-//

Just like you, Tony was also unable to gain access to the restricted section of the library. But that is the least of your problems.

As the date of the last task approaches, you are a pile of nerves. Tony assures you that he will try to find something about ways to break magical bonds on the last trip to Hogsmeade in a local library, but you are barely listening to him, your thoughts wandering towards Wanda.

The other girl, on the other hand, continues to avoid you and your friends. Your only option is to ask Pietro about her, and he assures you that she is as upset as you are as if he is trying to make you feel better somehow. But all this information causes is a worsening of your distress. Pietro is not comfortable coming between you two, so you don't insist that he spend time with you or your friends, knowing that Wanda needs company. You also insist that Gamora and Nebula continue to spend time with the witch, but they comment that Wanda is not really sociable after the whole thing.

The rest of the school starts to notice the way the Maximoffs are no longer hanging out with you, and since everyone in the school loves a little gossip, the news that you and Wanda broke up starts to circulate very quickly.

You don't want your detention for the lake story to escalate, but it's hard to control the urge to jinx your classmates when their snarky remarks reach your ears.

"I heard they broke up because Wanda became a champion, and didn't want to be seen with a hufflepuff anymore." Said in a not so low tone, a Ravenclaw boy as you were walking ahead of them toward the Potions classroom.

"No, dude, that's not true. I heard that Wanda got pretty close to the other champion, Jean Grey, and obviously she'd go for a famous quidditch player than a nobody." Added a female voice, and you clutched the books in your hands tightly, but didn't turn around.

"Come on, the girl's a Stark." Retorted the boy. "I think Maximoff is a winner with either one."

The girl laughed lightly, and you wished you reach the classroom soon.

"I think you're right." The girl spoke up. "Maximoff has always been weird, I don't know how she got such great options."

Your attention wandered from the conversation when Mantis reached you. She went back to the dorm to get the potions book she had forgotten, and frowned at your annoyed posture when she arrived, but when she caught the words of the pair behind you, she threw them an annoyed look that made them fall silent.

"Don't pay any attention to that kind of gossip, Y/N." She asked gently and you just sighed.

"I just wish people would mind their own business." You grumble annoyed and Mantis agrees with a murmur.

Potions class was as difficult as it usually is. What surprised you was Professor Lensherr's tired appearance, but you imagined it must be because of the tournament finals that were being organized by the teachers.

When you were packing your materials, you almost knocked over the glass jar when he appeared in front of you.

"Stark, a word, please." He asked earnestly, and Mantis shot you a glance before hurrying to leave. The professor waited until the room was empty and then nodded to the door, which closed. "Wanda told me about your magic bond."

"Shit." You grumbled immediately, and Professor Erik raised his eyebrows. You cleared your throat, apologizing for cursing. "Look, sir, I don't know what else to say about it. I don't know where the bond came from, and I'm trying to find out..."

"I can help." He interrupts and you fall silent, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes." He says straightening his posture and crossing his arms. "I obviously have more magical knowledge than you, and your nosy brother." He says and you understand that he is talking about the way Tony has been pestering the teachers to get information. "And if this bond affects Wanda, it is of particular interest to me."

You swallow dryly, nodding in understanding. You explain to him how you feel next, and Erik absorbs your words with a neutral expression.

"Interesting. I had my theories since you couldn't duel with Wanda in the second year, but since you became close, it wasn't my place to intrude.” He tells with a bit of a nostalgic face as you finish speaking. “I have a few questions, Miss Stark. I need clarification on the nature of this bond." He says with his arms still folded across his chest. "Last summer, Wanda had a cold. Did you feel anything?"

You thought about the vacation for a few seconds.

"No, sir." You reply. "I don't remember getting sick."

"I see." He says. "Tell me, have you ever had dragon pox?"

You nod in agreement.

"At how old?" The teacher asks, and you think for a moment.

"I don't know, four I think. Maybe five."

"Wanda had dragon pox when she was six." He declares, his gaze assessing you. You blink, trying to follow what he is trying to say. "It's not a very common disease in England, is it?"

"I don't think so." You mutter without understanding why the professor is looking at you like that.

"Wanda caught the disease in Sokovia, the country where she was born." He recounts. "We were on vacation and she came back sick. The last case of that disease here in England was almost a hundred years ago."

"I guess I'm unlucky then." You try to joke, and Erik almost smiles.

"The flu Wanda had last summer was not of magical origin." He adds, and you frown slightly, not knowing what to make of this information. "But dragon pox is magical in nature."

"Professor I don't..."

"Wanda broke her wrist at the age of seven." He interrupts as he uncrosses his arms, gesturing slightly. "She and Pietro were playing in the backyard, no magic."

"Okay..."

"I imagine Wanda has already talked to you about her exceptional magical abilities, Miss Stark." The professor continues. "Her visible magic, I meant. It started when she was three years old, when she was able to bring her toys into her crib and wrap them all in a magical cloud." Erik tells and you smile briefly at the image of a baby Wanda, but his expression makes you bite the inside of your cheek the next second. "I want to know how much of this you were able to experience, being on the other side of the country."

You swallow dryly, looking away and trying to think back to your childhood.

"I don't know, professor." You reply. "I was a child. Maybe Tony or dad will know something."

"Come on, isn't there anything you can tell me?" He insists. "Any specific memories, any strange dreams? Anything."

You think, and think, but none of your childhood memories seem relevant. And then you frown, remembering one.

"Actually... There was this one time I got really sick. I think I was about eight. Maybe nine, and dad took me to St.Mungus. I had a high fever, and I couldn't sleep at night with nightmares, but I don't remember what happened. They thought it might be the flu, but we never found out what it was. The next day I was better."

Erik was slightly wide-eyed and then he sighed.

"Before she came to Hogwarts, Wanda was afraid of losing control of her magic at school." He starts to tell. "I tried to calm her down, but she was very upset. She managed to convince Pietro to help her into my potions room and took an entire bottle of a brew for magical containment. Her magic seemed almost enraged, and she destroyed the greenhouse with a wave of energy. I've never seen her so out of control." He says thoughtfully, as if remembering the events. "She passed out from exhaustion, and didn't wake up until the morning. She was ten.”

"You don't think...?"

"That's exactly what I think, Miss Stark." He interrupts, "The dates match. Every time Wanda was in danger from a magical source, you were affected, because the nature of your bond with her is magical. And that was confirmed during the tournament by noticing the way you jumped into the lake during the second task. I imagine your little interaction with Professor Heimdall when Wanda was facing the dragon was about this as well?" He asks and you nod your head in confirmation. "Right. Well, that's a problem."

"I noticed." You grumble, but then realize from the professor's expression that in addition to what has been said, it seems to be a problem for another reason. "Why?"

"Regarding your safety, I mean." Explains the professor. "The last task of the tournament is going to be exceptionally challenging, and perhaps not the best of experiences for you."

You widen your eyes in anticipation.

"Professor, what will happen in the third task?"

"I can't tell you." He says. "But there will be many challenges. And Wanda may encounter difficulties, especially since she is only fifteen."

You sigh, trying to push the wave of worry down.

"I hate this tournament." You state in a mumble and Professor Erik gives a short little smile. "I hate to see Wanda in danger. If it's for the gold, she can have all mine."

Erik laughed, and you blinked in surprise at the sound.

"Believe me, I dislike this competition as much as you do." He says. "There is no pleasure in seeing Wanda in danger for something as superficial as eternal glory. But the goblet chose her, and she would have suffered a magical penalty if she didn't obey the contract. It was a difficult decision, but it was the best for her."

You mutter in understanding and the teacher is thoughtful for a few minutes.

"I would recommend you not watch the competition so you don't get so nervous, but clearly distance doesn't matter for the bond." He remarks. "I need more information about how all this works. I want to run some tests with you two."

You frown slightly, but before you can ask what kind of tests, the teacher speaks again.

"That will need to wait, of course. With the competition and the final exams, I understand that you are experiencing enough stress and I don't want to cause any more suffering." He explains. "Over the vacations, perhaps I can write to your father. It's time to see old friends again after all."

You are surprised that the professor makes this mention, but you don't bother to comment. He clears his throat, and signals that this is all. You thank him as you get up and then leave the room.

//-//

When the day of the last task of the tournament finally arrived, the whole school was in a joint peak of excitement.

You could hardly sleep, strange nightmares throughout your entire night combined with the anxiety at the pit of your stomach made you wake up several times during your sleep. In the morning you decided to ignore the buzz around the hallways about the task and the possible winner, and joined your friends for breakfast.

You wanted to talk to Wanda, but you didn't see her at the Slytherin table, and Gamora tried to cheer you up with news about a band you liked playing in London next month, but you could barely force a smile, feeling tired and irritated.

You heard a group of Gryffindors commenting excitedly that the occultation spell had been removed from the quidditch field, and that the gates of something that had been conjured for the last task were already visible, but before you could try to hear what they were saying, the boys were already leaving the hall and Pietro came to talk to you.

"Hey, good morning, how are you?" he asked curiously, taking a seat across from you at the table.

"Not well, if you want to know." You grumbled dejectedly, your fingers lazily stroking the piece of bread on your plate. "What about you?"

"Worried." He replied shrugging his shoulders with a small corner smile. "But I'm optimistic. Wanda is confident, and thinks she can win. And I'm trusting that everything will end well."

The mention of Wanda makes you sigh slightly and lean your chin on your arm on the table, looking at the boy in front of you.

"I miss her, Pietro." You confess upset and ignore the way Gamora and Nebula who are sitting next to the boy look at you with pity, but appreciate how Mantis strokes your back lightly. "She won't talk to me, and I can't blame her or even be mad at her."

"Wanda asked for some time, didn't she?" he asked slightly curious and you grumbled in agreement. "Well, I guess you have the right to ask the same."

You frown in confusion, and Pietro has a little smile as he pours himself some juice.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"Ask her for, I don't know, five minutes of attention?" He suggests. "Five minutes to at least give her good luck. You look miserable, and I hate to see you like this."

You sigh, thinking about the idea. And then you smile.

"Thanks, P." You say as you raise your head.

"No problem." He says. "You can try now, Wanda should be on the lower floors. She wanted to talk to dad before the task."

You nodded in understanding and then said you would meet your friends outside.

It didn't take long for you to find Wanda. The girl was walking up the stairs as you were coming down, and well, she had no choice but to look at you.

You felt your heart race to have her looking directly at you after so long, but you ignored the sensation as you walked down the steps and stopped in front of her. Wanda swallowed dryly, but held her gaze.

"Hey." You greeted half breathlessly, smiling slightly.

"What do you want?" she asked uncomfortably, her gaze serious. You ignored the seriousness of her words.

"Talk to you."

"I already said I need time."

"I know." You said without hesitation. "But I also have the right to talk. Can you give me five minutes?"

Wanda looked away, and then at her feet. She sighed and nodded, and you waited for her to look at you again before speaking.

"I miss you, Wanda." You confessed and watched Wanda swallow dryly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked away. "And I wanted to wish you good luck in the last task."

Wanda sighed faintly, nodding in understanding, her gaze on the stairs. You raised your finger to her chin, gently turning her face so that she was looking at you. Wanda closed her eyes as you fitted your hand to her cheeks, your thumb stroking her skin tenderly as she leaned into the touch.

Her hand moved up to your forearm the next moment, squeezing before moving your hand away from her face as she pushed your arm away gently.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling in your stomach and the urge to kiss and touch her again.

"Please don't do that." She whispered. "Don't touch me as if you love me as much as I love you."

You gasped, widening your eyes at the confession. But before you could add anything else, footsteps approached and Erik was coming up the stairs behind Wanda. The girl took a step back, wiping her eyes quickly.

"Stark." The professor greeted politely. You had a hard time disguising how much Wanda's words stirred in you. "Wanda, you'd better hurry up for breakfast. The task will start soon."

"Yes, dad." Wanda agrees and she doesn't look at you as she leaves. Erik nods politely and you stand on the steps for long minutes, your heart racing in your chest.

Wanda loves you. And you can't be with her.

Ignoring your broken heart, you turn and walk back into the hall, following the crowd of students who are making their way to the site of the last assignment.

//-//

The third task was a maze full of magical trials.

You gasped as you reached the sight of the large grass ones that were raised at the entrance to the quidditch field and the matched grass gates.

The crowd of students spilled out onto the bleachers set up in front of the maze, and you began to look around for your friends, ignoring the urge to run to Wanda and tell her you loved her back, not wanting to upset her before the task.

When the crowd was fully seated in the stands, and some students were already raising their cheering posters in the air, you watched the tournament judges move along with the faculty as Agatha took her place to announce the start of the competition.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Gamora whispered to you as the director made the announcements. "I bet Wanda will be back before you can miss her."

You try to smile, your stomach turning in nervousness.

Watching the field below, you see the champions positioning themselves at the entrance.

Jean Grey had the highest score, so she entered first. The Durmstrang students cheering loudly until she disappeared into the maze.

Soon after, Wanda entered. The Slytherin people conjured a serpent of artifice through the air that disappeared as soon as she walked into the maze.

And then Maria Hill last, the Beaubatox crowd clapping their feet until she entered.

Just like the second task, all that was left for the crowd to do was wait once the champions entered. So as soon as the gate closed, the students started talking animatedly among themselves, in addition to the betting chart that began to circulate.

You also noticed that the reporters of the Daily Prophet were asking the cheering people in the front row about the bets for the winners.

Trying to distract yourself from the sense of worry that had taken over you most likely linked to the fact that Wanda was inside a place dangerous enough to kill her, you tried to engage in some of the conversation with your friends.

//-//

With thirty minutes to go, a movement in the field below caught your attention.

"Y/N, isn't that your father?" Gamora asked poking you in the ribs to call you, but you were already looking down.

Your father was not alone. There were four other witches with him that you had never seen before, but judging by their capes, they were aurors from the ministry, as they were dressed exactly like the witches that day in the cup.

There was a sudden movement among the teachers, and then the aurors were opening the gate to the maze and Headmistress Harkness was talking to the judges, all looking extremely worried. The crowd was buzzing, and it didn't take long for the comments to reach you.

"They're saying they're going to cancel the test!" Told a Ravenclaw girl who had just leaned forward to listen to her classmates, and then he turned and said to you and Gamora, making you both widen your eyes. You looked around next, in time to catch Tony coming down the bleachers from the side until he reached your father.

"What do you think happened?" Gamora asked you.

"I don't know, but it doesn't look good." You replied already moving to leave in Tony's direction. Gamora and Nebula looked at you, but you just signaled for them to wait up there.

When you reached Tony and your father, they seemed to be arguing.

"You didn't think to send at least a letter?" Tony squawked angrily, but your father was distracted, looking around and especially back at the entrance to the maze.

"I can't talk now, Tony, please." The man asked. He gave you a short smile as you approached, and Bucky and Steve joined you all next.

"Dad, what's going on?" You asked, but before your father could say anything, the principal was asking the students to return to the castle and the crowd erupted in booing.

The tournament judges were commenting quietly among themselves, and you frowned when Professor Erik approached and whispered something in your father's ear, who made a worried frown.

"Go back to the castle." Your father ordered looking at you and Tony, but you didn't move and Tony pushed your father's hand away.

They began to argue, but you felt your whole body shiver all at once, and you looked back, thinking that someone had called your name.

Professor Erik looked at you curiously, but before he could do anything, you ran past him and into the maze.

//-//

Gasping for breath from the run, you blinked in confusion as you stopped at a crossroads. Your head was spinning slightly, and you looked around.

The maze was dark, and the walls were high and shadowed the path. You noticed that the noise of the crowd was muffled from the inside.

Taking the left path, you were not fully conscious, following only the magnetic energy that seemed to pull you around the correct path.

Your wand was raised to your hand, an illumination spell that you don't remember conjuring. You frowned slightly when you noticed another light, and then Maria Hill was standing in front of you.

"Who are you?" she asked, but you didn't answer, walking past her in a mechanical manner. The girl looked at you with confusion. "Girl, can you hear me?"

"Wanda." You whispered without stopping your walk. Maria hesitated but then began to follow you through the labyrinth.

"Are you hexed?" She asked curiously but got no answer. When she tried to hold you by the shoulders, you pushed her to the ground. "Hey, no need for that!"

You didn't answer and Maria sighed in irritation as she stood up, running lightly to catch up with you as you turned the corner.

The tugging on your abdomen began to get stronger, and then you reached the center of the maze.

"Wow, you found the center." Maria commented in surprise next to you. "But where's the cup?"

You looked around confused, feeling the pain in your head increase.

And then noises of footsteps and shouting became closer and a moment later your father and Professor Erik entered the center through one of the trails.

"Honey!" Your father exclaimed worriedly, but before he could reach you, you fell to your knees, a shrill cry of pain escaping your throat.

Your vision blurred and you had another vision.

It was the graveyard from your dream, but now much clearer than before. You were attached to something, and there was a tall wizard standing in front of you.

The man turned around and you could see his red eyes staring at you with hatred.

"Erik, what is happening to her?" You heard your father's voice sound muffled by the ringing in your ear. You were trying to breathe normally, lying on the grass with your hands on your head.

"Look out, Howard!" It was Professor Erik's voice, but you didn't have the strength to look up.

"Protego!" Someone shouted the incantation next to you, maybe it was Maria but you can't open your eyes to see.

The pain in your head seemed to subside slightly and you forced your gaze upward, not understanding what was happening.

There were two bright lights in front of you. The image was not very clear because of the pain, but you struggled to understand what you were witnessing.

A wizard you didn't know was exchanging spells with Professor Erik. And Bucky was standing next to him, his robotic movements exactly matching those of the mysterious sorcerer. Your father was dueling with the younger one.

The unknown wizard let out an angry grunt, and said something in a language you didn't recognize, and then a green light shot out of Bucky's wand and hit your father in the chest, knocking him backwards.

"Stupefy!" Shouted a female voice from your side, and the spell hit Bucky squarely.

You whimpered in pain again, and could stare no longer.

A few minutes passed before you gasped back to consciousness, or perhaps it was hours. Your tears wet your shirt, and you coughed helplessly.

You raised your eyes to a scene that you didn't understand at first.

There were three people lying on the ground. A man you had never seen before, Bucky and your father, and Professor Erik was kneeling beside the last.

You blinked in confusion and then Tony came running out of the other opening and he widened his eyes when he noticed father.

"Hey, can you stand?" it was Jean Grey beside you. Maria Hill was holding you in her other arm, and you blinked in confusion at both of them.

"Where am I?" you grumbled, and then looked forward again. Tony ran up to your father, and you widened your eyes.

"Dad?" Tony asked with his face wet with tears. "Dad? Wake up!

"Stark..." Erik started as he touched the boy's shoulder, but your brother didn't look at him as he pushed his hand away.

You forced yourself to get up and with the help of the girls you succeeded. You took two steps and then fell to your knees again, understanding what had happened.

You had just witnessed your father being murdered.

//-//

The maze was dismantled from the inside out.

The rest of the teachers moved to remove the incantations and the maze disappeared around you, while you and Tony were kneeling beside the body of your father.

Soon there were reporters trying to reach the center, but Principal Harkness ordered them to stay away.

The aurors from the ministry were also there and they conjured a containment spell around the man who dueled the professor.

"We need to get the children out of here, Harkness." You heard someone say, but their gaze was on your lap, the hand you entwined with your father's.

"We don't know how many of them then here." Another witch said.

"Darlings, let's go inside, okay?" Professor Erik asked you. You were too tired to contradict, but Tony refused.

He said something about responsibility, and they did not contradict him again. You were led out of the maze, however, and the place where the entrance was located was empty.

The reporters who had been thrown out approached you and the ministry's auror immediately as soon as they saw you two, and you blinked at the flashes of the cameras.

"Can you tell us what happened inside the maze Miss Stark?"

"How are you and your brother going to take care of the fortune now that you are Howard's heirs?"

The lack of sensitivity made your stomach turn, but you were too tired to cry.

The auror who was with you said something to keep the reporters away, and then you were taken back to the castle.

"Hey, kid, are you still with me?" The lady asked as she knelt in front of you, her expression concerned.

You sighed, feeling an urgency to close your eyes. You think she called you again before you blacked out.

//-//

When you woke up, it was warm. And when you realized that you were in the infirmary, it took you a few moments to remember everything that had happened. As you did so, you began to cry. Finally understanding that your father was dead.

Your pillow got wet, but you didn't care, finding it hard to see past the tears.

"Hey." It was Tony, looking extremely tired, standing at your bedside. You couldn't tell if he was already there when you woke up, or if he had entered the infirmary at that moment, but you didn't ask. He lay down on the bed with you next, and hugged you.

You know that he was crying too, even though you didn't look at him.

You eventually fell asleep between sobs, and when you woke up again, you were feeling better physically.

Tony was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, talking to the Auror who brought you in. When she noticed you looking, she nodded slightly to Tony and he looked at you, forcing a smile.

The two wizards walked over to you next, and you sat down on the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling better?" Tony asked and you shrugged. "Carol wants to ask you some questions."

You looked away from Tony to the woman, and she looked slightly embarrassed to have to question you after a situation like this, but she did it anyway.

"My name is Carol Danvers, Miss Stark." She introduced herself first. "I am an auror from the ministry of magic. I brought you to the infirmary, can you remember this?"

You nodded in agreement.

"I need to tell you some things, and then I'll ask you about what happened in the maze, okay?" She asked and waited for you to confirm before she started talking.

Carol explained to you how the dark wizard Korvac used polyjuice potion to disguise himself as Professor Fury all year long, and infiltrate the tournament organization. The real Fury was a family friend of the auror and was able to warn her in some way that she didn't tell you, and then the aurors used flu powder to get to Hogwarts. Your father was still an auror in secret to the ministry, and so he also joined the operation group.

When the Aurors arrived, however, Korvac had already entered the maze and they went after him. Neither your father nor the professor were supposed to enter the maze, but when you did, your brother followed, and consequently Steve and Bucky did the same. Your father and the professor went after, but the maze was enchanted to make everyone get lost, and that's exactly what happened. While you were guided by your connection to Wanda, everyone else was lost all around.

Carol told you that Korvac had found Bucky and used the Imperio curse to control him, so he was fighting on behalf of the dark wizard against both your father and your teacher. With Jean Grey's intervention, Bucky was knocked out and Professor Erik hit Korvac, but it was too late.

Everyone eventually found themselves in the middle and the maze was dismantled. Tony had already given his statement to the ministry, and Korvac was sent to Azkaban.

"Your brother told me that you have some kind of magical bond with one of the champions and that's why you went into the maze right?" Carol asked as you wiped away your tears. You sniffled slightly as you confirmed. "Miss Maximoff won the competition and she has also talked to my colleagues about what she saw in the cup portal."

"W-what?" you questioned with confusion.

Carol sighed slightly and then her posture changed. She looked back for a minute.

"Look, I trusted your father. He knew there was corruption in the ministry, and he warned me about it when he recommended me to work with him." She began as if telling a secret. "Let's keep that between us for now. I don't know who I can trust in that department."

Carol told about how the triwizard cup was bewitched to become a portal key, most likely by Korvac. She repeated Wanda's words to you, saying that the girl had ended up in a graveyard with the remnants of Mephisto's followers in place. Wanda also said that Mephisto himself had returned and that they faced each other. She managed to escape by touching the cup again.

What made you angry was knowing that the minister didn't believe any of her words, and refused to acknowledge Mephisto's return. The whole thing would be treated as a trial of the tournament that got out of hand, and Korvac, who had been captured, would be accused of all the crimes.

Carol didn't seem happy with the minister's decision either.

"I have nothing to say but tell the minister to go fuck himself, Carol." You informed irritated and the blonde smiled at you.

"You inherited your father's attitude." She comments and you think the intention is good, but it makes your heart ache. "I will close your statement then. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Stark."

You nod and Carol hesitates. She sighs lightly and touches your brother on the shoulder and your outstretched hand on the bed.

"I used to be friends with your father." She says. "Don't think you are alone, children. You have more family than you can imagine. And you can contact me if you need anything."

Carol smiles and walks away with a nod. You and Tony exchange a slightly surprised look. Tony sighs and sits down next to you on the bed. You say nothing, but you both know that this should be one more among your father's many secrets.

//-//

Nurse Cho released you from the infirmary that same afternoon.

Aside from the mental exhaustion, you were perfectly healthy.

Your friends, with the exception of the Maximoff twins, approach you in the dormitory. They hug you together, mourning the death of your father. You want to say that you feel a little better about this, but that is not true.

As you are seen in the corridors, students and professors stop you to say "my sympathies", and you answer them in a polite way. You can also hear the gossip after all.

Wanda did not obey the order of the minister of magic, and when the journalists of the Daily Prophet asked her about the tournament, she told her version. Nobody bought her story, and she was branded a liar after the minister denied the return of the dark wizard.

Professor Erik also greeted you in the hallways, and Pietro was with him. The boy hugged you tight, and you held back your tears.

"Stark, my home is always open to you and your brother." Erik said as his hand was on your shoulder. "I just want you to know that."

You nodded in understanding and then walked toward the communal hall intending to organize your belongings, since the school year would end that week.

//-//

On your last day at Hogwarts, you finally talked to Wanda.

Because your nightmares had become more frequent than ever, you had spent the last days at school without sleeping properly, and on the last night you gave up sleeping and decided to go to the kitchens.

You were in the empty halls when you heard the familiar noise of Drax monitoring the castle and stumbled to the first door you found, trying to avoid being seen.

As you waited for the hissing noise to become distant, you looked back and gasped in surprise.

There was a girl sitting on the floor and it took you a few seconds to realize that it was Wanda.

"What are you doing here?" You asked curiously, and your voice startled her. She stood up quickly, looking at you in surprise.

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me!" She complained and you frowned slightly as you realized she was crying, but Wanda quickly wiped her face.

Only at that moment did you notice the large antique mirror behind her. On the metal rim was a Latin phrase that you didn't understand.

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you looked away to the floor.

"Sorry to bother you, I couldn't sleep." You mumbled clumsily and Wanda shifted the weight of her feet before clearing her throat.

"Do you wanna stay?"

You raised your head in surprise, but then nodded in agreement.

Walking up to the girl, you stopped about four steps away from her, not knowing exactly what to do next.

"Are you going to tell me what you were doing here?" You asked again, and Wanda bit her lips before turning toward the mirror.

"I found this place in second grade." She counters. "That's the Mirror of Erised."

"I am supposed to know what that means?" You ask with mild irony causing Wanda to smile slightly.

"We studied that in fourth grade, so yes." She retorts.

"I haven't been busy this year, no time for books, if you know what I mean." You say with a smile and Wanda laughs softly. You stare at the mirror in front of you, but there is nothing special about it. It seems to reflect you and Wanda just like any other. "What does this mirror do anyway?"

Wanda turns her face to you, and you want to ignore the nervous feeling that settles on the edge of your stomach, but to no avail.

"Look closer." She says, and her gaze lingers on you for a moment before she takes a step to the side. You turn your face to the mirror again, and then step forward.

It takes a second for the image to change. It is you in the reflection, but you are not alone. Your father is standing beside you, smiling contently. You frown in confusion, gasping slightly at his sudden appearance.

Ignoring the lump in your throat, you continue to stare. The image trembles slightly, and you try to understand what the mirror is telling you. Nothing looks much different except the image of your father, but then you notice the wedding ring in your reflection.

You look down at your hand for a moment and then back at the reflection. Your image copies the movement with delay and you squeeze your eyes shut to read the letters on the ring.

Your face heats up as you read Wanda's name and you take a step back. The image becomes fainter, but doesn't disappear.

"What do you see?" Wanda asks curiously from beside you, and you startle, turning your head to her quickly.

"M-my father." You answer at the same moment, biting your tongue to make sure you don't say anything else. Wanda's expression tumbles, and she looks down at her feet. You swallow dryly.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I really am." She whispers, and you look away. There is something that is bothering you as much as your father's death, and it is the distance that seems to exist between you and Wanda now.

"Thank you." You mumble the response you have learned to give whenever someone says that to you. "W-what do you see in the mirror?" You ask next, trying to change the subject from you. Wanda looks surprised at the question and even in the low lighting, you notice the slight redness in her cheeks.

"My mother." She answers without looking at you. "And... myself. No magic. Just me and her, and Pietro and papa at a distance. We look happy and normal."

It is the most intimate confession Wanda has ever made to you. You want to caress her face, hug her and thank her for her trust, but you just nod in agreement, swallowing her words and pushing the desire to touch down.

"Have you been here many times?" You ask after a moment and Wanda sighs before confirming. "You never told me about this place before."

"I never told anyone." She retorts without sounding angry, just slightly weary. "I guess I wanted it to be something just mine."

"I understand." You comment as you look into the mirror again, the image of your reflection and Wanda's now visible. "A private space for you to visit your mother."

Wanda murmurs in agreement, and you think she won't say anything else, but she does.

"I need to tell you something."

You turn your head toward Wanda's direction, but when she turns her body toward you, she keeps her gaze on the floor.

"About the day of the task." She says. "About Mephisto."

"Okay." You mumble as you wait. Wanda takes a deep breath.

"I guess you've heard from the whole school that I fought with him." She starts with a sad smile, and you nod in agreement. "Well, there's a reason he couldn't kill me."

You frown with confusion.

"Right...why?"

"It’s better if i show you." She takes a deep breath, raising her hands between you. "Can I?" she asks, and you notice the red magic escaping her fingers.

"You can do that?" You ask impressed and Wanda nods with a shy smile. When you consent, she raises her fingers to your forehead and then you have another vision.

You see the moment when Wanda was teleported into the graveyard, and it's as if you're seeing everything through her eyes.

The moment when a hooded wizard appeared and locked Wanda in a spell against one of the tombstones. You watched the wizard walk to the center of the graveyard and conjure a rune on the ground that you didn't recognize. He recited a few words and then cast an incantation in the sky. The mark of a hydra.

Walking back to the rune, the sorcerer deposited a necklace on the ground. With a dagger he took from his pocket, he recited an incantation in a language you didn't recognize, and cut his own palm. When the blood fell on the necklace, Wanda gasped in pain.

The ground around the rune began to open up and a man crawled out of the earth. You imagined it was a necromancy ritual and they were resurrecting someone. You didn't have to ask to know that it was Mephisto.

When the wizard stood up completely, he laughed darkly. The man who helped him bowed.

"Master, you live!" Celebrated the wizard. Mephisto approached, a gentle flick of his wand wiped all the dirt from his robes, and you could see the metallic Hydra strolling along the entire length of his robes, as if getting used to being awake again.

"All thanks to you, John." Mephisto said his deep voice echoing through the room. "Your loyalty will be rewarded, my friend."

"Thank you, master." Said the man without raising his head. Mephisto touched his hood, pulling it back, and you looked at the kneeling figure. He was a man of about thirty, his blond hair was long and dirty. There was a deep scar across his cheek to the extent of his right eye, which was closed.

Mephisto raised his wand toward the young man's face, and a silver spell escaped from the tip along the scar. The mark didn't disappear, but when he opened his eye, you noticed the metallic glow of the reddish iris.

"Be my eyes again, John Walker." Mephisto commanded and the boy thanked him again. He continued kneeling as Mephisto turned toward Wanda, who was still attached to the tombstone. "I almost forgot about my guest of honor."

"Who are you?" Wanda asked angrily, you could almost feel her fear.

Mephisto smiled devilishly, ignoring the question as he took a deep breath. He raised his wand high and the Hydra's mark seemed to glow even brighter.

In the following moments, shadows began to appear in the sky, and only when the first one of them landed on the ground that you understood that they were wizards appearing.

There were at least eight of them, but because of their position, Wanda couldn't see them all. The masked witches remained static, waiting for their companions. Mephisto murmured softly, and after a moment without any movement in the sky, he sighed.

"It is only at our worst that we see who is really loyal to us." He comments somberly, before opening his arms to the crowd. "Friends! It's so good to see you all again, finally. So many years!"

Mephisto's smile doesn't reach his eyes, and then the wizards are kneeling, and recite together an "It is an honor, master." Mephisto laughs lightly, lowering his arms.

"Look at you folks." He comments with a psychotic look on his face. "You're not even ashamed that you abandoned me." He charges, but no one speaks up. Mephisto sighs impatiently. "No one has anything to say? What a disappointment."

"Master..." Started a wizard on the edge and then Mephisto raised his fist toward him hanging him in the air with his magic. Wanda's eyes widened, but the wizard let go just before the one in the air stopped struggling. As the wizard coughed to try to breathe again, Mephisto pushed his long hair out of the front of his face.

"I don't want your hollow apologies, Zemo." He says. "Nothing will erase the betrayal of all of you, cowards."

No one makes any mention of interrupting the speech, and Mephisto puts his cloak away momentarily.

"But a new era begins, and we need to leave the past behind." Says the mage. "I finally have my treasure where I wanted it, and nothing will stop me from reaching my power again."

Mephisto turns to Wanda now, a mental look on his face. The wizards look at her too.

"Master, is this...?" One of the masked men begins, and Mephisto interrupts with a devilish grin.

"Yes, my friend!" He says. "The Scarlet Witch."

The group loosely shares a buzz of excited excitement, but falls silent the next moment. Wanda wriggles uncomfortably against the spell.

"What is it, my dear?" Mephisto asks as he watches her struggle. "Is it tight? Try a coffin underground. I guarantee the discomfort is greater."

The comment makes Wanda clench her jaw as the group lets out a chuckle.

"I'm not who you say I am." Wanda retorts with irritation and Mephisto lets out a laugh approaching. You wish you could enter the vision to get him away from Wanda.

"Your name is Wanda Maximoff." He says looking her straight in the eye. "You were born in 1989 in a dirty muggle neighborhood of Sokovia. And you are a scarlet witch by birth." He narrates and then his gaze changes to malice. "And you belong to me."

"Fuck you."

Wanda's rude response makes Mephisto smile.

"Perhaps you, my dear friends, were not aware of what really happened that night fifteen years ago." Mephisto says as he turns to the group again. "I can only imagine the lies the ministry of magic must have told the world, making sure to tell I was defeated by some of their pathetic aurors."

The group exchanges surprised looks and Mephisto laughs, walking ahead.

"I think everyone has a right to know what really happened that day, don't you, my dear?" He asks Wanda, and then lets out a wry laugh. "Oh, I forgot that you were just a filthy brat back then. I'd better tell them instead."

Wanda struggles against the grip again and Mephisto raises his wand toward her, causing the spell to tighten more and Wanda to grumble in pain.

"Hold still and listen to the story, little brat." He commands. "Didn't the blood traitor teach you manners?"

You know Mephisto is talking about Wanda's father, but the girl doesn't respond to the teasing.

"Do you remember how well everything was going for us, my friends?" Begins the wizard, and he waits for the group to agree before speaking again. "I should have known that the cursed muggles in your community would bring more trouble than I expected."

Mephisto looks slightly nostalgic, but no one is going to interrupt him. He gives a wry laugh before continuing.

"You know that I was seeking the power of a scarlet sorceress for myself. And well, with all the commotion in the ministry, I decided to capture the child without being accompanied by any of you." He says. "I was always the most powerful, but now that I look back, a companion would have prevented so much delay."

When Wanda makes mention of fighting again, Mephisto strengthens the spell.

"I went to take what was rightfully mine in that muggle pigsty that is Sokovia, and I never expected that a filthy muggle would be able to stop me." He tells you and you notice Wanda's interest in the words, curious to know what he was talking about. "Maybe the traitor lied and she had some witch lineage. We'll never know, since I killed her." He comments humorously. "Contextualizing my friends, I went up to the second floor to get the child of prophecy, and I ended up running into two of them."

Mephisto counters with a wry laugh.

"Crazy isn't it?" He says. "But of course it was easy to figure out who the right baby was, since the sorceress' power emanated in the child's aura. I had no function for the other one so I decided to discard it."

Wanda's eyes widen at the confession. Mephisto was going to kill Pietro. She gasps slightly, feeling her anger rising.

"But the muggle pig begged for mercy." He continues. "You know very well how much I hate muggles, but if she had stood in the corner as I told her to do, I would have done no harm. But of course she had to throw herself in front of the infant, become a pathetic martyr."

The group laughs at the narration and you feel like vomiting. Mephisto stared at his own wand for a few seconds.

"I should have realized the sacrificial bond that was created, but I did not expect such a thing from a muggle." He counters somberly, sounding bitter. "When I skipped over her body and repeated the curse, it came straight back to me."

The group let out a chorus of surprise, but Mephisto just smiled.

"Don't worry, friends. I'm here after all." He says. "But a death curse is powerful enough to injure a body. And so I needed to escape." He counters as he walks around. "I would return for the girl as soon as I could restore myself, but where there is one blood traitor there is always another."

The group listened to the story intently and you swallowed dryly, trying to remember all the details.

"The traitor Stark and that muggle slut he called his wife were waiting for me downstairs." Mephisto counters and you hold your breath. "I knew that in my condition I couldn't stand up to an auror like Stark, but he could be useful to me. It was the perfect opportunity to have someone look after my belongings."

Mephisto sighed lightly.

"I think muggles must have some sort of self-sabotaging lifestyles about throwing themselves in front of spells, folks." He mocked causing the group to exchange confused looks. "I aimed at Stark, commanding him to protect what was mine, but it was the muggle who received the enchantment." He counters and you gasp in surprise. "Stark was furious of course, but I used the moments he spent assisting his wife to apparate."

Mephisto's expression was no longer content.

"My body couldn't handle the power of the apparatation, obviously." He counters. "After the curse, it began to betray me. I was on the brink of death for months, until I finally succumbed. My consciousness shallowed, waiting patiently for my faithful followers to find me. And here we are."

The group lets out a small exclamation and Mephisto forces a smile, straightening his posture.

"But that's in the past, of course." He says. "My sorceress is here for me, and I can regain my full power now."

Wanda swallowed dryly as she watched Mephisto approach. The wizard made a motion with his wand and the grip around her neck shortened slightly.

"I never had any use for the witch's receptacle." He says raising his wand to Wanda, you held your breath. "It's nothing personal, dear. At least you'll meet that pig of a mother of yours in hell."

The green incantation comes out of the small wood next, but never reaches Wanda. A yellow energy bumps into the magic and deflects it almost hitting one of the wizards in the circle. The group moves in fright and Mephisto has a psychotic but surprised look on his face.

"The protective spell... How?" he asks, stepping forward. “The spell killed the muggle, I saw her body! How is it still there?” He angrily asks .

His followers look as surprised as he is, and Mephisto assumes an angry expression. He raises his wand again, and even without saying anything, the emerald incantation escapes and the same thing as before happens. Distracted in his frustration, he doesn't notice that with each attempt, the spell binding Wanda grows weaker, until the fourth time he tries to curse the girl, the golden light explodes in the air, ricocheting light startling all the wizards in the circle, as Wanda falls to her knees, free.

The second of shock from the group is enough for Wanda to cause a wave of energy with her powers that kept the wizards away as she reaches for the cup at her feet, teleporting back to the school.

You stumble out of the memory, your eyes watering.

Wanda looks at you, but you turn away feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information.

"W-what was that?" You gasp taking another step back.

"I'm sorry if that was too much." She hastens to say. "I-I needed to tell you. About your mother."

You wipe away the tears, moving further away.

"I can't do this." You grumble. "Not now. M-my father just died, Wanda. I can't. I'm sorry."

The words are a little disjointed, but Wanda understands. She doesn't stop you when you rush to leave the room.

//-//

Coming home is much more difficult than any other time.

The ride on the Hogwarts express is longer than ever, but you don't mind, wanting to avoid the moment when you and Tony will set foot home without your father.

Jarvis picks the four of you up at the station, and you are grateful that Gamora lets you eat all her candy left over from the trip.

The whole feeling of stepping into the house and looking around and seeing your father's objects all around is oppressive, but you try to get used to it. You think the conversation with Tony about your mother can wait.

//-//

Tag list ( let me know if you want to be tagged or removed idk haha) @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia //   @ichala​ ||  @madamevirgo

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wandaxreader #wandaxyou #wanda maximoff x you #wandamaximoffxreader #wanda x yn #marvel imagines #avengers imagines #avengers #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

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[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth.

(or) Post Starcourt, a very different Billy Hargrove gets his wisdom teeth removed.

--

In a moment of weakness and textbook junior year assholery, Steve gets his stomach ripped out and fed to him for suggesting that Billy could take the bus.

And it’s not without reason.

Hopper and Joyce have work. And Robin would ask too many questions--why the shaved head, why the ratty black hoodie and sweatpants, why the perpetual vow of silence--and the only one of the kids that has their permit is Dustin.

But Max behaves as if none of that matters. Looks at Steve as if he set the house on fire himself.

“Or you could take him.” She sneers. Like that’s somehow a good idea. “You have a car.”

“Billy wouldn’t get in a car with me even if you paid him.” 

Steve doesn’t say he’d rather face a barrel of Demodogs one handed than be left alone with Billy. Would rather lick black slime off his own dick than feel those silent, cool blue eyes pouring like ice water down the ridges of his skin.

Steve wants to say it. Doesn’t. When Max starts crying. “His legs don’t work as good anymore.”

“Billy gave me a concussion.”

“He’s got gas money.” She says, voice winding tight with desperation. 

And Steve despises the painful, weeping grip of her fingers when they close around his forearm. Hates that she cares so much for someone who could never care for her.

“I know it’s not much.” Max swallows thickly. “I know he used to be a piece of shit, but he’s--”

“Different.” Steve says heavily, scrubbing at his forehead. “I know.”

--

Billy slides into the passenger seat with a thermos in one hand and a cranberry muffin in the other and Steve isn’t used to it, the way his body seems to have deflated. Limbs cut from marianette strings, hanging limp as if gravity hasn’t quite learned what to do with them. 

Billy places the muffin and the thermos on the dashboard between them, and.

Steve expects something.

A thank you, which could come later. A hello, which should come now.

Billy nods at the dashboard.

Steve jots into action. “Oh. These aren’t for you?”

Billy grunts, reaching to pass the goodies over as if Steve were incapable of doing it himself. The thermos is warm in Steve’s hand. Sturdy. 

“Coffee?” He asks, jerking with surprise when Billy mutters; “Hazelnut.” In a voice as soft as feather down. 

Steve waits for Billy to say something else, but. 

Billy doesn’t. He just turns and peers out the passenger side window, into the gentle swell of rain that’s started to fall.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Steve says. He starts the car. Lets it warm, and. 

Tries not to feel like this is the first time their bodies have had to reacquaint themselves with one another. 

Tries not to marvel at how beautiful silvery thin lines can be. Running from the shell of an ear and disappearing, quick, into the hood nestled around broad shoulders. 

Steve rubs his hands together, tearing his eyes away. “First time at the dentist?”

And Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Never says anything, anymore, but. That doesn’t stop the conversation from feeling communal. Shared.

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was fourteen.” Steve peers through the windshield. It’s raining harder now. “Don’t remember much about the whole thing. Mom says I tried to stop the aquarium fish from drowning. And that I had to be double belted on the way home--”

“Will it hurt?” Billy turns to look at him, and. His eyes are welling up. Cheeks and nose red, as if stung by October winds. 

Billy whispers, “I wanted Max to come but she had school.” 

His hand is covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, fabric scrubbing rough at the stubble along his jaw. “Did they hurt you?” Billy asks, and.

Steve doesn’t like the way he says it. 

Like there really is something to be afraid of, at the core of it all. Like no one has ever considered the possibility.

“It’s not so bad.” Steve’s heart gives a painful, gripping thud. “You get a free ice pack out of the deal and decent high from the silly gas, if you’re lucky.”

Billy nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

Which. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s alright.”

“We’ll get you there lickety-split.” Steve pulls out of the driveway, fingers gripping the wheel when Billy places the still-warm muffin in his lap.

--

He sticks around for the procedure just to stop Billy from looking like he’s being dropped at his first day of kindergarten. The waiting room is bright. Warm and colorful, plush couches stocked full of overstuffed pillows. All within throwing distance of machine labeled free coffee :)

Not a bad dig, all things considered, but.

Billy says Steve doesn’t have to wait around. Doesn’t even have to come back at all. The nurse calls his name and Billy stands, shoulders lined with tension, before turning to whisper, “I’ll take the bus back to Neil’s.”

And Steve knows. Gets it. 

The universe running a test. An experiment that will prove whether Steve’s really got a heart under all that chest hair. 

Steve lifts his Highlights magazine. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Dude, It’s pouring outside,” Steve says, shaking his hair out for good measure. “I’ll just wait. In case you’re too high to function.”

Billy looks like he wants to say something else, so. Steve gives his full attention. Plans on the preverbal thank you that’ll probably never come, but. The nurse calls that name again. 

Billy Hargrove.

And Billy turns to go, hands tangled in the sleeves of his hoodie. 

--

His cheeks are swollen, like. 

A chipmunk. 

Stuffed full of little cotton pads that could be acorns. That are acorns, Billy insists, when the nurse brings Steve back to the operation room. He’s parked on the dentist bench. Curled into a ball with a thumb in his mouth when Steve rounds the corner. 

“Steve,” Billy says thickly. “They took my teeth out but I have acorns.” He reaches across the space between them, fingers grasping Steve’s wrist tightly.

Too tight, but. 

Steve can’t bring himself to care when the nurse says, “Billy, take your thumb out of you mouth.”

And Billy says. “I need to suck on something cold.” He pulls Steve right up to the edge of the bench, sitting with a serious glint in his eye. “Our acorns will be good for winter, right?”

He sways, nearly falling off the leather table, so.

Steve grasps his shoulder. Puts him back in place. “Probably? I don’t think acorns go bad.”

“We gotta make sure, ‘cause I don’t want you to starve.” Billy slurs, dropping to dead weigh when the nurse gets an arm underneath him and asks Steve to get the kid on his feet. 

Billy lands somewhere against Steve’s ribs, swaying dramatically as bright red drool slides over his chin. 

The nurse swears under her breath, going at it with a towel. 

Billy swats her hand away. He staggers as Steve thanks the nurse and leads them into the waiting room. 

“You’re so pretty, Stever.” Billy reaches out again, fingertips poking Steve’s eyelid. “Can’t starve for the winter. Gotta get pretty boys their acorns--”

“Stop poking me--”

“Acorn soup.” Billy sings. “Acorn pie and casserole and lollipops covered in sugar.”

Steve manages to get the doors open with zero help from Billy, chuckling as warm, soft palms circle around his shoulder blades. 

They’re hugging. 

In the rain. 

At the dentist’s office.

Steve hugs back, squawking when Billy’s nose brushes against his heartbeat. “C’mon, dude, we gotta--”

“Will you carry me, Stever?”

“No.” Steve says, manhandling Billy from his chest to his ribcage, determined to make it across the lot in one piece. “You’re solid muscle, there’s no way I could carry you.”

Billy makes a noise, pretty pink lips forming a pout when Steve looks over at him. 

“I got all the acorns ready for winter and you can’t carry me to the car?” Billy grumbles, leaning against the side of the Beamer while Steve gets his key into the lock. 

Steve untangles himself from the arms that fold around his waist. “Billy--”

“You smell like grass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like sweet grass.” Billy cackles, doubling over at his own joke, and. Pulling Steve down with him. “Sweet ass, right?”

“You’re insane.” Steve whispers, somehow out of breath from. The hands on his neck. He let’s Billy pet through his hair and then Steve yanks on the door handle, opening it, like, “Alright. Get in.”

Billy has more blood on his face. “Wanna sit with you.”

“We will.”

“Can I lay on your chest?”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. “You won’t fit.”

“I could!” Billy whimpers, jerking away from Steve as he tries to get the blood off his chin. “I could be like a kitty cat--”

“Would you just--” Steve gets his hands on him, wiping at Billy’s mouth with his thumb. “Hold still, alright?”

“Alright.” Billy kisses Steve’s finger. Chaste and quick, gone before either really know what’s happening. Those blue eyes pull Steve in, drink him down. “How come you’re so pretty?” Billy asks. 

And. “Dunno,” Steve says, sounding just as out of breath as he feels. Like they’ve been running laps, and. 

Steve thinks maybe they have.

All around Hawkins. Through the years. Past each other. 

Billy holds still under the weight of ten fingers before frowning. Sticking his little swollen lip out. “Can we go home now?”

Steve backs away, gripping the edge of the door. “Sure.”

“Not to Neil’s,” Billy mutters to himself, leaning into the leather seat when Steve gets his limbs folded into the car. He cranes his head, eyes huge and watery. “Can I hang out with you?”

Steve moves to close the door. “Sure.”

Billy stops him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Billy.”

“Then why are you trying to close the door?” Billy demands, peering through narrowed eyes. 

Steve chuckles at that, squeezing the fingers that curl into the palm of his hand. “We gotta close the door so we can drive the car back to my house.”

Billy yanks his hand away. “Your house.” He says, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

Steve nods. “Do you want to go to my house?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

“Yeah, I can.” Steve wills himself to stop smiling. “I can make some after you take a nap.”

Billy stops the door from closing again. “I’ll be cold if I try to sleep.” 

And he says it like.

No one’s ever believed him. Billy speaks with an anchor in his voice, the weight of it pulling Steve in. Forward, until he understands. 

Steve grips the edge of the door. 

Nods. Let’s Billy know that there are ways around it. 

Billy’s crying, and. Steve doesn’t want to see him cry anymore. Every again. They’ve been through too much. He takes Billy’s hand and squeezes tight, smiling softly when cool blue eyes peer up at him. 

“Then we can eat macaroni and watch T.V.--”

“We can?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “And when you’re ready to go home I’ll take you. Keep you safe.”

He moves to close the door, chucking when a firm, sure hand holds it in place. 

Billy stares at him. “What if I never wanna go home again?”

Steve thinks about it, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car. He shrugs. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy says.

This time, when the door is closed, Steve runs to the other side. Not wanting to miss a single moment.

#harrigrove #they’re getting fluff and then a shit load of angst #and then more fluff #love my babies #wisdom teeth

[quillsareswords]

The One Where He Has to Wake You Up

Damian Wayne x Vampire Reader

Idk man I'm still losing my mind but summer is on the horizon and vampires make me happy so here we are

Prompt List and Masterlist in Bio.

As a vampire, you don't need a lot of sleep. In the span of a seven-day week, you only need about twenty or so hours. Now, that's not to say that you don't sleep more than that. A lot more. It's not your fault that one of the many prices of your powers is the perpetual exhaustion or that Damian is so warm and inviting when he naps on your couch or passes out after patrol.

But, that twenty hours is non-negotiable. You typically like to take it all in one go. One long stint of sleep in which your phone is shut off and your doors are all firmly locked.

(Your boredom-fueled week long "practices for death" are less committal, as your phone stays on and you leave a few windows unlocked in case of vigilante emergency, but that's another story.)

Damian has the only copy key to your apartment on his keyring. He's welcome any time, weather you're asleep or awake or hone at all. It's not unusual for him to crawl into bed with you without warning, or to wake up to him stretched out on your couch watching television in his comfiest clothes.

Sadly, not every time he has to use his key is so domestic.

You feel it in your bones that you shouldn't be awake yet. You brain is still trying to roll and twist out of the clutches of sleep when you pause to ask why, on this green earth, it's trying at all.

With an aggravated hiss, your mind forces you to register the firm grip on your shoulder and the wicked stench of human and caffeine.

Your eye, the one not buried in the pillow, cracks open. Your red lamp still glows from the corner of your room, giving away familiar features on half of a familiar face. He offers you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispers, mindful of your sensitive hearing not yet reacustomed to anything but quiet white noise from the street below your window. "I wouldn't wake you if it wasn't important."

The noise you make is somewhere between a pathetically tired whine and an annoyed groan. Your eyes squeeze shut again.

"I know," he consoles softly, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your back to rub soothing circles. "But we really need you at the Cave. You can go right back to sleep in my bed when it's finished, I promise."

It's very enticing. His room always smells like the most heavenly concoction of sandlewood and his calonge and fresh linen and something entirely and solely him. It's admittedly your favorite place to sleep.

Your eye cracks open again, eyebrow arching. What else can you squeeze out of this deal? How desperate is he for your help?

Not that you really need anything else to help him.

But you do need something else to will yourself out of bed.

"I brought you your favorite," he tries, carefully tilting the tall paper cup in his hand. "And Alfred promised any baked good you can think of."

That's the ticket.

You slap your palms to the mattress and haul yourself upright. You take the cup from him and chug a fourth of it. He watches you with something between admiration and distain in his eyes. You snatch a hoodie off the foot of your bed, where it'd likely been abandoned when you flopped down eight hours ago. "Fine, but I'm not getting dressed."

He stands and starts weaving his way out of your den. "You say that as if you ever do."

You pick up a scattered throw pillow and smack him with it. Because you're an adult, unlike this heathen before you. "I'll wake you up in the middle of the night sometime and drag you across the city. We'll see if you feel like getting dressed."

He leads the whole way out of your dark apartment. Hands you your sunglasses at the door and jerks your hoodie over your head for you. You shove your free hand in your pocket while you stand in the hallway, sipping your coffee while he locks your door.

He drives you to the Manor. Explains briefly what the situation is on the way—a new serial killer who popped up last night, one they're thinking is another vampire—and from the sound of it, they're probably right.

Your coffee is nearly empty by the time you're moping out of the steel elevator. It earns a heavy sigh. "Let's make this quick, yeah?"

They do. It takes all of twenty minutes to sort through the intel they've already got. Tim asks you to point out all the vampire friendly clubs and bars, an old trick he's been pulling for years to get a list out of you. You hold firm, though, and throw him a sly smile before you shake your head.

By the end of it, you're more than ready to get back into bed. And as promised, Damian walks you up to his room like the gentlemen he is.

You prance past him like a child the moment his door opens, beaming at the sight of a familiar dark room and the coziest bed you've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You launch yourself onto it, burrowing beneath the blankets with a sharp smile that threatened to light the room up.

His low chuckle from the doorway is the only thing that keeps your eyes open for a moment longer. Silk sheets and heavy blankets and oh lord Alfred the Cat is curling up against the back of your neck. Slumber is inevitable.

You hadn't even noticed him crossing the room until the mattress dips with the weight he leans on it. His lips press against your temple. "Sweet dreams, darling dearest."

You hum, smiling sleepily into the silk pillow shams. "You gonna join me later?"

"Later. After patrol. I'll try not to wake you." You're already too close to sleep to tell him you wouldn't mind if he did, so you hum again instead. There's a dull thunk, then you hear his footsteps retreating toward the door. "Your phone is on the nightstand."

Your phone? You don't remember grabbing that before you left. Did he get if for you? Or do you just not remember?

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters, not when you're squished between his blankets and silky sheets, swaddled in his scent in his room with nothing to do but sleep.

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x vampire #damian wayne blurb

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Hi! Idk what came over me but I thought an AU where Sander’s kid is anti-Bowie was the most hilarious thing thanks to @hidden-joy @kylesbishops and @sanderijzermans so I wrote it skdjdj

Disclaimer: it’s all fun and chaos and I don’t really know anything about how to write kids

x, x, x, x, credit to the chaos 🤪

The day Sander Driesen hears the words come out of his child’s mouth is the day he wonders if this is his child at all.

He’s standing there, leather jacket, white t-shirt and all, bleached hair icy even in the summer sun, and he looks down at the small stature in front of him. Grey-green eyes, dark locks and an air of confidence that could only be learned from a certain music-loving individual fill his sight. There’s so much innocence standing before him but a driven insistence breaks through the words spoken.

“Dad,” he hears. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but...I don’t really like David Bowie all that much.”

Sander thinks he’s lost his senses. He is definitely not hearing right. Hell, he’s only a man in his early thirties, he could not be this hard of hearing already. He tries to brace himself on the couch from falling over. Shit, he’s also too young to feel this frail.

“Wh-what do you mean you don’t like David Bowie all that much?”

The question comes out in gasps of air, ragged and winded, like he can’t believe what’s happening. He feels like his world’s spinning, like he’s entered another dimension, like there was no way, absolutely no way, his child doesn’t like David Bowie.

Denial is a pretty powerful thing, though...

See, when Alexandra Driesen was born, she brought light and life to Sander and Robbe’s eyes. She had a chubby face and squishy cheeks and eyes the colour of a summer storm. Her dark hair had been a blessing to match Robbe’s. Everything about her was as perfect as it could get. And then came the perpetual frustrations of parenthood with the screaming and the crying.

Sleep was something to be cherished at the Driesen-Ijzermans household. A few day-naps here and a doze-off there. But God, oh God, did Alexandra know how to cry in the middle of the night. Robbe and Sander spent hours upon hours holding her and swaying her and rocking her on a chair. Sander had read that sometimes music helps so he’d even done all that. Bowie usually floated in the shriek-filled room during these times and yet, Alexandra just wept.

“Come on, baby, just a little bit of sleep. Don’t you get tired of screaming all night?” Sander asked in that exhausted tone of parentese. He held her against the crook of his neck and walked around in sweats until he saw Robbe enter the room with blood-shot eyes and curls disarrayed.

“She’s still crying?” he asked with a rasp in his voice.

“She literally won’t stop and I don’t know what to do, I’ve tried everything. I’ve even got Bowie on for her,” he said.

Robbe took her from his arms and swayed her a little, cooing and kissing her tiny head.

“It’s kind of loud, though,” Robbe said to him as he then stepped over to turn off the music.

And in an instant miracle, the house was all quiet.

It seems that’s what’s always happened and Sander just hadn’t noticed it. Alexandra settled into Robbe’s chest and stretched her mouth in a heavy yawn. Her warmth radiated and glowed through Robbe, but Sander was stunned. He’s completely shocked.

“You-she-“ he stuttered clumsily for a bit. “But it was Bowie,” he said weakly.

How could his own daughter not feel at peace with Bowie? It was a connection he held with him, something connecting him and Robbe and what he hoped would connect their child to them in this little family.

“Hmmm,” Robbe hums pensively. “Maybe Bowie’s not her thing.”

“Not her thing?” Sander just about exploded. Then he suddenly remembered Alexandra’s finally gone to sleep and whispered, seething. “That is not our child!”

“Biologically, no. Legally and emotionally, yes,” smirked Robbe. “Calm down, babe, she’ll learn to like him soon enough. For now, how about we hold off on Bowie for a bit, yeah?”

He swayed her just a little more, just to really make sure she’s easing into sleep and then set her gently back down in her crib.

“How long?” Sander muttered and Robbe gave him a confused look. “How long without Bowie?”

Robbe contemplated.

“Maybe we give it six months or so,” he said.

And now it was Sander who wanted to weep. -

As the months and years went on, Alexandra had gone on without her Bowie-loving phase, only mildly being interested in the lightning bolt plushies and the songs blasting on road trips and the shirts Sander would get for her. Robbe says it just takes time for kids to get into stuff. That it’s better to leave it there in the open for them than to shove it down their throats.

“It’s barely any shoving,” Sander had grumbled.

“I know, babe. But I know how you can get sometimes,” Robbe had placed a soothing kiss upon his lips.

Still, Sander’s worries were increasingly growing.

Then a few years later, they’d adopted another beautiful girl. Mia was a radiant vision of blonde curls and brown eyes. They held a similar warmth that Robbe’s eyes held and Sander couldn’t be happier to lose himself in pools of coffee or dark, earthy soils or any other sort of metaphor for his favourite kind of brown.

To his relief, though, Mia loved listening to Bowie. She loved playing with the lightning bolt plushy and wearing all the shirts and as she grew, she and Sander had lots of music jam sessions blasting Bowie throughout the house. Alexandra was enticed into joining for a bit in the beginning but as time went on, Sander found it that she was making more and more excuses to not be in the same room when Bowie was mentioned.

“Uh, I got homework, Dad,” she’d nervously run her fingers through her hair.

“Uh, Papa needs help with dinner I think,” she’d run out with a tight smile.

“Group project due soon. Léon’s being a piece of shit and not pulling his weight at all.”

“Language,” Robbe would chastise coming around the corner.

“He’s being a dick?” she suggested.

“Fuck him.”

“Sander!”

“Sorry.”

Her interests lay instead in skateboarding with her friends, headphones in her ears listening to rap: BROCKHAMPTON and Stormzy with even a little Ed Sheeran in the mix, and keeping her hair as short as possible. She’d had a bit of a habit wearing overgrown shirts like Robbe did. But Sander found that endearing and he didn’t really think it was a case of ‘not-like-other-girls’ syndrome. He and Robbe just let her wear whatever she wanted.

And in fact, it was at thirteen years of age that Alexandra came out to the family as a boy. Sander remembers it clearly with them all huddled on the couch looking at the person in front of them with beady eyes, waiting.

“Dad, Papa, Mia. I think I’m a boy. I think I’m trans and I’d like to formally introduce myself to you all. I’m Alexander, or just Alex. And I use he/they pronouns.”

Sander had wanted to tear up, emotions flooding inside his rib cage. Happy tears, though, a joyous occasion where his son felt comfortable enough to tell them about this part of himself. That he and Robbe had created a space where he felt safe enough. Loved enough.

“I kept Alexander ‘cause, Sander,” he gestured to Sander. “But really, Alex is fine.”

And Sander wanted to cry all over again.

They’d all been encased in a huge family hug with Mia chirping that she’d ‘always wanted a big brother.’

Robbe and Sander had been quite supportive of it all, calling the school to change both the name and preferred name and asking if Alex was considering wearing a binder or getting a proper haircut. “Yes” to the haircut. “Hold off for a bit” on the binder. He’d whined a “Daaaaaad” when Sander ruffled the short brown locks. Most of Alex’s friends were cool with it, too and while it wasn’t all smooth sailing, he’d never run out of love from his family.

It was a big change and everything, but Sander thought, well...as long as he had his Bowie-loving children, it was all fine. -

It’s his worst nightmare. It’s the stuff that haunts you from the depths of the worst kind of hell, making your limbs feel like jelly. He’s cursing every name and divine entity and he’s really hoping Robbe’s right about those parallel universes because he’d love to hop over to the one where this wasn’t happening right now.

Sander’s having a hard time even looking at Alex in the eye.

“Dad?” he hears his concerned voice.

“I think I need to sit down,” says Sander, grabbing the armrest of the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion.

“It’s really not a big deal,” says Alex.

“Not a big deal?” Sander looks at him with wide eyes. “My own son hates David Bowie.”

“I never said I-“

“The man who infinitely changed my life. Space Oddity, Life on Mars, Ziggy Stardust, Ashes to Ashes. None of them?” Sander waves his arms. “You’re telling me you like none of them?”

“They’re...fine, I guess,” Alex shrugs innocently with a cringe to his face.

“Fine?” Sander squeaks.

“What’s fine?” Robbe trudges to them overhearing the conversation.

“Your son hates Bowie,” Sander squints his eyes at him.

“I do not,” says Alex. “I’m just pretty indifferent to him. He’s not exactly my style,” he shrugs, his hoodie moving with the movement.

“And what is your style?” Robbe laughs as he comes up behind him to rub his shoulders. He looks up at Sander with long lashes and a questioning smile stretching across his face. They share one of those ‘parenting looks.’ The ones where they know it’s not all that serious. But Sander thinks it is.

“A bit of rap, a bit of hip hop, some pop, some mainstream,” Alex lists off. “Not exactly the ‘80s vibes in me,” he laughs.

Robbe cheers as their tastes in music are quite similar and he proceeds to carry out their very own handshake they’d created when Alex was nine. There’s a different one with Sander. Sander, who’s getting more and more agitated by this revelation.

“Oh, okay,” he pats his knees and stands up. “Well, if you two are having such a grand time hating Bowie and bonding over your own music, I’ll just take myself and leave. No child of mine doesn’t like David Bowie,” he says dramatically.

“Sander…” Robbe looks at him.

“Dad…” says Alex.

“No, no. It’s fine. Really,” he begrudgingly walks out of the living room, almost knocking into Mia on the way.

“What’s with him?” she blinks twice and points a finger back.

Robbe sighs as he looks back at Alex.

“Your father, he…” Robbe puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bowie’s practically his life and so are the two of you, so I guess it’s really important to him that you like him, too. He’s just gonna need some time with all this.”

His eyes are apologetic and he gives him a half-smile, hand leaving his shoulder.

Alex takes in the words while Mia wiggles herself onto the couch and finds the tv remote beside her.

“You finally told him about Bowie, huh?” she gives him a gravely sad look. One that says he’s about to be doomed.

Alex just lets out a stressed breath as Robbe follows to go find Sander.

What’s so special about David Bowie anyway?

————————————————————————

Part 2 is coming! IM SO SORRY SKDJJF I just need sleep and rest

#wtfock #this sucks so much omg I’m so sorry #sobbe’s anti-bowie kid #<- liz I used the tag skdjdb #me writing a dad AU my god how did this happen #thanks Sarah for reading it over <3

[kuroos-babie]

Falling in Love With a Single Mom HCs

Osamu x fem!Reader | Atsumu x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons/MiniFics ]

Request: Idk if anyone’s requested it already but your head canons are just giving me a bunch of baby fever so can I request some with the Osamu and Atsumu 🥺🥺 —anonymous

a/n: thank u for absolutely tolerating my perpetual baby fever 🥺🥺 i had so much fun writing these, i might even do oneshots god i loved atsumu's part so much pls do tell me what you think!!

❀ it was almost closing time for Onigiri Miya, people already filing out the restaurant after having their fill of good food

❀ but there you were, in your corporate uniform sitting in front of two 7 month old little boys

❀ osamu looks at you fondly from the counter, cheek resting on his hand with his elbow propped

❀ you always drop by when the shop is about to close, too tired to fix up dinner for the three of you— or so he assumed

❀ you let your boys gobble on their own onigiri's, occasionally turning and patting at the other's cheek

"They seem to like the new stuff", he commented as he walked over to your table with the excuse of clearing up the plates you were done with, "Are you done with these?"

"Oh yes, thank you. Yeah they've always had big appetites, I figured I'd let them try something new this time"

Just when Osamu was about to take the empty katsu plate, one of the twins whined in protest, clumsily swatting at his hand, "Eung! Nuh!"

"Oh? Not yet?", he chuckled as he let go of the plate, letting the younger twin pick at the crumbs

❀ you laughed at each other— him noting the way your eyes drooped slightly in exhaustion and he couldn't help but empathize with you

❀ he knows how stressful it is to raise twins, and twin boys? even more so

❀ he grabbed a nearby chair and took a seat

"Is it alright if I crash your dinner for tonight?" he asked before you could even react, "I'd even throw in two orders of tempura and some sake for you"

You yield with smile, only shaking your head since you have no idea how to even reject his offer— not when he has the sweetest smile on his face

❀ since then, he would join you for dinner and let the twins try new onigiris he made

❀ he always has a fond expression on his face when looking at your children, especially when they're stuffing each other's face with the food he made

❀ you two grew closer over sharing food and fawning over the twins

"So you take the both of them to work? And then come here for dinner before going straight home?"

"Sounds about right, yeah"

"No husband?" "Nope" "Boyfriends?" "I don't have time for any", you chuckle

It was a Friday evening and you two chatted over a bottle of sake, each having a twin snoozing on your laps

"What do you say we change things up a bit? Let me take you out tomorrow"

He was now reaching for your hand which was wrapped around your sake cup, the heat that was rising from your chest certainly not coming from the alcohol

❀ Miya Osamu was never one to dawdle, ever the straightforward gentleman

❀ that's why he didn't waste time telling you how he adored you and your boys— and wanted to be a part of your family as soon as you would permit him

❀ he definitely changed up your weekday routine— instead of coming home with the twins after dinner at Onigiri Miya, you found yourself coming home to him and your kids cuddled up on the couch, the smell of food wafting throughout the house

❀ you take turns taking the twins to work and always made time to eat dinner together, bonding over food and the twin's milestones for the day that the other couldn't witness

❀ your hands were full with the boys starting to walk and run but your heart was definitely fuller at the sight of the grey-haired man they're always running to, toppling over him as they giggle in delight and you just can't help running into his arms as well, giving him a kiss as a silent thanks for finding you three

❀ you were a fan of the black jackals and have been pestering your high school friend to let you meet the team for the longest time

❀ hinata did his best to slip you in between their busy training schedules and whatnot, finally introducing you to the team one weekend after their practice

❀ well, introducing your daughter first

❀ you handed her over to hinata before excusing yourself for the bathroom real quick

❀ he waltz in the locker room and i kid you not, bokuto and atsumu were all up in their faces the moment they laid eyes on her

❀ the 16 month old girl in pink wasn't too impressed

"Gimme her, I'm really good with kids" Bokuto insists while making grabby hands but your daughter only turned away and laid her head on Hinata's shoulder

"Move over, Bokkun, lemme try"

❀ you bet bokuto was dejected for the rest of the day

❀ Hinata lowered the little girl to the floor, keeping her steady as she tries to gain balance

❀ Atsumu sat on the bench near her, calling out to her with a wide grin but she only whined and turned back to Hinata to be picked up again

"Banana! D'you like bananas?" was his last resort, grabbing one from his lunch bag which Samu prepared

Her ears pricked up at the word, turning to look at him with hopeful eyes, "Pana na!"

Atsumu leaned back to the bench, his hand propped behind him as he watches her waddle over to him "Ahh she's so cute"

"Yeah, makes me want one of my own", Meian chuckled, watching the scene unfold

Your daughter reached him, patting at his thighs as she chants "Pana pana na" when she hits his pockets and a crinkling noise caught her attention

"Oh you want this instead?" he asks her, taking a piece of chocolate from his pocket

"Uhn!"

❀ he watched as your daughter's eyes light up in delight at her first taste of chocolate, drool dribbling down her chin which he quickly wiped with a tissue

❀ the team watched as the 16 month old little girl climbed up to Atsumu to settle on his thigh, happily munching on a mini snickers bar

❀ the look you had when you entered the locker room wasn't as delighted though

"Sorry I took so long, I couldn't find th— what's that in her mouth?"

"Oh, Y/N!" it was Hinata who greeted you before turning to the setter, "Atsumu-san gave her chocolate"

"You gave her WHAT?"

You could only rub your face with your hands and exhale in frustration, "Why would you give a 16 month old some chocolates? Oh my god"

❀ you explained to the team that you were avoiding giving her sugary treats so as not to get her used to it, only feeding her fruits and yogurt for snacks

❀ they all apologized in Atsumu's stead who only had a pout in his face as he murmured "I didn't know, I'm sorry" again and again

❀ you relent and tried to get your daughter from the setter, to which she whined, chocolate-covered fingers gripping at Atsumu's shirt

"She likes me" he beamed at you as if he wasn't looking as dejected as Bokuto a few moments ago

"You bribed her with sweets" you deadpanned, making Atsumu pout at you

❀ your daughter didn't want to let go of him, squealing and whining when you tried to pry her off him so you just let her cling to the faux blonde setter for the rest of your stay

"Come on, baby, it's time to go home"

You tried getting her for the nth time but she just grunted and nuzzled against Atsumu's neck

"My arms are kinda numb"

"Do you want to take Atsumu-san home?" Hinata suggests, effectively sending a wave of heat to yours and the setter's cheeks

"Uhn! Mumu-tan!" he could only chuckle nervously as she patted and squished at his flushed cheeks

❀ you decided, albeit with a drawn out sigh, to take Atsumu home with you, knowing your daughter will get fussy when she starts to feel a bit sleepy

❀ Atsumu spent the rest of the day over at your house, bouncing and playing around with the little girl as you tried to get chores done, preparing dinner for them while you're at it

❀ after eating, you went to do the dishes, noting the eerie quiet as you had your back towards the living room

❀ you spot him completely knocked out on the couch with your daughter, head dangling on the backrest as he had a hand on your daughter's back, soft snores coming from the both of them

❀ you couldn't help but smile at them, quietly sitting and leaning back beside the two as you let the peaceful quiet lull you half asleep

❀ atsumu awoke with your face in front of him and he could just trace the exhaustion from your dovish sleeping expression

"Ahh she's cute" he whispered to himself in a smile before adjusting his position, shuffling closer and pulling your head over to lean on his shoulder as he tried to continue his nap

"You two're the absolute cutest" he sighed as he nuzzled against your daughter's head, squeezing her even tighter

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[deansmom]

Thots/headcanons about Bucky Barnes I have that I eventually want to include in fics or write fics about them, but it’s taking me too long to get them down:

Yelena drags him to the shelter she got Fanny from and signs him up to volunteer with her and everybody’s all 😅 about him being there until they see him sitting in the kennel of the one dog they were sure they’d have to euthanize bc it’s so aggressive, and it’s snoozing away on Bucky’s lap while he reads his phone. The adoption coordinator is like “??? who even let you in here??” And Bucky’s just like “I did? Do you see this face?”

(This of course leads to him fostering the behavioral cases while they go through training and rehabilitation and Sam hates it, so much, but he’s never seen Bucky so grounded in himself outside of a fight as he is when he’s working with a dog. So like, Sam invests in a lot of bite work gear and they accidentally become Dog People and it’s awful but also, Sam does fundraisers for the shelter in his cap outfit every couple months. Steve teases Bucky endlessly, like he didn’t start a cat rescue with Peggy)

They end up with two dogs, a mastiff mix who was used in dog fights and a dumb as rocks malinois who wants to Fight everyone except Bucky, Sam, Athena and Alpine. The mal ADORES Cass and AJ. Sarah pretends not to be a dog person, but Bucky catches her napping on the couch with Athena when they visit one day. He has no idea how they fit up there.

Bucky only buys his personal hygiene stuff from places like LUSH because he can’t deal with the overly synthetic smells in mass produced stuff. He’s their favorite customer, and the staff at his local LUSH location always set aside the hypoallergenic or unscented stuff for him as it comes in.

Bucky doesn’t have a lot of actual food in his apartment before Sam moves in, he just kind of exists on meal replacement drinks and bars, adult lunchables from Costco, water and shitty beer. When Sam moves in there’s somebody around to nag him about eating real food somewhere in there at least, so Bucky spends a lot of time lost in the local Whole Foods (he prefers the farmers market, but they’re not like a regular store where he can just run to get milk or something). Somehow he’s friends with like, all of the early morning employees (he likes to go as soon as they open). He’s even helped move pallets for them before when their pallet Jack broke. Sam is perpetually confused any time he goes on errands with Bucky because everybody’s like “omg hey, here’s your stuff man :)” and Sam’s like “wtf people LIKE you??” “I’m a charming guy, Sam 😤”

The store manager at their local Costco still sets aside a whole pallet of the premade lunch meals that Bucky likes for him and calls him when it comes in. He’s a nice guy. Bucky brings him coffee when he goes. They’ve had lunch before.

What I’m getting at here is that Bucky is everybody’s favorite regular customer because he’s so quiet and he doesn’t cause a fuss and he offers to help them with stuff even though he doesn’t have to, and the cashier at the local pet store invites him to her knitting circle because she likes him that much.

(Bucky does not go, only because he doesn’t actually like her, but he debates showing up in the most flamboyant outfit he can throw together just to piss her off)

I know it’s fandom lore that Bucky likes Starbucks, but he’s absolutely a regular to the point that a quick run to Starbucks takes him thirty minutes because they’ve gotta catch him up on all the store gossip and tea. They know Bucky by name (even though he gets his coffee under JB) and they even comp his normal order on his birthday. Sam grumbles every time he goes to Bucky’s normal Starbucks and they’re like “oh hey Sam, where’s Bucky?” “Am I not enough for you?” Or when they’re fighting and the barista doesn’t look at him and his coffee cup says something like ‘apologize, you jerk’ on it and Sam jsut squawks “I am CAPTAIN AMERICA!!! Y’all can’t be mean to me wTF 😩”

Bucky, somehow, rarely has to pay for food because every family owned restaurant in a five stop subway radius adores him. He still insists and his tips are the cost of a meal plus tip, which frankly only endears him to them more. He gets into a screaming match with several elderly women in their native language because “just let me PAY YOU, DAMN IT” “YOU DARE INSULT ME LIKE THIS??” “I want you to stay in business!!” “Bring your friends! They pay!” “I don’t have any friends to bring!!!!” “🥺” “ah fuck”

Sam gets plenty of perks, don’t get me wrong. That man can walk into any Jewish deli in New York and get sent home with a free dessert. He gets preferential treatment at their favorite stores. Everybody’s nice to him because they know he’s Bucky’s Person. Sam alternates between being horrified and deeply amused that everyone loves him so much, because like - he gets it, but also, he’s taken.

#sambucky for ts // #marvel for ts // #personal #also I am trying to write the dog thing #i have more I just have to go walk my dog lmao