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guacamoleroll · 3 months

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— 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 .ᐟ · 𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦 ༉‧₊˚

𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖞𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘 ⇢ "I have an idea maybe a old bookstore date with Dazai would be so cool :D"

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙. f!reader. tooth-rotting fluff. established relationships. forehead kisses, teasing, quiant bookstores cuddling, romance. dazai is a menace to society, but secretly soft. not proofread. 1.4k+ words.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. this was the request i accidentally misread in this post. so sorry! it's been months since this was placed in my inbox, but i haven't been able to get around to requests in a while. thank you for patiently waiting, and i hope you enjoy! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘. an earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off.

OR you drag your boyfriend into a bookstore, and shenanigans ensue.

The devilish brunette dared to chuckle under his breath, head held high as he paraded you down the street, hand-in-hand. For someone who had been the brunt of a heavy lecture by the agency's resident stickler, he was in a delightful mood. Not that Kunikida's scolding had ever been able to properly put Dazai in his place.

You had entered the office after an extended morning mission, only to be dragged out again; the only clue to your sudden kidnapping was the twitch of Kunikida's brow as you were flung out the door, clueless to the occurrences that had occurred moments prior. When questioning Dazai about it, he simply met your inquiries with a cat-like grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You deadpanned at his obvious avoidance of the question, though quickly relented to his schemes. If there was one thing anyone knew about Osamu Dazai, it was that he always got his way, one way or another. And it was rare to have any time off, so you decided not to think about whatever strings he pulled and enjoy your time together.

You scrolled through the map on your phone, lips pursed. "Has anything new opened recently?"

"You know, we could just—"

"And no," you cut him off, striking him with your eyes. "We are not jumping off another bridge. You remember what happened the last time you decided to test gravity?"

He pouted, bottom lip jutting out. "It's not my fault. The bridge was higher than it looked."

You rolled your eyes. Dazai was such a man-child sometimes.

He perked up, his eyes sparkling. "What about that ramen shop down the road?"

"No," you grimaced, nose shriveling. "They have flies."

"The bar on the corner?"

You shook your head. "Too many rowdy guys."

He whined, flailing his arms into the air. "I give up! Just tell me—"

Only to realize that you were no longer walking beside him. He paused, staring at the empty space before his eyes dotted back. You had stopped before a window, eyes wandering across the inside of what he had surmised to be an old bookstore. He froze as you glanced up at him—he knew that look.

"No, no, no!"

RING!

He cried out for anyone to help as he was dragged inside, acting more like a toddler than a loving boyfriend as he clawed at the doorframe, only to be pulled in inevitably. The older woman at the register stared incredulously at your odd behavior, though you had long become accustomed to the stares you received in public with Dazai.

"I don't wanna go!"

"Calm down!" You pushed him into a chair in the corner with every ounce of strength. "Stay right here. I'll only be a minute."

He groaned, flopping back into the chair with a brilliance only someone in theater could muster, legs swinging over the arms of the chair as he continued to gripe to himself. You hid your laughter behind your palm, lest you incur his infantile wrath, walking into the next aisle.

He didn't want to admit that this store was quite lovely. An earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off. And it was tranquil, not eerily so, but a stark contrast from the loud traffic outside, especially since no one else was around. It was a quaint little store that was an obvious magnet for little bookworms like yourself.

As the seconds flew by, Dazai tapped his foot to the beat of an ancient cuckoo clock that stared at him from the wall. Minutes passed, his head lolling back against the head of the chair, breath pacing to a slow point.

CUCKOO!

He had no time to brace himself, startling as he tumbled out of the chair with a thud. His groans were the accompanying chorus to the clock, which he stared at in scorn. Damn. It had already been forty minutes. What were you doing? Even through the tinted windows of the store, it was clear that the sun had begun its descent in between surrounding buildings.

He pulled himself from the uncomfortable floor and started his search, but it didn't take any time at all to find you.

"There she is."

He was about to call out, but his complaint became lodged in his throat. Instead, he hid in the next aisle, peeking between the cracks of another bookshelf. It seemed that you hadn't noticed time had passed at all, eyes glued onto the page of the book cradled in your hands. In fact, several other books were stacked next to you on the floor, awaiting your watchful eyes. Your expression could only be described as a kiss upon a cloud, fingers nestling the pages of the book with such care, eyes scanning every word as you intended to soak the story in.

A part of him felt jealous. How could an inanimate object take up so much of your time? Time that was supposed to be focused on him! But there was another part of him; he couldn't quite place it.

You finally spotted him as he rounded the corner, sparing a glance at one of the clocks as the realization struck you, turning back with a crooked smile.

"Sorry. I lost track of time."

"Here." His fingers braced against your shoulders, carefully prying your aching back from the unforgiving bookshelves as he settled in behind you, much to your surprise. "That's better."

"D-Dazai, what're you—?"

"So, what's this one about?" His arms slung around your waist, practically a second nature for him as he enfolded you in a koala-like embrace, your back snug against his chest.

You only blinked, and a knowing smirk grew on his lips. "Use your words, love."

You sputtered, slapping his arm with the book before managing to settle yourself, stifling the heat that threatened to take over your whole body.

"It's a romance novel."

He raised a brow. "Romance?" He chuckled, and you did not want to address the way the low timber of his voice made your limbs turn to mush. "While I am an expert in the field, I would love to hear what seems to strike your particular fancy."

But you met him with hesitation. "Are you sure?"

"What?" he cooed, his nose nuzzling into your neck, the warmth of his breath prickling your skin as he laid down a path of kisses along your throat. "Is it so hard to believe I want to hear your beautiful voice?"

You resisted the urge to squirm away but sighed, looking down at the page. It would be nice to read to someone, would it be?

He barely paid attention to your narration of the book itself, occupying his thoughts as he toyed with strands of your baby hairs between his fingers, his ears picking up the shift of your tone, mellifluous in nature. He hadn't processed precisely what you were saying, but he couldn't help but be enraptured in the rise and fall of your voice, filled with emotion as the story rose to a peak. Neither of you had paid attention to the kisses that he littered across the crown of your head, the motion only settling the butterflies in your stomach to sleep.

As the clock ticked forward, your words began to haze, slurring together as you crawled toward the final page.

CUCKOO!

This time, no one was startled by the intrusive sound. The sun had set into the horizon, leaving you within the glow of faded lamps and flickering lights; the book slumped over in your lap as your breath drew deeper, eyes fluttering closed. Dazai smiled, no mockery or tease, careful not to wake you as he lifted you bridal-style. He was surprised you didn't stir, not once, even while he half-hazardly managed to pay for the book with his spare cash. The woman at the counter was even nice enough to take a few dollars off, too distracted with cooing at your sleeping form.

His little charmer, even while asleep. Awfully cute.

RING!

"Osamu," you mumbled, voice lethargic as the bell and brisk air stirred you from your slumber. The incessant tease shushed you, kissing your forehead with a smile.

"Shh. Rest, love."

And he walked on into the night. Another satisfying date under your belt, if slightly unconventional. But he wouldn't have spent his day any other way. It was worth the lecture.

taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #꒰ა ⎼ [dazai]#✉︎ ⎼ [anonymous] ‧₊˚#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd

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katelynnwrites · 5 months

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5. "I am so angry right now, I could almost forget my love for you."

for feli?

mad woman. (prompt 5, felicitas rauch)

there’s a loud thump in the living room, followed by a series of quick footsteps.

you pause, setting the packet of chips down from where you had been filling a bowl for you and your girlfriend to share.

‘feli? you okay liebling?’

she appears in the doorway of the kitchen, a visibly upset expression on her face.

‘how could you?’ she demands.

‘how could i what?’

cinnamon runs into the kitchen and you have to fight hard to stifle your giggles.

‘she is my dog. now look at her.’ felicitas insists.

you peer down at the brown poodle.

she looks perfect and you tell your girlfriend so.

‘no! i am so angry right now, i could almost forget my love for you.’

despite your best efforts, you simply cannot keep it in anymore.

you burst out laughing.

‘no. no. you stop right now.’ the brunette warns.

you laugh louder, bending down to pick up cinny and giving her a series of kisses.

‘aw look at her feli. she’s adorable and my country’s colours suit her more than yours ever will.’

the wolfsburg defender, if possible gets even more outraged.

‘she is my dog! she’s german like me!’

carefully, you adjust the spain jersey that cinny is wearing. one that she had absolutely no problems with you putting on her.

‘not today.’ you wink at feli who stares at you speechlessly.

both of your men’s national teams are playing a friendly and you and feli planned to watch it.

you just had the good idea to put your long time girlfriend’s poodle in spain’s red and yellow.

it’s a stroke of brilliance really and you have the cheekiest of grins as you breeze out of the kitchen, by feli, while holding the bowl of chips in one hand and her dog in the other.

‘come on liebling, kick off is any time now.’

#312 words #feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #feli rauch imagine #felicitas rauch x reader #felicitas rauch imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #gerwnt imagine #gerwnt x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen #katelynnwrites

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slutforsilverfoxes · 11 months

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Knockin' Boots

[A/N: No, your honor, you don't understand. I need this man biblically 🫦 Y'all can thank McGarrett, Luke Bryan, & my dreams for this lil bit of filth 😇 Enjoy!]

"So get this-" You pause to finish off your margarita before replacing the now empty glass on the table and engaging your hands in the reenactment. "This man saunters up to me, smirks, and says- and I shit you not- The boss must be quite the bitch to keep these boys in line, huh? Good thing I like ‘em feisty."

"No fucking way," Melissa squeals in delight. "What did you say?"

"That it's a good thing my man does…too…" you trail off, licking your lips as your mouth goes dry at the sight of said man entering the dimly lit restaurant. He’s sporting tight gray slacks and a black fitted button down that leave little to the imagination, his toned thighs and thick biceps on full display. Everything about him screams confidence, and his mere presence steals the air from your lungs.

"Fuck me," you whisper under your breath, all of the blood from your brain draining south like a horny teenager who can’t get enough of her high school boyfriend.

He and his best friend take their time approaching your table, and then the brunette finally stops before you, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze and flashing you a dazzling smile that somehow gets your panties even wetter. "Hey, pretty girl," he murmurs in that smooth-as-honey voice of his, and dammit if you don’t melt from the attention.

"Commander," you all but purr, wondering if Five-0’s immunity and means would extend to you if you were to partake in some public indecency in this very crowded restaurant. A spark of brilliance hits you- quite miraculously, actually, given the butterflies taking up residence in your belly and lower still- and your eyes flash with mischief. "Did you find my lipstick in your truck? It wasn’t in my bag this morning."

"Let’s go take a look," Steve plays along, delicately taking your wrist and helping you up. The simple touch sends a flood of heat through your veins, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

"Skipping dinner and going straight for dessert, hm?" Melissa questions around her straw with a devious smile, much to her boyfriend’s chagrin who voices his displeasure with a groan.

"Just, uh-" You spot your empty glass and shoot her a wink. "Feeling a little parched, is all."

"Time to pay up, Daniel," your man grins, his fingers trailing down your spine until they ghost over the curve of your ass then gradually making their way back up. You suppress a shiver at the caress, unable to process his words until the exchange is made.

"What’d you bet this time?"

"You’d find a way to compromise my virtue within ten minutes of us getting here," Steve explains smugly.

"I gave you a generous twenty," Danny adds.

Using one of Steve’s belt loops to tug him closer, you playfully growl, "You’re a menace."

"Guilty," he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you feel the dull ache between your thighs flare to an insistent throbbing. "C’mon now," he insists, pulling you along so fast you can barely throw a "Start ordering without us!" over your shoulder.

You make it to the Chevy in record time, your excited giggle morphing into a moan when Steve slaps your ass as you clamber into the back of the truck. "You didn’t wear this sexy little dress to work this morning," he comments.

"And you weren’t wearing these My eyes are up here pants, McGarrett," you fire back, reaching to undo the button before the door has even clicked shut behind him.

You use your thumb and middle finger to outline the ridges of his cock through his pants, and he groans out an appreciative, "Fuck, Y/N."

"Oh, you'd better," you moan, leaning down to nuzzle at his bulge and nearly going dizzy from the scent of him alone.

"Easy, baby, easy," he laughs, twining his fingers in your hair to pull you back and get a good look at you. The way he's managing to hold it together while you feel like you're falling apart at the seams just serves to turn you on more, your domineering nature in the boardroom melting into a pliant little subordinate in your boyfriend's capable hands. He swipes his thumb over your bottom lip and you draw the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and humming in delight at the taste of him. "Tell me what you need," he says, his voice husky when he recognizes just how desperate you are for him.

"Need to suck your cock," you plead, no trace of shame evident in your breathy confession. You pull him in for a kiss that's all lips and teeth and tongue, a stuttered moan escaping you when Steve's fingers easily tug your panties aside and slide between your folds, the pad of his middle finger brushing over your sensitive clit.

"Is that what you were thinking about when you ruined these panties? Sitting there all innocent, talking to Melissa about your day, and dreaming about my dick so far down your throat you can't breathe?" He circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, once, twice, and you cry out, arching your back to chase the sensation. "I asked you a question and I'm not going to ask you again," he growls, his tone taking on that authoritative quality he uses for interrogations that makes you weak in the knees. He follows with a sharp smack to your aching cunt that forces out a, "Yes! Oh fuck yes, Commander."

"Such a good little slut," he murmurs proudly, the combination of degradation and praise sending another wave of arousal down south.

"Steve," you whine, digging your nails into his thick thighs.

He soothes you with a soft, "I know, baby, I've got you," and shifts into a seated position so you can kneel next to him in the back seat. He eases his slacks and boxer briefs down enough for you to reach your prize, and you descend on him like a woman starved.

One hand snakes further down to massage his balls while the other strokes the base of his cock and you wrap your lips around the tip, taking short pulls and moaning as the taste of him bursts across your tongue. "Oh my god, baby," he half laughs, half moans when you lower your head to fully sheathe him within your mouth. Steve's hand rests possessively on your ass, giving an appreciative squeeze to your flesh each time your fingers tighten their grip. "Gonna go back to dinner absolutely cock drunk, aren't you?" he teases, delivering another smack to your bare pussy that has you moaning out a garbled, "Mhm," around his length.

Pulling off him momentarily, you instruct, "Keep doing that," between pants before going back to work. He lets his middle finger slide lazily between your folds, alternating between pressing knuckle deep inside you and smacking your heated cunt. There's no rhyme or reason to his actions, so each crack of his hand against your flesh has you reflexively squeezing his balls and moaning around him, causing his hips to stutter and forcing him even deeper down your throat.

"Taking me so well, pretty girl," he praises through a moan, his sweet words a sharp contrast to the delicious pain he's inflicting on your pussy. "Gonna give you just what you need, reward you for being so good for me."

You can feel his powerful thighs flexing with each thrust of his hips and hear his breathing growing more ragged, telltale signs that he's close. You pull off of him with an obscene sound, sitting up and licking your lips while you continue to stroke him with your hand. "I want you to cum inside me."

Steve's eyebrows draw together in confusion, and it would be an adorable sight if he wasn't grunting and groaning while fucking up into your fist in the backseat of his truck. "Of course, baby, but I'm close so-"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. You adjust yourself until your back meets the truck door and spread your legs so your glistening cunt is on full display to your boyfriend. "I want to walk back in there knowing I'm full of you."

Something akin to a whimper falls from between his lips, and Steve closes the distance between you, hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing so deep inside you that you can literally see the bulging of your lower belly. Your eyes roll back at the sensation, and your walls tighten around him as if trying to draw him in even deeper. "Give it to me, Steve," you cry. "I want you to fill me up. I want you dripping down my thighs, want everyone to know what a needy fucking slut I am for you," you continue babbling, trying to keep your eyes open and focused on how tightly his features are drawn, how hard he's biting his lip and the predatory look in his eyes while he's fucking into you like an uncaged animal.

"You look so beautiful when you're full of me," he grunts, and his heady words coupled with the brush of his thumb over your clit sends shockwaves through you, every nerve in your body firing at once as a powerful orgasm rips through you and leaves you breathless and quaking beneath him. Through the haze, you can feel Steve's hips stutter against yours while your walls squeeze him, and then he's delivering on his promise to give you just what you need. Chest heaving with each breath, he continues rolling his hips until you've managed to draw out every drop of his release, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Steve's hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you close, his tongue licking into your mouth until you're a moaning mess for him all over again. "Good girl," he breathes, and you let out a whimper, absolutely and utterly cock drunk.

Steve eases your legs off his shoulders, adjusting your panties and dress before massaging your calves gently to get the blood flowing again and leaving a trail of kisses along your dewy skin. Then he focuses his attention on your upper half, running his fingers through your hair and pressing his lips to your forehead with a murmured, "I love you, baby girl."

"Love you more," you answer in a daze, tilting your chin up to capture his lips in another kiss, this one slow and sensual. "But now I'm really hungry," you declare, and Steve laughs as he tucks his dress shirt back into his slacks.

He opens the truck door and helps you out, his hand coming to rest on your hip as you make your way back inside the restaurant on jellied legs. "Ten bucks says they're in the Camaro right now," Steve challenges, guiding you into your seat and looking pointedly at the empty spots across the table.

"No way," you scoff. "Too small. Twenty on bathroom."

"You're on, babe," Steve responds with a grin, tipping his beer in your direction. Leaning closer, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip and murmurs with a click of his teeth, "Shame we couldn't find your lipstick, though."

"I know," you sigh, then add, "It would look so pretty on you, too." Reaching into your purse, you pull the tube out from the zippered compartment with a sly grin and relish in the way Steve's eyes flash at your innuendo. "Guess we'll have to try it out later."

#yknow what they say #give me two margaritas…#well well fuck me well #oops i did it again #can you blame me #i'm feral #i would let him ruin my life #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett x female reader #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett smut #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

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Ennui

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.8k

Summary: Wanda comes out to her brother

A/N: Here’s a request that took me way to long to fill! Sorry:(

Warnings: Angst, comfort, fluff

Wanda wasn’t sure why people thought that high school was so great. It was a time in her life where she was at her most self-conscious, and least certain of what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She did well in school, in fact she was on track to become valedictorian, and she loved one subject in particular. She’d taken all of the history classes that her school had offered, and she wished she could take more. Instead, she spent her free time studying, tutoring other students, or finding a secluded spot on the school grounds to read.

She had friends, but like most introverts at her age, she had a couple of good friends and a few others who she didn’t know as well. She’d known her two closest friends since freshman year, and now three years later she found herself in quite the pickle. She’d already been accepted to her first-choice university and she was going to study history if she even made it that far. There was still a small voice in her head that told her she wasn’t going to get to study beyond this because she would soon be sucked into her parents’ occupation – their lives.

She knew that it was only a matter of time, but since she was only 17, she hoped that they’d give her a chance to be as normal a teenager as possible. It was impossible not to be a little different when you went home and instead of talking about what you did at school around the dinner table, the conversation tended to revolve around who her parents had killed that day.

Her brother had quit high school as soon as he could because he just didn’t have an interest in it. Unlike Wanda, he hadn’t fought the pressure put on him by their father to join the family business now and learn as much as he could for when he’d have to take over. Pietro wouldn’t say he enjoyed it or that he was even really good at it, but he was learning and that was all that mattered to their father.

Wanda was just lucky that he was buying her time to keep focusing on her studies because she knew that their mom could only convince their dad of letting her have a normal life for so long. She felt the constant pressure despite everyone’s efforts, and sometimes she felt like she was suffocating under it. She wanted a normal life. She wanted to do what normal teens her age did. The good and the bad. She wanted it all if she could have it. At least for a little while.

“Hey, there you are!”

Speaking of bad.

Wanda turns at the voice that she’s grown to love over these past few years. Her closest friend had helped her get used to the brutal and stressful environment that was high school. They’d met in their second class because that’s how long it took for some douchebag to try and hit on Wanda in the crudest way possible. She’d cut him down size quickly and as a result let everyone in his friend group know that she wasn’t interested. The girl who sat behind her, Sam, had laughed at her brilliance and immediately taken interest in the quiet yet scathing brunette.

Wanda had liked her immediately and they’d hit it off and been friends ever since. It wasn’t until recently though, that Wanda found her presence to be more of a burden than a gift. She felt horrible about it and she certainly couldn’t tell her this, but she’d somehow wound-up developing feelings for her which made her life hell.

“Hey, Sam.”

Wanda puts down her book to look to the redhead who just sighs and sits down beside her in the grass. She’s wearing shorts that show off her long legs that are freckled similarly to her face. It’s harder to see them in the sun and Wanda has to stop herself from staring at her friend as she throws her head back and groans in exhaustion. The redhead had also figured out what school she’s going to after graduation. It’s in California back to her hometown and Wanda can’t help but envy her. She’s carefree and unburdened by family obligation in a way that Wanda never will be.

She’s also been one of her only confidants since arriving to this hellscape, and she hates that they’re going to be separating in just a few months.

“What are you reading today?”

Sam knew that the odds of her friend reading something history related are very high, but just glancing at the cover made her think this might be one of the few times it was something else. She watches as her friend blushes slightly before motioning to the book in her hand. She closes it so her friend can read the cover, and so she can focus on her now that she’s here.

“Just this vaguely depressing, misogynistic book.”

Wanda regrets saying this immediately because Sam laughs and she swears the sound waters her crops and pours salt on them at the same time. She still smiles as she listens to Sam tell her about her day and ask her about hers as well. They only have a few minutes left of lunch when her phone buzzes in her backpack.

Hey I’m near school. Want to grab lunch?”

Pietro.

Wanda had a free period next and she was going to study for next week’s exam. However, now that she thought about it, she didn’t want to just sit around and think about this interaction for the rest of the day. She wanted to take a break from school. See somewhere else for a change. Truthfully she mostly needed to get away from her friend because that familiar feeling in her chest was starting to ruin her mood.

“It’s my brother. He wants to talk. I’ll see you around?”

Wanda leaves quickly after telling her brother where she’ll be waiting for him. She sits on the edge of campus, as far away from people as possible as she tries to figure out what her options are. Despite knowing that they will be parting ways in just a few short months, she wonders if there would be any point, any benefit, to breaking ties early. It would certainly make her feel like an asshole and it would make the rest of the year awkward, but then she wouldn’t have to talk to the object of her desires daily. This was near torture. However, the thought of upsetting Sam and ruining their friendship over this made just about as much sense as dropping out of school to avoid seeing her.

She sighs before realizing that her best option is to continue to suffer in silence. She’s scowling at the thought when her brother drives up. She smiles slightly as she stands and walks to the car eager to get out of here. She greets her brother as she opens the door, but she nearly curses herself when she sees he’s not smiling.

“Hey, Piet.”

The older Maximoff is trying to figure out what’s wrong because the look on his sister’s face when he first saw her wasn’t her norm. Sure, his sister could be lost in her own world sometimes, but she looked troubled and he wanted to know if it was normal high school stress or something else. He sees his sister sigh out of the corner of his eye before she sinks down in her seat with a frown.

“What’s wrong, sestra. You look down.”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile slightly as she looked out the window as Pietro drove them away. She was considering not going back to school as she tries to figure out where they’re going to eat. Sometimes he takes her to nicer restaurants where the meals are expensive with small servings, but she doesn’t want that today. She decides to kill two birds with one stone and she turns back to her brother with a shrug.

“I’ve just been a little stressed. I could use a milkshake or two.”

Pietro nods seriously before he turns at the stoplight in the direction of the restaurant that Wanda’s referring to. It’s a diner that is nothing special except for the fact that they have the best burgers and milkshakes around. It’s one of Wanda’s favorite study spots, and she loves when she and her brother go there during her free period. He’s clearly willing to humor her and she smiles at this before preparing to answer his next question. She knows that she can’t tell any of her friends about what’s bothering her. They are all friends with Sam and it would put them in an awkward position. Not only that, but she hadn’t even told them that she’s attracted to girls.

She remembers how she’d been asked to prom by two different guys in her class, and despite liking them fine she hadn’t wanted to go. She wasn’t even hung up on Sam at that point, but she just knew that she wouldn’t have as much fun as her friends that were going with people that they actually liked. Wanda glances at her brother who’s watching her closely now that they’re at another stoplight before shaking his head.

“What’s stressing you out so much? Aren’t your grades pretty much guaranteed?”

Wanda doesn’t bother to tell him that this isn’t true because in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t really matter. She’s not worried about her grades which is out of character for her, but she’s just so tired. She wants to be done because she knows it’s the only way she’ll get to move on from the feelings she has for her friend.

Wanda starts to play with the rings on her fingers as she considers what to tell her brother. He’s always supported her the best he could even if he didn’t understand all of her choices. He wanted her to be able to enjoy her teenage years for as long as possible, and if that included stressing out over grades he supposed that was fine. In the end all he wanted was for her to be happy and safe, and for now she was safe, but she didn’t really seem happy.

“It’s not grades, Piet. It’s something else that’s been bothering me.”

Wanda nearly flies out of the car as they arrive at the diner. She’s grateful that she’d picked a location close to school because she wasn’t sure she wanted to have this conversation in a car. Despite her belief, or rather hope that her brother won’t care about what she has to say, she doesn’t want to risk it. She also wants to be able to watch him for his genuine reaction so she knows how to approach any similar conversation in the future.

“Like what? I know I’m not in high school anymore, but maybe I can help?”

It’s the genuine concern that she hears in his voice that gets her to stop short of the door. She sighs before opening it for her brother and motioning for him to go in first. He does, but he is still clearly waiting for her response, so he hurries to sit down so they can get right to it.

Wanda offers her brother a smile as she sits across from him and takes a deep breath. She can tell her brother this, right? He won’t judge her despite never knowing about any of her previous crushes. Wanda had known that regardless of how serious or who they were, he’d intimidate them with endless questions. The waitress buys Wanda a little more time and she and Pietro both order a burger with fries and a milkshake. Wanda orders her go-to which is cookies and cream while her brother gets chocolate. Most of the time they end up sharing.

“So what is it, Wands? Do I need to beat someone up?”

Wanda rolls her eyes but she shoots her twin a grateful look before she decides to just come out and say it. She knows that she could buy herself time, but continuing to stall just makes her more anxious and she knows that she’ll chicken out. For this reason she sits up and forces herself to keep her hands in her lap so she doesn’t fidget too much. She sees her brother is trying to read her and figure out what she’s going to say, but she beats him to it.

“No, thanks Pietro. I just have been stressing about having to go to school and see…see my crush every day.”

Wanda immediately has her brother’s full attention and he starts at the sound of his sister having a crush. He knew that his sister had people fawning over her occasionally, especially around prom or the holiday formals, but she’d never gone with anyone. She’d always said that she’d rather be home reading a book (a textbook usually) instead which Pietro would never understand, but he accepted it. His sister enjoyed herself more at home alone with her own thoughts or books over going out and spending time with friends any day. She was an introvert through and through, and this thought made Pietro wonder who his sister had developed feelings for.

His eyes light up as he realizes he knows what his sister is going to say only moments before she speaks up.

“I’ve told you about, Sam right?”

Pietro smiles as he listens to his sister talk about one of her better friends. She’s told him about her before of course, but it’s been a while and clearly things have changed a bit. He listens until their food comes and then his attention is slightly split, but mostly on his sister as she fiddles with her milkshake before nodding in response to her brother’s question. It’s asked around a bite of burger, but Wanda is well-versed in understanding his mouth-half-full speak so she deciphers it easily.

“’nd you ‘ke her?”

Wanda wishes she didn’t because her life would be so much easier, but she supposed that this isn’t what high school was about. She couldn’t help that she noticed that her friend was smart, creative, and brave in ways she’d never be. She was beautiful and Wanda knew she didn’t have a chance. She said this without meaning to and her brother stops eating and shoots her a confused look.

“Why would you say that?”

Wanda tries to run through everything she just said before landing on the most likely point of confusion. She sighs before shrugging in faux indifference as she eats another fry after dipping it in her milkshake.

“I just don’t think that it would go anywhere you know? We’re good friends who are parting ways after graduation. What’s the point?”

Wanda watches as her brother frowns at her truly depressing words. She’s been mulling over these things for a while now and her unfortunate conclusion was to just let this crush run it’s course and hopefully it won’t be too painful. She can’t imagine that she’ll be able to go to university and not have the same problem, but maybe then she can have something beyond stressful pining.

Pietro seems to be on the same page and he frowns before offering her a smile as he pushes his milkshake towards her.

“Maybe you’re right, but maybe you’ll meet someone after you graduate. Someone you could try dating.”

Wanda doesn’t even bother thinking about this too much. She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to date someone. The uncertainty in her life makes things difficult, not to mention they’d have to be okay being kept in the dark about her family business. It was a lot of obstacles to overcome that Wanda wasn’t sure anyone was willing to face.

Still she shrugs with a small smile as she takes her straw and puts it in her brother’s milkshake. She’s glad that she talked to her brother about this. Despite coming to the same conclusion, she’s glad that she has someone in her corner and she doesn’t have to suffer under the weight of this secret forever. She lets her brother have some of her milkshake before she takes a deep breath.

“You’re right. Thanks, Piet.”

He just smiles at her and Wanda’s reminded once again that despite being a little all over the place, her brother has her back. He really would just go to her school and beat someone up if he thought they’d wronged her. She didn’t want him to do this exactly, but realizing that she could rely on him was something that she knew she would only come to appreciate more as time went on. She smiles at the older Maximoff before she starts to eat her burger. She needs to get back to school soon, but for now she’s just going to enjoy her time with her big brother.

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #mob au

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treason-and-plot · 1 year

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After lunch Georgina and Vinnie stroll hand in hand down the beach towards the Whale Museum. The weather is beautiful, as befitting their wedding day. The brilliance of the sunlight makes their eyes water. The clouds seem much further away than they do in Appaloosa Plains, the sky infinitely vaster. Georgina stops to stare at a big blue and white cruiser moored at a nearby jetty. The signage on the boat reads ‘Ocean Explorer 2’.

“Ocean Explorer 2!” says Georgina. “That’s one of the boats that does the Whale Watching tours. I recognise it from the brochures at the resort. Do you want to see if we can book a tour for tomorrow or the next day? It’d be amazing to see a whale in real life!”

“Your wish is my command, Girl,” says Vinnie.

There is a booking office on the jetty, and a sandwich board advertising scuba diving and other activities. A pretty brunette with poreless skin and lips that look artificially plumped introduces herself as Lavinia, and tells Georgina and Vinnie that the Whale Watching tour leaves the jetty at 8 am every day and returns at approximately 1 pm. Lunch is included in the price.

“We’d love to book two spots for tomorrow, if that’s okay,” says Georgina.

“Not a problem,” says Lavinia, taking her money. “Please arrive twenty minutes early. The boat leaves at 8 am sharp. The Captain won’t wait for stragglers. And there are no refunds if you can’t get here on time. We do offer a full refund if there are no whale sightings, although that is extremely unlikely. In the entire time the tours have been operational that’s only happened once. Unlike on other whale watching tours.”

“Okay, noted,” says Georgina, exchanging a glance with Vinnie. “Can we ask about the scuba diving as well? And all the other things you offer?”

Ten minutes later they are signed up for an extensive four-hour scuba diving session commencing tomorrow afternoon at 2 o'clock. The following day, Wednesday, is their last full day in the Islands, and Lavinia books them a windsurfing session at 11 am and water skiing at 1.30 pm.

"Thank you so much for all your help," says Georgina, as a man enters the office. She notices Lavinia's face grow pink.

"My pleasure," says Lavinia. "May I introduce you to the ship's captain? This is Raj Patel. Raj, Georgina and Vinnie have booked tickets for tomorrow's whale watching tour. As well a lot of other activities!"

Raj smiles without showing his teeth.

"Let me guess. You're on your honeymoon?" he says.

"Yes! How did you know?" says Georgina.

"You have a certain glow about you," he says. "Both of you."

"How did you know that wasn't just sunburn?" says Vinnie.

Raj laughs.

"Because I know the difference between love and sunburn," he says.

#Vinnie #Georgina #raj #elope to isla paradiso #5 years later #Cookie #sims 3 #ts3

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cardcaptorsakura96 · 8 months

Text

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 4

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Lena sat at a table outside of her favorite restaurant Eduardo’s. She was currently looking through the menu with one hand while the other hand was tapping quickly against the table.

She thought about her conversation with Supergirl a couple of hours ago, and it made her cringe.

I hate being beholden to someone like her. Who does she think she is anyway?

Lena sighed and shook her head. Normally when people think they had the upper hand on her she would pull out a wild card and lord her brilliance over them. However, Supergirl was the first person in a long time to point out her shortcomings which she loathed. Lena has always prided herself on being self-sufficient, and it irked her that she had to resort to gimmicks like superheroes in order to get people to see the merit of her hospital.

At least it is not that asshole. I can’t believe that goddess could be associated with a scum like him.

Lena immediately blushed at the thought.

Sure, Supergirl is attractive. Especially her muscular legs and arms. I wonder if she has a six-pack.

Lena quickly shook her head and sighed.

“I need to get out more,” she muttered.

I need to get back to the matter at hand. I refuse to let her think she won. I have one more trick up my sleeve if I could just play it just right.

She was lost in thought until she heard someone clear their throat.

Lena rolled her eyes, and said “It took you long enough to come back to take my order.”

She looked up and froze. Sam was standing next to her with a smirk on her face.

“Already having second thoughts I see.”

“How did you know I was here?” Lena croaked.

Sam nonchalantly pulled up a chair next to Lena, sat down, and took the menu out of her hand.

While perusing the menu, she said, “You and I have been best friends since high school. I think I know your more self-destructive habits by now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lena scoffed.

“When something seems too good to be true, you run in the opposite direction into something that is worse than the original option.”

Lena tried to grab the menu back from the clever brunette, but she was way too quick. Lena sat back and sulk.

“You still didn’t answer how you found me?”

“You’re lovely assistant Jess told me that you were meeting with mommy dearest today.”

“Traitor,” mumbled Lena.

Sam chuckled and said, “The saint deserves a raise.”

Lena turned away and muttered, “I don’t know why you both care that I went to see my mother anyway.”

“Because neither of us are blind. We know you are here to ask her to fund the hospital, and we will both quit if you go through with this.”

Lena narrowed her eyes and said, “You’re both bluffing.”

Sam took out her purse and produced two letters to hand to Lena. Her face went pale as she realized that they were resignation letters.

“I thought both of you liked my mother,” said Lena mystified.

Sam sighed and said, “Your mother is a lovely person when it comes to personal things like friendship and family. I will always be grateful to her for being an amazing support system to Ruby and me when my mom kicked me out of the house at an early age. However, your mom as a businesswoman is…..less than desirable.”

Lena sighed and said, “I know you believe that my mother’s methods are unsavory…"

“That is an understatement. Lillian got where she is today by fear and intimidation. It works with her company, but it doesn’t foster a lot of trust between her and her employees.”

“I know which is why I wasn’t going to ask her for the money.”

“You weren’t?” asked Sam, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I was just going to tell her about our recent dealings with Supergirl is all.”

Sam stared at her for a moment and started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” asked Lena, frowning.

“You think that your mom is going to give you the money to make you stay away from Supergirl.”

“Well, it is not like anyone in the family likes Superman anyway.”

“You do realize that Supergirl is her own person, right?”

Lena rolled her eyes and said, “That is what she keeps on saying.”

Sam shook her head and stared back up at Lena.

“Okay. Let’s say this plan of yours works. Do you really think your mom will just give you the money and not want anything in return?”

Lena looked down and started playing with the tablecloth.

“I do expect her to want to make some changes.”

“And what if we don’t agree with those changes? It would be really awkward to tell her no with us owing her billions of dollars.”

“It’s not like she would lord it over us.”

“I don’t think that she would do that, but I do believe the overall objective of the hospital will change if you go through with this.”

Lena frowned and said, “She knows how important it is for me to provide healthcare for children who couldn’t access it. She wouldn’t be so cruel as to cut that part out of the hospital.”

“I don’t think she would do it automatically. I think she would allow us to treat the current patients here because we made a commitment to them. However, she wouldn’t let anyone else enter the program.”

“You think she would phase it out like that?”

“I do. The thing is she would have some justification on her side. We are bleeding cash right now. If we had a proof of concept that something like this could be sustainable, it would be one thing, but…”

“Proving it to her would take more time than we have…” muttered Lena as she leaned back into her chair and sighed.

This hospital was something that Lena wanted to survive. She wanted to prove that a Luthor could do something to give back to the community instead of causing it’s destruction. She looked back at Sam forlorn.

“Supergirl is the only option.”

Lena hated that conclusion being forced on her, but she realized she couldn’t go through causing the integrity of the hospital to change.

Sam looked at her cheerfully and said, “Glad that you have come to acceptance on everything. Now, we need to figure out how to make Supercorp a thing.”

“What is a Supercorp?”

Lena and Sam both shrieked. They looked up and Lillian was standing across the table from them.

As she sat down she said, “I didn’t mean to scare you girls. What are you talking about that has you so captivated that you are not noticing your surroundings?”

Lena felt like her mind was short-circuiting. She knew her original thought was to tell her mother everything, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Lena quickly composed herself and said, “Nothing of importance. We were just hammering out a minor business issue.”

Lillian cocked her head for a moment with her eyes closed.

“Super…Super…Super…Wait, did you guys finally find a superhero to help with the hospital?” asked Lillian.

Lena and Sam gave each other bewildered looks.

I have to give it to my mother. She is always sharp.

Lena gave her a forced smile and said, “Actually, we have. However, it is at the beginning stages. No need to bore you with the details.”

Lillian chuckled and said, “Nonsense, I would love to hear all about it.”

“I think you would love this particular hero. They are new on the scene but we do believe that our partnership will do wonders with the hospital,” said Sam.

“Don’t oversell it,” muttered Lena while sulking.

Lillian looked at her daughter's expression and mannerisms and frowned. She sat back in her seat and sighed.

“What is wrong with this person?” asked Lillian.

“Lillian, what makes you think there is something wrong?” asked Sam.

“My daughter over there is a nervous wreck.”

“Hey!”

“What? It is true. You have one hand quickly tapping on the table and the other one keeps twisting at the tablecloth. Is this superhero you got mediocre? As long it isn’t that moron Booster Gold, it shouldn’t do anything to tarnish the hospital.”

Lena sighed and looked away.

Lillian moved her chair closer to Lena and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

“My dear, it will be okay. We could always give that Booster idiot some etiquette lessons and media training. We can make it work.”

“It isn’t him,” Lena muttered.

“Then, who is it?”

Lena hesitated for a couple of moments, turned to her mother, and said softly, “Supergirl.”

Lena quickly looked away and awaited to be berated, but nothing came. She looked up and was startled to see that her mom had a faraway look about her.

“Is everything okay Mom?”

Lillian looked back at her puzzled, but then quickly changed back to a warm smile.

“Everything’s fine dear.”

Lena stared at her startled and said, “Really? You don’t think this is a terrible idea?”

“Why would I?”

“Given Lex’s issues with Superman, I just thought that you would….”

“Support his obsession with him. You need to give me a little more credit than that.”

“Then, why don’t you say anything about his antics?”

“What makes you think I don’t? He just ignores me like everyone else who doesn’t agree with him.”

“But you still fund his endeavors. It is one of the reasons why he doesn’t harass you.”

Lillian shook her head and chuckled.

“What?”

“You know what your brother’s version of love is. Do you think that I am a willing participant in some of the things he does?”

Lena stared at her startled.

“Has he threatened you?”

Lillian grabbed Lena and Sam’s hands and said, “Lex tends to exploit weaknesses and knows that I would do anything to protect you girls and Ruby. The only silver lining is that he has only wanted money so far.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” asked Lena

“Yeah, we could have come up with something to help,” said Sam.

Lillian shook her head and said, “This is something for me to worry about. Besides, I would rather talk about the plans that you have for Miss Supergirl.”

Lena and Sam shared a knowing look. She knew that she couldn’t push the issue anymore with her mother, but that wouldn’t stop Sam and her from figuring out ways to help her later. She shook her head. She was baffled at Lex’s antics. Lex had always tortured her because she was illegitimate. However, she thought that he would never mess with Lillian. He always seemed such a mama’s boy.

One day I will put that psychotic asshole in his place.

Lena shook her head out of her thoughts as she heard part of what Sam was telling her mom.

“Well, Supergirl says that she will provide promotional videos and photos for the hospital and participate in fundraising events,” said Sam.

“That sounds very generous,” said Lillian

“It is not like she is doing it out of the goodness of her heart. She needs to work back the damage she has done for the government, and she believes this will help disassociate her image from Superman,” muttered Lena.

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” said Lillian.

“It isn’t genuine.”

“Not all things in business are. When an opportunity arises, you don’t hesitate or scoff at it. You quickly embrace it.”

“So you think I should just not worry about her motives?” asked Lena sarcastically.

“I didn’t say all that. Take the opportunity, but you should go in with your eyes wide open. You never want to allow anyone to get the upper hand.”

Lena shook her head and went back to looking at her menu.

Lillian chuckled, turned to Sam, and said, “I am sorry that I was late to Ruby’s recital last night. By chance, do you have any pictures?”

“Sure, let me send them to you.”

As Sam looked for her phone, Lillian looked down at her own with a frown. She quickly typed out a message and clicked send: We need to talk. We have a situation brewing.

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oblivions-dawn · 9 months

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Reaching for that Midnight WIP

It's been a while--and I'm very late to this. I don't have a lot to share, but since it's been so long and I could use a confidence boost I figured. Why not, right? Thank you @thequeenofthewinter @maldov @tallmatcha @blossom-adventures and countless others for tagging me in their WIPs. I love seeing all of your beautiful work--it genuinely brings a smile to my face <3 Consider all of you, plus @thelavenderelf @mikasura-art and @fallen-chances tagged for this upcoming Wednesday >:3c Or whenever, really. Obviously I don't know how to follow protocol-- Anyway. We're in chapter two of the sequel! And here's what I have so far. Hope you enjoy!

Less than a week later, they had arrived at their destination—but Vigdis could only groan once Mournloaf crossed the bridge and entered the threshold of the village.

The sun’s rays beamed down on the small town, its brilliance signalling midday. A grand mountain loomed just beyond, its shadow nowhere to be found, its sharp peak piercing the clear blue sky. Few villagers busied themselves with chores, their arms full of firewood or wheat or buckets of fish. Birds chirped noisily, their songs joined by the cries of a distant elk as pungent river water wafted through the air.

Vigdis dismounted Mournloaf and led her towards the inn, where she secured the reins to a hitching post. She turned just as Serana’s boots hit the ground with a soft thud. Even though her leather hood obscured her dark hair and shadowed her pale face, her persimmon eyes still squinted from the brightness. The hunter snorted derisively, which instantly earned her a dirty look.

“What?” the vampire snapped, her hands on her hips. “It’s so bright out here. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“I don’t,” Vigdis quipped as she crossed her arms.

“Then let’s get indoors; or in a cave. Anywhere—just out of this.”

Vigdis’ lip twitched as she shook her head. Although it wasn’t the first time Serana had complained about the sun, she found the brunette’s discomfort almost amusing.

#Senu's Writing #Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #Skyrim OC #Vigdis #Serana #Serana Volkihar #It felt right to use the snarky Serana lines that we all know and love <3 #After hearing them for a decade I find them very endearing c: So it feels really good when I find a pretty natural way to use them #Anyway. Sorry there isn't more. I'm hoping to make more progress on it this week <33

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spritehouse · 7 months

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It Hurts to Hope for More

read on ao3 here

Prompts: "I'm not as stupid as you think I am" (no. 19), "You will regret touching them" (no. 20), & "Don't move" (no. 21) | @whumptober-archive

⚠️Content Warnings: drug and alcohol addiction + cravings and references/discussion of using both (but no scenes of either) and domestic abuse/violence, including (non-graphic) strangulation Please read responsibly!

Pairing: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid (main) & Luke Alvez/OFC

Summary: The second time they see each other is the same, just like their first—their real first– “Hey– I– My name’s Spencer, and I’m–” “Hi.” The younger brunette approaches first, finding Luke pouring himself a cup of room-temperature coffee at the refreshment table. “Hey. Spencer, right?” Luke asks as if he hasn’t spent almost every second since the park thinking of him, smiling when he nods. “Want a cup?” Spencer shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “That stuff is gross, and I have a germ thing.” “Yeah, it’s shit,” Luke agrees, sipping his coffee with a grimace, pausing for a beat before making eye contact with Spencer. “Wanna go somewhere better?”

- or, spencer and luke meet around s3 at an AA meeting and get close before luke disappears one day... and reappears 10 years later

The first time they meet, Roxy almost knocks the young, twenty-something Doctor Reid off his feet, Luke chasing her and apologizing profusely–

No.

The first time they meet, strangers locking eyes across the room, Spencer is standing on the stage, stumbling over his words and stuttering through sentences, fumbling with his fingers–

“Hello– Hi, my name is Spencer and I– I’m–”

Freshly sober and craving, desperate, wondering why he’s here instead of in his apartment getting high, floating and forgetting, wishing he was weaker–

“I don’t know what I am.”

And Luke is in the audience, watching a man too young to be an agent, to experience what he has, sipping his shitty coffee silently, nodding because he knows.

But the anonymity of the meetings protects them, letting them keep a safe distance—at an arm’s length, not close enough to let someone with the same self-destructive tendencies touch—the first time they meet is at the park, Roxy almost sweeping Spencer off his feet, then Luke finishing the job with a face the genius can’t forget.

“Sorry, she isn’t usually like this,” Luke apologizes, clipping Roxy’s leash to her collar as she sniffs curiously at the stranger—Spencer, a name he can’t forget, not because of an eidetic memory, but his brilliance and beauty—the younger brunette’s shoulders tensing as she wags her tail. “She’s not aggressive, just too energetic.”

“Dogs don’t usually like me.” He explains, eyeing Roxy apprehensively as she sits beside her owner, whining softly when he pauses. “Can I– Can I pet her? I don't want to upset her–”

“Yeah, of course! She’ll love anyone who feeds her if you want to give her a treat.” Luke offers, Roxy perking up at the mention of food as the younger man shuffles forward, holding his hand out hesitantly.

“Oh, okay,” Spencer nods, taking a treat from Luke and offering it to the dog, watching rigidly while she eats it. “What’s her name?”

“Roxy,” She looks up at Luke as he tosses her another treat, dropping her leash to let her catch it. “And I’m Luke.”

“Spencer,” He smiles, anxiety melting away as he scratches Roxy behind the ear. “Nice to meet you.”

The second time they see each other is the same, just like their first—their real first–

“Hey– I– My name’s Spencer, and I’m–”

“Hi.” The younger brunette approaches first, finding Luke pouring himself a cup of room-temperature coffee at the refreshment table.

“Hey. Spencer, right?” Luke asks as if he hasn’t spent almost every second since the park thinking of him, smiling when he nods. “Want a cup?”

Spencer shakes his head, scrunching his nose.

“That stuff is gross, and I have a germ thing.”

“Yeah, it’s shit,” Luke agrees, sipping his coffee with a grimace, pausing for a beat before making eye contact with Spencer. “Wanna go somewhere better?”

Which is how they end up at an empty 24/7 diner, sharing a slice of pie and drinking too much coffee—one with at least five packets of sugar added to every mug and the other unsweetened—as the sun sets.

“Does it ever get easier?” Spencer asks in a lull between their light conversation. “You know… standing up there, saying it? All that?”

“I don’t know about easier, but you get used to it,” Luke answers honestly, watching his company rub his knuckles together with a hum, studying the people passing on the street.

“How’s Roxy?”

“She’s good; we went on a run this morning, which she loves. It’s been a while since I had time to take her out for a few hours.” Spencer nods, finishing his cup of coffee. “Do you have any pets?”

“I can barely take care of myself.” Spencer scoffs, pouring another cup before grabbing a handful of sugar packets.

“It can help, having something else to take care of; you have to get up for them—forces you to have a routine—and they’ll keep you company,” Luke offers. “I got Roxy after I came back from Iraq.”

“You served?”

“75th Rangers,” He nods. “One of my specialties was animal training, which helped, and she helps with panic attacks.” Luke pauses before adding, “And cats are pretty low maintenance since dogs don’t like you.”

“They poop in a box.”

“And they’re some of the cleanest pets,” The older brunette chuckles. “They’re independent and can be largely left alone for a while.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna push, but I can help if you’re not opposed–”

Spencer’s phone cuts him off, rings cutting through the timeless bubble around their booth, making the younger man frown.

“Sorry, I have to–”

“Go,” Luke waves him off. “I’ve got it. Go catch a killer.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Next time, then.” Spencer stands, grabbing his coat, then pauses, smiling with a sudden rush of courage coursing through him, heart skipping a beat.

“It’s a date.”

It’s been a week.

“Hey! Boy Wonder! What brings you to my cave of wonders?”

Spencer prides himself in his intellect; that’s no secret.

“Garcia, I need your powers for something… personal…”

An IQ of 187, three PhDs, two BAs, and an eidetic memory–

“I need to get someone’s number.”

–means nothing, he’s learned, when he meets someone who makes him stumble over his words, racing thoughts stuck in his throat, butterflies building in his stomach like a high schooler, forgetting to ask for their number.

“His name is–”

He told himself he wouldn’t ask Penelope—that would be invasive and creepy—that he would ask next time they talked, but it’s been ten days since the team returned to Quantico, and he hasn’t seen the man who has him overthinking more than usual, somehow, revisiting and revising every conversation, they’ve had–

“Hey, you’ve reached Luke Alvez–”

–but, genius or not, he’s also desperate and helplessly head-over-heels for him.

“Hello– Hi, Luke. Hey, it’s Spencer–”

Derek is never going to let him live this down.

It’s another three days until they see each other again, Spencer sitting in the same booth at the diner, tapping his fingers against the table as he waits.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Luke–” He stands, stopping when they make eye contact, updating every inch of Luke’s face in his memory.

He looks like shit, eye bags dark and heavy around exhausted eyes, shoulders slumped and self-conscious–

“What happened?” Spencer reaches out instinctively, fingers brushing across a dark bruise on his friend’s cheek, pulling his hand away from the black and blue skin when he flinches.

“Sorry, I– I don’t like people touching my face,” Luke says quickly, shaking his head as he sits on his side of the booth before the young brunette can process or profile his reaction. “I had to break up an argument between some friends at the bar; perks of being the sober one.”

“Right… yeah,” Spencer nods, sliding into his seat again. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you off–”

“It’s not that, I promise,” Luke cuts him off. “I haven’t been honest, and I think I gave you the wrong idea. I’m sorry.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and leaning forward. “I have a girlfriend. We were taking a break when we met—I messed up, and she was mad at me—but she reached out and accepted my apology while you were away, and I’ve spent this week trying to make it up to her. I’m sorry. I know it’s not an excuse to lead you on like that–”

“It’s okay,” Spencer says quickly, slipping into his mask of professionalism as the older man speaks. “You weren’t leading me on, and I’m sorry for assuming. I’m glad everything worked out.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to–”

“Luke,” The younger brunette reaches out, hesitating, hand hovering over his, biting his bottom lip for a second before pulling away, making eye contact with him. “I like spending time with you and talking to you, and it’s nice to have someone who understands my shit. I want to be your friend if you want that; that’s all.”

“Okay,” Luke nods, his grin making Spencer’s heart flutter, smiling to match his mood. “I– Thank you, Spence–” His stomach sinks as the nickname slips past Luke’s lips. “You’re the best.”

The next time they crash together, like waves colliding against the shore, complicating the steady relationship– friendship they’ve built, it’s after midnight months later, Luke’s phone ringing, making his girlfriend groan, covering her head with her pillow.

“Alvez–”

“Luke?” Spencer’s voice is small, cracking as he speaks, making Luke shoot up, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he gets out of bed.

“Spencer? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“No– No, I fucked up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called–”

“No, no, it’s okay, Spence. It’s okay. Just stay on the line. Okay? Keep talking to me. Can you do that?” He stumbles through the dark, grabbing a pair of shoes and a sweatshirt as he listens to Spencer’s quiet sobs, covering his mic to mumble an apology, ignoring Kate’s pointed glares, before leaving the room.

“–Sorry. I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to apologize–”

“–it’s stupid. I’m sorry–”

“It’s not stupid, Spence, you’re hurting, and I’m sorry you’re going through this; it sucks, but I’m glad you called.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Spence. We’re friends, and I want to help you. Can you tell me where you are?”

There’s a pause, anxiety building in Luke’s stomach, threatening to overflow into his throat as he starts his car before his phone vibrates, his friend’s location appearing on his map.

“Okay, Spence, I’m on my way. Keep talking to me; tell me about the origins of Halloween or something—just let me hear that beautiful voice. I’m coming.”

He finds Spencer near the park where they met, the younger brunette curled up on the curb, clutching his phone with trembling hands like a lifeline.

“Spence–”

He stands, almost running to Luke, shoving a plastic bag into his hands before stumbling back, shaking as he stares at his friend, studying his reaction.

“Thank you,” Luke speaks softly, breaking the suffocating self-hatred hanging around Spencer, tucking the baggy into his pocket. “Thank you for calling me.”

“I don’t want to be here,” Spencer whispers, eyes glued to the ground, shuffling forward until he’s leaning into Luke’s arms, burying his face in his friend’s sweatshirt. “I want it to stop.”

“I know. I know, Spence. I’m sorry,” Luke sighs, holding him against his chest. “Why don’t we go back to your place–”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I don’t wanna go home… please…”

“Okay,” The older man nods, gently leading Spencer to his car. “Okay, we’ll go to mine—I’ll talk to Kate—it’ll be okay, Spence. It’s okay.”

The drive is quiet, Spencer leaning against the door, watching the world go by, Luke glancing at him at red lights and stop signs, heart racing, roaring in his ears. Spencer’s been to his apartment once while Kate was away, but they’ve never met; she doesn’t even know he exists.

“Is this okay?” The younger man asks when they arrive, watching his friend lean back, taking a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.

“Yeah– Yes. It’s fine. Kate has an early meeting tomorrow morning, so she might not be thrilled about this–” That’s probably the biggest understatement of the century, but Spencer’s guard is down, letting the lie slip past with ease. “–but she’ll understand.”

She won’t do anything stupid with someone over, Luke hopes, holding his breath as he gets out of the car.

“Sorry, I’ll try to be quiet.” Spencer frowns, following his friend, leaning against Luke as he drapes an arm around the younger brunette’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Spence, really; she’ll understand.”

Spencer hums, following him to the door like a lost puppy—shaking mostly subsided as they enter the apartment.

“Kate?”

All of the lights in the kitchen are on, illuminating a woman with pale skin and blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail waiting for them, watching her boyfriend and a stranger walk in, Luke locking the door behind them.

“Hey–”

She stops him before he can hug her, holding up a hand, an open beer bottle in her grasp.

“It’s one in the morning, Luke,” She turns, looking around Luke, making eye contact with Spencer. “And who’re you?”

“I’m–”

“Kate, this is Spencer, my friend—we met at the park. Spencer, this is Kate, my girlfriend.”

Clear-headed or not, Spencer can profile the blonde easily—how she holds herself with an air of superiority, head held high, shoulders stiff—and Luke’s posture changing in response, leaning forward, shrinking in on himself.

He’s seen this dynamic before.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for calling so late–”

“You’re okay, Spence–” Kate raises an eyebrow as the nickname slips past Luke’s lips, mouth pressed into a firm line. “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll grab some blankets for you on my way back.”

“Are you sure–?”

“Spencer.” They make eye contact, wide eyes silently pleading with Spencer to leave the room, his heart pounding, every instinct telling him something is wrong, alarms going off in his head.

“Okay,” He relents, seeing the desperation in his friend’s face. “I’ll be in the living room… thanks…”

“Where’d you two meet?” Kate asks, crossing her arms, when Spencer leaves.

“Kate–”

“Luke.”

“An AA meeting.” He finally surrenders with a sigh, watching his girlfriend scowl.

“You brought an addict into our apartment and didn’t think to ask me first?”

“I’m an addict–”

“You like alcohol; you aren’t a fucking junkie–”

“He’s my friend,” Luke spits through grit teeth. “And you can say whatever you want about me, but you will not say that shit about him.” He stands up straight, staring at Kate, challenging her.

Above all else, Luke is a protector, even if it means taking the fall for a friend.

“We’ll talk more later,” Kate responds, her voice low and dangerous, a threat. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t be loud.”

The second to last time they see each other, it’s at the same diner, talking over pie and coffee again as the sun sets, light laughter filling the air between them.

“I’ve missed this,” Spence says between strings of small talk, smiling, despite what’s about to happen—what he’s about to do—practiced words perched on his tongue, lingering on his lips, waiting to be breathed to life. “I’ve missed you.”

Luke’s been pulling away.

It’s hard to miss; how he stopped staying after meetings for shitty coffee and conversation, slowly at first, then disappearing from them, telling Spencer he found a different group that fit his schedule, then stopped answering his friend’s texts and calls, only reaching out to say he’s busy or cancel plans, and Spencer wants to deny it—he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, making it real—but Luke is slipping through his fingers, almost lost to the sea of faces that have left the genius.

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t been available recently; life’s been pretty hectic.” Spencer nods, sipping his coffee before setting his mug down with a soft thud.

“How’s Kate?”

His silence is sharp—painful—like inhaling in the cold that brings frost-bitten faces and frozen fingers too fast, lungs aching and protesting something so human, the very thing keeping you alive.

“Spencer–”

“Luke,” Spencer reaches out—towards his friend’s hands resting on the table—stopping when Luke pulls away, looking out the window to his right. “I’m worried about you–”

“Don’t. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Luke–”

“She’s my girlfriend and my best friend, Spencer—we grew up together—she knows me–”

“I’m worried about your sobriety.”

The older man freezes, frowning, before taking a deep breath.

“Don’t.”

He might not be a profiler, but he knows how to get in someone’s head.

“I’m not some fucked up addict like you–”

The words still sting, even if Spencer understands he doesn’t mean it, that Luke is just afraid, saying whatever he can to get him to back off.

“I’m not going to drink myself to death,” His words are like venom on his lips, bitter as they bleed together into a twisted knot of deflected vulnerability. “And I might not be a genius, but I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Spencer. I know you want to be more than friends; I just didn’t think you’d go this far to try to get it.”

“Luke, please–”

“You don’t love me; you’re just scared of being alone,” Luke stands, grabbing his jacket before pushing the bill to Spencer. “You owe me one.”

“It’s a date.”

“Bye, Spencer; I’ll see you around.”

The last time they see each other, it goes like this:

It’s the night after Luke left Spencer in that diner, the younger brunette sitting on his couch, letting himself sink in his self-pity, replaying every memory of them when a knock echoes through his empty apartment.

“Luke–?”

“I’m sorry,” He freezes, taking sight of his friend, eyes bloodshot and unfocuses, flitting back and forth, cheeks red and tear-stained, and the bruises, black and blue blooming around his neck in a shape Spencer knows all too well, ones he’s seen enough of to imagine her hands around his throat, squeezing– “–sorry. I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Luke,” Spencer pulls himself out of his head, leading Luke inside, locking the door behind them. “It’s okay, Luke. I’m not mad; I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sorry,” His voice is hoarse and rapidly fading, pain seeping through with every syllable as he repeats himself, chanting apologies like a mantra as if saying it enough will erase whatever happened in the last 24 hours. “I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay, Luke. Look at me,” Spencer can’t stop himself before he reaches out, cupping Luke’s face, almost choking on a sob when he flinches away almost violently–

“I don’t like people touching my face.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Luke; I’m not going to hurt you–” He pauses, frowning when his friend doesn’t react, realizing he’s not conscious, not completely, drifting in a daze, apologies dying before they leave his lips. “Okay, let’s get you to the couch. I’m going to touch you now; is that okay?”

He doesn’t react as Spencer steps forward, gently threading their fingers together to lead Luke into the living room, grabbing a blanket to wrap around his shoulders before sitting him on the sofa.

“Luke,” The younger brunette kneels in front of him, holding his hands as he speaks. “Can you hear me?”

“You were right. I’m sorry,” Luke whispers, leaning forward into his friend’s arms, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I’m not upset,” Spencer assures him, settling beside him and letting him lean on his shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe; I’m not mad.”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry–”

“No. Luke, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Okay? You’re not stupid—you loved and trusted her—that’s not your fault. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”

Luke nods, letting his eyes flutter closed as he lays his head on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I haven’t slept…”

“It’s okay; I’ve got you,” The younger man whispers, resting a gentle hand on his head. “Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Spencer doesn’t remember when he fell asleep that night, drifting off with Luke in his arms, the time blurring and bleeding together, concern watering down usually vivid memories, his focus fixed on his friend, not the fine details.

But he remembers waking up alone.

He remembers waking up without Luke, a blanket draped over him with care, his friend’s phone waiting on the coffee table for him to find.

Spencer remembers, down to the second, when he realized he had let Luke slip out of his grasp, disappearing into a distant memory.

They meet again for the first time almost ten years later, two familiar figures changed with time, Spencer growing into suits and himself, standing a little taller than he did a decade ago, walking into the conference room and freezing when eyes—still tired but shining in a way they lacked when he was twenty-six—find his–

“Luke?”

He’s different too, more relaxed, sure of himself, his hair longer and a beard where stubble sat, but undeniably him—the man from memories faded with time but never forgotten.

“Spencer.”

Behind him, Hotch raises an eyebrow, watching the scene unfold silently.

“You– You’re here– Why are you here?”

“I’m helping with your escaped serial killer problem.” He holds up a folder, something silver catching Spencer’s eye.

“That’s new.” The younger brunette’s eyes follow his hand, staring at the silver band around Luke’s finger.

“Oh, yeah, um,” He hesitates, fidgeting with the ring. “It’s a… new development…”

Spencer frowns, studying him, eyes unconsciously falling to Luke’s neck, finding a new scar against his skin.

“Right… I bet she isn’t used to it yet.”

Hotch clears his throat as the older brunette’s hand covers the side of his neck, jaw clenched, breaking the unwavering eye contact that would’ve made Spencer’s skin crawl before, both agents turning to the unit chief.

“Reid, Agent Alvez was part of the team that took down our killer, Daniel Cullen, and will be assisting on this case. Will that be a problem for you?”

“No, sir,” Spencer shakes his head, voice and shoulders stiffening. “Sorry.”

“Luke,” Spencer catches the older agent walking to the elevator after the case. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier; I was just… surprised. As long as you’re happy and safe, I’m happy for you.”

“I am, and I’m sorry for ghosting you like that—it was a pretty fucked up time–”

“She almost killed you.” Spencer wants to argue, holding his tongue as Luke speaks.

“And you didn’t deserve that, but things are better now. Kate’s sober and in therapy, and she’s doing better; it’s good.”

“Good– That’s great. I’m glad,” Spencer smiles, ignoring how his gut twists, alarm bells echoing through his head. “And I heard about the job; congratulations,” He pauses, biting his bottom lip and sliding his hands into his pockets, sighing. “Can we… be friends again?”

“Of course, man. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They grow close again, spending days off at the park and nights at the younger agent’s apartment or the diner, catching up after ten years apart, sharing the good and the bad, the strip of silver around Luke’s finger reminding Spencer of that night, memories replaying in his head.

“It’s not a wedding band; we aren’t married,” Luke says one night, catching Spencer staring at it. “She doesn’t want to.”

“I thought you did.”

“I want a huge wedding with all of my family and friends there,” Luke told Spencer one night, talking about how they imagined their futures. “I’ve wanted it ever since I was a kid.”

“I want her to be happy,” He shrugs instead, “I don’t need it.”

Spencer sighs, pushing the empty pie plate to the end of the table before folding his hands calmly, keeping them in Luke’s sight.

“Luke,” He tried to leave it alone, afraid of driving his friend away again, leaving him alone if– when he’ll help again, but Spencer can’t ignore his instincts forever. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I’m still worried about you with her–”

“Spencer–”

“That’s all I’m going to say—I’m not telling you to leave her or that I think she’s going to hurt you—I just want you to know that I’ll be here, no questions asked, even if it doesn’t involve her, I’ve got your back.”

Luke nods, staying silent as he stares at his friend.

“Thanks, Spence,” He says after a second, smiling softly, making Spencer’s heart flutter the same way it did when they first met. “Thank you.”

It happens a year later, after Mexico and prison, Cat Adams and Scratch, after their jobs turn everything upside down.

“I’ve been craving a lot recently,” Luke says in the silence sitting between them, two forks poking at a slice of pie. “These past few months have…”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees when his friend trails off, finishing his third cup of coffee that night. “But we’re both here and sober; that’s something.”

There’s a pregnant pause, hesitation hanging in the air of the quiet diner as Luke looks down at his drink.

“Kate isn’t.” He says softly, Spencer’s eyes widening at the admission.

“When– Why didn’t you–?”

“You were in prison, Spence. I didn’t want to worry you, and you couldn’t have done anything anyway; I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad, I promise. I’m not mad.” Spencer assures him, rubbing his knuckles together and watching someone standing on the street outside. “Has she…?”

Luke nods, rubbing the side of his neck, fingers tracing the scar across the skin there.

“Okay,” Spencer sighs, leaning forward, placing his hands, palms up on the table between them—an offering. “How can I help?”

“I–” Luke swallows, looking around before placing his trembling hands in Spencer’s, letting him hold them gently. “I’m scared. I want to leave, but I’m so scared, Spence. I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Is she home right now?” Luke shakes his head. “Okay. We can go to your apartment and get some things, and you can stay with me for as long as you need. She won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Spencer squeezes his hands, watching Luke’s shoulders shake, jaw clenched as he processes everything.

“Okay,” He breathes softly, nodding. “Okay, yeah– yes. Let’s do it.”

“What about Roxy? Does your apartment allow pets?” Luke asks, hands shaking as he grabs Roxy’s things, flinching when he drops her bowl while trying to pack it.

“It does, and if you ever need a break, I know Penelope would be more than happy to take care of her,” Spencer assures him, gently taking Luke’s bag from his tense, trembling grip before picking up the bowl. “We’ll figure everything out–”

“What if she shows up at your apartment?”

“Then I’ll take care of her. She won’t touch you,” Spencer says, tossing Roxy a treat as Luke stuffs a few of her toys into the bag. “And she can’t show up at work; I can tell security to arrest her if she does if you want.”

Luke doesn’t respond, shrugging as he disappears into the bedroom, the younger brunette listening to him dig through his drawers.

“Doctor Reid.”

The door shuts loudly behind her, Roxy growling as Spencer turns around.

“Kate,” He slides his hands into his pockets casually, feigning politeness, eyes fixed on her as he steps between the blonde and the bedroom door. “Nice to see you again.”

“Where’s Luke?” She clenches her jaw, stepping toward Spencer until he stops her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t move.” He speaks in her ear, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with disdain, daring her to fight him. “Here’s what’s going to happen; you are going to stay out here– or better yet, you are going to leave until we are gone, and you’re not going to follow us or try to contact him or any of his friends and family again, or I’ll make you regret ever touching him. I will have you arrested for any charges I can get to stick, and then I’ll stick you in the same jail as a serial killer who is obsessed with me and call in a few favors. Do you understand?”

She nods silently, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Good,” He forces her hand open, dropping a silver ring in her palm before pushing her, sending Kate stumbling back. “Get out of here.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Luke emerges from his room with a suitcase, patting Roxy on the head. “All of this is my shit; I’m sorry I dragged you into it–”

“I wanted to,” Spencer assures him, shaking his head. “I’m sorry if I went a bit overboard, but I’m not sorry for helping you with this. You’re my friend, and you deserve to be safe and happy–”

“I love you,” Luke cuts him off, his heart racing, blood roaring in his ears as he blurts out the words that have sat on his tongue for so long. “As a friend, yes—you’re my best friend, Spence—but almost more than that, and I know this is really, really shitty timing, and neither of us is in the right place to start anything, if there is anything to start, but I have to tell you before I move in with you, and if you don’t want to–”“I love you too,” Spencer says, surprisingly calm, despite the sirens screaming through his skin, thoughts shutting down as he speaks. “And I agree, we aren’t in any position to start anything, but I do, and we have six months to figure it– us out before we have to go back to work, and I don’t care if nothing happens between us, I just need you to know that I love you. I love you, Luke, and I have loved you for so long, and I want to wake up next to you and get a fucking cat with you. I love you.”

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person-behind-books · 8 months

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part 1

Where once they had been brunette, they now were raven haired.

Where once their eyes shone sky blue, they now were ocean green.

Where once they had been old and wise, megumi now is young and foolish.

Where once sukuna had looked upon them with a pleased benevolence, now the sight filled him with unquenchable fury.

Where once their soul shone with unparalleled brilliance there now was a stain marring its core.

He had loved megumi. Loved her from the moment she smiled as she tore apart that curse and saved him. Loved her to the moment that she burned his alters and ripped him apart. Her face had been so cold that moment.

It still was cold now, fear flashing in their eyes and body tense but their face blank.

The young god stood infront of them an intrigued grimace on their face, no doubt conflicted by the instincts that just flared to life in their being.

Sukuna has just decided to tear the god apart for shielding megumi from him, when something grabs his consciousness and pulls. Startled, sukuna follows, ending buried beneath the something, trapped by its soul.

It is the mortal soul of his vessel, but it bears a strange familiarity.

part 3

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gods au #sukufushi #megumi fushiguro

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rosebudpotion · 1 year

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@lightcreators cont from {x}

🌹" That sounds like a threat Draco. You better watch yourself and who you threaten...." It would only be a matter of years before they will all be learning hard and more dangerous spells. Sure the blond had a step up on Harry in terms of study but a spell doesn't have to be dangerous to be effective.

As she was already showing with a simple levitation spell. Harry was getting by somehow though. He'd made it this far with small problems, sure Draco was petty but it could only get him so far.

"So this snake is yellow-bellied. Good to know that if one ever needs your help not to ask for it. There's being reasonable and then theirs making a habit of being a coward Malfoy. Then again, since you strive to be your father I guess you get it from him." If he wanted to bring parents into this then she'll shoot. There were so many things that the witch could pull to embarrass the young Malfoy.

Then again perhaps even bad publicity was still publicity? Rose doubted that really hard when most wizarding families tried to keep their noses clean nowadays.

Rose turned to face Harry," I would believe that you aspire to be good at Quidditch, correct? Youngest Seeker in a century if I recall and it's a talent your father had? I'd say that's an aspiration if anything" She was flat-out ignoring the blond at this point trying to fill the air with something more pleasant.

Too bad the fellow Slyithern knew how to anger her now. Why was it so funny to him that someone not having proper parental units was a good thing? Nobody asked to be an orphan after all.

"I did not know you lived with your aunt as well Harry....though....just that you lived with Muggles...." She didn't like the sarcasm coming from Draco on the matter. The touchy subject really if he could joke about something like that. Then again perhaps she'd never hear him be serious with Potter as the main topic.

Her head snapped back to Malfoy her milky eyes filled with rage." Do not speak ill of my father, your family especially. At least he confessed to his crimes and has taught me plenty. My aunts take me to see him during the summer for your information." Rose hated going to Azbakan, it was an awful and cold place. Darkest of the dark and being she'd been bathed/ born in it that was saying something.

Honestly, it was one good thing that the two had once a year though Rose felt awful about it being that the Dementors would just suck all that happiness away in the end.

"With great power comes great responsibility. Yes, it is indeed the wrong manner to use one's brilliance but ....perhaps one-day things will change. After all, this is only our second year....unless Malfoy is going for a record of being the most annoying person in the wizarding world. If that's the case he might gain it by the end of the year~" She smirked and giggled covering her mouth so that the noise didn't get too far.

She really was trying to give him encouragement that not everything was what it seemed but perhaps he'd just been beaten down too hard for the day. The brunette couldn't blame him on the matter and shook her head. " I keep being told that such brattiness is 'acting our age or kids will be kids' nonsense really ....."

Rose wanted to be shocked that nobody had told him about his father's lineage, bizarre and unfair. Then again, perhaps that's why they sent him to live with Muggles? So that he didn't become like Malfoy?

"Yes, all three of our families are part of the famous grouping of families. Even your friend Ron....though ......" It was clear she was looking to find the proper words. "...... Sometimes horrible things happen to good families..."

Rose had nothing against the Wheasly family, though her aunts did being that they didn't care for how 'mutty' they looked. The young witch thought it funny given the eldest of the triplet aunts had just as wild and crazy ginger curls.

"Hmm, perhaps I'll just ask my aunts in my next owl... perhaps they can give me a little help.....or maybe they can teach us how to turn Malfoy into a cat .... it's what my Aunts do with naught muggle kids around our place~" Another round of giggling. 🌹

#lightcreators #{blind watching eyes: student au

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alenales · 1 year

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Valentine's Day for Nevra/Spika and Nevra/Alya couples

Spica belongs to @mooniet

Probably everyone wants to spend their loved ones day only in their own couple, but sometimes ideas to combine celebrations come and now, when the evening was coming in one parallel universe, where a lot was already united with another or just happened to fall for a while, one very curious person, walking under the arm of a cold looking vampire approached another couple, which had the same vampire, but more joyful in life and his favorite vampire.

-Alya, Alya. - With a smile said the blonde, turning to the other. - Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Would you and Nevra like to spend it with us in the clearing, near the beach? The brunette was surprised at such a suggestion, but could not say no to the one who happened to be in their universe.

-Perhaps, but don't you want to be alone this day?

-No, we've decided to spend it with company today. Well, company's company, and they're kind of like couples. After agreement, they went to their rooms and we will find out how it goes tomorrow. **** The moment of the meeting at the gate. Alya as well as Spika had prepared various treats for this little picnic and met closer to evening when a little fog began to cover the plain and the voices heard from the square were already distant. The couples spent the first part of the day walking separately through the market with the children and what was set up at headquarters.

The brunette was still unwilling to let go of the children who remained with Nevra's mother, who attacked not only Alya, but also Spica with her remarks. She really didn't like who her son had tied his life to.

-Nevra, I still don't understand what you see in both of them! - She looked from one to the other in the parallel room.

-It's not your business, Mother, it's mine. And she is beautiful in every way, my dark angel! - Angrily the more cheerful vampire replied.

-I agree, I'm free to choose with whom to tie my fate! Trying not to swear in front of the children of one of the families, Maora still left the couple-s.

-Is everyone ready? - Asked Spika with a smile, she knew that Nevra's mother was nowhere near fond of her sons' choices, so she tried to distract right away.

-Yes, I saved some delicious cookies. - Alya answered her and confirmed the local Nevra.

-She is a good cook at my place and made them herself in the kitchen! The couples, having oriented themselves, went outside the gates of the headquarters, where they laid something like a sheet on the grass and sat down on it. The boys opened a bottle of the drink they had saved for the occasion, and the girls laid out some snacks. And then they sat down next to each other, embracing their loved ones.

-I'm so glad we're all here now! - Spica continued the conversation, she looked back and forth with a smile to her Nevra, to the more cheerful one who kissed Alya on the cheek, and to the brunette one who kept up with her. - Alya, we do not communicate much because of the affairs of the world, can you tell me how do you spend this holiday? - She was very interested, because she was not from here, and there could be different traditions.

-It's pretty much the same. - The brunette began to answer her, stroking the cheek of her Nevra. - I don't remember there being any contests, or it's just that my town was so small that they didn't even have tents, just couples walking together in the evenings.

-Yes, it must be romantic to look at the stars that decorate the sky at this time of day. - It was a shame to Ala that Spica couldn't see their brilliance and radiance, she doesn't even know how she feels and sees them. - But that doesn't stop us from enjoying each other's company. - The blonde turned to her Nevra and looked into his eyes, while the butterfly was on his nose.

-The most important thing on this day is to be together with your beloved. - Alya decided to summarize, looking at her smiling Nevra, who immediately kissed the girl on the nose.

-I see that the merging of parallel realities did not hurt you much and you are still cheerful.

-Strongly, not strongly, but the main thing that hasn't divided you, you have to adapt to the world, and that's not much different. - The guys were talking among themselves.

-Enough about bad things! - Alya said suddenly and found a music box which she opened and put next to her. A beautiful slow melody came on and the Hevers took the girls by the waists and led them in a slow dance. The truth from a parallel universe took Spika by the waist and lifted her up and twirled her around himself, kissing her on the lips. Alya and her Nevra smiled at this and rejoiced at the happiness of both, for they had nothing to complain about. Each Nevra got his beautiful half, his family, and his children. Nevra did not complain and was happy with life, as were the girls who joined their families. They could always overcome difficulties together and sometimes meet like that. And now they were enjoying a brief moment of celebration and the company of their loved ones. The stars shone in the sky and decorated it, it was a pity that Spika could not see them as brightly as the others, but that did not spoil her mood and everyone was smiling.

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

Наверное каждый хочет провести свой *день всех влюбленных* только в своей паре, но иногда приходят идеи совмещать празднества и сейчас, когда наступал вечер в одной параллельной вселенной, где уже многое объединялось с другой или же просто попало на время случайно, одна очень любознательная особа, шедшая под ручку с холодным на вид вампиром подошла к другой паре, в которой был такой же вампир, но более радостный в жизни и его любимая вампирша. - Аля, Аля. - С улыбкой произнесла светловолосая, обращаясь к другой. - Завтра день всех влюбленных. Не хотели бы вы с Неврой провести его с нами на поляне, возле пляжа? Брюнетка была удивлена такому предложению, но не могла отказать той, что случайно попала в их вселенную. - Возможно, но разве вы не хотите побыть одни в этот день? - Нет, сегодня мы решили провести его в компании. Ну что ж. Компания так компания, да и похожих отчасти пар. После согласия они разошлись по своим комнатам и только завтра узнаем как все будет. **** Момент встречи у врат. Аля, как и Спика подготовили разные угощения для этого небольшого пикника и встретились уже ближе к вечеру, когда небольшой туман начал покрывать равнину, а голоса, слышные с площади уже отдалялись. Первую часть дня пары провели раздельно гуляя по рынку с детьми и тому, что устроили в штабе.

Брюнетку все никак не хотели отпускать детки, оставшиеся с матерью Невры, которая накинулась не только на Алю, но и на Спику со своими высказывания. Ей очень не нравилось с кем связал свою жизнь ее сын. - Невра, я все же не понимаю, что ты нашел в обоих! - Она смотрела то на одного, то на другого из параллельной. - Это не твое дело мама, а мое. И она прекрасна во всем, мой темный ангел! - Сердито ответил более жизнерадостный вампир. - Согласен, я сам волен выбирать с кем связать свою судьбу! Постаравшись не ругаться перед детьми одной из семей, Маора все же оставила пары. - Ну что все готовы? - Спросила с улыбкой Спика, она знала что мать Невры нигде не любила выбор своих сыновей и потому постаралась сразу отвлечь. - Да, я припасла вкусное печенье. - Ответила ей Аля и подтвердил здешний Невра. - Она у меня вкусно готовит и их сама сделала на кухне! Соориентировавшись пары все-таки вышли за ворота штаба, где уложили на травку что-то вроде простынки и присели на нее. Парни же открыли бутылку с напитком, припасенного для этого случая, а девушки разложили закуски. А после присели рядом друг с другом, обнимая своих любимых.

- Как я рада, что мы все собрались сейчас! - Продолжила разговор Спика, она с улыбкой переглядывалась то на своего Невру, то на более жизнерадостного, который целовал Алю в щечку, да и ее не отставал, то на брюнетку. - Аля, мы очень мало общались из-за дел в этом мире, можешь рассказать, как проводят у вас этот праздник? - Ей было очень интересно, ведь та была не отсюда и могли быть разные традиции. - Да в принципе так же. - Начала отвечать ей брюнетка, поглаживая по щеке своего Невру. - Правда я не помню, чтобы устраивали конкурсы или это просто мой город маленький, что даже палаток не ставили, только парочки гуляли вместе и по вечерам. - Да, наверное романтично смотреть на звезды, которые украшают небо в это время суток. - Але было обидно за то, что Спика не могла видеть их блеск и сияние, она даже не знает, как та ощущает и видит их. - Но это же не мешает нам наслаждаться компании друг друга. - Блондинка повернулась к своему Невре и посмотрела в его глаза, бабочка же оказалась у того на носу. - Главное в этот день быть вместе со своим любимым. - Решила подвести итог Аля, смотря на своего улыбающегося Невру, который тут же целует девушку в носик. - Вижу, что слияние параллельных реальностей не сильно задело вас и вы все так же бодры и веселы. - Сильно, не сильно, но главное, что не разделило, к миру надо приспособиться, а так он мало чем отличается. - Вели между собой разговор парни. - Хватит о плохом! - Заявила вдруг Аля и нашла музыкальную шкатулку, открыв которую и поставив рядом включила. Из нее заиграла медленная красивая мелодия и Невры, взяв своих девушек за талии повели их в медленных танцах. Правда из параллельной вселенной взяв Спику за талию приподнял ее и кружил вокруг себя, целуя в губы. Аля же со своим Неврой улыбались на это и радовались счастью обоих, ведь им не на что было жаловаться. Каждый Невра получил свою прекрасную половину, семью и детей. Не жаловался и радуется жизни, как и девушки, соединившие с ними семьи. Они могут всегда преодолеть трудности вместе и иногда встречаться так. А сейчас наслаждались коротким моментом праздника и компании своих любимых. Звезды сияли на небе и украшали его, жаль что Спика не могла их видеть так же ярко, как остальные, но это не портило ей настроение и все улыбались.

#nevra #eldarya nevra #spika #alya

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shanzede · 11 months

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joz-yyh · 2 years

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Love Host - Chapter 3

SUMMARY: A prequel to my fic, “Good Boy.” Takes place during the final scene of the game and the journey home afterwards. Miles becomes the host and the Walrider intends to consummate their bond. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: E (for graphic depictions of violence / gore / character death+rebirth / psychological torture / xenophilia / masturbation / handjobs / anal fingering / tentacle sex)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 3,349

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I swear this fanfic has a plot, we just haven't gotten there yet because we need to cover a lot of smut first (I am almost joking).

Also, if you haven’t seen it yet, you can check out the progress of My Wamiles Art, but be warned, it's NSFW!!

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It's early afternoon by the time Miles wakes up. The sun is shining through the blinds, bathing the messy geometric contours of his modest, modern-esque flat in a golden glow.

Miles rubs the sleep from his eyes, yawning loud and wide despite having slept half the day away. He's stretching out the cricks in his limbs when the Walrider exits sleep mode and powers on, attune to it's host's internal clock.

The man recoils at first, startled by the dark, imposing figure, somehow forgetting the human-sized nanobot was still there despite having shared a bed with it, ensnared in the possessive hold of claws and tentacles.

The dissociation only lasts a heartbeat, his body remembering even if his jumbled mind took a moment to catch up, becoming calm again.

The brunette suppresses a chuckle as he turns towards his companion. This evil bio-weapon looks so out of place in the daylight, in the domestic setting of his bedroom, holding him like he's something precious.

Such a stark contrast to the Walrider that stalked under the cover of darkness, illuminated by neon emergency beacons and cold laboratory testing facilities. The same fearsome weapon that hunted patients, ripped out spines and spattered blood across narrow halls looked almost cute, charming in photographic filter of a beautiful autumn day.

Miles tilts his head, eyes catching the odd reflection of colors skittering over the obsidian skin, giving it the appearance of labradorite. He runs a finger over it, seeking the brilliance hidden underneath, his inquisitive tendencies getting the better of him.

He traces the jut of the Walrider collar bone to the curve of it's shoulder, rolling his palm over the joint there, the vibrant streaks of bio-luminescence shining like the trails of shooting stars.

The Walrider is more than happy to let Miles explore, an excitement decorating it's features as it's host dedicates himself to the task.

The brunette continues down the line of the monster's arm, sliding his hand over well-defined muscle, the same teal patterns spread throughout it's bizarre anatomy. Miles is in awe over it, of how it could change consistency, function and appearance, wondering if this iteration of it's skin meant it was left open, unarmored.

The Walrider was developed as a weapon after all and Miles could certainly see the advantages of a thick, abrasive exterior, but if his partner chose to convey it's trust by lowering it's defenses to show him this secret, well, Miles' heart twinges just a bit at the possibility.

The reporter guides his hand back up to stroke at the sharp angles of the entities' cheek, gazing into it's striking eyes situated behind the exoskeleton. The gentle caress of Miles' thumb along its jaw is lulling it's eyes closed, and soon the demon is leaning into it's host's bandaged palm, a chitter of contentment escaping through it's jaws.

Faced with such unabashed adoration, Miles dares to steal a kiss, the compulsion to do so proving too strong to resist. Pink lips purse against the side of it's mouth in not quite a chaste peck, but a firm lingering indulgence. The dark skin is warm under his lips, but it feels rubbery and plastic, an imitation of something inadvertently human.

"Thanks for staying with me," Miles says, a gentle smile on his face as he pulls away, blue eyes staring fondly at his handiwork.

His choice of his words is absurd really, ridiculous. The Walrider couldn’t leave him even if it wanted to. They’re both viscerally connected, permanent implants to each other’s existence, unable stray too far apart from each other without the consequence of death. Not that Miles had any concrete evidence to back this intrinsic theory up, it was really more of a hunch, and while his inheritance of the Walrider failed to come with a disclaimer or a user’s manual (he wouldn’t have read it even if it did), Miles wasn’t about to test the physical range of their limitations any time soon.

The machine is frozen and Miles swears he hears a cursed dial-up noise as it processes the kiss he had just given it and the man hopes the machine won't try to bite his face off in a misinterpretation.

Thankfully, it doesn't. Instead, it mimics Miles actions, claws outstretched to clasp the human's cheek in return. It leans forward, but without any lips of its own, all it can manage is a brush of teeth. The sharp points of it's canines sting only a little as they graze over his skin, sometimes chipping open a superficial mark.

A purr reverberates from inside it's throat as it rubs the softer sides of it's misshapen face all over Miles, a little too roughly in it's exuberance, the man's brunette locks of hair in total disarray.

"You're in a good mood, huh," Miles says with an amused chuckle, trying to push the Walrider's face away from his to gain some reprieve, although halfheartedly because he can't say he's had too many pleasant "morning afters" like this one.

The man doesn't know what prompts him to ask, or why he's hit with the sudden spike of anxiety, but the words are leaving his mouth before he can swallow them back.

"Did you enjoy last night, too," he asks in small, quiet voice that is entirely unlike him.

There’s an infinitesimal, but rapidly becoming larger part of him that wants the Walrider to have a choice in the matter even if Miles didn’t have one when it came to becoming the host. He wants to be a better master than Wernickle was, to honor Billy by being magnanimous in his mission, one that allowed the Walrider some semblance of free will and independence as unfathomable and ludicrous as that may be.

The Walrider squeaks with indisputable affirmation, pressing closer, smothering the human with the dense mass of it’s bulk. Their legs are tangled together, claws wrapping around his clothed back to bring them as close as they possibly could be and that should be enough of an indication to set Miles scattered mind at ease.

"Hey, hey, easy now, tiger! We can't stay in bed all day! We're on the run from an evil corporation remember," Miles exasperates, prying the entity off before they spend another few hours engaged in some awkward rendition of coitus that involves a number of tentacles.

"No offense," Miles tacks on for good measure. Murkoff was it's creator and he didn't know if the Walrider had any lingering attachments to the private group that designed it however doubtful the probability seemed.

"We have a lot to do today and the clock is ticking."

We? Did he just say we? When did it become we? He chews on the word in his mind and it doesn't taste entirely unsavory, just different. Miles leaves the thought alone for now because he can always return to it later if he really needs to, but he has more pressing matters that don’t involve an existential crisis.

The Walrider seems to understand the situation all too well as it's lanky form deflates into the mattress, whining in annoyance as it mopes and pouts like a neglected pet. Miles gives his companion's slumped behavior an inquisitive brow, reaching over to pat the sulking dip of it's cranium in consolation.

"Hey, I'll try to be quick. A few hours tops. Just be ready if someone comes knocking," Miles tells it with an air of impending dread and the Walrider snorts at him dejectedly, not nearly as concerned with the threat of assassins as it was with the denial of cuddle time.

Miles sighs, dismissive, getting out of bed to go about his routine. He stops by the bathroom to brush his teeth and raid the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. His hangover isn't quite as bad as he anticipated it would be, but he could still feel it's lingering effects the moment he started walking around.

He cups his hand under the faucet, bringing the water to his lips as he swallows down the chalky white pills. That done, he decides to take a quick shower, thinking It might be the last opportunity he gets for awhile.

He leaves the bathroom door open and it's not long before he notices the Walrider curiously peeping in on him, it's dark outline huddled around the door frame as Miles stands behind the clear liner of the shower curtain.

Every now and then the reporter flicks his eyes over to it, watchful, wondering if it would try something to distract him, but to his surprise, the entity remains a respectable distance away, simply observing. By the time he steps out of the shower, the Walrider has disappeared, probably so Miles wouldn't catch him outright for voyeurism.

The brunette dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he heads in the direction of his dresser for a change of clothes. He fits his arms through the sleeves of a white collared shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and yanking it into place.

A gasp escapes Miles as a rugged masculine form sidles up to his back, spooning him before he can finish fastening the first button closed. Claws glide over his hips, dropping the fuzzy towel down his thighs to fall to the floor.

The beginnings of arousal stir in his belly and Miles internally chastises himself for it, knowing he can't afford to get carried away again.

"We can't do this right now," Miles reasons, "I promise I'll show you more later, but we have more important things to take care of first."

The Walrider extracts itself by a few centimeters, digesting this information, but as it wrestles with the concepts of self-restraint and carnal desire, the newly awakened heat the human had perpetuated eventually wins out.

Miles finds himself pinned to the wooden dresser he's standing in front of, the machine roughly keeping him in place with the superhuman strength of it's body. Miles hisses, the metal pull handles of his dresser drawers digging grooves into his flesh. He cranes his neck around, glaring at the machine from over his shoulder for it's excessive use of force.

"Didn't you hear me? I said we have to go. There's no time."

The Walrider seems to think there is.

Instant and wild sensation, molten and all-consuming as a pair of clawed hands trap the reporter's half-hard dick by the hilt. Miles jumps, involuntarily bucking his hips into it's firm grip and he cries out in a broken moan, the machine squeezing around him just the right amount, stroking him to fullness in rampant succession. Miles' resolve is diminishing faster by the second, growing less and less important the more those gruesome claws slide over his shaft again and again.

This probably wasn't a good lesson for the Walrider to learn, that Miles would eventually give in with enough prodding and persuasion, but he can school the machine on the importance of boundaries and mutual consent later because by comparison, this shouldn't take nearly as long as a discussion on complicated human relationship dynamics would.

Tentacles are wriggling against his entrance now, pushing in, caustic and raw, about to tear him open.

"Wait," He begs, his legs shaking, "Fuck -- just wait -- you --you need to wet them first. It makes things easier, more enjoyable."

The tentacles in his ass cease their advances, retreating backwards. One fully withdraws, soothing around the abused muscle with alleviating touches while the other remains a few inches inside, biding it's time.

Another set of tendrils travel up to Miles lips, recalling what the man did with his fingers the previous night, seeking the wet crevice of his mouth.

Miles shudders, accepting one of them in, licking over the surreal, jelly-like appendage, studying the taste and feel with his tongue. He sucks on it, wanton, the round tip lashing against the the roof of his mouth then tickling the back of his throat. His jaw is pushed to open wider as the second tentacle sneaks inside, and he can't help the strings of saliva that drip down from his chin, practically drooling over the two phallic-like limbs.

Having been sufficiently lathered, the tentacles leave the warm sanctity of the man's mouth and Miles misses them almost immediately, his jaw feeling stretched and empty without their residency. As if reading his mind, more come to replace his supply, delving past his lips, dancing along his tongue and Miles is hooked on the sensation.

The spit-slicked tentacles return to Miles' ass, allowing the smaller one keeping him loose, acting as a plug, to slip out first. The reporter moans around the tentacles in his mouth, trying to still his trembling body as he's filled to the brim, his insides now slackened and offering little resistance to the bigger girth.

Thick roots come to wrap around his weak, buckling knees, sturdy and more fortifying then the others and Miles can't do much besides hang on for the ride, his hands clinging onto the tall wooden dresser for support.

The Walrider's claws abandon his erection in favor of toying with the pert nipples obscured by the open flaps of his shirt and Miles can't even spare a complaint because the tentacles in his mouth slither out to coil around his dick, shrinking and expanding in sleek, velvety transitions.

"Ahh aha aah, fuck," His voice is raspy, strained so, he swallows, wetting his throat.

"There! theretherethere -- ahhh, fuck yesss."

Miles' howls of ecstasy spur the Walrider on, fueling it, accelerating it's movements, driving harder, pumping faster, matching Miles voice with a guttural thrum of it's own.

The demons makeshift tongue licks Miles' ear, his cheek, stroking down the side of his neck until it' jagged circle of teeth sink into the juncture of the man's shoulder, ruining a perfectly good shirt. Miles screams, feeling the rivulets of blood pour out from the love bite.

The man let's himself go, somehow finding the sense to warn the Walrider of his release.

"I am -- I am coming," he groans, muffling his words into the cuff of his wrist as he convulses, splattering the tentacles and the dresser in hot, sticky fluid.

Miles is attempting to catch his breath as a cum-smeared tentacle bumps the curve of his bottom lip and the man can't say he’s keen on the taste of himself very much.

"Eck! You can clean them yourself, you know," he grouses, batting the soiled tentacles away.

The Walrider applies this recommendation, tasting it's host's seed and Miles can't deny the blush that dusts his cheeks as he ogles the machine drinking up what's left of the milky white on it's tentacles.

The brunette shakes his head, clearing it, remembering what he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted.

"Fuck, now I have to change and clean up again."

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

It takes him about another few hours to pack, to condense his entire existence into four black duffel bags, the lot of them placed conveniently near the front door.

He'd sent out about a dozen encrypted emails to what reliable connections he had, shared all the notes he'd kept of his experience at Mount Massive, about Murkoff's dirty little secrets. He made copies of what he could salvage from his glitchy camera footage, plans to drop the snuff film in the mailbox of every local news station and then some.

As a final hurrah, a eulogy for what was once a normal life, Miles is having a smoke, leaning his elbows on the pane of his open window. He takes in the details of the neighborhood, the concrete jungle of domestication and cramped run-down buildings that he had never really cared to appreciate before. The only reason he finds himself doing so now is because he doubts he will ever lay eyes on this city street again after today.

The Walrider was tame, well-behaved and non-invasive while he worked to sort though his files, the baggage both figuratively and literally so Miles doesn't mind when it approaches him from behind with claws wrapped around his waist, teeth nuzzling the back of his neck.

"I made copies of everything. I going to tell everyone," he tells it solemnly, "I don't know what's going to happen after that. I don't know what's going to happen to us."

The Walrider growls low, showing it understood, offering encouragement to it's host.

Miles makes a sardonic smiles at that.

"Yeah, I hope we'll be alright too," he says, reaching an arm up to curl around the demon's neck, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

There's only trace remnants of tobacco left in the filter of his cigarette, but he takes a long, lame drag on it anyway. Most of it had been wasted, burned off in tiny clumps of ash because he had been too busy being lost inside his own head, but he still liked the feeling of it in-between his fingers, the comfort the familiarity brought.

He snuffs out his cigarette on the window sill, dragging black streaks across cracked paint before flicking the butt down onto the sidewalk below.

He shuts the creaky window, latches it closed.

“Hey, when we’re outside in public, please try to be discrete. The last thing we needs is someone calling in a cryptid sighting,” Miles remarks, turning around, beholding the ominous form of the Walrider.

Obliging, the Walrider dissolves into a mist, thinning out until it becomes nothing at all.

Miles takes one last tour around his apartment, trying to take a mental picture of the memories he'd made over the past few years. He's leaving so much behind, but he can start over again if it means giving the world a better future by bringing Murkoff down.

Locking the door behind him, Miles descends the blocky stairs with two heavy bags on each shoulder. He takes one final look up at the building that he called home, focusing on his third story window before he rips his gaze away and faces forward again.

It's then that he recognizes the suspicious silver Audi parked in his spot, right out front on the sidewalk.

Holy Shit. Was he an idiot? How did he not notice it here before?

This was Trager’s car. It had to be.

Miles tries the door handle. It's unlocked. He tosses his bags into the back seat and then slides into the driver's side, looking for the car keys. Nothing in the ignition, but he keeps searching, a distinctive metallic clack resounding in the interior when he opens the fold-out mirror and they fall to the mat by the break pedal.

Fucking. Score.

Just for the hell of it, Miles takes the keys and bounds around to the back of the car. He opens up the trunk and just like he knew there would be, an expensive set of golf clubs and caddy are laying there to greet him, neat leather toppers, no doubt painstakingly chosen for each one of the ritzy driver clubs. Miles is going to use those later, but whether it's to pawn them, use them in an act of vandalism or put them to recreational use, he has yet to decide.

He slams the trunk closed and he can't believe his eyes when he sees the word, "BUDDY," inscribed on the rear goddamn license plate. He offers a chuff of disgust, rolling his eyes on his return trip to the drivers seat.

He turns the key, revs the engine and just takes a moment to breathe it all in, hands gripping the steering wheel to reiterate the fact that he had jacked Trager's motherfucking car and had brought it home with him, thinking that it must've been during one of his many mental blackouts. He doesn't know if those catatonic episodes are going to be an ongoing, reoccurring thing, but he hopes the answer is less and not more. Either way, Miles is not the type to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

Forget any thoughts he had about bittersweet departures. They're all replaced by giddy spouts of laughter because this feels like revenge, like he's pissing on Trager's grave and it's motivation enough to lay on the gas and do a burn-out, speeding straight towards the nearest news station.

{End Chapter 3}

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