sapphic asexual

[impval]

Masterlist

note: sorry for any mistakes. english is not my native language wlw only

Agatha All Along

Agathario

little moments fem!reader

Arcane

CaitVi 

cinnamon in my teeth / part 2 hurt/comfort

Sevika 

every breath you take stalker!Sevika

The Boys & Gen V Cate Dunlap

modern kασσάνδρα angst

meet me halfway soulmate au

the knight in shining armor asexual reader

do you wanna feel how it feels? / part 2 empath reader

request #1 spiderman reader

slowest heart a/b/o

crawlin' back to you / part 2 fem!reader

thinking of you / p.2 human!reader s2 au

Marie Moreau

dating headcanons fem!reader

Queen Maeve

i wanna ruin our friendship friends-to-lovers

Victoria Neuman

fluff alphabet fem!reader

somewhere only we know s4

i found love soulmate au

nervous friends-to-lovers

Marvel

Yelena Belova

my love mine all mine fem!reader

[impval]

thinking of you pt.2

Cate Dunlap x fem!reader Warnings: human! reader.

The cold isn’t winter. It’s the absence of touch. The cold is your constant companion, burrowing into bones. Time loses all meaning, and every second feels like an eternity. A childhood home, warm and safe, Christmas morning with gifts and laughter. Now it’s only you and empty space of your room. Hand-made decorations are the only way to make a room more alive and remind yourself to smile.

Don't let her touch you.

You're a monster.

It's you.

There is so much time. Try a new paint. Finish the homework. Watch a meaningless movie.

You read.

Books are a kind of magic, too. Through the centuries, the voices of long-dead authors echo in your head. So many worlds to visit. Places where dragons dance through the sky. Other dimensions with bizarre laws and rules are distorted yet beautiful reflection of reality.

Reality always disappoints, doesn't it?

Mother gifted you a new pair of gloves. You hate it as much as her other gifts, mockery and cruelty wrapped in pretty boxes. The world outside the room is blurred, and there's no way out.

Sometimes you wonder if this is what the Minotaur felt like. Did he dream about the outside world? Did he ache for company? Locked in the labyrinth. No chance for redemption just because he was a monster, and monsters exist just to be slaughtered by heroes.

You wonder where your hero is.

––

There is blood on your shirt, it alone makes burn in you desire to lash out. Scream. Hit something (someone). Dream lingers in every move. Such a vivid thing, too many details and feelings. Hatred inside of you, mixed with cold.

Alone alone alone alone alo..

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

You look in the mirror and see Cate. You clench your teeth. You whimper as you take another pill. Pain is a new thing – conquering every part of your being, taking over spaces you didn’t know existed.

The bathroom in her small hospital room isn't much. Just a sink, a toilet, and a shower. But it feels like a blessing all the same. The water was blisteringly hot – scalding the lingering panic off your skin. Your hands shook the entire time, scrubbing away blood and dirt. Hospital clothes are fucking hell, but it’s better than your own – strained with Cate’s blood.

Maybe Cate is crazy. A supe supremacist, and that would make sense given her recent popularity and photos with Homelander. You refused to leave. Spilled out all details to the police, to Vought’s, to your fucking reflection after realizing your shirt was covered in blood.  

Coming back home is not an option. Not after what happened, after fucking crack – sound that still echoes in your head and skull. Now you're stuck in the hospital, like some kind of ghost watching over Cate. Funny how one night can change someone’s life.

The nurses and surgeons said they worked fast: stopped the bleeding, repaired the brain damage, sewed up the worst of the cuts. She's just unconscious, they said. Recovering. Like any minute, her eyes will snap open, she'll blink the fog away. Like it's that damn easy.

It's not. Cate is in stable condition, but she still lies there in that too-white bed, tubes and wires and machines beeping. It's strange, watching someone else sleep. There's something intimate about seeing another person vulnerable, unguarded.

It's even weirder when it's Cate Dunlap.

Injured. Sick. Fragile.

The girl in your dream had wavy hair and a shy smile, so lonely and yet full of life. A girl in front of you is fighting for her life. One arm. You're wondering when this happened and how the fuck she hid it from the public. Fans are such noisy little fuckers, and Cate is quite popular these days. But people only gossip about her personal life and her next favorite outfit. How shallow.

The doctor is a bitch. Tall, eyes like dead fish, fucking robot without empathy. She studies Cate the way a researcher studies a rare specimen, a fascinating neurological puzzle. Not human. Not…someone who deserves proper care. Nurses are so weird, barely touching Cate, although it’s their fucking job to change bandages. They look at you like you’re crazy when you move the chair closer to Cate and touch her hand.

– Sorry, you can’t be in here.

Sam Riordan. Guardian of Godolkin.

First (only) visitor. No family. No friends. So, Sam’s presence more than welcome.   

Nothing special, really. Typical nerd, too cute for his own good, and it's something you have in common. You enjoy how tense doctor bitch is, so careful suddenly. She tried to kick you out of the hospital room several times already. Unfortunately for her, you already called in sick to work, texted all your friends about being offline, and sweet-talked Vought agents into letting you stay. 

Something tells you it’s not because of your charisma. You’re no fool. Cate is a supe with potentially destructive powers and the last thing she saw…was you. 

You meet his gaze. Silent question.

– Dean Cipher says that I can.

Dean. Okay. You don’t know shit about Godolkin because it’s pointless. Supes have amazing habit to die in very interesting (weird) circumstances, Vought’s narrative changing every minute, mimicking the circumstances and Homelander's latest hysteria.

– Who could have done this to her?

Sam asks the doctor about this, but he's looking at you. Assessing you. Trying to figure out if you're a threat. But when he notices you touching Cate's hand – touch grounding for you and supporting for Cate – something softens in him.

Is Sam's power cryokinesis? Everyone in the room froze – the two nurses and bitch-doctor– but (to your own pride) not you. Sam is cute but so dull and lifeless, doll learning to live without strings – it alone makes him more dangerous. Children tend to be so cruel.

You can’t let her touch you.

Hatred curls up inside you, poisoning every next word. Sam has powers. He's not a fragile human like you; he can actually do something. You honestly don't want to wait for justice to reach the new Guardians of Godolkin. Just a glance at Cate helps to swallow the hesitation building at the base of your throat.

– You want names?

Nurses afraid to breath wrong. You remind yourself to sit up straight instead of curled up like a shrimp.

– I just wanted to get midnight snake and instead get into GodU’s drama, whatever season it is.

Hatred isn't your style. But they left Cate dying, so you spill every detail to Sam. It’s a relive truly, to tell truth someone who cares. Because police were scared, supe’s case after all. Vought clearly cares only about image, so they wait patiently to see if Cate will wake up at all.

– Emma was there? – just a name makes dull eyes so alive, suddenly Sam all little puppy.

– Short blonde? Yep. She was the last one to leave, I think. – you frown, trying to remember details of that night.

Now you blame yourself for doing exactly nothing, because you could have figured something out. Interrupted Scooby-Doo band, or just pretended to be lost and stupid (not so far from truth).

– Look, I don’t know what’s their deal, but…

Emma’s name makes all of your revenge fantasies turn to dust. Sam becomes so alive, so vibrant with feelings – muscles in your body tensed at the same moment. What a fucking joke. He’s supposed to be here, close to Cate, not running to Emma. Not even five minutes have passed, and he’s already running out of the ward, apparently obsessed with the idea of finding Emma. Fucking Romeo – Vought edition.

– Girl, you need to find a better friends. – you groan in disappoint. One of nurse quietly nob in agreement.

No respect for Sam, that’s for sure. The room becomes safer when he’s left, all the tension follows him. Good luck, Emma, you think bitterly.

The heart monitor spikes briefly – just a flicker – then steadies again. Cate’s fingers twitch against the sheets, subtle as a shadow. Not enough to wake, not enough to mean anything. But something.

And then doctor-bitch touches Cate’s hand and everything goes to hell.

It’s not a thought, not really. More like a feeling, too hot and uncomfortable, not quite yours. Pure animal terror. Pain. And oh, guilt. Cate is full of it, born with it without even doing anything worth judging. Is there something wrong with me?

Carol. That’s the name of bitch doctor. Too many siblings, parents who love to play favorites. The new baby was more interesting than her recent innovation in the medical field. Who cares about another shitting piece of meat when she discovered new characteristics of the super genome? Envy gloomed inside of her, swallowing any flickers of empathy.

Alice and Jess, the plain-faced creatures with plain colored thoughts, too scared to touch, too aware of what power sings in Cate’s veins. Surrounded and yet alone, their evenings are spent cooking and cleaning and doing endless homework for their children.

Security guards are standing outside the ward. They are just waiting for blood because what else could you expect with a mentally unstable supe?

Carol’s hands shake with both terror and (not her) anger when she takes the scalpel.

Your head throbs. Your hearts ache. Cate’s eyes open, but she’s not awake, not really. These people are here to help her – in theory – fear eats their best intentions, leaving Vought’s protocol, stereotypes and clichés.

Cate just wants to be wanted. Simple desire, every child who grew up in an abusive family can feel it in their bones. Longing, you learn, in every breath. People around you laugh, cry, exist, and yet…you feel like a fake. Own heart rotting inside of Cate – love with no place to go.

How could they leave me?  

Cate doesn’t want them dead.

You hug her tightly, your whole body shaking from shared feelings. Carol drops the scalpel.

[impval]

thinking of you

Cate Dunlap x fem!reader Warnings: human! reader.

You are free in the worst possible way when you don’t know if it's a blessing or a curse.

Most of your peers already have partners, and some even have children. Plans for the future. You? You can’t decide between night cleaning and a gluttony episode.

It’s silly, part of you knows it. You’re young, whole future is ahead. Expect fucking supe revolutionary shit show, increased rental, and lack of meaningful connections in your life. But like, how do people make friends? Is there a handbook? Just how do you do this without fucking it up? Do you just… bump into someone at a grocery store and go, ‘Hey, wanna share about your childhood trauma?’

Gluttony episode it is.

It happens to you a lot. Restless brain despite an awful day at work earlier, and you find yourself walking to the closest 24-hours store. At least it’s a good night. Warm air, dim lights. No people, and it means no overstimulation. How ironic that night feels much safer for you than that day. Perhaps you should be more careful considering supes…situation, but hopefully deep bags under eyes and an old FNAF t-shirt will be enough to scare away people if you meet any. Self-preservation? Nope.

You walk past a familiar building, eyes catching fresh graffiti even in the dark.

RESIST ☆

After Neuman's death, every supe had completely lost their mind. A full-blown superiority complex. Especially Homelander. You never liked him, mainly because he was a walking red flag. Book a perfect narcissist who dictates rules now. Most humans are…wary to say at least, no one knows what to do or how to behave in a rapidly changing world. You've never been a bigoted asshole who looked down at supes, but it doesn’t matter now. You’re human, hence weak and unimportant.

“…i can’t lose someone else.”

“Fuck you. You’re the reason it happened!”

There are voices. A group of people vaguely familiar and …a girl. You squint, trying to make out anything with your shitty eyesight. Something is definitely wrong. You shift in the dark, just a little closer. Pretty girl with dreads, bulky Asian guy, short girl. Are they all some models? Or actors. Unfairly beautiful, making you silently curse at your choice of outfit.

Finally, your stupid brain recognizes those faces. Marie Monroe. Emma Meyer. Jordan Li. Freshly redeemed Guardians of Godolkin. Honestly, something is definitely wrong with the whole Guardians thing. Massacre, sudden disappearance, and now they're all back like nothing happened. For fuck sake, you have no idea why the public believes in Vought bullshit every time.

What is going on?

“I just want to protect you. Marie, you have to…”

Oh. You know this voice. You know this face, posters, reels and a fucking movie. Beautiful, in a sharp and devastating way. Cate Dunlap. You’re never a been fan of supes, but everyone knows who she is. Now, when you see Cate in flesh and bones, something in her makes you feel…longing. Just a pretty girl and yet it enough for your stupid heart.

They're supposed to be friends, but it doesn’t look like it. They are arguing about something, about Odessa and school, but you can’t quite hear all the words, so you’re focused on Cate instead.

Cate is too tense, you notice. Unnatural position of the left hand, no glove on the other. Ah. Mind control, you recall her powers. Well, you definitely don’t want this kind of power for yourself. Constant debating about morals will make you crazy.

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own good.”

It happens so fast.

Cate takes a step, hand raising, tension is intoxicating. Instinct begs you to run, but you freeze instead. Light. Suddenly, she hits the wall, the sound of breaking bone disgustingly loud. Your heart stops for a moment, sound echoing again and again.

There is a trace of blood on the wall. It’s all you can think about. Blood.

Group in panic. They are saying something to each other, distant words for you, eyes fixed at broken girl on the ground.

Strangled gasp.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“No!”

“You can’t let her touch you.”

What do they mean can’t let her touch you? There is blood. Cate is hurt. Cate is fucking still on the ground, probably dying – or dead – and they…they run. Of course, they run, maybe terrified by what Jordan did, or just afraid of consequences. Just like that. Not even calling an ambulance, not trying to do something…

They run, and you stay where you are. Lungs in an iron trap. Jelly legs. So easy to be confident and all knowing when you read fanfiction but in real life? Everything is so messy.

No thoughts, just pure horror that somehow draws you into action. On your knees immediately, dirt staining the grey cotton of your pants. Dim light makes blood darker. Cate sucks a breath, stuttering as she registers your presence. Alive, thanks god.

“Please…”

She looks too fragile, shattered easily, just like glass. You curse, trying to remember first aid, but what could help with fucking broken skull? Calling an ambulance is easy, you are surprised by the even tone of your own voice.

“Help is going to be here soon, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Cate smiles at you, such a weak parody of her usual smiles – it’s still enough to make you weak.

The whole world focuses on Cate. You don’t know what to do besides the basics, so you follow instructions in your head. Blonde hair so soft, panic in blue eyes fades a little when you lay her head on your lap. God, she’s so young. Not older than you, that’s for sure. She should be at some party, laughing and flirting with some guy or girl.

Fuck.

Should you apply pressure to the wound? But what if there is a skull fracture?

Cate’s eyes are on you. Making an anchor out of you, a stranger who spared her from the fate of dying alone. How fucking ironic. You don’t know her, and yet, you hold her as something precious instead of the rotting thing she is. Everything is so quiet, your mind and thoughts, and an empty street.

Everything in you frozen in a bizarre mix of horror, sadness, and longing, and the fact of your useleness. There is nothing you can do except hold her close.

You take her hand in yours. For a moment, just a second, something rings inside your mind - fleeting but so important. Funny, but you don’t even consider avoiding her skin or touching her, despite knowing what she can do. Don’t let her touch her.

What a bullshit.

Cate is so cold, so pale. It’s sickening how grateful she feels about your very presence because you’ve already done more than her friends. Fuck, it hurts just to look at her wound. Your own head starts to pulse, echoing her pain.

Fear rotting in you, mixing with longing, becoming a part of you as well as blood. Suddenly, you feel it all, starting with the cold air. Why are you cold? You’re always running hot, a literal human furnace, but suddenly, the air became icy.

Cate’s eyes are on you. She’s fighting, brave girl, focusing as much as she can.

“It’s okay. I’m here. Not going anywhere. Never.” you’re promise things that never before leaved your mouth, no regretting it at all.

No one before looked at you like that. Her hand shakes, but body unnatural still, Cate whimpers like a little child.

“Just breathe. Like that.”

I don’t want to die.

“I’m here.”

Why they did leave me?

“You’re gonna be okay.”

I’m tired.

Sirens making you let out relived breath. Finally.

Stay with me?

Paramedics gently took her away from your hands, asking questions at the same time. You could hardly give them any useful information except how this happened.

“I’ll go with her.” wasn’t a request, just a fact forged by the promise you gave Cate.

The ambulance doors shut with a final thunk that made your head ache even more. You scrambled into the passenger seat up front, fingers gripping the edge of the seat as the engine roared to life. The paramedic driving didn’t speak, just flicked on the sirens again, and the world outside became a blur of color and motion.

When you finally skidded into the ER bay, you were out of the door before the engine fully cut, pacing like a caged animal as they unloaded Cate. A nurse in purple scrubs materialized at your side, her voice low and steady.

“You’ll need to wait in the lobby, hon. They’ll update you as soon as they can.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died when you caught sight of Cate’s face again, half-hidden by the oxygen mask, her skin too pale under the fluorescent lights. The nurse’s hand was gentle but firm on your shoulder.

“She’s in good hands. Let them work.” 

Let them work. Right. You can do that. Cate should be okay, doctors know what to do. You don’t want to think about other outcome.

The lobby chairs were hard and cold, and you hated this place already just because. You sat anyway, shredding a coffee-stained magazine between your fingers, eyes fixed on the double doors they’d wheeled Cate through.

Across the room, a vending machine hummed. Somewhere, a child was crying. The clock ticked. 

And you waited.

[impval]

crawlin' back to you pt.2

Cate Dunlap x fem!reader Warnings: toxic! reader (??), nsfw.

Everything felt a bit off.

The way Cate looked at you, studying every little detail. The way her hand lingered on your body during hugs, fingers running along your skin like she was trying to take in everything she could.

You've always had a soft spot for Cate.

Her awkward sweetness was something you loved to watch during freshman year, how she tripped over herself whenever you spoke to her, how her face would turn an adorable shade of pink.

She’d become more guarded, more wary of people around her. There was something different about her, something subtle.

But you caught the little things.

The way her eyes would dart around the room, the way her shoulders would tense up whenever someone walked a little too close. The way her smile never quite reached her eyes.

It wasn't just the physical pain, the loss of her arm. Something had changed in Cate. She looked broken, and you could feel the despair radiating off of her. It was a kind of despair that made your instincts go on high alert.

What’s wrong? that was the question you wanted to ask, but every time you opened your mouth to do so, she would immediately plaster on that bright, familiar smile, her whole demeanor shifting to what you recognized as her “Golden Girl” facade.

You didn’t hate Luke, per se. Maybe it was bias talking, but you can’t help but feel resentment towards him for taking Cate away from you. Next to him, she was so different. An empty Barbie doll.

You would always find a way to steal Cate away from him. The real Cate — the one who struggled with cooking, but beamed with pride at every edible dish she managed to prepare. The one with glasses that she hid from others, ruining her eyesight during her teenage years.

How ironic, in a twisted sense, that it took a massacre to bring your Cate back to you.

Time and time again, Cate would come to you, and you’d let her in. You’d have coffee, talk about nothing, and you’d try to ignore the way your heart raced every time she smiled at you.

Every time she asked a question, you could see her studying your reaction, watching for any indication of what you might be thinking. And every time she sensed that you were thinking too hard, questioning a bit too much, she would change the subject. Sometimes awkwardly, or suddenly, cutting off mid-sentence to bring up something completely different.

And the rumors that swirled around her at Godolkin… you were always skeptical. You knew Cate — or at least you thought you knew her — and the idea that she could do the things she was accused of seemed too far-fetched.

Maybe you were just too smart to be easily fooled. Maybe something deep down inside you just wouldn't let you be controlled.

“You've gotten better at drawing.”

You watched as Cate ran her hand over your painting. Her real hand — bare, without a glove.

Cate seemed different today. More carefree, less put together. Her clothes were wrinkled, a mismatched mess. Before, she never would’ve let herself be seen in anything less than perfect, but now she seemed to not care. Maybe she's just relaxed around you.

You couldn't help but tease her a little. "Was it awful before?"

“Oh please,” She says, smirking back at you. “Don’t start with me.”

Her hand is still resting over your paints, her touch light. But still, a small part of you can’t help but feel a little uneasy at the contact.

She looks at you for a silent moment, her smirk twisting into a small crooked smile.

“But.. yeah. It might’ve been a little awful.”

The wine is a pleasant distraction, making your body feel warm and relaxed. You sink into the couch, the fabric feeling soft under you. Cate plops down next to you, her shoulder lightly brushing against yours. Her presence is always a bit distracting, your mind wandering in ways it shouldn’t.

You don’t usually drink much, but it wasn’t every day that Cate brought over expensive alcohol and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

The lack of makeup only highlights the signs of stress and tiredness. You can’t help but think about everything she’s been through in the last year. Godolkin, Luke, her hand. Vought.

You see her face on every screen, her image plastered everywhere. The Guardians of Godolkin, the name making you want to roll your eyes. And there’s Sam, always in the background. A constant reminder of Luke.

Cate takes a swig of her wine, the alcohol seeming to make her more relaxed. Her shoulders drop, and she lets out a soft sigh.

She glances at you, her eyes studying your face closely.

“You’re quiet tonight.” She points out, her voice soft. “Something on your mind?”

Maybe she should just look into your thoughts. She's probably done it before.

The possibility that Cate erased your memory, that she literally fucked with your mind, doesn't scare you as much as it should. You know Cate. You see Cate now, broken and hungry for love. If you think about it, she's always been like this, it's just all out of control now.

There was something about teasing Cate that you couldn’t resist. The way she’d get all flustered, the way her voice would catch in her throat, those blue eyes.

You lean closer, your breath fanning over her face. “Just thinking about you.”

Cate’s cheeks flush with a pretty red tint, her heartbeat picking up in her chest as you lean in close.

“You were?” She manages to say.

Your mind often drifts to thoughts of Cate's lips, how beautiful she would be on her knees, looking up at you with a desperate pleading look.

You sometimes find yourself dreaming about her — her voice, the soft sigh that escapes her lips as she holds you close. But then the dream slips through the cracks, elusive and ever-shifting. You're left to wonder... was it a dream or a forgotten memory?

You can't be sure with Cate.

“We didn't spend enough time together in Godolkin,” you whisper, your voice soft. "I regret it now."

Oh, Cate, always seeking love and willing to do anything for it. So naïve, so willing to be whatever she thought others wanted her to be. You've watched her play the part perfectly — the perfect girl for Luke, the top student at Godolkin.

Those beautiful blue eyes are filled with something you can't read and it setting off alarm bells in your mind. But you always ignore any warning signs when it comes to Cate.

"If you stayed with me, you'd be horrified," Cate breathes out, the truth escaping her lips. Her voice holds a hint of remorse. "I'm a monster."

Oh, poor, poor Cate.

You cup her face with one hand, fingers tracing along her jawline as the other hand rests on her hip. As you look into her eyes, you can see how desperately she needs you. It's almost pitiful how easy it is to control her, how she'll do anything for your touch and affection.

"I've always liked your eyes. You know, you don't even have to use your powers, not with eyes like that."

Cate’s face warms from your touch, her body instinctively leaning closer to you. She swallows hard, letting out a shaky exhale as you compliment her eyes. That one simple gesture was enough to cause her heart to race.

And there it is — the way she looks at you. Just like that.

Cate lets out a sharp gasp as her back is pressed against the couch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she opens them again, gazing up at you from where she’s pinned beneath you.

She doesn’t resist at all. You could be here all day, staring at Cate laid out in front of you like a buffet ready to be eaten.

Oh, it’s so obvious that she’s already falling apart, but still trying to hold onto some sense of control. It's been a long time coming, you think. If Luke hadn't been in the picture, you would have taken Cate a long time ago.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

You smile at the way your name sounds on her tongue, your grip on her hip tightens.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Cate is a bundle of nerves right now and you know it. Her power is control, wielded through a simple touch and a few words. Turning people into puppets dancing to her tune.

And yet...

Every little touch of your fingers on the exposed skin of her arms, leaving trails of goosebumps and jolts of goosebumps in their wake, is enough to make her body shudder. Her eyes are fixed on you, wide and desperate in their intensity.

"Now isn't this a pretty sight?" you murmurs. "So good for me."

She wants this.

She needs this.

Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, your hand begins to wander lower.

It's like a long forgotten dream. You were here before, and it stayed with you, hiding in the back of your mind and rotting away. Poisoning you from the inside out.

The sounds that fall from Cate's lips have a deep, possessive feeling swirling deep in your belly.

And then.

“Tell me...” your voice is calm, detached despite the situation. “What you took from me?”

The horror in her eyes is enough of an answer that your suspicions were true. Her whole demeanor shifts as she suddenly grows very, very still.

“….A memory.” Her voice is quiet. “A kiss.”

The word slips out softly, almost too quiet for you to hear.

And there it is. The confession you’ve been waiting for. The missing piece of your memory, the knowledge of that one moment that changed everything.

Cate’s expression is one of guilt and shame.

“I took a kiss.”

Ah. Just one kiss. You're wondering when it happened. When did you lose control and finally kiss Cate? Was it at one of your sleepovers or in an empty classroom? Or was it Cate who kissed you and then got scared?

You'd be lying if you said that the idea of her kissing you first didn't make your heart flutter in your chest. Maybe she'd pushed you down on her bed, the soft sheets beneath you as she straddled you, her lips crashing against yours as she finally let her feelings take over.

You should be mad at her, you should be hurt by what she did.

Cate looks so scared. In a life filled with loss, the familiarity of that feeling shouldn't surprise her. People always leave her behind.

Yet, you just smile tenderly. "No more memory wipes. I want to remember everything."

“No..” She agrees, a little gasp escaping her as your hands move over the soft skin of her thighs. “No more.”

You don't remember first kiss — the gentleness and purity of it. There was a time when your touch on Cate's skin was tender, delicate. Back then, you'd handle her with care.

But not now.

You kiss her and it feels like violence.

Your touch has her trembling, her body reacting to every little movement of your hands.

There's a kind of power in that moment. In how sensitive Cate is, how easy it is to get a reaction. Then your lips trail across Cate's throat, nipping and sucking at the skin. Her skin is too hot, her pulse is speeding up.

The sounds that Cate makes are music to your ears. You drink in every shiver, every movement, every whine, every moan. Her head is tilted back, lips parted. Words want to form on her tongue, but instead a whimper falls from her mouth.

So wet.

And now, you're the one taking.

You savoring this, taking your time. Cate's body is straining against your touch, trying to do more, make more contact, but you hold her in place.

"No." you order. "Stay still for me."

She's needy, her body straining. But she's being so good, letting you take her. Your order to stay still made her want to sob, made her want to beg and plead and do anything to make you touch her more. 

You wants to see Cate fall apart under you. It feels right. To have this power over her, to know that you has her in the palm of your hand. Cate looks so good like this. So eager and obedient. It's something you could get used to. Something you wants to get used to.

Your fingers increase their pace, just slightly. "You're such a good girl. Just wait a little longer for me, okay?"

Cate let out a choked sob, her fingernails scrabbling at the couch beneath her as she fought against the urge to buck her hips, to chase the pleasure that danced just out of reach. 

Your mind has already started wandering to the future. The possibilities. Cate all tied up, trembling in need. You want to make sure Cate is always like this and can picture it so easily.

The sound of the wetness is obscene.

"Please." it's whispered, soft, barely audible. But it's there, a ragged plea.

Cate is so close, but she's still struggling to get the friction she wants. She's being so good, waiting for you, waiting for permission.

And maybe some part of you wants to keep going, wants to push Cate further, but...

"You can come, Cate."

Watching her fall over that edge is hypnotizing. She's a work of art, just falling apart like this. It's a beautiful sight.

Cate doesn't say anything as you withdraw hand, and bring fingers to your mouth, sucking at them. It's good. It's so good. Cate's taste on your tongue is satisfying in a way you can't describe.

You're so glad there's an entire night ahead.

[impval]

crawlin' back to you

Cate Dunlap x fem!reader Warnings: internalized homophobia, implication of abuse, loss of arm, stalker behaviour, obsessive thoughts.

In all her life, in all the memories she’s taken, from strangers and classmates and friends, she only has ever taken one kiss.

A moment that was never meant to be more than just a fun night out, but the thought of it always found a way to creep back into her head. The way you tasted was something she’d never forget, the memory so embedded into her mind that it burned.

The way you smiled at her had made her feel on top of the world. It’s something she knows she’ll never get back, and it makes her feel a sense of anguish that makes her throat feel tight.

It’s been a year, but it still hurts.

Straight.

Her parents loved her once, no doubt, but they had certain expectations. A handsome young man, a wedding, children — a boy and a girl. For Cate, there was no other path.

Trapped in that isolated room, her only escape was the internet. Yet, even there, she found herself confronted with a reflection of her parent's dreams. It took her a while to realize that her world had been curated, her exposure to alternative perspectives carefully controlled by her mother.

Luke seemed perfect, embodying her parent's ideals, the guy she thought she'd been dreaming of. He was charming and sweet, but so fucking boring. His scent, his warmth, his smile — it all felt dull to her, leaving her feeling numb instead.

She remembers the way Luke used to try to impress her, taking her to restaurants and watching movies she had no interest in, sharing playlists that didn’t match her taste, bringing her flowers, red roses, because that’s what he thought she liked.

But it was all wrong.

He never really knew her, he never bothered to ask what she preferred. He just assumed and it made her feel unseen.

But being with him meant gaining Indira's approval. It was a perfect scenario.

You were simply a classmate of hers, a year older, and you’d helped her out so much in her first year. She wasn’t as smart as you or as confident as you, but you made her better.

You dressed the way you wanted, said what you want, and laughed as loudly as you please.

She’d look at you and think, “That is what I’ve gotta be like.”

Because god, even when you weren’t at your best, you were still so perfect. You were everything she wanted to be. You were fearless, something Cate always admired about you. Never once had you flinched away from her touch or made her feel like an abomination.

And then there was that kiss.

You’d been so bold that night and it made her weak. She had been so used to kissing someone who didn’t really want her, but with you?

You wanted her and it horrified Cate.

Her mom doesn’t love her.

Indira would be disappointed in her.

Luke is perfect.

Why can't she just be normal?

So Cate did what she does best. The next day, you didn't remember anything. The next day Andre smiled at Cate and she forced herself to smile back.

Because maybe if she threw herself into something new, she could stop missing you. She could push her feelings aside and go back to her old ways, back to getting high and making a fool of herself.

But that didn’t make her feel better.

It just made her feel lonely.

Cate was relieved that you had graduated from Godolkin before the truth about the Woods came out. She wondered what your reaction would have been. Would you have been there for her after Luke's death, offering comfort? You did messaged and called her, but she never responded.

Would you have labelled her a monster, like Andre did? Or would you have hugged her?

Those same questions have been replaying in her head nonstop since everything happened.

So many what if’s and maybe’s.

Cate wishes she could see you at least once, to ask you what you would’ve thought of the monster she’d become.

The perfect little American sweetheart on the front pages of every magazine. Cate forces herself to smile and go along with it, all while the cameras flash and take her picture. She’s not a person to Vought, she’s a project. The good girl, the perfect, pretty face that always brings in money.

It was all part of the job, she knew that.

Still, it made her feel nauseous every time she had to force out a smile and sit there in her pretty little dress with Sam sitting next to her, his hand holding hers. She tried to avoid looking at Sam as much as possible. Every time she laid eyes on him, all she could see is the look of betrayal on Luke’s face.

It hurt to think about how he’d looked at her the moment he realized she’d taken his memories away again. The anger in his eyes and the disbelief that his girlfriend was doing this to him.

The nightmares were the worst — they always were.

Cate just can’t get the sight of blood and screams out of her head, and then she’s left gasping for air at three in the morning, tears staining her face.

Even with that prosthetic, it never feels the same. She never feels the same.

The empty space where her arm should be is a constant reminder of what she’s lost. It’s a constant reminder of what she could have been — of who she was supposed to be.

She hates that she’s alone and she hates the nightmares and she hates that her body is permanently changed.

She hates it all, so much.

So it was inevitable that Cate's thoughts would turn to you.

You had reached out to Cate after the massacre at Godolkin. Your messages consumed her mind. She could never bring herself to actually text you back, because what would she even say? But she read them time and time again nonetheless.

She found herself scrolling through your social media, trying to take in every little detail she could see. It had become almost like a compulsion — a need to know you were okay, to know what you were up to.

The idea that she could finally find you again was enough to drive her insane. And using Vought’s resources just made it that much easier.

She felt a little bit like a stalker, but she just needed to know. The things you liked, the things you loved, what your favorite food was, what you liked to do in your free time, how you took your coffee. Where you go, who you talk to, if there was someone else.

Every single day she wondered if you still thought about her, if you still thought about that kiss. Cate often found herself wondering if the memory still existed in your mind — despite having erased it herself.

Maybe it could still be there, buried deep in your unconscious. Maybe, just maybe you still remembered. And the mere thought of it made her desperate. Cate knows she should’ve felt guilty. But she couldn’t help herself. She needed you.

She knew it was a good time to be ringing your doorbell. It was a calculated plan, one that she’d practiced in her head over and over again. Cate knows you’d be home and that you’d probably answer, but that doesn’t make her any less nervous.

God, she hasn’t seen you in a year.

She dressed herself up as nicely as possible, knowing that she had to make a good impression. She wanted — no, needed you to see that she was still the girl you remembered.

The girl you kissed.

The new prosthetic arm was hard to adjust to, but she managed to make it look somewhat normal. It always drove her insane how she couldn’t fully fix this damn arm, but she tried her best with what she has.

The moment you open the door, it’s like time just stops.

Cate stands there in shock, her breath catching in her throat as she takes in the sight of you. You haven’t changed a bit, you look exactly the same.

So beautiful.

And the way you’re looking at her — god, it makes her knees weak. The mixture of surprise and disbelief in your eyes is enough to make her heart stutter.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Um… can I- Can I come in?”

“Cate.” you whisper and her breath hitches as you speak, the sound of her name from your lips enough to make her melt.

And then you’re hugging her.

Cate’s surprise only lasts a brief moment before she clings to you, wrapping both arms (sort of) around your body. Relief floods through her — you do want to see her. She buries her face in your shoulder and breathes you in.

You smell like pizza and popcorn and a hint of your perfume, it’s all so you that it makes Cate’s heart hurt. She can’t believe this is real. She’s in your arms, holding you tight, and god it feels good.

She follows you inside. Cate’s eyes take in every detail, every little thing she can see. The apartment is cozy, just like you. She notices the drawings on the fridge, the food on the coffee table, the way your stuff is everywhere but in a way that it feels organized and you.

The little snippets of your life here and there that make her ache to be part of it.

As you busy yourself in the kitchen, preparing tea for her, Cate can’t help but watch you. Her eyes never leave you as she notices every move you make and every little expression on your face.

She’d tried to envision this before, having a home life with you. Of being with you, but she’d pushed those thoughts aside. Now, seeing you like this, those thoughts come flooding back.

Cate compares the way Luke made her feel to the way you’re making her feel in this moment. With you, there’s no annoyance, no irritability, no fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

It’s easy being with you. It’s always been easy.

You’re careful with your questions, skirting around the topic of her prosthetic, but Cate doesn’t mind. She answers your questions to the best of her ability, but she doesn’t have much to offer you.

She doesn’t mention her insomnia, the nights where the pain has been too much and her mind simply won’t shut off. How her days are spent in near isolation and the only thing that seems to get her through is taking painkillers.

Your life sounds fulfilling, like you have everything she wants - a regular job, friends who care about you, hobbies to keep you busy. You look so alive and seem happy, and Cate can’t help but feel a sense of envy.

She had to hold her tongue every time you mentioned something she already knew about. She’d spent far too much time stalking you to keep count of the number of times she’s seen the same things you mention now.

Cate knew where you worked, your routines, your hobbies and interests. She knew just about everything. But hearing it from you felt different. It made it all feel…. More real.

With each meeting, she grew bolder, testing the waters with every touch. She’d reach for your hand, gently intertwining her fingers with yours. You never shied away, never pulled back in fear.

Cate would lean in close, the softest smile playing on her lips as her mind raced. You had no idea, it was written all over your face. You were completely unaware of what she’d done to you.

And so, the cycle continued.

She would knock on your door, her heart pounding in her chest as you welcomed her inside. Every meeting was a test, a game she played to see just how far she could get without you finding out.

She'd seen people resist her power before.

Luke.

No matter how many times she erased his memory, no matter how many times she messed with his head, he’d come so close to breaking her control.

It made her wonder…

Was some part of you fighting back too?

There are moments where she can tell something’s off.

You pause for a moment too long, your expression thoughtful, as if struggling to remember something.

But then you smile at her again, and the moment passes. And she finds herself stuck in this cycle.

[impval]

every breath you take

Sevika x fem!reader warnings: college au, stalker!Sevika.

People have a curious tendency to romanticise such unhealthy, obsessive behaviour.

It was a disgusting practice that had seeped into the culture, where it would be deemed as sweetly devoted if a man followed a woman around town or stalked his crush online.

Stalking.

You never imagined this could happen to you. It seemed like some wild, messed-up plot straight out of fanfiction or a 2000s film — a trope that made people cringe because they didn’t take stalkings seriously back then.

You never understood stalking. You followed your crushes on social media, but it was harmless, a casual interest... not this obsessive, unhinged behaviour.

Sevika's photos were pretty much all the same.

Her team winning yet another championship, holding aloft a shiny, new trophy, surrounded by her swooning, adoring fans. She never smiled in the photos except for the occasional smirk, always in the same pose with the same blank look on her face.

When she followed you, you'd been surprised. Not because she was Sevika, but more just that someone who seemingly had no social connection to you suddenly followed you on IG — and proceeded to regularly view every story you put up.

You didn't think anything of it at first. Maybe she was curious, you figured. Or bored.

But as you began to notice she was still watching your stories, and still viewing your profile daily — you couldn't help wondering, why?

It began to feel like you had a shadow.

Sevika was everywhere — in the hallway, in the cafeteria. And in the library, no matter what corner you took, she'd pop up a few minutes later.

At first, you were flattered. After all, she's undeniably hot and has legions of fans fawning over her. But as this continued, it became bothersome and unnerving. Why doesn't Sevika make any moves? Why does she just stare?

Your friends' lack of concern only heightened your frustration. They saw her as a little odd, but ultimately harmless — a surprisingly smart jock who'd never broken a rule in her life… or at least, never got caught.

The most confusing part was that Sevika never talked to you. She never, ever spoke to you. But you couldn't help notice how her eyes followed you. How she seemed to be in the same places as you, and always watching you as she pretended to not be.

One day, you decide you've had enough.

You've had enough of the weird staring, the sudden follower who watches your every story, and of her always being near you, but not talking to you. And that all leads you to this moment.

As she's at her usual table in the library, eyes locked onto you, you take a page out of her playbook and stare right back.

Sevika blinks, startled, eyes going wide.

As you stare at each other, the rest of the world seems to melt away as her eyes flicker over your face. The sound of your own heart pounds in your ears.

She's not expecting the confrontation, you can tell.

The tank top is form-fitting, leaving little to the imagination. It's easy to see that Sevika is physically fit — very physically fit.

You marvel at the way the fabric clings to every curve and muscle, highlighting the sheer power she possesses. It's hard to believe she even has time to attend class with all the training she must do.

Her shoulders tense as your eyes catch her's, glued to you as you stare back. You can't help but notice the strong, capable hands that could probably snap you in half. For a moment, you swear her cheeks pinken under the scrutiny — but then it's gone, her face once again expressionless as she returns the eyecontact evenly.

It’s just you, the old librarian, who's lost in his own world, and the quiet serenity that fills the library. This is why you chose this time and place. You seek peaceful solitude sometimes.

"Do you like my Instagram so much?"

Sevika's expression doesn't change, lips staying pressed in a thin line, as she responds to you.

"Excuse me?"

It's odd, hearing her voice for the first time. You'd expected her to be more brash, for all her appearances - but she actually sounds… soft, almost.

You recall reading that a stalker's biggest fear is being detected. Their thrill hinges on remaining unnoticed and asserting control over their target. You doubt that Sevika is that fucked up, she's definitely not a real stalker, but she still gets on your nerves.

"I've seen you around way too often lately."

"Too often...?" Sevika's expression changes slightly at that.

She looks down at the open textbook in front of her, and you see her tap her pencil against it. Is she... nervous? No, it's hard to believe Sevika could even be nervous.

"No point beating 'round the bush. I think you're stalking me."

There. The accusation's out there and now it's up to her to respond.

You're both fully aware of the truth in the statement.

Sevika is well aware that her behavior is fucking creepy, but she can't help herself, there's something about you that sets you apart from her usual group.

However, for all her popularity and cool demeanor, Sevika's always struggled with communication, especially when it comes to pretty girls. The mere thought of asking you out on a date left her entirely tongue-tied.

For a moment, you think she's going to deny it. Her shoulders are held tight, and her body is almost frozen.

But then, something in her seems to crumple. Her shoulders drop, and her expression shifts into something you don't expect: guilt.

"...I guess you caught me," she says quietly.

Sevika glances around the library nervously, as if worried the librarian will suddenly come over and eavesdrop on the conversation. When no one comes, she relaxes a little and looks back at you.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Look, I... I know it's weird," she says, glancing up to meet your eyes. "And I get 't's freaking you out."

It takes considerable restraint not to roll your eyes. Your arms are tightly crossed over your chest, your entire body language screaming defensiveness.

"No shit."

"I don't—I'm not some creeper, okay?" she manages to get out. "I'm not a freak. I just—"

She stops, her jaw clenching as she struggles for words. You can tell this is difficult for her, but you don't soften at all. If you were younger and less perceptive, you might have relished this kind of attention.

"I just couldn't help but notice you," she admits, the words coming out in a rush. "I mean, hell, I've liked you since... I-I don't know. You're sweet, and smart. And nice. And beautiful," she says, her voice soft. "I just... wanted to know you. And see you."

Fuck.

It's cute how genuine her voice is, the vulnerability in her expression. But this is all still very weird, you tell yourself. She's been watching you, following you, for who knows how long. Any normal person would be horrified.

But the way she's looking at you now, with her eyes wide and her shoulders slumped - there's a part of you that feels bad for her. It's hard to stay angry at her when she looks so damn sincere.

"You could've just talked to me, y'know. Like a normal person."

She lets out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

“You think this is easy?” she says, gesturing to herself. “I can throw a touchdown to some dude a mile away, but the second I see you, I can’t even get a single word out. I just—”

She stops, taking a deep breath as her shoulders sag.

“I just get tongue tied, okay?”

Under all her muscles and her reputation, she really is just a useless lesbian. A really attractive useless lesbian, but still.

Nonetheless, you find yourself relaxing completely.

You get it — talking to attractive girls can be nerve-wracking, and you've had your own embarrassing moments too — maybe not quite like Sevika's, but still.

"Well, you're talking to me now."

You pull out a chair and sit next to her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Her eyes widen at how casual you suddenly are about this whole thing, and she looks so adorably awkward, sitting there completely off-balance with herself that a small part of you wants to laugh.

Sevika's shoulders unclench further as you sit down next to her, and you can see the nervous energy seeping out of her.

The silence stretches between the two of you, and you can almost see the gears turning in Sevika's head, and it would be almost comical if you weren't focused on the fact that she's still a stalker and all.

Finally, she clears her throat.

"...Why'd you sit down next to me?"

God. She is adorable. It's almost like she's a lost puppy that doesn't know what to do but desperately craves a little affection.

"Since I'm here, and you've finally decided to speak up..." You pause, noticing her hopeful expression.

"You could just… ask me out. You know, like normal people do."

Sevika sputters at your words, and if she was blushing before, now her face is practically on fire.

She looks almost completely dumbfounded, and to you, it's really cute.

"...On a date?

There's a part of you that yearns to close the distance between you, to run your fingers through her hair and feel its silken texture under your touch. You fantasize about sitting on her lap, and...

No.

You quickly shake off those thoughts. Later. Sevika is already so nervous, so helpless that now is not the time. Instead, you simply nod in response, silently encouraging her.

Sevika's expression is priceless, equal parts dumbfounded, flustered, and amazed. She sits still, staring at you for a moment before her brain seems to catch up.

"Um. Would you..." She's stumbling over her words. "Would you want... to go on a date with me?"

You flash her a smile, perhaps a hint too wolfish, showing a touch more teeth than necessary. The unfortunate pencil is still clutched in Sevika's grip, and you move closer, gently taking it from her.

Sevika's eyes follow your movements, and she lets out a small breath as you get closer. Her cologne is light, but it fills your senses, making you feel just a little light-headed.

You write down your number on the paper, wondering if Sevika already has it memorized, yet deciding you'd rather not know.

Her heart is hammering against her chest, and she just knows you can hear it but it's only making it beat even harder.

"...That's a yes, then?" she finally manages to rasp out.

You let your hand gently graze over her shoulder, savoring the feel of taut muscles beneath her skin. A wicked smile plays at the corners of your lips as you consider how Sevika might approach your first date, given her already extensive knowledge of you.

"You know my schedule."

She's frozen in place as you leave, the phantom touch of your hand still lingering on her skin.

"...I'll be in touch," she manages to mumble, though you're already disappearing through the library doors.

[impval]

my love mine all mine

Yelena Belova x fem!reader

It wasn't the first time you found yourself in the empty kitchen. The remains of movie night still adorned the kitchen table — a half-eaten bowl of popcorn, empty beer bottles.

Soft footfalls padded behind you, light with silent familiarity. Yelena made a effort to announce herself, not wanting to scare you. Not when you looked so lost in thought.

"Солнце мое?"

The sound of her voice, still thick and rough with sleep, came from right behind you. It was quiet. Warm. Her chin rested atop the slope of your shoulder, arm loosely winding around your waist.

Yelena could never stay asleep when she knew you weren't by her side. It was a quirk of hers, a protective instinct that couldn't be suppressed. Despite your attempts to convince her otherwise, she was too stubborn to stay put.

You smile at her with that soft smile that never fails to melt Yelena's heart.

"Just..too many thoughts."

This, Yelena could understand. You weren't the only one with a brain that had a habit of running a mile a minute. There were nights when Yelena couldn't find peace. Nightmares. Memories. Unpleasant thoughts that clung to her and wouldn't go away even when you held her in your arms at night.

You make her feel...normal. Not a killer, not a spy, just a woman in love. But even love is not enough to forget all the horrors.

"Hm. Do you want me to tire you out?"

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. By now, you've grown familiar with Yelena's methods of 'tiring you out' — and they never involve sex. One time she took you to the water slides in the dead of night. The two of you splashed around like children until security inevitably showed up in the morning.

Yelena was a hopeless romantic at heart, who loved recreating scenes straight out a movies. It was her way of expressing affection, through acts both big and small.

An unforgettable night at an amusement park, just the two of you? Check. Dance classes together? Check. Breakfast in bed? Done. Serenades? Definitely. Although your neighbors had a different opinion about your late-night karaoke sessions.

Flowers? Well, that's how you ended up learning the hard way that you're allergic to lilies.

Sometimes you felt like you were in some fucking romantic comedy. Not that you're complaining.

Despite your exhaustion, a small smile teases at your lips. You reach out, hands gently coming to rest on Yelena's cheeks. The scent of caramel popcorn lingers on her skin.

She looks weary too, and you can't help but feel a tinge of guilt that she's with you now rather than getting the rest she needs in bed. Her skin is soft under your fingertips as you trace the contour of her cheekbones.

“What's on your mind?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

She beams back at you, unable to conceal the happiness that floods her expression. In the soft light of the kitchen, Yelena doesn't look ike a dangerous assassin. In this space and time, she's simply your Yelena.

She then takes a step back, heading towards the speaker, an old model that's just barely compatible with modern technology. You specifically looked for one to give Yelena, knowing she'd love it. For whatever reason, Yelena had a special fondness for old things.

You can already guess what's coming. Soft music begins to fill the room.

“My lady, may I ask you to dance?”

Yelena bows theatrically, extending her hand to you with a grin. The sight of her in the duck pajamas, hair a disheveled mess, makes you struggle to contain your laughter, but you play along.

"How could I resist such a charming invitation?

Taking her hand, you allow Yelena to lead you into a playful dance, your eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You're a vision in those pajamas, you know?"

Yelena grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she effortlessly twirls you around the room. She's clearly enjoying herself, the playful energy filling the air.

"Ah, you flatter me," she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "These pajamas are the latest fashion trend, of course."

She spins you around again, her hand firm on your waist.

The two of you move effortlessly, shifting between fast and slow movements with practiced ease. You're grateful for the dance lessons you've taken together, as trying to keep pace with Yelena's energetic footwork would be a challenge otherwise.

Yelena used to hate dancing because it brought back memories her former life, memories of relentless training and pain. A Red Room. She thought her softness had been stripped away, but being with you has proven her wrong. She craves a life — family dinners, carefree days, all the silly little things she's been denied for so long.

The dance continues, even as the music fades into silence, both of you lost in the moment. You twirl and sway, moving to an invisible rhythm only the two of you can hear. Yelena's hand tightens in yours as her other arm settles around your waist, drawing you closer. She rests her chin on your shoulder, her breath gently dancing against your neck.

“Thank you.” you whisper to her.

You're grateful, you really are. Not just that Yelena is sacrificing her sleep right now, but that she's in your life at all.

Yelena's grip on you tightens at the words, her heart swelling with a mixture of affection and vulnerability. She smiles against your shoulder, the simple expression holding layers of gratitude and tenderness.

"Thank you," she replies, her voice soft and genuine. "For everything."

[impval]

slowest heart

omega!Cate Dunlap x fem!alpha reader Warnings: a/b/o, mentions of rape.

Yeah, Godolkin is chaos incarnate. A bunch of young supers with so much freedom at Godolkin - it's like a recipe straight out of a reality TV show. It's like they wanted the place to turn into a teen drama. The idea of a deadly virus that could wipe out all the supers? In a world where superpowered beings are treated like celebrities and tools and threats, it was only a matter of time before shit like this happened.

Indira wanted to kill all the supes?

Oh goddamnit, no way, the villain is British? Fuck, what a damn stereotype.

When Jordan and their girlfriend came to you seeking your help, it was hard to focus on anything but Cate. Why would she get involved in something like this? Was she coerced? Blackmailed?

You like Cate.

You had always been drawn to people like her - sharp, powerful. Despite being an omega, Cate's powers and status meant that she was rarely, if ever, belittled or diminished due to her biology. People respected (feared) her.

Back when Luke was alive, you respected Cate's decision to be with him, even if you thought their relationship was a bit strange. They seemed more like a pretty picture than a real, happy couple. But after he died, you didn’t want to impose on her grief. Who hits on an omega right after her boyfriend died? It just felt wrong. So you kept your distance.

Experiments, Vought, the Woods.

You knew why Jordan and Marie approached you. You were possibly the only person on the planet who couldn't be mind-controled. The perks of your power. Jordan and Marie deal with Sam, and you..

In a timeline where all of this never happened, where this shitshow never started, you would never have met Cate. And everything would be so different. Carnage. Blood. Death. A missing arm. In another universe, you never would've been born.

But you were in this universe. The one where you did exist.

When you saw Cate, you knew instantly what Jordan was rambling about. The blood, the madness, raw and untempered, in her eyes. Now you could believe that she had killed Dean Shetty. You better understood now just why Jordan was so reluctant to deal with her and her power. The omega was terrifying, with a determination in her eyes that could only be halted by violence.

Or a alpha.

Heats. Just one word. And all it brought with it. The sweat, the pain, the lust. The loss of control that came with it. Cate had experienced all her heats on her own - because she was locked away in a room. Then it was her choice. Every single damn time. Even when Luke gave a gentle offer. Even when the alphas stared at her with hungry lust.

This time, Cate had ignored the symptoms - the aches, the need - because let's be real. With Luke dead, with Indira and her orders, she had bigger things to worry about than a simple heat. Cate wasn't going to let her own biology or desires distract her - because she sure as hell didn't deserve anything good. Not after all the crap she had done. The death, the pain. Cate didn't want this, but who gave a fuck?

Cate had come so goddamn close. If she held on just a little bit longer, a little bit longer, a goddamn bit longer...the Woods would be empty, just as she wanted. A pathetic, cheap version of redemption. That was all Cate could really do.

Her scent was not that of a sweet, submissive omega. Nothing fragile, nothing warm, nothing easy. Her scent was sharp, demanding, heavy, dominant. Screaming and loud.

She picked up on your scent long before you were even in front of her, eyes widening in quiet surprise as your scent washes over her. Alpha. Alpha, dammit. Honestly, you're way too soft for an alpha. Or lazy, but that depends on perspective. You've never seen the point in fighting for power, dominance, status. And you have never been on-board with the Stone Age alpha-omega bullshit.

As an alpha, you could pay no attention to the whole mess.

But Cate is an omega, and she could not. She had lived her whole life fighting for her own freedom, her safety, and her own body. Maybe it was that, that made her start spitting out threats the moment she saw you, baring her fangs. Like a wild animal.

Or was it your scent. It was soft - nothing like the dominating, heady scents of other alphas. Despite the fact you are, a goddamn alpha. And if Cate had paid better attention to her own body, the all signs - she would never have gotten into a situation that was basically every omega’s nightmare.

Looks like the epic battle is going to have to wait for a different time.

It's ironic that Cate was such a walking, talking disaster that a mere minute with you - a minute of conversation - was the only thing she needed to have her heat suddenly flare up, nearly bringing her to her knees.

No.

"No," Cate gasps, even as her hands curl around your shoulders. Her skin's clammy beneath your touch. "No," she repeats more firmly, even as her body arches against your chest.

Cate is afraid. She is well aware of, knows exactly what most alphas do to omegas. How the hell they use them as playthings. She had not wanted an alpha. Not even Luke, and despite how terrified it made her, a part of her was actually relieved when he died.

Her back strains as if trying to arch away from you and even her skin looks inflamed, the flushed skin of her face spreading all the way down her exposed neck.

She's so fragile in your arms, so impossibly light. Too thin, too bony, too weak. And fuck - you had never been a fan of Luke, but you had thought, believed that he mattered to her. That he cared. Apparently you were incorrect, he had clearly not given a fuck, because...

Her scent is bitter - the sharp tang of fear, of horror, and all the madness, the raging fire that had been flaming in her only a blink of an eye ago, has vanished suddenly. Your own alpha instincts are going wild.

Protect, claim, guard, mine, mine, mine.

This entire situation is so wrong.

Cate hates feeling weak and helpless like this. She can barely move, let alone control the pathetic whimper that drags itself out her throat as she's laid down. She doesn't want to be here. Cate knows you, understands that for some damn reason, her powers do not work on you. You are the singular person who is safe and who is immune to her powers and, what's worse - you're an alpha.

The room smelled entirely of you, it was your damn room, after all.

When you return with a pills and water, a flash of fear appears in Cate's eyes, and she starts to sit up - only to sink back against the sheets with a bitten-off cry.

There was so much of Cate in the room, her heat, the scent of omega that it took all of your will-power to not react. You moved away the moment you placed the pills and the bottle of water on the bed, ensuring there was distance between you and her - letting her at least keep the illusion of security.

Cate stares up at you, lips parted, breathing heavy and ragged as she tries not to let the pain show across her expression. She hates being so exposed, so vulnerable. You could do anything to her, and all she can do - all she's capable of - is lie here and take it.

And yet you don't do anything. You retreat, you give her space.

Fuck it all to hell. You could always just, leave - lock her in your room and go somewhere far away. Somewhere where you can’t smell the heat in her scent, or hear the whimpers, but for whatever damn reason - you don’t. Must be a sadist, because you are both suffering.

No demands, no commands. Despite your physical power, you're not using it over her. Maybe you're just biding your time, but you don't act like it, smell like it. Your scent is soothing, a warm blanket, a promise of comfort and safety.

Cate's breath trembles as she tears her gaze away. She takes a deep breath before pushing herself up on her hands. Despite her obvious pain, she tries to sit up straight. Cate has a fucking genocide to start, an entire revolution (a carnage) - but she is stuck in the cage of her own biology. What a shame.

The pack of pills in her hands do look like painkillers. The name is familiar, the look is familiar. She takes a couple and washes them down with water, praying it's not a trap.

It's not a trap.

Ten minutes later, Cate's trembling somewhat eases. The pain's still there, but it's numbed enough to be more of a dull ache. It's also enough for her to realise that you're still sitting there, and her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth.

All this time you work through every single damn breathing exercise you know, counting sheep, and trying not to think about Cate on your bed. You want to touch her. You long to take away her pain, caress away her suffering and mark that lovely neck of hers. You would be so goddamn good to her. Better than Luke, better than anyone.

But you continue to stay seated on the cold, uncomfortable floor.

"You're...not gonna touch me?" Cate asks quietly, and she'd be embarrassed by how weak and broken she sounds if she wasn't already overwhelmed by everything else.

You have helped other omegas in heat before - lend a helping hand. However, it was always at the consent, the request of the omega. You have never understood - cannot comprehend the alphas who have taken, without caring about others, disregarding the pain, the tears of their omegas.

Despite how loudly your instincts are roaring, demanding that you take her, you don't even move or try to touch Cate when she's made it so clear that she's terrified of it. You briefly wonder over why Cate is so terrified of you, of alphas (?). You truly don't want to think on the sickening possibility that it's from personal experience.

Your hands have clenched in your lap as you take a shaky breath, trying to stay in control. “You said no."

No.

One word. A simple, but powerful.

It's been a long time since Cate's had any sort of positive experience with an alpha. Luke, of course, was an alpha, but he was...well, Luke. He was with her only for status. In a way, he was using her. This is the order of things.

Cate has always known this.

Her own mother, a cruel, indifferent alpha who did nothing to soothe her daughter’s suffering. The media that has forever painted omegas as helpless and empty. The arrogant alphas on campus who would leer, smirk. Only Cate’s power, her status, and Luke’s status had provided her any form of protection.

Twelve (?) minutes ago Cate had been screaming threats and insults at you. It is obvious that Cate is crazy. It would be logical for you to do what every other damn alpha would do, subdue and take the bitchy omega, force her into compliance. Claim her and make damn sure that she doesn’t cause further problems.

She doesn't know what to say, much less how. Her brain's still half-melted, but there's one thought that just keeps repeating in her head.

safe safe safe

Safe? There’s no such thing as safe, never will be again. Not after what she did. Broken, broken, broken. Twisted and ugly. Pathetic.

But being here, in your bed, in your presence, is safe enough to allow her body to relax, just slightly to ease some of the cramping and tension. The pain still lurks, just waiting to rise at the first sign of any stress, and Cate isn't about to test her luck.

You can notice it even now, in the midlle of her heat. Cate is not okay, not okay at all. A heavy feeling settles deeply in your stomach. You should had asked Jordan more questions.

But you can begin now, and you’ve always wanted to get to know her.

Cate was with Luke, but he had never marked her. And then he'd died and it had turned out she was sleeping with Andre, but not once was your eyes drawn to the sweet, unmarked skin of her neck.

You swallow and can't hold in your damn curiosity any longer. “Why didn’t Luke mark you? You guys looked perfect together."

Luke and Cate seemed like the perfect couple. The most popular couple at God-U. The golden couple. Everyone looked up to them, and Cate would lie and pretend that her relationship with Luke meant anything at all. It was only Indira who had demanded, ordered her to be with him. Maybe Luke had instinctively known that she was manipulating him. Perhaps that’s why he had never marked her.

Now that she thinks about it, it's funny how much of her life was filled with lying.

"Appearances are deceptive," Cate mutters quietly, forcing herself to keep her breathing even.

Her mother locked her away, afraid of her power, of her touch. Indira had been kinder. She had touched her with such kindness, with a gentle smile. But she had also pushed Cate over the edge time after time - erasing memories, hurting and breaking people again and again. Cate had always been a needy, desperate, touch-hungry omega, yet it was Indira who had molded her into a pathetic, truly broken creature.

Cate can't help but scoff. If Luke had known how much of a manipulative psycho she really was, he'd never have touched her. No one wants that kind of crazy.

Cate's hands clench in the blankets, nails digging into her palms as she tries to calm her breathing. It's hard to remain calm when she still has a raging heat, and even just the thought of a mate triggers her instincts.

“Why…Why did you get in my way?” the question hangs in the air.

Why hadn’t you just stayed away, why had you even searched for her, why hadn’t you let her fall into madness?

Why are you looking at her so softly?

“Well, I would’ve missed this entire party, but Jordan literally stormed into the classroom, dragged me right out of there." you answer honestly. "They were so nervous, like the apocalypse was about to start."

Cate wants to scream and laugh. Indira truly did love her, it was true. She loved her, used her, and abused her trust. Yet Cate had chosen not to trust Indira, but instead her own friends, and where are they all now?

For those she called friends, Cate was nothing but a freak, a monster, a feral animal. They couldn’t even fucking face her. Of course they threw you at her. You, who couldn't be controlled by Cate.

Truly, Jordan was her favorite, the only one who was even close to a friend. Andre only desired her, Luke saw her as a damn trophy, and Jordan… the beta was the only one of them who tried to understand Cate.

You see something dark pass over Cate’s face, as if something in her heart, her chest is breaking right in front of your eyes. It only lasts a second before she buries it behind a anger, and pure stubbornness.

“Did Jordan tell you? About the Woods? About the things humans do to us. And all that bullshit is right underneath us, right now,” Cate spits, her voice bitter.

Cut, electrocuted, injected with gods know what. Students were nothing more than lab rats, nothing but specimens to be studied.

You never realized that you could have been one of them. You could not be more grateful that your power was not more interesting, that you were just yourself. You were fine with stupid jokes and a somewhat stable psyche. Brink had never shown the slightest interest in you, and Indira hadn’t even looked your way.

But Cate was not so lucky.

You refuse to take your eyes off of her. “Yeah, they told me. They also said that they had a plan to deal with it,” you said, hoping that they really did know how to handle it. Anything was preferable to letting the traumatized students out of the fucking torture chamber.

Cate gives a strangled sound before pulling the blanket tightly around herself, hiding her face from your gaze. She was sweating, shaking in your bed, surrounded by pillows and a blanket that served as a makeshift nest.

Right.

"So..a killer virus?" you can't help but ask.

"I helped Indira. I did what she wanted. That’s why Luke is dead. He couldn’t handle all of the bullshit." Cate touches her head and you know what she means.

Jordan has given you the details. Mind control, erased memories. You can’t help but pity all of them, losing memories, literal pieces of their own selves is awful. It was even worse when it had been done to them by a friend, someone they’d thought they could trust.

"I didn't want this."

You say nothing. There’s nothing that you can say. After all, you can’t bring back the broken memories without the pain. Luke won’t return from the grave. It would be a still huge fucking mess.

So you just stay quiet.

An hour, maybe two had gone by and still no one had sent even a single text. At this point, it was getting dark and you had absolutely zero idea of what was going on outside of your safe bubble.

Cate was as quiet as possible, but she was unable to stop herself from a pained sound, or an occasional tear. Even with painkillers, this heat is horrible.

Maybe it's the heat, or the pain, or just the intense vulnerability of the moment.

"Why would you even here? If not to use me? I'm crazy." she's almost scowling, but she can't keep the tears from welling in her eyes. "I have issues. I'm damaged."

Your head snaps up quickly, surprised by the sudden question.

Oh god, Cate… is beautiful.

Even with her hair slick with sweat, eyes bloodshot and face pale, she’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. She doesn’t need force to make you do anything, you do it all willingly, on your own accord, of your own free will.

Your entire body, aching from the hard, cold floor, and desire. So desperate, so close to her. You lick your dry lips.

You hadn’t given her a second thought, back then. It was the incident, that’s what had made you notice Cate.

"We used to have a class together, you know? We sat next to each other, but we never spoke. I'm not even sure if you remember that I was there."

Two alphas flirted with you. Lots of muscles but not a single thought in damn head. One of them started grabbing you, right in class, like this was the norm. And you didn’t even blink, you dealt with them so quickly, that I didn’t have a chance to open my mouth. All it had taken was a single touch to you to get them to beat themselves between the legs down at the sports ground. And you just continued to read your book. I can remember thinking at the time: wow, what a damn shame she is with Luke, I totally would have asked her out.

Cate is looking at you, really looking at you.

You…

You remember that?

For Cate, it was just one of many occasions where she used her powers as a tool. It was a way to gain more popularity. To make herself look tough and powerful.

But you remember it as the first day you saw her, as the first time you became interested in her as an omega.

"You like me?"

Goddamn it, you didn’t want to say it, but you wanted to be honest with her. Your cheeks are burning red and you nod. “Yeah…I tried not to press you. You’re so… independent. Even when you were with Luke, you looked like you hated the idea of anyone having any power or control over you.”

It wasn’t just that she hated anyone having power over her. It’s more like she was so used to people trying to get control of her that even Luke’s very existence felt oppressive.

"I don’t like people telling me what to do." Cate mutters.

Even with her powers, she felt like she couldn’t be her own person. Even when she had all the power, she still felt helpless.

"I’m a difficult omega."

You can't help but laugh a little. "I’m a a weird alpha."

Part of her finds it amusing. Part of her finds it very attractive.

"You are a weird alpha." she agrees, giving you a slight smirk.

It is this realization that finally helps her to relax.

You want her, yearning for her. Cate knows what to do with you, how to use your want, your need, your desperation. Even immune to her power, you are still alpha.

Luke is dead, Indira is gone too, Andre doesn’t want to even look at her. Let Jordan and Marie deal with the Woods and all the consequences.

Cate, on the other hand...Cate can just let go.

"Come here."

Oh god. You weren’t expecting this-

But how could you possibly resist, when Cate looks at you with those eyes and asks (orders)?

You rise, your legs a little sore from the hard floor, moving in towards the bed, step by step. Until you are stood at the bedside, and waiting for her response before you move any closer.

She’s expecting you to push her back onto the bed. She’s expecting you to force her to submit, to tell her what to do.

But of course, you don’t do that. Instead, you hesitate, almost awkwardly, waiting for her to tell you what to do.

Even when you’re standing above her, standing beside the bed, you’re so sweet and submissive.

She loves it more than she thought she would.

She pats the spot next to her.

"Sit."

Maybe, maybe Cate has found the one she's been looking for her whole life. A person, an alpha with whom she'll be safe.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your pretty sure Cate can hear it. Your scent is mixing with hers and it just feels so… right.

You sit yourself down on the bed, still watching her, like a puppy waiting for a command.

Normally, Cate hates the way alphas smell. It’s a sharp, musky stench, like rotting meat. Like death.

But yours is different. It’s like cinnamon and firewood and honey all together. You smell like a home. A home that she just wants to get closer and closer to.

She scoots closer.

"Lie down."

Part of you just cannot believe that this is happening. That Cate, the girl you’ve wanted for such a long time, is looking at you like this now. The other, alpha, is singing - so ecstatic that she has finally noticed you.

Now you’re lying down, on your back. And Cate, despite being the omega of the two of you, is straddling you, sitting on top of you and looking down at you.

She’s not touching you yet. Her thighs are touching the sides of your hips. Cate is in complete control. And she isn’t even using her powers to do it.

She can see the way you are laying under her, unmoving. She leans down, her blonde hair falling forward and tickling across your face.

"Kiss me."

A simple order, and you follow it happily. Her lips brush against yours, tasting you.

You kiss her slowly, gently and lightly, your hands cupping her face. It feels so amazing to have her weight upon your body, to have her above you.

You don’t try to overpower her, to force into her mouth. You let her take control, like a good girl, and she can feel the way your body goes soft and relaxed under her. The sound of your lips against hers is the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

Finally, she pulls back, panting, feeling the first waves of exhaustion. it’s not the right time, Cate thinks, annoyed at the timing.

Your lips are swollen, your pupils dilated wide. You are willing to give in, to be soft, pliable, obedient and give her everything she wants, everything she needs.

"Cate?"

“I’m…I’m fine. Just tired.” She admits, suddenly feeling a little bit weak and vulnerable in spite of her position on top of you.

Oh. Her heat must have taken a lot out of her, her body exhausted. She is sweaty, pale, and slightly shaking. You smile gently, stroking her cheek softly and reassuringly. “We can just lay together. Just sleep.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what she needs to hear. Cate is suddenly overcome with exhaustion when you say those words. Like just the reassurance of those few words was enough to release her from the stress.

Cate is in no rush. Now, with Indira gone, there will no longer be experiments. No more orders and violence. It will be just Cate and her life. If others want to deal with the mess, she let them.

And Cate...Cate will take what she wants.

She lets out a breath and suddenly lets herself soften, sinking down onto you so that her head is on your chest.

“Just sleep.” She agrees, nuzzling into you.

Her eyelids are so heavy. Suddenly, the exhaustion is all she can focus on. She’s not even aware of her own soft purring.

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, covering you both with the blanket. She’s unnaturally hot, and you know that her heat will very likely not go away until the early hours of the morning.

She’s been fighting her heat for this whole week. It’s been a struggle everyday to keep her body from acting up, to keep her mind in control. But now, she’s lying here, in your arms.

And finally, finally, she can sleep.

[impval]

nervous

Victoria Neuman x fem! reader warnings: mentions of stalking, mentions of blood, illness (cold), stupid jokes, reader (and Vicky) is useless sapphics.

Victoria doesn’t like how nervous she feels around you.

Logically, it makes no sense for her to feel this way, for her heart to flutter whenever she catches your smile. You're just a ordinary woman who she met through a mutual friend - nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it's the fact that you're different from everyone else in her life, all the political snakes and heroes she deals with on a daily basis.

She's always had a soft spot for people like you, those who are slightly weird, but also smart. When you talk, your words flow like a river, and your eyes light up with an intense enthusiasm that is so endearing.

When you first met, Victoria was expecting the usual reaction from you, the typical swooning at her status, her money, her beauty. But no, you remained completely unfazed by it all. You just spent hours talking about Sylvanas Windrunnner of all topics, passionately discussing the portrayal of women in media. And it wasn't even a deliberate attempt on your part. To you, she was just a woman who had opinions on a game. A woman you could nerd-out with.

Her daughter approval was a significant factor. You didn't try to impress her, didn't talk down to her or make false promises. It wasn't some strategic move to win points with Victoria. You weren't trying to impress or manipulate anyone. You just treated Zoe like any other person - sincerely.

Zoe appreciated that. She was used to the fake smiles and the veiled attempts to get close to her mother through her. She is a smart kid, sharp and more mature than many kids her age. She is also cautious and wary of adults, a effect of her mother's fame and her own intelligence. But she seemed to... tolerate you.

Those casual meetings in a café, the occasional lunch visits, the funny memes shared back and forth. The way you looked at Zoe's homework with a mix of horror and awe, knowing that she was already taking advanced classes and soaking up knowledge far beyond her years.

The way the corners of your mouth would twitch up into a smile or down into a pout as you spoke passionately about something that fascinated you. Victoria could feel her heart skip a beat every time, but she convinced herself it was just the alcohol, just exhaustion, just something that was causing the flutter in her chest.

She found comfort in this little bubble of normalcy, in the charade where she wasn't the politician, the Head-Popper or Nadia. Just Victoria and you, no other bullshit attached.

And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything.

Victoria knew he had been your friend, after all, it was thanks to him that you and her had even met. She believed that he had left your life behind when he started running with The Boys. That your friendship would have faded into the past, like a distant memory.

Oh, she knew that Hughie and the Boys had finally figured out her true identity. It was only a matter of time, really, but she hadn't expected it to be this way.

But the silence from you... that, she hadn't expected. At first, Victoria didn't notice, as she was preoccupied with Homelander's bullshit and the pressures of politics.

Victoria couldn't help but know details about you, your routine, where you lived, who are your colleagues, your family, your friends. She told herself it was just a product of her paranoia, that she needed to make sure you were safe and unharmed, but deep down she knew it was more than just that.

It might have bordered on a bit too much knowledge for a regular friend to have, but Victoria couldn't help but want to keep tabs.

It was far from a coincidence that you suddenly fell ill just a couple of days after Hughie stumbled upon the truth about Victoria's secret. Your colleagues and boss mentioned that you were unwell, that you had taken work home. But Victoria knew better. You rarely got sick, and if you ever did, you never failed to keep in touch. Yet, since then, you had barely sent a text or even responded.

Anxiety, horror, nerves, fear - coursed through her veins like a toxic poison. You'd been quiet for days, she knew why - she understood why. That just didn’t make it hurt any less.

The secrets, the past, all the blood on her hands. It was laid bare, exposed for you to see in all its bloody and monstrous glory. Was this the end? Did you despise her now?

Maybe you were even packing your bags at that very moment, ready to flee from Victoria's presence, putting as much distance between yourself and her as possible.

Knock-knock.

Victoria tried to act as if she didn't notice the way your eyes widened in surprise, she tried to act as if her heart wasn't trying to escape her chest and her breath wasn't being caught in her throat. She tried to act as if she didn't realize how nervous she felt either.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching you, before she remembered herself and smiled slightly “Can I come in?”

You look genuinely unwell - pale skin, parched lips. You hadn't even cared to dry your hair properly after a shower, and your T-shirt still had remnants of dampness from the water. Oddly enough, you don't seem afraid. No fear etched into the lines of your face.

You just...smile. Softly, awkwardly, a pale shadow of your usual cheerful self.

"Sure. Come in."

Victoria had been there many times before - in better circumstances, of course.

Your apartment was always messy and chaotic like that, it was your way of being. There was a certain level of warmth and comfort in the chaos.

She looked around, taking in the current mess before turning to look at you again. Her smile faltered as she took in your pale skin. You looked like you hadn't slept for days, and judging by the pizza box, you clearly hadn't eaten properly either.

Usually, you would offer a warm cup of tea when Victoria visited, but today, you seem too exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead, you let yourself collapse onto the couch.

She follows you to the living room and sits down in the armchair, facing you in the couch. She crosses her legs, pretending she's totally calm and relaxed, but she's not, she's dying to know what's going through your head. She wonders if you suspect anything, if Hughie told you anything.

"No offense, but you look like crap," she tried to make the comment sound casual and sarcastic, like usual, but it came out more concerned and worried than anything else, and she hated it. She didn't want to show how concerned she was.

What if you hate her? The thought makes her heart ache, but she tries to keep her face neutral. Victoria hates being like this. She always knows what to say, what to do, how to behave. She always knows how to be in control.

But now she feels so damn lost.

"You are as charming as always, Vicky," you laugh lightly, a small, quiet sound that fills the room.

Victoria's heart skips a beat at that little sound you make. It was such a familiar laugh, it was your laugh. She could be in a crowded room and still pick out your laugh in a heartbeat.

She inhales deeply, and there it is again - your familiar scent, now tinged with the unmistakable aroma of medicine. You smell of the shampoo she gave you, the same one she bought specifically because she saw you eyeing it in a store once.

As she looked around the living room, Victoria could see bits and pieces of her everywhere. A cup from the mug she got you two Christmases ago, the blanket from last year's birthday.

The memory hits her - the way you held that Sylvanas Windrunner figurine, the pure delight on your face, how you had thanked her over and over again. The ugly, disgustingly pink slippers she gave you as a joke. Each gift holds its own memory - laughter, gratitude... love.

Those pink damn slippers were stupid. They should have been the first thing you threw away after finding out the truth about her.

"But I'm fine. The cold is almost gone, I feel much better than I look."

"Bullshit," Victoria says immediately, a little sharp.

Her heart is almost beating out of her chest. She's dying to ask you if you know. If you've found out the truth. She even opens her mouth, almost asking, but closes it at the last moment.

"Why did you ignore my texts?" She asks instead, trying to keep her voice steady.

A beat of silence passes between two of you, and in that moment, everything becomes so clear.

Silence is not your thing; you thrive on noise, on conversations, on laughter and music. Your words always flow freely, unfiltered, and yet right now, you're silent, thinking, contemplating how to frame the next words.

You know who she really is. She's exposed, vulnerable, naked before you. What are you going to say? Are you afraid of her now? She's the Head Popper, after all. Or maybe you feel betrayed? Deceived?

Victoria clenched her jaw, hating how her mind started to consider the option of eliminating you. This was the way she had been trained, conditioned to think by Stan. She can almost hear his voice in her head, as clear as if he were sitting next to her. Your safety is priority. Eliminate every source of danger. Never leave a risk.

"Well, I was very unwell the entire time. I suppose work got to me. Fucking reports," you rubbed your temples, even now cursing at the endless paperwork. "And then Hughie with his british boyfriend unloaded a bomb on me."

Yep, you said this.

Honestly, you were freaking out at this plot twist. You love Victoria, both as a person and as a friend (and maybe a little more, but you try to ignore that part). When Hughie told you his story, it sounded so unreal.

But then he brought proof - a folder bursting with photos and even videos on disks, like some kind of old-school spy movie. Who even uses disks anymore?

You spent every waking hour staring at the blood-stained pictures and text in the folder, the horrific details of what her past and present. Your tea intake had reached a record-breaking level, and if your illness hadn't been holding you back, you probably would have drowned yourself in alcohol.

Conflict warred within you. Anger for the things Victoria had done and for the fact that she’d kept it hidden. Confusion over how to feel about all of it. But most importantly, the pain of being deceived by someone you held so close. You trusted Victoria, saw her as the most important person in your life.

But at the same time - how would she have even told me?

The enormity of her secret, the danger it posed, it was a crushing burden. You knew deep down she couldn’t have told you. She probably didn’t know how to.

You vividly remembered the day of the court, how your heart was in your throat as you watched the live broadcast at home. You recall the day clear enough. Wanting to be there to support her...only for her to gently persuade you to stay home. You gave in, thanks to a simple kiss on the cheek that had your brain short-circuiting.

During the broadcast, you found yourself praying to any and every deity, even though faith had never been a part of your life. You prayed for her survival, to see her again.

You thought that Victoria slept so much after the court because of PTSD, but fuck, she likely needed all that sleep to recover from the effort of exploding a whole shitload of heads.

A cruel, bitter joke indeed.

The memory replays in your mind, and suddenly you remember something - something that was so insignificant at the time, but now takes on a whole new level of significance.

You recall the time you was at her office, and you noticed a smudge of blood on her clothes. You remember the unease, the concern, how she’d made you think it was just a small, unimportant thing. And at the time, it had been easy to let it go, to trust her. But now?

And how carefully, casually, Victoria probed you about your thoughts on super-powered humans. Unlike others, you don’t idolize them as infallible heroes or hate them as dangerous threats. After all, they were all just people. It was only after that conversation, it seemed, that she opened up more, allowed you glimpses behind her masks.

As you look at Victoria, it's like seeing her for the first time. All the little quirks, her tells, everything about the person you've come to know so well...unmasked.

She's wearing the dark red suit (blood, your mind whispers), the one she usually chooses for tough debates. Another armor. A defense.

But you know her much better now, past her careful masks and smiles. You recognize the tension in her jaw, the dark flicker in her eyes. She's preparing for the worst.

"What bomb?" She asked despite knowing the answer.

The small smile you offer is careful. You raise your eyebrows and gesture towards the pile of papers on the table by the sofa, the folder among them, buried in notes and drawings.

"I think Victoria fits you better," you remark, voice soft. "But you know, Nadia sounds beautiful too."

Hearing you speak her real name sends a shiver down her spine. No one had called her that in years, and from your lips, it sounded too intimate, too personal.

It's all there, the documents, the evidence, the photos. Things that should never have seen by anyone, much less by you.

"I prefer Vicky," she says carefully, but when she looks at you, she doesn't see fear or anger. You just seem tired. “You've read all that?”

Death, blood, shattered lives - you used to think red suited her, but you hadn't comprehended just how much.

"Of course. When have I ever left anything unfinished?" you murmurs, with just a hint of irony in the voice.

She doesn't know if she should be amused or offended by your comment.

On one hand, it's a normal reaction from you, sarcastic and cheeky. The same person she got to know during all those days and nights spent together in each other's company. On the other hand, you're talking about her greatest secret like you're talking about a crime book.

"And?" She asked quietly, hating how nervous she feels.

She's acting almost as awkward as that time she got soo drunk and you stayed up all night holding a bucket next to her, so she didn't puke all over the carpet. Now that you think about it, she's downed a lot more alcohol than a human ever could. The memory bubbles up, almost making you want to laugh.

You reach up to rub at your throat, grimacing slightly at the lingering soreness. Your cough hasn't quite gone away yet, and you pick up a bottle of water from the table, taking a few gulps to soothe the ache.

You place the bottle back down next to you and your tone is calm and measured as you speak.

"I've got exactly two questions," you state, eyes fixed on her.

Her fingers dig into the fabric of her pants, knuckles turning white. How can you be so calm, so matter-of-fact? She wants to snap, yell, scream at you, for how can you look normal after everything?

"Ask."

Another fact about you that's worth mentioning: you're a fucking clown. If Victoria ever dragged you to any important event, you would have been easily mistaken for a court jester or shot down as a threat to the sanity of every politician there. It's how you cope with the cruel world of capitalism and heroes, after all - if you can't laugh, you'd probably cry.

"So you felt it every time I had a period?"

What the fu-

She can practically feel a vein in her temple ticking in annoyance. You know her secret and this is what you're asking her?

Typical you, to focus on something as unimportant as this.

"What do you think?" she replied bluntly, her shoulders relax.

Somehow, the tension in the air has lessened. The conversation has fallen into more familiar territory, much like a well-practiced dance. You and Victoria have often discussed the powers of various supers, real or fictional, and now is no different.

Blood manipulation. You can't help but admit that exploding heads is a impressive move, yet horrifying all the same. It was a dramatic and effective ability, perfectly fitting for Victoria, the woman who always loved a good show.

The file had mentioned that she used to struggle with controlling it, but clearly, she'd mastered it now. It fit her personality perfectly: she always needed to be in control, no matter what.

"I think you can feel everything around you," you say, your voice quiet but sure. "You can hear the beating of hearts, can't you? That's why you always know when someone is lying. But for details, you need to concentrate."

You had always been good at puzzles, connecting the dots, thinking. That's why she love you.

You're surprisingly spot on in your assumptions. Victoria can feel blood, she's always felt it, even if she hasn't always been able to control it. She felt your periods. She's felt your heart rate changing in times of excitement or fear.

But what surprises her is not the fact that you've figured that out, but the fact that you aren't afraid of her even knowing all of this.

"Sometimes I try not to pay attention to much," she confessed, her voice almost a whisper, like she's sharing a secret. "It's... overwhelming."

Oh, Vicky.

Your eyes soften, a gentle understanding. All this time, this power of hers, and you hadn't noticed. Or maybe she just never let you see this side of her, this hidden weakness. Something inside you aches.

Victoria used to think you were simple, naive. You wore your heart on your sleeve, you trusted everyone too easily. She didn't see it, didn't realize that deep down, beneath that all, there was a sharp mind, capable of seeing through all her bullshit facade. Now she sees it especially clearly.

"Second question." She demands, her voice almost a whisper.

Vicky, Vicky, Vicky.

You should be afraid. After everything, the lies, the manipulation, the hidden life...you should fear her.

But you can't.

She's woven into the fabric of your life, tangled up in a web of memories, gifts, and shared moments. She's the one who showers you with gifts just because she thought of you, the one who patiently listens to your theories and debates.

Vicky, Vicky, always Vicky.

Your lip quirks slightly, a soft smile touching the corners of your mouth. You feel like you see her better now, more than ever before.

And so, your second and final question rolls off your tongue, quiet and calm. "Will you kill me?"

Victoria's heart practically stops at your question.

She was prepared for anger, sadness, disappointment. But this? Not in a million years.

"You..." Her voice is choked, a thousand thoughts swirling in her head. She looks at you, searching for something, anything in your eyes, that you're not serious.

But, ironically, this is possibly the most serious you've ever been.

"Well?" you continue. "Don't deny it. We both know you're paranoid and I know too much now. It would be logical for you. So answer the question. Will you kill me?"

Logical is exactly the kind of word that Stan had used to describe Victoria. It's who she is. So yes. This is exactly what she would have done a long time ago. Of course you think she would kill you. She should. You know too much.

But you're you, with your soft smiles and endless patience, stupid curiosity and unwavering loyalty. Despite everything, she loves you.

How can she kill the one person she loves?

Finally, in a low, strangled tone she answers.

"No, I won't kill you."

Wow, you must be utterly and hopelessly in love with her, considering how willing you are to accept death at her hands. A sick, twisted kind of humor bubbles up in your mind as you muse to yourself that it's nice that Victoria won't be exploding your head anytime soon.

Your shoulders sag a little. Okay.

Your entire body aches and throbs from the sickness that's kept you in your apartment for the past week.

And the fucking folder has only made the simple cold worse. Right now, all you want to do is disappear under the covers, crawl into the warm darkness, and shut out the world.

You gesture to the papers on the table, your voice tired but steady. "I need some time," you say, a hint of hurt underlying your words. "Will you take the folder with you when you leave? I don't want it here."

Victoria drops her gaze, averting it to look at the table, the stack of papers, the folder that started this whole mess. She feels an irrational urge to throw it all out, to burn it, and she will. Later.

Part of her is too wary to say something she'll regret, and the other... she's just too cowardly. Victoria nods slowly, standing up to grab the folder.

So all she does is watch you a moment longer, the folder clenched tightly in her hands, before walking out the door.

Time drags out slowly. Never before has a month felt so long and painful. Even during your worst fights, both of you would still text each other, however small the dialogue might be.

But now, you don't call. You don't text. You don't even send her memes filled with passive aggressive hints of your anger.

Every time her phone vibrates, her heart skips a beat in foolish hope. She almost feels like a teenager with a crush, looking at the screen eagerly, only to be disappointed every single time.

You had asked for time, and Victoria knows she should honor that.

However, you've been kept under close watch. She's not worried that you'll reveal her secret, no - that option was clearly not even in the cards. The surveillance now, the protective measures, it's not to keep an eye on you. It's for your safety. To make sure you're okay and not in any possible danger. You were right when you called her paranoid.

Her daughter starts to notice. Even she's beginning to look at Victoria differently. It's no secret that you usually spend plenty of time visiting, but it's been a whole damn month since you've vanished.

Zoe isn't your biggest fan, but she can see how much it hurts Victoria not to have you around.

"Mom, did you screw something up?"

"Language."

Victoria practically jumps when she receives a text message, inviting her to meet in a local cafe. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a simple request for cocoa and conversation.

That day, you both chat about nothing and everything, carefully avoiding the painful subject that weighs heavily on both of you. It's not much, but it's a start. A fragile first step.

When she sees the vampire memes you've sent, a wave of relief washes over her face. Victoria breaks out into loud, relieved laughter, startling her colleagues with the unexpected outburst.

She almost feels like she's back in your apartment again, sprawled on the couch, arguing about which anime to watch, or which one of the characters you're obsessed with is the most attractive.

You're insufferable, just as Victoria had expected from you. You torture her with a nonstop fload of puns, innuendoes, jokes, and memes all related to blood. Even Zoe joins, to Victoria's combined amusement and horror.

Victoria endures through Zoe's torturous plan to force her to watch the Twilight, making it her own personal mission to survive the whole series without jumping out of the nearest window.

You'll find out that Victoria has genuinely been trying to ignore the rhythm of your heartbeat since your friendship became genuine. But, before that, yeah, she used to monitor your heartbeat all the damn time.

When she casually mentioned it, you damn near choked on your tea. How in the world could Victoria, the most intelligent woman you knew, not recognize that you were madly in love with her all this time, even with super-duper powers?

After clearing your throat (with a bit of help from Victoria's powers), you laughed until your ribs hurt. Then you granted her permission to listen to your heartbeat whenever she wanted.

One day, while enjoying a casual lunch together, she asks you why you haven't run away to some sunny spot in Spain. After all, she has killed people, and it's not something that's likely to change. You rolled your eyes so hard it genuinely hurt. Seriously, your favorite characters are female war criminals for whom committing murder is just as natural as blinking.

Jokes on you, Vicky, I'm into that shit.

Of course you didn't say that. You're not ready to come out (ha!) of the illusion of friends yet.

You didn't have a damn clue how messed up the world truly is. Of course, you knew it was a cruel, cruel place, you're not naive. But, fuck, it's worse than you could have ever imagined.

And Victoria, she knows this better than anyone. She can now share her own personal horror story, revealing the truth about Vought, her father, the sadistic experiments, and her genuine desire to change the world for the better.

Things are strangely different now, better now that there are no more secrets. She finds herself hyper-aware of your heartbeat, your eyes on her, the way you move, the sound of your voice. It's like she's suddenly woken up to a new reality, where the line between friends and something more is slowly starting to blur.

And just when things were finally beginning to settle back into a shaky sense of normalcy, that fucking Hughie had to show up again.

hey, herm o. globin

you know who and his british boyfriend were at my house again

im fine btw

Victoria doesn't even bat an eye at the stupid pun, her mind immediately focusing in on the second part.

Hughie and Butcher was in your house again. Again. And somehow, her security had missed their presence. She clenches her jaw at the thought. How incompetent can they be? Stupid amateurs.

But she'll deal with them later. Victoria rearranges her schedule, sends a text ordering you to stay home, and quickly hops into her car, driving over to your place.

Victoria arrives at your apartment in record time. She can feel the tension coiling inside her, the need to make sure you're safe, to see you with her own eyes. Without even a knock, she pushes the door open and steps inside.

You're predictably sitting in the kitchen, calmly sipping away at a cup of tea. There's not a single bruise or scratch on you, no sign of fear or distress etched on your face. It's as if you didn't have two wanted terrorists in your damn house.

You glance up at the clock on the wall, "Wow, ten minutes. You won't get any fines?"

Victoria is not amused. Your humor would have usually been endearing, but right now it's just fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice strained from the effort to keep her temper in check.

"You had Hughie and Butcher in your house, and you didn't think to call me?"

You set down your cup on the table with a weary sigh. Of course, you weren't particularly thrilled about the surprise visit, but there was no point in stressing about it now that they were gone.

"I was too busy trying to decipher british accent." Yikes, more jokes. "They were just trying to figure out why I was still hanging out with you. You know, after I discovered your secret."

Victoria's hands curl into fists, her patience with your humor wearing thinner and thinner with each passing second. Victoria doesn't even understand why her anger is slipping out of control. Perhaps it's because you were in danger. Or maybe it's because she's still at risk of losing you.

"And what exactly did you tell them?"

You can't help but flinch ever so slightly at the question. Damn it, you suck at hiding your expressions, even when you really want to. Victoria's eyes flick down to the slight flinch that you tried to hide, her shoulders tensing at the sight.

Oh, Hughie, always trying to be gentle. He attempted to appeal to your sense of morality, your humanity. It's unfortunate that he doesn't grasp how deeply, how foolishly in love you are with Victoria.

It's a shame, really, since he's known you practically since school days, he of all people should have understood. When it came to the people you cared about, your moral principles usually went on vacation.

But, like what fuck, Butcher understood.

There's something about him, something rotten and dark, that sets off alarms in your head. This man is dangerous, like a ticking time bomb waiting to burst. And when he explodes - because sooner or later, he will - he'll take a hell of a lot of people down with him. 

Amor caecus. That's all he said and led Hughie out.

You swallow, forcing down the memory and pushing it to the back of your mind. Are you really that blind?

"I told them to go suck Homelander's dick," you manage to say, and even to your own ears, your words sound pathetically weak.

Victoria almost lets out a bitter laugh at your response. Trust you and your blunt, unapologetic attitude. But the way your voice falters when you speak, tells her everything she needs to know. There's something you're not telling her, something that clearly shook you.

"Is that all?" She asks, her tone firm. "Or is there something else they said that's got you rattled?"

Fuck.

It's a harsh reminder of the tension between you when you discovered the truth about her and how uncomfortable things had become.

You stand up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a sickening screech. Nope, you're not ready to confess your love to your friend right now.

That instinct to flee, to hide, an almost primal urge to run away...it influences your choices. How many times could you have confessed your feelings to Victoria? You're not stupid. And she's not stupid either. What's between you is not friendship, not really.

You're just afraid.

You try to walk past her, insisting, "That's all, Victoria. I didn't tell them anything else."

Victoria despises the way your blood sings with anxiety, fear, and fatigue that has seeped into your very bones. Victoria reaches out on instinct, preventing you from walking any farther, her grip tight around your wrist. She's not letting you run away, not this time.

There were so many words on the tip of her tongue, so many things she wanted to say. Like ‘Do you know what you’re doing to me?’ or ‘I think I love you.'

"Stop," she commands, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. "I know you're hiding something, dammit. I can feel it. Please, just tell me."

It's ironic, really, for her to expect such openness and trust from you when she kept an entire box of sketches from you for so long. But when she turns those big, sad eyes on you, silently pleading for trust... love truly is blind, isn't it?

You're weary and exhausted. You want it all to go back to the days when you were still oblivious, when she was simply Vicky, your ambitious friend who could down a shot of tequila without a second thought and feel fantastic.

Life was simpler then, and it was easier to suppress your longing, to resist the urge to touch her in ways that friends shouldn't.

You're just so damn tired. Maybe it's time to stop being a cliché, a useless sapphic who fell in love with her not-so-straight friend.

"Just promise you won't blow my damn head off?"

Please, just promise me that everything will be alright. That nothing will change between us.

You don't give her a chance to respond, quickly pulling her close and crashing your lips against hers.

Victoria freezes for a moment, her mind struggling to catch up with what's happening.

Oh.

Oh.

Friends my ass.

But then her body responds, her arms wrapping around you before she even realizes it. She's kissing you back, her lips moving urgently against yours, years of pent-up yearning and love, fear and desire, finally finding a way out.

When you break away, both of you gasping for breath, Victoria meets your eyes.

You're fully aware of the path you're heading down. Love may be blind, but you're perfectly aware of her paranoid nature, the blood staining her hands up to her elbows. She's a monster, there's no denying it, and you just offered yourself up to her on a goddamn silver platter.

There's no turning back now, but even if there was, you wouldn't change a damn thing.

[impval]

little moments

agathario x fem! reader

Agatha's the sort of person who constantly buzzes with something. Be it energy, action.. or at least, sound. She is full of stories, anecdotes, memories, quips, facts, theories, opinions. She talks about history, about mythology, about witchcraft, about your astrology signs, about her astrology sign, about her theories on the secret powers of the universe, how the stars impact the life of the beings on this planet.

Sometimes you wonder if Agatha's endless chatter, that constant flow of words tumbling from the older woman's mouth - is some attempt at soothing an internal, anxious part of herself. Whether it be a fear of silence, or fear of being alone with her own thoughts for too long.

Agatha can be such a tease with how casual her words seem to be, always delivered with a smirk on her lips and an edge of mischief in her eyes. She knows how to toy with your heart with the same ease as she can toy with your mind, drawing out your reactions - that flush that rises to your cheeks and leaves you stuttering.

There is never a dull moment with Agatha. You never know what she'll come up with and that thrill of chaos, of spontaneity, it keeps your life interesting and enjoyable. One moment, you may be enjoying a quiet meal in a charming cafe, the next, she is grabbing your hand and yanking you through the back exit, her laughter ringing through the alleys as you both dash away from the angry witch who wants her dead.

Agatha has a keen eye for fashion and oh girl, does she love dressing you. It doesn't matter what your personal style is, because when you're with her, you're her little doll to dress up as she pleases. And of course.. she pays for it all.

Sometimes, she'll pull you into stores, rifling through racks and piles of clothes, holding up different styles and colours against you with a critical eye, her own mouth twisted in a frown of concentration - like a artist inspecting her work.

Rio has the habit of gifting you the weird things - a pebble she found on the beach, a button, an old pocket watch. Just.. odd trinkets you're not entirely sure of the meaning of - but she insists they remind her of you. Some of these gifts are expensive, some are not, and you're almost certain she's taking them from, well, corpses, but her gifts are still cute.

With her, it's always a surprise. She'll just show up at random hours. You might suddenly wake up in the morning to find her already in bed with you, or she might appear during the middle of the day when you least expect it. Or even at night. She loves to keep you on your toes -dropping by at unexpected times, scaring you just a little.

There's a certain air of.. creepiness about Rio's gaze. She has the habit of staring at you, unblinking and unwavering. She particularly likes to watch you while you're asleep, and it's more than a little creepy. Her staring is incessant, but it's not cold, not entirely anyway. Just.. intensely fixated.

Rio is shameless when it comes to nudity. She'll walk around your shared space stark naked, not at all embarrassed about being bare-ass when you have guests over or are in a video call with friends.

She's obsessed with the sensation of your naked skin against hers, how it feels, the warmth radiating off of your body. Oh, and when you bathe together, she turns into a clingy little koala, wrapping her arms around your neck and burying her face in the crook of it. She could hold you like that for hours, just enjoying being in your presence, feeling your pulse against her skin, your presence so close and intimate.

It's like a competition every time you have both Agatha and Rio around you. They're constantly vying for your attention, trying to outdo one another. They both want to be the one to shower you with gifts, compliments, praise - anything to make you smile or make your cheeks flush bright red. Their own little game, trying to earn a point each by being the more caring, more loving partner, and you're the precious prize they’re fighting over.

Don't even try to argue that your closet is already bursting or that you're out of space in your house for more stuff - they don't care. If you express even the slightest desire for something, prepare for an avalanche of new purchases. Whether it's jewelry, books, or even paintings, they'll make sure to get it for you.

Agatha loves extreme activities, fun adventures, and luxurious dinners. She'll whisk you away to the finest restaurants and book fancy cruises.

Rio adores nature, quiet walks in the forest or up in the mountains where the stars shine brightly away from the city lights. She loves taking you on those romantic night picnics, lying on a blanket under the starlit sky, just enjoying each other's company and the beauty of the universe.

Oh, the poor soul who dares to even look at you in their presence. They're already individually possessive over you, but together? Agatha and Rio fiercely territorial and will make it abundantly clear that you belong to them, and only them.

Arguments, threats, and fights are a common occurrence between them, with things often turning physical. But when you're involved, it's like a switch flips. They suddenly become gentle, almost soft with one another. It's like they're trying hard to keep up their tough facades, but you bring out their more vulnerable sides. Oh, when they aren't engaged in their usual spats or competitions, they have a different kind of entertainment lined up for you - teasing.

Rio has this endearing habit of touching your pulse, her hand constantly on your wrist or her nose nuzzling against your neck. She's utterly fascinated by the steady pulse of your heart, it is a beautiful, melodic rhythm to her.

Agatha touches are light, almost like a dance, a tease both for herself and for you. She'll let her fingers graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine, or lean in for a deceptively chaste kiss on your cheek. She loves to play this game, to tantalize and entice, never fully giving in but always keeping you on the edge.

You're well aware that your time together is limited - that, in some way or another, you might not have the 'happily ever after' most people dream of. It's this very fragility that makes your time together even more precious, more intense. You catch them watching you, their eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. Their touch, their caresses, when they think you're asleep - they're tender, almost reverent, as if they're afraid they might break you with a single, careless movement.

You still have time, still so many moments left to cherish. Time for dates, for those small, intimate moments. Time for arguments and laughter behind closed doors. You can savor the time you have together, make the most of every second. Enjoy the taste of their kisses, the sounds of their laughter, the feel of their skin against yours.

There's still time.

[impval]

cinnamon in my teeth pt.2

CaitVi  x fem!reader

You were so used to coming home to an empty, silent house. No parents, no friends, no one to greet you after your shifts at work. Just the soft, solitary hush of an empty house.

The silence sat heavy on your shoulders - that feeling of being alone, and isolated.

You'd spend hours sitting quietly, lost in your head.

You'd go hours without speaking a word to anyone, the only company you had being the sound of your own heartbeat and the voices inside your head.

Life was quiet. Lonely.

But now… now the house was full of sound. Of warmth and laughter and love.

You'd come home to the sound of arguments, of giggles and laughter, of two women who loved you very dearly. You'd be met with smiles instead of loneliness, and you'd be greeted with warm kisses before even finished saying hello.

The silence was still there sometimes, but it was different. Softer. It was a comfort to walk into the house and still feel the presence of your girlfriends, even when they weren't there. Their clothes, their accessories, their distinct scents.

They didn't always come home together, unfortunately. Their jobs often left them both late at night, either one getting home before the other, sometimes both being late. Caitlyn was a workaholic, so often she'd be at her desk well beyond the hours most normal people would consider reasonable.

Caitlyn was an incredibly dedicated person, and while you knew work was important to her, both you and Vi were always happy that she tried to make time for you.

There were times when it was hard, though. When she'd come home in the late hour, looking tired and worn out and stressed. When she'd spend long hours hunched over paperwork, and you'd find her in the middle of the night, still not done.

But overall, it wasn't too bad. You appreciated that she was willing to put work aside for you and Vi.

You can never get excited for Fridays. You love that the end of the week brings a break from work, but at the same time, that Friday energy always seems to bring all the idiots with it. Meetings, last minute reports, and unexpected calls from clients who need their paperwork signed by the end of the week.

You let out a soft sigh, dropping your pen down on the desk. Your back popped as you finally straightened your spine, feeling the knots of pain in your shoulders unknotting.

Your eyes roamed over the rest of the office, eyeing out your coworkers. Just like you, they all had that shrimp-like slouch, slumped over their desks.

Office life was slowly destroying your back.

Your eyes narrowed as you spotted your boss, standing across the office with a cup of tea and another coworker. Your boss is an absolute ass - a massive jerk who thinks that just because you're the younger, he can push every last responsibility onto your shoulders.

But he'd been much quieter lately and seemed to be avoiding you like you had a deadly disease, passing on work to others instead of giving it directly to you. It was a strange change.

And there was something about the glitter on his neck that was familiar… pink and blue, he tried covered it with a scarf but you noticed. The glitter dusted across his skin, plus the hint of a limp he now had, and the fact that someone had spent an entire day cleaning the graffiti from the his office...

You finish the last of the coffee in your mug, unable to help a small smile lifting your mouth.

Caitlyn and Vi hadn't promised to stay out of it, but Jinx… Jinx didn't make such promise.

Jinx was Vi's younger sister, and the relationship between the sisters was… complicated, to say the least. At least they weren't currently fighting, but it was only a matter of time.

She was insane, that was for sure. But you also kind of liked Jinx… when she wasn't kidnapping you or trying to burn down the city, that is. Despite her occasional kidnappings and pranks, Jinx did sort of treat you differently than anyone else. You couldn't quite pin down why.

You were normal. A civilian, no history of violence, no blood on your hands, an average person. Perhaps it was just because you were normal.

It had been an odd encounter when Jinx kidnapped you for first time, but the first thing you'd said to her? "I like your hair."

The clock on the wall finally reached the end of the work day, marking the end of your shift.

You stood from your seat, stretching your stiff back, letting a sigh out of your lips. Your boss looked nervous as you smiled at him, walking past.

The evening air was cool, sending a chill down your spine. With a sigh you tightened your jacket around your shoulders, searching for any sign of Vi.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands fall over your eyes, and a familiar voice spoke behind you.

"Guess who?"

Vi leaned her face close to your ear, her smile widening as she heard your comment, her breath warm. You could feel a smile tug at your lips, the familiar scent and warmth of your girlfriend's presence bringing you comfort. The feel of her body next to you was as natural and comforting as breathing.

"A bit predictable, don't you think?" you smirked, a slight hint of sarcasm in your tone.

"Maybe. But it gets you every time."

She moved her hands away from your eyes and instead wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss was light and gentle, and you could feel the blush quickly take over your cheeks.

Vi's hair was a bit dirty, a mess of tangled locks, yet somehow it still looked as cool as ever. There was a slight smudge of dirt across her cheek, probably from some sort of grease, and you reached up to wipe it away.

Vi's arm wrapped around your waist as you took slow strides towards your house, your pace relaxed in the cool evening air. The walk wasn't far, only ten minutes from the office.

You still couldn't believe it sometimes, living in a mansion now, a far cry from your small apartment, and you had two girlfriends. Life was weird.

"How was your day?" Vi said softly.

You loved your job for the most part. Yeah, it had endless paperwork and tedious reports, but it paid the bills, and the people you worked with were nice and helpful.

Vi didn't always fully understand what you said, but that never stopped her from paying attention and trying to grasp the concepts. It was one of the things you loved most about her - her unwavering attention and curiosity.

The walk home was filled with you discussing work and venting to Vi, who listened and asked questions in the right spots. She nodded along, making noises of understanding to let you know that she was following along.

The lights of mansion glowed warmly in the windows as you and Vi approached, letting you know that Caitlyn was home. Perfect, since that meant she was probably already cooking dinner.

Vi didn't quite know how to cook, although Caitlyn and you was more than happy to help her. You usually took the lead in the kitchen, but you'd grown tired of it recently, and you couldn't deny the appeal of Caitlyn handling all the cooking.

You and Vi exchanged a knowing look, both of you thinking the same thing. Caitlyn's cooking was that good.

The moment you stepped into the house, the scent of freshly-cooked meat immediately hit your nostrils, your mouth watering at the thought of a proper meal after a day filled only with snacks.

Both you and Vi walk into the kitchen, finding Caitlyn standing by the stove. She looks adorable in the little apron she’s wearing, and you can tell she's a little tired - her forehead is creased with a worried little crease, and her messy hair is pushed back into a bun.

The moment you enter, she turns to you both, a warm smile on her full lips.

"You're home!" Caitlyn exclaims with a pleased sigh.

You watch as Caitlyn leans over to give Vi a swift, affectionate kiss. Vi leans into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Caitlyn waist in a tight little pull.

"I missed you," she murmurs.

It was true that a lot of people didn't understand how three women could be in a relationship with each other. So many people tried to insist it was some sort of twisted experiment - that someone had to be left out, or that everyone was secretly miserable.

You had heard the questions - Don't you feel lonely? Don't you get jealous? - and you usually had just shrugged them off with a wry smile. After all, you were dating both the two most beautiful women in existence.

Jealousy? Loneliness? You feel neither.

Caitlyn then turns her attention to you, her expression softening.

"And I missed you too," she adds, her hand coming up to gently caress your cheek. "Did you have a good day, sweetheart?"

"It was..work as usual." You can't help smiling. It's such a stupid, lovesick, soft expression - like lovestruck puppy.

But you don't care at all.

Caitlyn smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling faintly.

"You're all happy like an idiots," Vi teases, an amused scoff in her voice. Her arms are still wrapped around Caitlyn's waist.

"Just work, huh?"

Caitlyn raises a curious eyebrow, her eyes watching you closely. A flicker of something - something you can't quite decipher - crosses over her face. There was something in her expression, like she was expecting a certain answer from you.

Well, someone had to set Jinx on your boss, right? Well, Caitlyn promised not to hurt your boss. Smart decision and no broken promises.

She nod regardless, and simply says, "Dinner's just about ready, so you might want to go wash up before you eat."

"Ugh," Vi groans, her grip growing tight on Caitlyn, as if it's to hold her in place.

Caitlyn simply rolls her eyes and gently bats Vi's hands away from her. "Go," she says, her voice firm. "You can't eat if your hands are all dirty."

You take Vi's hand and start to pull her towards the bathroom, leading her away from Caitlyn.

Vi gives one last, half-hearted protest, but she lets you pull her away without too much fuss. She follows you to the bathroom, and you start to wash at the sink.

It's so stupid how cute Vi can be when she's pouting like this. She's always been so used to getting her own way that she acts like a whiny five-year-old sometimes. It's both adorable and incredibly annoying at once.

You all sit at the table, and Vi is already shoveling food into her mouth like a greedy puppy. She's completely ungraceful, taking large, messy bites.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, is incredibly slow, savoring every bite of her food. She's a woman raised with manners and discipline, after all.

Christmas was on its way, and you now had a beautiful tree in the living room. Vi has never, ever been able to celebrate Christmas properly. Now she was going through all the effort to make her first Christmas "proper," and it was adorable how enthusiastic she was about it.

She was practically vibrating with excitement when you all first got the Christmas tree out. Her eyes lit up so brightly as she excitedly babbled about how much she was looking forward to decorating the tree together.

You all chat. The snow is falling outside, slowly blanketing your home in a layer of white, soft snow that creates a sense of comfort. Vi is so excited that you can't help but laugh at the fact that she didn't even notice the mess she's made of her own face.

Caitlyn has to wipe away some of the sauce from Vi's face, muttering about how she's a mess - but there's an affectionate, amused smile on her face.

You remember the days of instant ramen in a bowl and a quiet, empty apartment - you were always alone. The difference now is incredible, the change in lifestyle so immense that it still feels a little like a dream sometimes.

Christmas has always been a bit of a mixed bag for Caitlyn - she didn't hate it by any means, but there was always a lot of pressure for her to be on her very best behavior.

She would have had to arrange an event for the entire Kiramman family, which meant she would have had to talk to an awful lot of people who she absolutely did not like.

You're aware of this, and you'd make sure that she'd never have to go through it again. So you'd insisted that both of your girlfriends spend Christmas with you - no formality, just three girlfriends together in a happy home. You wanted it to be a peaceful holiday, without the usual stress.

As you pick up the dirty dishes, Vi cracks her knuckles and stretches before heading upstairs to take a shower. You know she'll be waiting in bed for you and Caitlyn later.

Caitlyn follows you, her hands at her sides, looking at you as you start washing the dishes. She watches you for a moment, studying you quietly.

Caitlyn has never been fond of people doing chores in her home. She'd rather do it herself, even though it was never necessary. She'd grown up in a house with servants, and she always hated it - it left her feeling like an outsider in her own home.

There is a time you remember when her gaze scared you. The weight of her stare was almost uncomfortable. She was so strong, so smart, so intimidating. Now you cherish that gaze. Now you love it when she stares at you.

"You know, my boss has been incredibly quiet lately," you say, breaking the silence with a saccharine-sweet voice.

Caitlyn's eyes narrow at your comment, a small frown marring her perfect face. She knew you knew.

Somehow, Caitlyn had convinced Jinx to... prank your boss. You knew Jinx wouldn't have thought to do it on her own - she was currently too busy with Zaun politics to really care about your problems. You hadn't seen her in months.

"He was?" she says, her tone as calm as your own. "I wonder why."

You finish washing the last dish in the sink, and turn off the water.

Caitlyn gives you a towel, and you quickly start to dry your hands. There's something you want to say, but you can't outmaneuver Caitlyn - she grew up with all these little games, and you, for all your effort, can never really match her.

No games, then.

"Jinx? Caitlyn, honey, just how?"

Caitlyn snorts, her head tilting to one side as she pushes some hair out of her face.

"How do you know it's me?" she asks, pretending to be unperturbed by your accusations. "Maybe it was Vi."

You roll your eyes, so hard it almost hurts.

There's no way it was Vi. She never would've thought up something like this on her own - and she would never be able to talk to Jinx without a fight. Those sisters are hopeless, two bickering children. You honestly wish they'd just get therapy or something.

Caitlyn laughs at your reaction, the sound soft and amused. She pulls you closer, wrapping her hands around your waist. She smells of spice and food - but there's that lingering scent of gunpowder there, that was just a part of her now. Always lingering like some sort of phantom.

"It helped that she likes you," she said, voice laced with amusement. She knew Jinx had a soft spot for you, and she'd have used that to her advantage. "And she likes to cause chaos, and i showed her the right direction."

Right. Well, you definitely won't tell Vi about this.

You nuzzle your face into Caitlyn's neck, just like a affectionate cat.

"I should've handled this myself." You murmur against her skin, your voice a little annoyed. You're not sorry for the man getting what he had coming - the jerk deserved it.

Caitlyn lets out a small sigh, your statement coming as no surprise to her. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft and gentle.

Your girlfriend knew about your insecurities all too well. She could see the way you eyed Vi and her, the way you'd always compare yourself to the two of them. Just a regular person - you worked in an office job and had never stepped foot in combat. Nothing really special.

Caitlyn was particularly attuned to your feelings - she'd known you long enough now to be able to tell when you were feeling especially down on yourself. You were so much more to her than "nothing special."

Because you were a remarkable person. You should have more confidence, and know that you were worthy, special, and desirable in your own way.

She murmurs apology as you nuzzle against her, and you feel her gently running her fingers through your hair. "You know I hate that man for treating you the way he does," she murmurs, her voice soft and caring.

You and Caitlyn press each other close, clinging together. You both know that you can't stay like that for too much longer - Vi probably already waiting in the bedroom for you both, and she's not exactly the most patient person in the world.

Caitlyn presses a soft, final kiss to your forehead, before slowly detaching herself from your embrace.

"We should go to bed," she mumbles. "I'll probably get chewed out if we keep Vi waiting."

Caitlyn leads you up to the bedroom, a soft look in her eyes as you try to stay awake.

A yawn escapes you, and you cover it with your hand. Not only were you glad you didn't have to go anywhere tomorrow, but you were incredibly happy to get to just curl up in bed all morning, with both of your girlfriends still asleep beside you.

You loved those quiet moments. The stolen glances, the walks through the city, the soft touches and easy banter. It just felt so good, so right.

Yes. Life was good.

[impval]

cinnamon in my teeth

CaitVi  x fem!reader warnings: reader had a bad day, self-doubt, hurt/comfort.

The heavy rain outside is all you can hear, drumming against the windows, and battering the roof - not to mention the thunder. It was terrible luck for you to be caught in the downpour on your way home from work.

Caitlyn’s hands flutter across your face, brushing a few damp strands of hair away. It’s a soft, almost subconscious gesture. Caitlyn has always liked your hair.

“You’re freezing.” her hands go to your clothing, removing your jacket.

Caitlyn doesn’t expect you to answer. She and Vi had quickly learned to discern the nuances of your moods. You were always so open, and so easy to read.

Today your mood was shitty and Caitlyn just knows it was your bastard of a boss.

She can practically hear your thoughts; the mental tirade of ‘that dick-wad can shove his files up his ass’. It almost makes her smile, but no - she has to remain concerned. You’d already been in a bad mood this morning, you didn’t need her getting amused - or god-forbid, laughing - this will ruin your mood even more.

She also knows that when you’re upset by something, you’re silent. You don’t yell or holler or curse like how Vi does. No, you become quiet.

You’re wet, and you’re cold, and you have the most miserable look on your face. One that is both cute and devastating, to Caitlyn. She wants to kiss the downturn of your lips. Which is an option. But you’re cold, and she can’t have you getting ill.

With all the care and tender affection, Caitlyn peels your clothes off. She lays them out, on the radiator. They’re practically sopping.

The bedroom is lit by a warm lantern that casts the room in a mellow, yellow haze. A mahogany bed rests against the right wall, its bed sheets a crisp and smooth white.

“You’re getting water on our new rug,” Caitlyn admonishes, though there’s no real heat in her tone.

Your face burns when your bra and panties fall to the ground - they’re both drenched, too.

Everything is so… new, to you.

Sleeping in the same bed with them—waking up and falling asleep next to them. Being naked in front of another person in general… it was definitely new. And Vi had to learn to knock when she needed to enter the bathroom

Sometimes all the vulnerability made you uneasy. Even knowing you were loved, you weren’t used to this kind of openness. You’d always been so private with yourself.

You’re exposed to Caitlyn’s eyes - every little scar, every stretch mark- you still weren’t used to feeling this… this naked.

But she looks at you with so much love; as if you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to her. It makes your throat tighten, heat rising to your cheeks.

Caitlyn’s lips brush against your forehead - so soft, so gentle.

You feel her fingers tracing along your bare collarbone, sweeping lightly over your skin.

“Come on, there's a bath waiting for you,” she whispers.

Vi’s already got the bathtub running by the time you and Caitlyn shuffle into the bathroom.

Steam billows up from the surface of the water, filling the room. Caitlyn’s lips twitch when she notices Vi pouring a lot of bubble bath into the tub—and the bubbles frothing up, practically overflowing the rim.

“Bath’s ready, sweetie. I already put in some of those stuff you really like.”

The bathroom is one of your favourite rooms in the whole house. It’s massive, with a clawfoot bathtub and a walk-in shower. The water was tinged with a glittery, iridescent hue.

“Damn, you look good.”

Vi was less subtle than Caitlyn when she saw you undressed, running her eyes over your body from head to toe. Just pure, affectionate love - the kind that made your skin tingle and your insides warm.

You are lucky. You're lucky they don't just love each other - but also you.

She helps you into bath, letting you get comfortable against the smooth, porcelain edge. Your toes dangle in the water, and the heat seeps into your cold flesh.

“There we go,” Caitlyn murmurs. “Better?”

A long breath escapes from you and you offer them a half-hearted, tired smile.

Vi grins back - she’s far too excited she gets to be useful, while Caitlyn smiles back in encouragement, like that alone would be enough to make everything peachy-keen again.

This is the best kind of treatment. They’re both so attentive.

Caitlyn gently begins to undo the damp, knotted strands of your hair while Vi kneels right up against the tub, keeping a firm grip on your ankle, thumb rubbing your skin in comfort.

It was strange, dating two people.

You felt, at times, like the odd-duck out. That they were just far more suited to each other, than they were with you. Like you weren’t tough enough, or badass enough to keep up with them.

One of the many benefits of dating both these women was that they were both so attentive, even when your needs conflicted with one another. There wasn’t a lot of room for jealousy, either. They were always so open to sharing you - and each other.

Maybe that’s the reason why you felt like such a constant burden in the relationship, regardless of how much they assured and doted on you.

Even as the three of you are in such a domestic, quiet moment, you’re still distinctly aware, that they were raised in a much, much harsher world than yours.

“Why don’t you tell us about this dickhead boss of yours, huh?” Vi says, and you look at her. “He really pissed you off or somethin’?”

You let out a frustrated huff, blowing bubbles out of the water as you pout.

“He’s so annoying,” You mutter. “I swear, he takes pleasure in giving me the most boring tasks. He knows I hate filing the documents for him.”

“Oh?” Caitlyn questions. Her voice is so soothing as she massages your shoulders. You can’t help but let out a soft moan, tension melting with every knead.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was on their minds as they exchange looks with one another - and you groan.

When you’d first started working in the office, Vi had threatened to shove your boss through the office copier.

Caitlyn had offered to hold a gun to his head.

“No, no.” You shake your head. “No, no, no. You two aren’t doing anything to him. You always jump to threats!"

”A good scare never hurt anybody.” Caitlyn whispers to herself.

You give your girlfriends reproachful looks, which makes them crack a smile - especially Vi, who is always raring to fight - figuratively and, well, literally.

“Please.” You huff, letting your eyes fall shut. “I’ve got this handled, you two.”

You were very well aware that you were the most vulnerable out of the three of you. And that’s why you didn’t want them to do anything to your boss. The least you could do is not make a fuss over a shitty job. You could handle your boss yourself.

They look unconvinced - as expected - but Vi is the first one to nod reluctantly, rolling her shoulders.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave the jerk’s head alone - for now.”

Caitlyn is a little more dubious. But, after a moment, she shrugs her shoulders, leaning back.

“Fine, if you say so.” Maybe she should sic Jinx on this asshole… somehow.

The last thing you needed was your girlfriends going all overprotective over you. They’d always been like this. They just couldn’t handle it when you got hurt - mentally or physically.

You could practically see the cogs in Caitlyn’s mind turning, already planning something.

They were hopeless, really. You love them so much.

A warm bath was just what you needed and you can feel the day’s work slowly seeping out of you. The ache in your muscles start to ease, the tension in your jaw finally relaxing.

The sound of Vi and Caitlyn's voices are muffled, as if filtering through a layer of fog. You hear one of them say something, and then suddenly they're both bickering again - playfully, of course. This is how Caitlyn and Vi always are. Flirting - arguing - teasing.

“Did you seriously have to threaten your last target with a butter knife?”

"...such a perfectionist, cupcake."

"I'm not cute! And...."

You close your eyes, and let their conversation wash over you.

When you open your eyes again - head is dizzy and heavy, and your body feels relaxed and light, as if floating through the air, but you’re vaguely aware that you’re being held against a warm, solid chest.

A fresh change of clothes is set on the bed, and you recognize them as Vi’s. She’s always liked seeing you in her clothes. Always claimed that you looked better in her stuff than she did.

You’re a complete mess, and it makes Vi’s chest ache with affection. The way your eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, head lolling against her chest.

Being dressed for the night is a strangely intimate affair. It's such a soothing, simple thing - to feel their hands running over your body, as they slide your limbs into clothes.

Caitlyn is so gentle and deliberate with you, as she slips your arms through the sleeves. She always tends to move slower than Vi, who is just a little rougher with you - but never clumsy. There's a certain, soft, reverent sort of quality to the way they both treat you, like you're something delicate and small and precious.

Once you’re tucked in nicely, with Vi tucking the blankets over your body, she and Caitlyn slip in on either side of you.

Caitlyn curls around your back, slinging an arm over your waist, and resting her chin on top of your head. The tip of her nose brushes your hair, as you feel her breathe you in - as she always does.

They're both so close, their bodies pressed up against either side of you - it's hard to tell where they end and you begin.

One thing you always appreciated: there was a lot of space in this bed, but both Vi and Caitlyn still chose to squeeze themselves into the space next to you.

As you began to doze, you heard the faint sounds of Caitlyn and Vi mumbling something to each other, but your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t make out the exact words.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was one of their lips brush against your forehead, and a gentle hand running through your hair.

[impval]

Hi! I just found your tumblr, and i absolutely love your Cate fics and your writing style. It's absolutely beautiful! Anyway, I was wondering if I could request a Cate x fem!reader?

Reader is basically spiderman? Has the all of Peter Parkers cannon abilities (super strength, enhanced speed and durability, etc) and she's super smart and has built her own webslingers?

Anyway, R is best friends with Jordan and they have a friendly competition for #2 going and have for ages now. Jordan has always known R has feelings for Cate and has tried to encourage her to do/say something?

Cate has always had feelings for R but is afraid to pursue R because of her powers? Anyway, maybe there's an attack on the school and R is one of the first people to act and saves Cate but gets really hurt in the process, so afterwards, Cate hovers and tries to take care of R to 'make up' for it? It leads to them finally talking, properly?

I'm sorry this is so much, and please don't feel like you have to take the request if you don't want to and/or if it's too much!

"Pay attention, bro."

The hand barely brushes against your cheek in the nick of time, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of their lips.

Even the most miniscule of their movements are swift, and their blows powerful and strong.

Jordan's smirk grows when they realise what (or who) exactly has your attention. "Aww, look at you watching her like a little puppy."

"Shut up," you said, blocking their next strike and shoving them backwards, "And get out of my business."

You were not, in fact, paying attention. Not to anything that mattered, anyways. Jordan could hit you square in the jaw, and you'd barely even notice. No, your attention was focused on the blonde standing a little too close to Andre, and you could feel your jaw clenching involuntarily before you forced yourself to relax your features.

She was your friend, just your friend, and it was so dumb that you had feelings for her. Your crush was so stupid and pathetic and so, so pointless.

Jordan chuckled, easily evading your attack as they danced around you in the ring.

While you enjoyed a bit of good-natured banter - the way they knew about your crush just made your skin prickle and itch and all you wanted to do was throw your hands up and admit it. But, what a stupid idea was that?

"You're distracted," Jordan hummed, "You keep looking over at Catie. You're like a cartoon character, hearts for eyes and everything"

"I am not." You were. You absolutely were. But it was hard to care when Cate was all laughs and giggles and pretty grins directed at Andre, who seemed to be blissfully ignorant. You hated Andre.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew it, which was why you had been avoiding her as much as humanly possible until it was entirely impossible, which is how you found yourself here, attempting to spar with Jordan and entirely unable to focus because every time you chanced a glance in Cate's direction, your brain would immediately lose all functionality and you would promptly have to duck out of the way of a oncoming punch.

Cate, who was talking to Andre with a smile on her face. Like she was actually enjoying his company. It's not like it was rational, either. Andre wasn't anything you should be worried about. He was in a relationship with Luke for fuck's sake.

Your spider-sense was a godsent during times like these. You shoved that last thought away with such force that you almost missed Jordan's next blow - managing to stumble to the side just in time.

"She's just talking to Andre. "Jordan glanced over their shoulder, "Seriously? You jealous?"

Cate had one hand on his arm, laughing at something he had said. What the hell was so funny?

"Bro," honestly, they thought you were both hopeless, "It's not like she's out of your league or anything. She would say yes. Your just a chickenshit."

You knew why you hadn't asked her out yet.

For one, for all you knew, she wasn't even into girls. Second of all, what if she wasn't interested in you?

"Oh, and this is coming from you," you shot back, "Who only admitted your feelings for Marie after you slept with her. And you didn't even remember it the next morning because you were fucking drunk. And stop calling me bro."

They managed to smack you right in the mouth and you stumbled backwards, nearly falling flat on your ass if you wasn't for your steady, spidery, balance.

"You got me. But at least I asked her out after that, huh? Bro."

Oh, you little shit..

In fact - Jordan had grown so sick of it they were actively planning how to lock you in a closet with Cate just so you would stop making a fool of yourself.

"Honestly," Jordan said, dropping their fists, "How long are you two going to keep this up for? Watching you pine is worse than watching those reality shows that Andre watches just to make fun of them."

"I don't know." You looked miserable, like a lost puppy without a bone or something.

Oh, God.

Jordan swore.

"Nope," Jordan grumbled, already grabbing you by the shoulder, "Hell no. You are not allowed to be mopey. That's not allowed. I can deal with the whole pining thing. I can deal with the whole 'I'm-in-love-with-Cate-but-can't-admit-it-bullshit'. But this?" Jordan raised an unimpressed eyebrow, pushing you out of the ring.

"What, can't deal with a sad bro?" you grumbled, rolling your eyes but allowing them to usher you out of the makeshift ring. Andre was still talking to Cate, who for some reason, never looked your way.

"What are you going to do? Console me? That's not really your thing."

Emotional support? Nope, never. That wasn't something Jordan usually did.

But Jordan seemed to be going through some sort of emotional awakening with their super mature girlfriend, who honestly was a little too mature, in your opinion. She was always so insightful and calm, and you never understood that since Marie grew up in an fucking orphanage.

Twenty minutes later, showered and changed, you reluctantly met Jordan outside the locker room. You had to admit, though, that for once, Jordan was actually trying to get you to feel better rather than just being their usual smug self and it was... nice.

Apparently, the best idea of ​​comfort in Jordan's head was a movie night with them and Marie. A movie night. Because that's what you needed. Not some time alone to wallow in your self-pity.

Surprisingly, Jordan’s plan of forced comfort seemed to work. The action movie provided plenty of mindless entertainment to keep you from thinking about Cate.

It was good night, you had to admit later. Jordan was never one for touchy-feely emotions. So it was... different, to be snuggled in with them, Marie on Jordan's other side, watching some cheesy film and eating an pizza.

And you even managed to get through the night without once thinking about Cate. It was a record. A personal milestone of sorts.

Except the next day wasn't so kind to you.

Cate's ability to exert mind control was insane, but it only worked when she was in physical contact with the person she wanted to push. So despite her power, Cate fell under the support category, even if she was one of the most powerful students here. So, you shared only one class.

It was the stupidest class - the required 'Heroes and Society' class that all of the students hated but had to attend anyways. Usually, you and Cate shared the class with Marie, but she managed to wriggle her way out of it somehow today. What a coincidence.

You tried really, really hard not to think about how you were going to spend a good hour sitting in close proximity to Cate. With no one else to act as a buffer.

"Hey," a cheerful voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you found yourself looking up at the girl who plagued your mind.

And it was worse, the fact that she seemed so cheerful and happy to see you as she slid into the seat beside you. The fact that she leaned in close enough that you could feel the heat coming off her body, that she smelled faintly like something sweet, that she looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes and smiled.

"Hey," you said back, trying to keep your tone casual. "You ready for this boring shitshow of a class?"

"Are any of us ready?" Cate retorted with a roll of her eyes, glancing up to see the professor walking in.

She was wearing her usual black gloves. Cate knew the way people were scared of her and wore her gloves to quell their fears (and her own) - to help people see her and not some terrifying, mind-controlling supe.

You hated her gloves. You even had told her that, once. You'd been high off your ass and had gotten all philosophical, about how everyone had the potential to be dangerous.

"Yeah, because I'm totally gonna remember whatever bullshit this guy is spewing for my final," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

Students were zoned out, ignoring the professor as they either drew in their notebooks, or chatted quietly or scrolled through their phones.

You worked with the web shooters on your wrists, checking that they were still in place and not broken, when Cate suddenly spoke.

"Another update?" she asked.

You always found yourself looking forward to her asking about you latest technology. Because you could tell she was genuinely interested, that she wasn't just asking out of politeness, and even better, she understood it so talking to her about it was always a million times better than talking to anyone else.

"Yeah," you mumble, fiddling with the wrist of the left shooter, trying to fix a loose screw you must have missed from your last patrol. "I need more adhesive. And the new cartridges don't hold as much webbing as the last ones, so I'm a little worried I'll run out in the middle of a fight…"

God, you were going to blather on forever if she didn't stop you. But you couldn't help it - you loved talking about the latest improvements to your suit.

And you were so cute when you did, and Cate couldn't help the stupid little smile tugging at her cheeks. Listening to you talk about your suit and the upgrades you were making to it was honestly one of her favorite things - probably because she loved the look in your eyes when you were passionate about something and because she was also lowkey obsessed with your tech.

"How much webs do you keep on you?" she asked, leaning her chin on her hand, watching you work.

Your cheeks heated a little under her gaze, but you forced yourself to continue working, forcing all your focus into the web shooter that you were trying to fix. You couldn't let yourself get distracted. Not when she was so close.

"Not enough," you admitted after a moment's hesitation. "I think I brought twelve in each shooter."

Cate laughed a little under her breath, amused that you kept losing yourself while you were with her. Because you did. You constantly found yourself staring at her, tripping over your own damn feet. You were a total disaster around her.

"You're going to end up swinging around the city when you lose all your webs," she teased, gently bumping her knee against yours. "Then you'll just be a useless little spider."

She was always careful about her touch, it was something you'd noticed early on. She rarely touched people for more than what was necessary. Which was why every time she brushed you, the small amount of contact was like a jolt to your system. You were a mess everytime because of it.

But you had enough sense left to roll your eyes dramatically.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad," you said, feigning annoyance. "When I was first starting out, yeah. I kept running out of webbing mid swing and crashing into people. But that hasn't happened more than...I don't know, two times in the past six months."

Cate wasn't stupid. She was a very observant. She'd noticed that you'd been pulling away from her, and sure, you always had an excuse about being busy, or having something else to do, but you were a terrible liar.

"I doubt anyone in the dorms has been able to forget the sounds of you slamming into the window like a goddamn bird."

Ooch.

You flinched at the memory of the time you smacked into the side of the building directly outside Jordan's window. It had been loud for sure. And embarrassing as hell.

"And you are doing a terrible job at avoiding me, by the way," Cate teased.

And her words had your head snapping up to look at her, freezing like a damn deer caught. You had been avoiding her. But she'd noticed. Of course she noticed. You weren't as stealthy as you thought.

"I'm not avoiding you," you say immediately, like the liar you were.

It was subtle, but you could see it - the slight furrow of her brow, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hems off her gloves.

The professor's eyes lingered on you and Cate for a moment, but he continued his lecture.

In the back of your brain, your spider-sense buzzed like a warning, but you pushed it away. Probably just your brain going haywire again.

"Yeah, okay," Cate said with an eye roll. "If you're not avoiding me, then why have you been canceling plans? Or bailing on movie nights?"

God, it must have been so obvious that Cate had decided to ask directly. You couldn't just admit that the reason you'd been avoiding her was because of your completely ridiculous crush on her.

Cate was your friend. It would be so stupid to ruin what you had because of a silly love that would never be reciprocated.

Just tell her.

But you pushed away that annoying voice that sounded like Jordan, instead focusing on the blank expression on Cate's face. She didn't look surprised or hurt. She just looked… calm. Which irritated you.

You always hated how she could keep such a straight face. You couldn't understand it. It was like she had a million thoughts going on behind her blue eyes, and she refused to share a single one.

"I have some stuff I need to think about," you said eventually, not looking up to meet her gaze because you knew she'd see the guilt in your eyes. "Personal things."

Cate frowns.

She knew that you were lying. She knew that you were avoiding her, but she doesn't know why. Was it something she did? The thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

"You're not in any kind of trouble, are you?" she asked quietly as the professor went on rambling.

"No. Just personal stuff. Nothing major," you say, waving your hand dismissively even though you felt like crap for not telling the entire truth.

Cate gave you a long, searching look, like she could see right through your bullshit, and you hated that she still somehow managed to look so damn beautiful even when she was worried.

But then professor starts explaining what's going to be on the big final for class. You'd been zoning out for the last half of the class, so you don't fully understand what he's explaining. A part of you was glad that the professor intervened when he did. It spared you from saying something stupid or from having to look into those damn blue eyes just a little longer.

Students immediately scattered when the bell rang, rushing to get out. Even the professor was in a hurry, rushing out of the classroom. Cate took her time getting up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and shooting a look your way.

it was like clockwork - you always walked with Cate to her next class. The walk was almost always in comfortable silence, and you were used to it. She'd always insist that you didn't have to, that it was out of your way. But you always did it anyways, just to see her smile.

"Are you coming? Or are you going somewhere else today?" Cate asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Your heart sank at the question. You still had to walk Cate to her next class. The class she had in the other building across campus. Which meant about a five-minute of awkwardly walk.

With a sigh, you grab your backpack and stand up. "No, I'll come with you," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"Don't sound too excited about that," Cate replied, sounding just a touch bitter.

Cate headed for the door, and you knew you didn't have a choice but to follow.

The walk to the other building was quiet at first. She kept her gaze forward, and you focused on the path in front of you, trying not to look at her, but that was getting harder and harder.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Is it really that bad?" she questioned, still walking. "Spending time with me, I mean."

You almost wanted to laugh. Because spending time with her was one of your favorite things. To be around her, to be near her and talk to her, that was all you wanted. But you didn't know what to say. And you didn't want her to know how you really felt.

"No, of course not," you replied hastily. "You know it's not you that's the problem, right? I just.. it's really just personal stuff."

People gave Cate space as you two walked, they were instinctively wary of her power. There was always a small gap around her, people carefully steering clear, as if one brush against her skin would land them under her control.

"Why won't you tell me about it then?" she pressed, glancing over at you. "We're friends, aren't we? And I can't help if you don't give me any details."

You just sighed. "I just need some time. I'll tell you eventually, okay?"

"You never used to be like this," Cate pointed out, and she did sound hurt now. Fuck. "We used to hang out all the time."

"And then," she continued, in that same bitter tone, "You just started dodging me out of the blue. So you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little irritated."

No, no, no, fuck no...

The second you grabbed her shoulder, you almost let go at the flinch. Cate wasn't a fan of unexpected touches. Especially if she couldn't see them coming. But she didn't pull away from your touch, even if there was some tension in her muscles.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you really were. "I just…I need some time to think about some stuff, that's all. I promise you, i tell you about this later."

Cate looked as if she wanted to argue, but she didn't. The two of you were already outside her building.

She stopped outside the door, shifting her backpack strap and biting her lip, as if contemplating whether to question you further. But eventually, she just let out a shaky exhale and nodded.

"Okay," she said, finally looking up at you. "Okay, fine. But you promise," she pressed.

"See you later," she muttered, and then she turned and went into the building, leaving you to feel terrible for lying to her face and even worse because of the hurt look in her eyes.

You cursed yourself all the way to the next class.

Cate was so goddamn good at acting cool and untouchable, but you had known her for so long, that you knew better. You knew how hurt she'd been when you'd started spending more time alone. And yet, you were still too damn scared to tell her the truth.

Danger!

Your head snapped forward, and your eyes scanned the area.

It was a sunny day, and most students were either in their classes or going to them, and nobody seemed out of the ordinary.

That was weird. Usually your spider sense was pretty on point and went off whenever you were in any real danger. Not like that time at the cafeteria when Jordan set off some firecrackers behind you and you almost hit the ceiling, but still.

What the fuck was happening?

You heard people screaming and running, and it didn't take your spider sense to figure out that something was wrong. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as a terrible realization hit you.

Faculty Support building.

It didn't take long for you to piece together what that meant.

Cate and her classmates were in danger. They didn't have combat powers and they'd be pretty much defenseless against a real threat.

Before you could even fully process your panic, you were already running. When you finally reached the building, you had to shove through a crowd of people standing by the entrance, peering fearfully into the building. They had all backed a good distance away from the entrance. Fucking idiots, you thought.

There was chaos inside and...

... hideous monstrosities, grotesque parodies of humans and animals fused together in an abominable manner. Wings stretched out from some of them, while others brandished razor-sharp claws and teeth. Their eyes were soulless black pits, devoid of any humanity.

And the worst part? There weren't just a few of them. It was like they had come out of a goddamn horror movie, surrounding students and attacking.

A few teachers were using their powers - freezing the monsters, even their minds to stop them - but others were struggling to help. Most of the staff at Godolkin were more suited to office work than actual combat. But they were trying.

Danger!

Suddenly, there was a crash, and glass shattered behind you, and then one of the creatures charged at you.

It was fast, that much you could say. If it weren't for your powers, you'd probably be dead in an instant.

You dodged at the last second, and the creature slammed into the wall so hard, it left a dent in the wall.

"Shall we dance, dear?"

Your quips were kind of a nervous habit. You never actually felt as confident as you sounded. The thing let out an animalistic hiss in response, charging towards you again, seemingly in irritation as you started threw debris and trash at it.

You were just a little too agile for it to get close enough to do any real damage, and it was making the creature angrier and angrier. It hissed and screeched as it continued to try and slash you, getting more and more frustrated.

The chimera had gotten tired and its movements were becoming slower. Finally, you saw a moment where you had a clear shot, and you didn't let the chance go to waste. You shot a web at the chimera, trapping its legs and then pulling it down to the floor, hard.

"Well, I had a good time. Bye-bye."

You had a feeling this creature wasn't fully grown yet but you didn't waste anytime with that thought. You used a large chunk of rubble and slammed it onto the abomination head.

It twitched violently for a few moments, and then fell still, the lifeless body lying in pools of black blood.

For a few seconds, you just stood there, staring at the body at your feet, still trying to process what the fuck just happened.

While you were fighting, more students arrived, you could hear Jordan swearing and Luke's fire was burning somewhere. But you couldn't help but worry about Cate. Had she managed to escape? Was she with other students, or had she tried to hide somewhere?

You continued to fight, dancing around the creatures and helping the other students.

The thought that she might be in danger nagged at you, making it difficult to focus on the fight. And there were so many of these weird, disgusting things that you couldn't even imagine where to find her.

And your questions were soon answered.

The scene before you was both incredible and terrifying. Cate was surrounded by two of those horrid creatures, but they were just obediently waiting for her to give them an order like a dogs.

Well, it was probably easier for Cate to take control of these creatures, they didn't seem to have even a semblance of intelligence, only instincts. She seemed so unbothered, so calm, almost like her usual, untouchable self. But the bloodshot eyes and the slight tremor in her hands showed that this was definitely taking a toll on her.

The chimeras seemed to follow her every command, attacking and taking down other monsters with an unnerving obedience.

She was breathtaking. Unbelievably beautiful. And in that moment, it hit you just how much you loved her. It was a deeper feeling than a mere crush, something strong and powerful that you knew would last forever.

Danger!

Suddenly, something large, greater than any of the creatures you had fought against, burst through the wall. It looked like a lizard on fucking steroids and its reptilian eyes glowed with intelligence. It scanned the battlefield before narrowing its eyes on Cate.

The creature hissed, a low, aggressive sound. It clearly focused on Cate, and you could feel a tinge of fear in your chest. It was just so damn big.

You didn't think.

You just acted. Without hesitation.

You shot a web and swung yourself into the air, launching yourself at the lizard creature. It roared as you jumped on its back. It was huge, at least ten times bigger than any creature you had encountered so far. Its yellow eyes glowed with malevolence and it hissed and thrashed, trying to throw you off.

"Get off me, you damn insect!" the lizard roared, its voice like gravel and malice.

Oh, shit, mini-Godzilla can talk?

It was strong, and you could feel the muscles underneath shifting and writhing as it thrashed around, trying to shake you off like a dog shaking off a flea.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder to get rid of me, you overgrown gecko," you quipped, as you fired off some more webbing to secure your position.

"Bro! You just had to pick the extra-large one, didn't you?"

Well, fuck, you'll recognize this voice anywhere. Jordan didn't look particularly thrilled to be fighting such a overgrown gecko, but they never backed away from a challenge.

The moment the lizard noticed Jordan, it seemed to become even more enraged. It let out a deafening roar, the sound echoing through the halls of the building, and then it started to charge straight towards them, with you still clinging to its back.

Jordan wasted no time, releasing energy blast, then another and another.

Suddenly, you slipped. Your grip loosened just for a moment, but that was more than enough.

In that split moment of distraction, the enraged creature suddenly twisted its body in an unexpected move, throwing you off its back and sending you flying across the room. You crashed into the wall and felt a sharp pain shoot through your body.

The impact left you dazed, and for a moment, it was hard to think straight. Your head felt like it had been caved in, and your ribs were definitely bruised at best. Everything was fuzzy and your head was spinning, the pain radiating from the collision making it hard to focus.

Everything became a hazy blur. The sounds of battle faded away and the world seemed to tilt and spin. You felt weak and exhausted, your adrenaline finally starting to wear off and leaving you vulnerable.

A familiar voice, soft and strained, cut through the fog, a gentle touch on your face. Cate's worried eyes was the last thing you seen before darkness engulfed your consciousness.

---

You didn't know how long you were out for. Seconds, minutes, hours, maybe?

When you finally woke up, you found yourself lying on a bed, the soft sheets beneath you feeling strangely comforting. Your head was throbbing painfully, and your ribs ached with every breath.

You struggled to open your eyes, blinking against the harsh light.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," a voice whispered, familiar and tender.

Cate.

Cate was there, her face etched with concern as she sat beside the bed, her eyes fixed on you. Her touch was gentle as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a hoarse croak. Cate seemed to understand, though, her expression softening.

"Take it easy," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You took a pretty bad hit."

You eagerly accepted the glass of water that she gave you. The water tasted heavenly as it ran down your parched throat.

"You had us all worried, you know," she said, her tone filled with concern.

The dark circles under her eyes, the slightly disheveled state of her hair, and the slight trembling of her hands. It was obvious that she hadn't been able to rest properly. Probably thanks to you. Your heart ached seeing her in this state. She had been worried for you, worried sick by the looks of it.

Cate placed the glass back on the bedside table, her eyes never leaving you.

"You shouldn't have. I'm like a cockroach. Only a spider." you said like a clown you are. Cate barely smiled at that. "How long have I been out?"

And what the fuck happened. You've never seen anything like this, except maybe in movies. But this was a real life.

"Two days. And no, you're not a spider, you idiot." she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "You had a concussion and some bruised ribs. You were lucky they didn't break."

Ouch. You huddled in the hospital bed, trying to appear smaller. Cate rarely got mad at you, but when she did, it was scary.

Cate's irritation seemed to soften at your pathetic attempt to make yourself smaller. She sighed and rubbed her temples, her expression becoming more concerned than angry.

"You... You shouldn't have done what you did," she continued, her voice stern. "Throwing yourself at that monster, trying to be a hero. You could've been killed!"

Her words hit you hard. You'd known it was a reckless decision even as you were doing it, but you hadn't cared in that moment. All that had mattered was protecting Cate.

"But I couldn't just let that thing hurt you," you said, your voice weak. "I had to do something."

Cate's jaw clenched and something flashed across her face so quickly you couldn't tell what it was. "That thing was Professor Connors," she corrected you.

Who?

She saw the confusion on your face and continued to explain.

"Professor Connors. 'Heroes and Society' class. Ring a bell? He's was also a geneticist and used to work at Vought. He was experimenting on some kind of gene-mutation or something. That's probably why he turned into that… thing."

Wait, seriously?

You couldn't help but snort. "Was this his twisted revenge for everyone sleeping during his lectures?"

Cate rolled her eyes at your remark, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, I guess turning himself into a giant lizard was Professor Connors' way of getting back at us for being such terrible students," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm.

But then her expression turned serious again.

"But it's not funny. You could have died. And it would have been my fault. It should have been me, not you."

The realization that Cate blamed herself for your injury made your stomach twist into knots. You tried to sit up straighter, despite the painful ache in your ribs, wanting to face Cate properly.

"No!" you protested, wincing at the effort. "It should have been me. I'm the one who's got superstrength and healing factor. I'm the one who's supposed to protect you."

Cate opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off.

"I'll be fine, I'll heal quickly." you decided to cheer her up a bit. "And your powers saved our asses. Seriously, you handled those creatures like a boss."

Cate let out a soft, watery chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I guess I did kick ass," she murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

You glanced around the room, taking in the colorful array of flowers and balloons. You felt guilty for worrying everyone, but then your attention returned to Cate.

"Looks like I have a veritable florist shop in here," you commented weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

The look Cate gave you could freeze hell.

---

And... now Cate was firmly in her overprotective mode, and she made sure you followed every single one of the doctors' instructions. It was both endearing and annoying the way she made you take the pills, undergo the tests, and eat the damn vegetables.

She wouldn't let you lift a finger, insisting that you rest and focus on getting better.

"If I let you out of my sight, you'll probably end up trying to fight another giant monster."

Jordan, of course, made comments about Cate playing nurse, but they wisely chose not to say anything in front of her. At least they have brains left for this.

"Hey, bro, I think your future wife is a little obsessed with taking care of you."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Whipped."

You even caught her sleeping on a chair next to your bed a few times. Exhaustion was getting to her. And despite your protests, you secretly enjoyed the attention.

Finally, the day came when the doctors gave the all-clear sign. You were released from the hospital wing, but they warned that you should try to stay away from strenuous activities for a while.

"Do you really think I can sit still for long?" you asked Cate with a smirk.

As Cate walked with you back to your dorm room, her expression became more serious.

"Look, they said you shouldn't overdo things," she reminded you, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

You rolled your eyes at her concern and pushed open the door to your room.

"Yes, Nurse Dunlap, I know. 'No heavy lifting, no intense physical activity, and no trying to rescue any damsels in distress for at least a week,'" you said in your best serious and responsible impression, mimicking her tone.

Cate's reaction was a bit more intense than you would have expected. She closed the door and turned to face you.

"It's not funny," she said, her voice sharp and something about her expression made you pause. Behind the irritation, there was a hint of something else.

Worry. Fear. Anxiety.

You gently squeezed her hands, trying to reassure her.

"Cate, I'm fine. I'll take it easy, just like the doctor said," you told her, your voice gentle and soothing.

"You're not, you idiot," she protested, her voice cracking slightly. "You were unconscious for two days with a concussion and bruised ribs."

Your heart ached as you realized the pain you had caused her. She was scared, worried, and desperately trying to keep herself together.

But more than anything, you were sick of holding back your feelings, of hiding how you truly felt about her. You couldn't continue on like this, pretending that what you felt for Cate was just friendship.

And then you decided. No more being a coward. No more holding back your feelings. It was time to tell her. Consequences be damned.

"Cate," you began, your voice soft and shaky. "I… I need to talk to you about something. Something really important."

Cate's eyes widened at the sudden seriousness in your voice.

"Okay," she replied, her voice hesitant. "What is it?"

Be brave, be brave, be brav..

Your palms were sweaty, and your heartbeat was so loud in your ears that you feared she might hear it. The words were right there on the tip of your tongue, but actually saying them out loud seemed to be the hardest thing in the world. It's easier to fight a monsters.

"First, I just want to say... I'm sorry," you started. "I'm sorry I worried you and I'm sorry I scared you. I know I shouldn't have done what I did, but I just... I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. I had to protect you."

This was the easiest part.

"I know I've been acting differently lately. It's because… because I couldn't admit what I was feeling. I have feelings for you and I don't know if you feel the same, but i had to let you know because it's been eating me alive for way too long."

Cate's eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. For several seconds, there was only silence between you. The air was thick with tension, and you could hear your own heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Cate's reaction was unreadable, her face emotionless. The uncertainty was killing you.

"Cate," you finally blurted out, unable to take the silence any longer. "Please, say something? You're kinda freaking me out right now."

Fear. Hesitation. Uncertainty. You wondered for a moment if you had made a huge mistake. And then, just when you thought you might burst from the tension, Cate spoke.

"You… you can't be serious," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why… why would you like someone like me?"

Cate's grip on your hands faltered as she looked down at her gloved hands. She always wore gloves, as if to hide the part of herself that she thought was monstrous.

Could she really not see how incredible she was? How amazing? You wanted to yell, to scream out how stupid that question was. But instead, you reached out to cup her face gently.

"I'm different," she protested weakly. "I can... I can push people. Make them do things. That's not normal. It's messed up. I'm messed up."

You could see the doubt and insecurity written all over her face. She truly believed that she didn't deserve to be loved because of her powers. It broke your heart to see her think so lowly of herself.

"You're not messed up," you said gently but firmly. "You're special. Unique. Your powers don't define you. They're part of you, yes, but they're not who you are. I know you. I see you."

I love you as you are.

The tears welled up in Cate's eyes, and she bit her lip, trying to hold them back. She wanted so badly to believe you, to accept your kind words. But years of being judged, rejected, and feared had etched themselves into her very being.

"But… but what if you change your mind?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "What if you realize… you realize it's too much? That I'm too much?"

You knew that she wasn't rejecting you, not really.

You gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"Cate, look at me," you said softly, tilting her chin up so her gaze met yours. "I won't change my mind. You're not too much. You're just right. Just the way you are."

Cate's eyes met yours, and for a moment, she couldn't do anything but stare at you. She had imagined this moment many times. But here it was, real. And you, looking at her like that. The look in your eyes was so sincere, so loving, that Cate's breath caught in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like that, looked at her like that.

"I want to be with you. Do you want this?"

She was so used to people avoiding physical contact with her. People who saw her powers as a danger. Anyone with half a brain would know that her gloves were a sham, any skin-to-skin contact would be enough.

But here you were, unafraid, holding her face.

Cate wanted this. She had wanted this for so long. Slowly, a small, shaky smile tugged at the corner of the lips. She swallowed hard, voice trembling with emotion.

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours. "I've wanted you for so long, but I was too scared. Too messed up."

Jordan was right, you two were hopeless.

A wave of relief and happiness washed over your heart. This was real. Cate wanted you back.

You reached out to touch her cheek again, your fingers traced lightly over her skin. The warmth and softness under your fingertips made your heart race. You wanted to pull her closer, hold her tight and never let go.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Cate, the girl you'd been too scared to admit your feelings for, felt the same way about you.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the outside world forgotten. All that existed was her and you, wrapped up in this moment. Her perfume filled your nostrils, a sweet, almost addictive scent that made you want to get closer to her.

"Can i kiss you?"

Cate imagined what it would be like to kiss you so many times, but now here you were, asking her permission.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice soft and a bit shaky. "Yes, you can kiss me."

The way Cate's hair fell over her face, the heat of her skin under your fingers, the way her eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips. You felt light, like you were floating on cloud. Cate wanted you, she agreed to kiss you.

And then you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against hers.

[impval]

i found love

Victoria Neuman x fem! reader soulmate au

Everyone had different bonds. Some shared pain or emotions. Some even simply had timers, counting down to the moment when they'd first glimpse into the eyes of the person they were meant to be with.

The movements and subtle pulls of the thread, the little tugs and twists, were a constant in her life. She found herself often idly touching the red thread that no one else could see, and wondering where it led to… and who was on the other end, connected to her.

Orphaned at a young age, adopted and learn quickly to survive - it had shaped Victoria. So, she decided that soulmate were just an unnecessary risk. A liability. No soulmate, and no messy emotions or attachments involved. She didn't need one.

No, it was better not to think about it. Better to simply ignore it, ignore the thread that seemed to itch and burn with every passing year. Victoria had always had a plan, a goal, something to work towards. She simply couldn’t afford to have her whole life thrown into chaos simply because there was a chance that her soulmate could somehow... complete her.

Work was the closest thing she had to a lover, to a companion. She'd had fleeting relationships over the years, casual things, but she never let any of them grow into something more.

Victoria didn't really think much of the patterns, at first. Just a curious observation that slowly started to nag on her mind, and which she'd occasionally think about when she got the time to do so. The subtle tugging and pulling throughout the day... there was a distinct rhythm to it that only made sense if the person on the other end were in a similar time zone.

It was just another day.

Wake up, get some coffee, get to work, deal with reports, lunch time if she lucky, reports, meetings, and more reports, and then home. It was a routine she was used to - something that was familiar, something that made at least part of her life predictable.

But it took a few hours, embarrassingly long, for Victoria to realize that something was off. Her soulmate always moved during lunch, sometimes stopping before it started again, as though her soulmate was checking their phone or something...They weren't moving today. Why?

It could very well be that her soulmate had simply forgotten to eat lunch - a trivial and harmless explanation for her uncharacteristically still thread, that lay motionless, red against her arm. Or it could also be something worse. Were they ill? Were they... dead?

No. If the fucking thread was there, obviously her soulmate was alive. Obviously. It stupid to be so worried about a thread, she kept telling herself. But then lunch break passed, then the hour... and then another. The thread still did not move.

Her mood began to sour as the evening drew on. Sitting alone in the safety and secrecy of her home, with glass of whiskey in hand, Victoria let her eyes settle on the thread.

Just... sick, she told herself. Perhaps she was worrying over nothing. Perhaps they'd just come down with a cold or something. There was no reason to worry.

Victoria had her hands full - between dealing with supes, potential terrorist threats, and the occasional meeting with other government officials, the days had been busy and exhausting. Every time she had looked at the thread in the last couple days, the movements had gotten better... but they were still somehow off. It was still concerning, and she still couldn't quite figure out exactly why she was worried.

The incident had happened almost a week ago, the usual supe bullshit...Apparently, some supe had gotten drunk, used his powers to destroy the entire club, and injured several people. The only reason this accident was even in the news was because the supe involved was a relatively well-known hero. Otherwise, these kinds of cases tended to be ignored by the media.

The survivors were now in the hospital and, well, it was good PR, public image was key.

Victoria knew the drill - pay sympathy, try to look as earnest and as concerned as possible. It wasn't even that much of a problem - she did care about the people affected - it was just exhausting, pretending to care more about it than she actually did.

The folder her assistant had handed to her had detailed information. Nothing more than routine - she always prepared for any and all situations. Her gaze lingered for a moment, longer than it had for any of the other names on the list of patients: the last one, your name.

People hurried back and forth, the beeping of machines and the smell of antiseptic pervaded the air. Hospitals had always made Victoria feel uncomfortable.

She walked through the hospital, nodding and making sympathetic noises and reassuring people, reassuring herself that she was doing a good work. Most of the victims had suffered relatively minor injuries - a few broken wrists, concussions, a lost eye... it could have been much, much worse.

The thread was shortening with each person she met, and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't notice - but she pushed it to the back of her mind, tried to focus on what was said instead.

And then...

This was the last stop, the last patient. With blank eyes, Victoria stared down at the red thread, and let out a deep, almost exhausted sigh.

She'd almost made a choice to not even stop by your room. That would be the smart thing to do, the practical thing, the one that would save her from a lot of heartache.

The conversation with her assistant was brief, and in a moment she was alone, standing in front of the door to your room.

Victoria told herself it didn't matter, that it wasn't important. She'd made it this far in life without ever considering finding a soulmate - why worry about them now? But the red thread was pulsating, beckoning her towards.

But there was that other part of her, the part that was curious about what it would be like, the part that was lonely, that wanted to know.

She took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Some swore that the moment they saw their soulmate, the world suddenly made sense - became beautiful. Others claimed that it was no different than meeting anyone else, just... less complicated. For all the research and discussion, no one agreed of what it was like.

The room was quiet, only a low beep from the heart monitor - you were laying in the bed, attached to an IV, a visible scratches and dark bruises across your body.

You looked familiar to her, your face and your eyes - and Victoria recognized you, even though she had never seen you before. Familiar. Warmth and comfort. The feeling of being known... understood, even without knowing this person. She could have gone her entire life without feeling that, and yet here it was anyway.

"Hello," your voice was so soft, so soft that Victoria almost didn't hear it.

Your face, oh my god, so beautiful, had a big smile on it - you weren't smiling with your teeth, as if you were embarrassed for some reason (braces perhaps?). Fuck, how was it possible that you looked cute, even though you were currently in the goddamned hospital?

"Hello," she said, equally quietly, taking a few steps closer.

A week ago, she had been completely sure that a soulmate did not matter to her. And now, the stupid part of her brain was screaming that she wanted to hold your hand, run her fingers gently over your skin...

There was nothing particularly special about your appearance, Victoria admitted to herself, and yet... she couldn't help but look at you - so beautiful, so familiar, so perfect.

Well, Victoria has always been adaptable.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I've seen you on TV. Victoria, right?"

She snapped herself out of her thoughts, clearing her own throat and willing (and failing) to clear her mind of all the new, confusing, and unfamiliar (yet welcome) thoughts and feelings.

"Yeah… that's correct," Victoria nodded, trying to get a hold of the swirling thoughts in her mind.

She spoke your name and god, it was beautiful to hear, it was like...

No, focus.

You slowly lifted yourself to sit on the bed, the movement looking like it took a bit of effort and clearly put you in some amount of pain - and she had to suppress the instinctive urge to offer help.

"And here I thought the nurses were joking about a politician coming to the hospital. To be honest, I expected an old white man."

Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh. It sounded shaky even to her own ears, but she was too focused on watching you to really pay attention to it.

"I always get comments about me being the wrong age and gender for a politician," she replied with a small, easy smile - or at least that was what she tried to portray.

You'd dreamed of this moment. Imagined meeting your soulmate, had probably thought of this moment so many times, over and over. And then it happens, and you meet your damn soulmate — and it turns out to be a fucking politician. To make things even better, one who was famously anti-supe and you were currently in the damn hospital because of a supe attack.

"How... are you feeling?" she asked, her voice softer with the question. "Your injuries, I mean."

There was a sudden feeling of guilt as she looked at you, and she pushed it aside quickly - she could worry about the implications and consequences of her secret identity later when she was alone.

The thread seemed to vibrate as Victoria took another step closer.

You let out a small huff, and shrugged slightly in response, before grimacing in pain. "Like I was hit by a truck," you stated dryly. "But the doctors say I will be fine. And the painkillers helps."

Her eyes darkened at the thought of someone hurting you like this, injuring you so badly that you were in a hospital. Whoever did this was going to face consequences. Not now, of course - she was going to wait.

For now... Victoria took another step forward. Her eyes glanced down at the way you wrapped the thread around your hand, and she almost - almost - reached out to imitate the action herself.

But she didn't - her hands, instead, gripped the metal rail of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the force of the grip. So many questions entered her mind, all at once. She had no idea how long you'd be in hospital, who came to see you, how your recovery process would be going - the list was endless.

"When will you be discharged?"

"Sometime next week, apparently. My injuries are... non-life threatening. Mostly just..." you gestured to the scratches and bruises on your arms and face. "Well. I'm lucky."

You were blushing under her gaze and she noticed, a small part of her preening with satisfaction at the idea that her mere presence was enough to make you blush.

"Do you have family, or someone else who could look after you?"

a partner?

The mere thought that you might be with someone else, with someone other than her, was just wrong. It was just wrong. Victoria had no right to think that way, and she knew it - she'd only just met you, for god’s sake.

But she felt it, she couldn't help it.

Victoria couldn't help but noticed - no flowers, no "get well" balloons, nothing at all that might have indicated visitors.

"No," you shook your head. "My friends are currently in Spain and my family... we don't talk anymore."

Wait.

So who the hell was taking care of you while you were in the hospital? No one? She was your soulmate. You were hers, and it just felt wrong to leave you in your current condition, with no one to take care of you…

Hers. The word echoed through Victoria mind, over and over again, her soulmate, her responsibility, her to protect, to take care of -

"That won't do," She found herself saying before she realized it.

- and Victoria had always held a sense of possessiveness over the things she considered hers. In this case, she would have no compunctions about using her power and influence to guarantee your safety, to make sure you would be looked after.

But you tried to brush it off, of course you did - yet all she could focus on was the fact that no, you weren't going to be alone while you were recovering.

As her hand touched yours, you immediately went silent. The thread wraps around connected hands, and Victoria found herself thinking that the red looked nice on you.

And that's how Victoria was suddenly having a crash course in learning how to be a doting soulmate.

Funny, but she would have never, in a million years assumed she'd be acting so... obsessive over her soulmate, and yet here she was, finding out information that she felt the compulsive need to know.

How were your injuries healing? Had you been prescribed enough painkillers? Were you comfortable? She learned your medical history, for god's sake.

Victoria visited you at every spare moment she had, taking time out of her schedule just to see you. It was pathetic, in a way, how quickly her entire world seemed to revolve around you, the person she'd just met.

She had flowers brought to your room, balloons, even a stupid teddy bear, all while her logical thinking was telling her that this was all just too fast and too much. But the fact that you were alone, without family or friends, drove her to the point of near-aggression, and Victoria wanted to shower you with so much attention you would hardly be able to breathe.

You blushed and stuttered as you told your friends on the phone about all of this. They were surprised, of course, who wouldn't be surprised and a little freaked out, but there was also genuine excitement, and they were happy for you.

You'd always dreamed of having a soulmate, and now you had Victoria. Even her publicity and the fact that she was a politician didn't bother you as much as they probably should.

She was smart, and knew things before you even tried to say them. And once her mind was set on something, she was stubborn as hell, and you soon found that you were completely unable to resist her, especially when she looked at you with those big brown eyes.

You were staying with her when you were discharged. That wasn't up for discussion. She had already had a room cleaned out for you, had set it up to make sure everything was comfortable.

The thought that she'd be looking after you soon wasn't as intimidating as it should have been. Hell, you'd welcomed it.

Once you'd gathered your things from your home, she took you to her apartment, and you weren't surprised. It was definitely the sort of place Victoria would have. All things said that she was incredibly well-off, not shy about how much she spent in any way.

It was funny, the way she was acting right in front of your eyes. The way she doted on you, the way she made sure you were comfortable and happy, that nothing was missing - anything you wanted, she would get it for you.

Unfortunately, the reality was that she needed to work, and that required her to follow a certain schedule.

You adapted quickly, and she began to get used to the routine of having you around, the feeling far more comfortable than she'd expected. You soon learned that she loathed waking up early but did it anyway - and now sometimes you got up with her, even as she protested, cooking breakfast for her while she was in the shower.

Whenever she was at work, at yet another meeting, where she had to deal with the bullshit of idiots and incompetent employees, she would find herself missing you more than she thought she would.

Before, she'd always spent her evenings working, taking her documents home with her and continuing to work when she was in the comfort of her apartment - but now, that routine was changed.

Victoria found herself actually looking forward to coming home, because you were there, always happy to see her.

At first, you slept in the guest bedroom. It didn't take long for that situation to change, though - it was a nightmare that made it necessary. Anxiety and nightmares were hardly surprising - you had been attacked by a supe, after all. Your body recovered fairly well, thankfully, but your mind was another story.

And if that supe that hurt you somehow died in a mysterious, unexplainable accident, it was all just a coincidence.

If she was late coming home from work, claiming that she had suddenly had more important papers to work on, that was just a coincidence as well.

Coincidences happened all the time.

Victoria's bed was soft and comfortable, and it smelled like her. It was probably one of the best decisions she'd made, having you in bed with her. When you had nightmares and woke up sweaty and breathless, she could help you immediately, and she would often wake up to you clinging to her. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she liked seeing that.

You were hers, and even in your sleep, you were subconsciously seeking her out.

Soulmates didn't have to love each other romantically, it was true, and the relationship between soulmates could take a myriad of different forms.

But Victoria wasn't an idiot. She saw the same expression in your eyes, the same look that was most likely mirrored in hers. She wasn't the most romantic person, but some things were not hard to see. This was a romantic soulbond.

A month and then another passed, you were fully recovered now and yet neither of you even bothered to bring up the subject of you moving out. Why would you? You were soulmates, and moving in together was something that would happen anyway at some point - besides, Victoria clearly enjoyed having you there, and you had no objections either.

Not to mention, getting to see her in her suits every day was a pleasure.

Even for a couple that was going a bit fast, you were taking things slow in other aspects. Gentle touches, late-night conversations, the way you talked about the little things, all of it helped you learn each other, figure out habits and personality quirks.

You eventually introduced her to your friends, and Victoria, being the charming woman she was, didn't exactly struggle to win them over. They were quite amused that you moved in with her so quickly, cracking jokes about the lesbian stereotypes that you definitely seemed to be fitting right into.

The most difficult topic was Victoria's career. It was important to her - and unfortunately, that meant that she would have to figure out what she was going to do with you soon.

But you weren't certain whether you wanted people to know about your relationship with her, especially being a public figure and all that came with. And you were also aware that politicians had two options when it came to their soulmates. Politicians either hid their soulmates or they paraded them out like a trophy.

But the main concern on Victoria's mind was your safety.

She had loads of assholes who could be a problem, including those idiotic Hughie's friends, Homelander (she would end him if he dared to even look at you), her adopted father and whoever else decided to add themselves to the metaphorical list.

What you didn't know was that Victoria was protecting you already, using her connections to make sure you had a pair (or sometimes more) of watchful eyes on you when you went somewhere without her.

And while she held you in her arms and watched you sleeping, Victoria decided that it was perhaps time to thin that metaphorical list of threats with a very literal approach.

You had no idea about the violent thoughts that had invaded her mind, and she preferred to keep it that way, for now. To you, Victoria was just your lovely soulmate, who kissed you every morning before work. Someone who wore comfy, stretched-out sweaters around the house and read the newspapers while drinking coffee like a grandma. She was the one who smiled warmly every time you did something nice for her, and she responded by overly spoiling you with expensive gifts.

Part of Victoria felt guilty that she hadn't even considered telling you the truth about her powers. If you found out the truth, would you look at her differently?

Would you see her differently knowing she was a supe too? Knowing that she'd killed more than once? That she would kill again without hesitation, if it meant saving you and her career?

Well, you didn't hate supes, but you were hurt by one of them before, and you were still having nightmares from the goddamn trauma. How would you possibly react when you found out that she was one too?

You were perfect in many ways. You were so considerate and patient, holding her tight while she ranted after a day of dealing with idiots at work, or giving her space when she needed to sort out her own anger.

As the protective one in the relationship, she was well aware that you were also strong in your own way, though not as obvious about it… but would it all be enough?

Victoria shoved those doubts and conflicting thoughts far out of her mind, to be dealt with another time, when she had time to sort through the mess of feelings.

For now, she had a career to build, and a wonderful - if completely oblivious - soulmate at home who she couldn't get enough of.

Coming home after work to find you there, waiting for her, the weekends now filled with you instead of work, laughter in the house and your smile, and...

Victoria would come home after work just to hear your voice and see your smile, feel your touch. Even on the really bad days, when her anger was still bubbling just beneath the surface, even when she was stressed.

This wasn't a life she'd ever thought she would have, but it was one she didn't want to give up for anything in the world.

[spacedoutsnail]

“Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.” - Gandalf the Gray

Please continue to be kind to yourself and to others. Love is the strongest weapon we have when facing dispare

[kittyeckersley]

When you actually have to do the job you applied for after lying about how capable and great you are on your résumé

[impval]

dating headcanons

Marie Moreau x fem! reader

The relationship with you was a huge change for her. She grew up with so many things being denied to her at Red River. She blushes at any physical form of affection you show her in public, and when you introduce her to others as your girlfriend, she smiles so wide and happy.

Given how much Red River cut her off from most of the outside world, she has a lot of catching up to do. You end up introducing her to everything she wasn’t allowed to have back then, from the latest movies to all the internet trends and slang words. She absolutely loves those nights when you’d just stay in, curl up on the bed, and watch some movies.

Anxiety was something that always affected her pretty deeply. Despite her appearance in public, she was a highly anxious person, always worrying about a million different things at once. There have been many times when she’s found herself unable to sleep, simply laying in bed and staring at the ceiling as her thoughts refuse to slow down.

She paces the room, her hands clenching and unclenching in rapid motions. Her fingers pick at the skin around her fingernails, almost drawing blood, though she doesn’t notice. When you’re around, she feels calmer and just sound of your voice helps.

Whenever Marie senses she’s doing something ‘wrong’ or not meeting up to your standards, she’ll getting caught up in those self-deprecating thoughts and negative emotions. So, just hearing you give her any form of praise or assurance, even just a - you’re doing great - would instantly put her at ease.

She constantly has to be watching her surroundings and the people around her. Blame Red River. Who interacts with you, your schedule, and even if she doesn’t mean to, she’ll end up collecting way too much information on your daily activities. Marie especially won’t pass up an opportunity to send you a text at least once an hour, just to check in with you during the day.

When she’s able to relax, she can actually be very playful. Marie, despite what people might first think, can actually be pretty damn playful and hilarious. She's the kind of person to make stupid comments just to get a reaction, and one of her favorite things is hearing you laugh.

If you’re stressed out about something, you probably won’t have to hide it for long. Marie will pick up on your anxious behavior almost immediately. She’s very tactful with how she talks to you, choosing her words carefully so she doesn’t accidentally make you feel any more stress than you already are. Once you tell her, she’ll listen patiently, trying to get as much information as possible just so she understands exactly how stressed you are and why. And then? She’ll do everything within her power to help you.

Marie’s moral compass is strong. She’s always been firm in her beliefs and will stand up for them no matter what, and that includes calling you out when she thinks you’re doing something wrong.

She absolutely loves gifting other people things, and she’s very good at it, thanks to her observant nature. Although Marie doesn’t really have a lot of money to spare, she’ll try to find something that you’ll like. If you like a specific kind of snack, she’ll get you more of it or if you express interest in a specific book genre, she’ll get you a gift card to your favorite online store that sells those books.

Marie absolutely hates the quiet and loneliness. She craves comfort, especially physical comfort, and soft things are her favorites, whether that’s the blankets or plushies. Growing up at Red River meant loneliness was a constant. It’s made her more than clingy. So, she absolutely loves sleeping together with you. She’s a big cuddler, taking any chance she can to just hold onto you.

Marie is not a very public person when it comes to affection. She prefers to do all in the comfort of private, but if it can’t be helped, she will try to show her affection in subtle ways. Holding your hand under a table, a subtle brush of her fingers on the back of your neck, or a gentle but brief touch of your back or shoulder. But she really verbally affectionate. She'll give you constant compliments, telling you how good you are or how much she cares about you.

While Marie is good at planning, she’s absolutely terrible when it comes to planning romantic things. She is not really into the whole grand gesture sort of thing, instead, she usually prefers lowkey dates where you’re able to focus more on each other. When she can’t come up with anything, she’ll often ask help from Emma or Andre.

It’s almost like she has this compulsion to collect things. She wants to save every single thing that even reminds her of you, particularly things or items that have some kind of importance to you. Every photo she has of you and her, every note she finds you’ve written her and even the most minuscule trinkets you’ve given her. She’ll keep them forever.

Marie looks at you fondly, trying to take in the small details - the little things that she loves. The exact way the sunlight hits your hair, the way you laugh, the way you smile. Any of the adorable, unintentional things you do when you’re not even aware her eyes are on you.

She is an extremely protective person, particularly when it comes to you. Marie is always on your side. If there’s even a hint of someone trying to hurt you, even if it’s just gossip or rumors, she’ll jump at them without a second thought. But she’s the most protective when you’re physically in danger. When you get hurt, she practically goes into mother hen mode. She’s either dragging you straight to the first aid center or tending to your wounds herself and making you sit down for the rest of the day.

Arguments with Marie usually don't last very long at all. She tends to get frustrated pretty quickly, but she's not all-together terrible at communicating or understanding the other person's perspective. She's also stubborn as hell and will stubbornly press if she really believes herself to be right.However...She gets really bad separation anxiety and will almost never leave an argument unresolved. She would rather try to fix it than let it fester and be distant from you.

She’ll leave notes for you practically everywhere. You’ll find them all over: on your dresser, in your jacket pockets, even left in your lunch. Things like: see you later, have a good day, thinking of you or cute, goofy jokes. She just wants to make sure you have something that reminds you of her when she’s not there with you.