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chilumi-shipper · 1 year

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From Me, For You

Childe x GN!Reader / Alhaitham x GN!Reader

Summary: You love creating something special for them, it's your love language to say the least, it's the way you show love for them. But at some point, it seems like they stopped caring for the things you make, and in a moment where the stress was getting to them, they even said something so hurtful about your favorite thing to do for them.

Tags: Angst to Fluff, Hurt with Comfort, Crying, Childe coming home with blood covering him, Hurtful Comments

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Childe

Your relationship with him is... surprising, to say the least.

You're just a baker in Liyue that happened to sell one of the best Shezhnayan pastries that a certain homesick Harbinger was really craving. One thing led to another, and now you're in love and in a relationship with a Fatui Harbinger.

It's not like you didn't try your damn hardest not to fall for his charms, but seeing him eat the pastries you make and jokingly sob about his home, with the pastry's filling staining the corners of his lip, it just touched your heart.

But you forgot for a bit... he's a Harbinger...

He's not always gonna be the Ajax that taste test your baked goods every other day and would give the biggest smile with the usual comment of "Everything is perfect! You're perfect!"

And that's increasingly becoming more prominent.

You looked at the Shezhnayan baking book intently, making sure you follow the way of making a local pastry filling to a T. This is very important to you, your boyfriend's birthday is just around the corner, and you really really wanted to give him a taste of home since he wouldn't be able to make it back to his home nation.

You have to make sure to not screw up, so you're practicing early on.

The sound of your front door opening perked your ears up, making you put down the bowl of filling you were working on and skip on to your living room.

"Jax!" You affectionately called for him before you could even see him clearly.

The sight that greeted you, however, promptly stopped you from jumping at him for a hug.

Blood...

Whether his or someone else's, it mortified you. You were speechless.

"What...?" Childe scoffed at the sight of your shocked expression. "This is what being a Harbinger is." He looked down at his soiled clothes, feeling rather uncomfortable. "You should get used to this, babe."

The usual warmth of his presence in your house changed into an atmosphere that made you sick to the stomach.

"Please..." You started, your heart beating rapidly and your voice laced with disbelief. "Wash up... I..." After such a sight, could you really ask him to taste test one of your many endeavors in baking again?

This man... this Harbinger... he wasn't the Ajax you wished to see. But that's still him, just not the version he made you become privy to.

However, after so many days and nights that he showed up like... that, you got used to it, got used to the slow uprising of a worse version of him, the version of him that didn't give a fuck about what brought you together in the first place, the version of him that no longer accepted welcoming hugs and kisses, the version of him that made you feel so... worthless.

"Are you baking again? I know it's your job and all, but could you like... just not bring it home?" The ginger said that one time, rather hypocritically considering that he brought that terrible attitude from his job to your home.

"I'm working on something important..." You excused his rather hurtful words, you were rather sensitive when someone mentions something negative to you about the hobby that made you so happy. "Can you try it and tell me what you think?"

"Not in the mood." You knew that he was rather tired from taking care of something for his job, but that dismissive tone made your heart ache... and just when you think you've finally perfected his childhood favorite treat.

A moment of silence fills the room before a quiet "Please..." escapes you in a very hesitant tone. You worked so hard... finding an actual Snezhnayan baking book with local recipes, practicing over and over to make it perfect, even making sure to add your own little touch that compliments the taste.

Maybe you shouldn't have said that, otherwise, he wouldn't have stood up from the couch to face your smaller figure holding onto the tray of baked goods, looking up at his looming figure.

"You know, Y/N..." Your breathing already became heavy at the cold call of your name. "There are so many more useful things you could do than bake all day. This..." A gasp escaped your mouth when he grabbed the tray from your hands and threw it down on the kitchen island.

"This is just worthless."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, and you could no longer hold in the sob in your throat, as you started crying pathetically right in front of him. You whimpered as you tried to control your falling tears and your harsh breathing.

You couldn't say anything back, your cheeks and nose only reddening at the rapid emotion that's escaping you. No longer being able to handle being right in front of him, you ran up to your room, closing the door and face planting on the bed, muffling your cries with the sheets.

Back downstairs, Childe was still processing everything.

"There's nothing to process, you are a dick." His inner self told him, and he completely agrees as he sighs, dragging his fingers along his ginger hair in frustration in himself.

Why did he do that? Why did he say those hurtful things? Why did he treat you like you were one of his targets that he was assigned to manipulate?

Work got to him, it has been for weeks, but it was no excuse. He brought a monster he couldn't control into your house, and now... you were hurt.

His blue eyes darted to the pastries he haphazardly threw on the counter, most were still on the tray, in a mess and no longer in a firm order in which you like to arranger your treats.

A realization hit him... they look a lot like...

Childe then remembered the look on your face when you whispered a plea. Your eyes were hopeful when he stood up, and then your body shook when you realized he wasn't intending on tasting anything.

A memory flashed in his mind, even intensifying when he picked up a treat and bit into it, a sweet, warm filling coating the inside of his mouth. It was delicious... and just like in your Y/N way, everything you make made him feel better.

His senses getting better meant the pit in his stomach got worse, the regret of going off on you consuming him more and more.

He then hurried up to your room, gently opening your door to not startle you. His heart broke at the sight of you, your face buried into your pillows, your shoulders shaking and indicating that you're crying still. He knows that after what he did, he has no right to even feel hurt at the sight of you... but he loves you! And he knows he hasn't been showing it.

Without a word, without turning around to face him, you spoke. "P-please... L-le-leave me a-alone." Your words were muffled, and you were stuttering due to the sobs you still couldn't control.

"Baby, I... I'm so sorry..." Childe knew that those words could never be enough to make you feel better, but he at least needed a chance to say his piece, even though he may not deserve it. "Work has been... it's been making me like this... but, I know I can't use that as an excuse..."

"I've been a prick..." You didn't respond to him, but your sobs did die down to little sniffles. "And I don't deserve someone like you..."

"You just made the perfect replica of one of my favorite treats, and you probably did so much for this. Archons, babe, you're amazing. And so so caring." Ajax felt tears starting to form, his vision getting cloudy as his eyes water. If you forced him to leave, he would, but he wanted to pour everything in his heart for you out, and finally finally let out the emotion he had to keep in due to his job.

"I love you so much, Y/N... for being such an amazing person that lit up my life." He walked closer to you, prompting to sit on the bed beside you. Still, you give no response. "And the fact that you love me... that... you loved me...."

"I'm so honored that you even let me be your taste tester." The ginger chuckled a bit, reveling in the sweet memory.

"And I can't fucking believe that I just hurt you like that. I'm so s-sorry, Y/N." Finally, the tears in his eyes fell, and his voice broke when he spoke.

He wasn't use to fear, but at that moment, he truly felt the fear of you rejecting him.

After a few seconds, you turned to him, and he felt even more guilty to see your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

"C-Couch..." You whispered while pointing at him, making the ginger tilt his head in confusion. "S-Sleep on the couch." You stuttered out, and Childe immediately nodded, accepting your statement.

"A-And no more hugs and kisses, no p-pastries either." You firmly stated (as firm as your sniffly state could say at least). "For a month."

"Okay.... Yes, understood!" Childe wiped the tears on his face, answering you with determination. If that's what it took for you to forgive him, he's gonna do it with ease.

"And no coming home with b-blood on you. Please..." He got off the bed to get on his knees in front of you.

"I promise..." With many of his promises, he had an instinct to kiss your forehead as a reassurance, but you avoided his hand before he could hold your head to go in to press a kiss.

"Wait a month." You let out a strained giggle, and he smiled at how sweet it was despite his lips tingling in the anticipation of a kiss.

The whole no hugs and kisses is gonna be hard, and the no pastries means that he's not gonna get a taste of your love for an entire month!

But he will persevere, just for you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Alhaitham

You have a knack for crafting little momentos and preserving memories by creatively incorporating moments into the trinkets that you make.

It's your favorite hobby! And you're rather proud that you can make such cute little things that don't look tacky.

Kaveh was actually pleased the very first time Alhaitham came home with a decor you made, an embroidery of an irritated dendro slime reading a thick book that he can hang on a wall. You presented it to him with all smiles, saying that that was how you saw him the first time you saw him in the House of Deana.

"Finally! You actually got something to hang up that doesn't embody your atrocious taste!" Kaveh was enthusiastic, yet still managed to diss the gray haired scholar while giving out a compliment.

The first thing you ever made for him was that embroidery. And Archon's did your heart flutter and leaped with joy when he actually accepted it. What you were expecting was a comment from him like "I think it's silly to represent me with a slime. I would say that my IQ level is much higher than those elemental lifeforms."

You were both just acquaintances when you gave him that gift, but that sparked something between you. You were smart, creative, and didn't speak to him all stiff and nervous like many of your peers. You make the atmosphere easy to be in, and Alhaitham happens to like it when things are easy for him.

You liked his company just as much, finding his calmness and straightforwardness so tranquil and refreshing, not to mention his funny smarty pants attitude. You liked him so much that you would sit by him in the Akademiya or in the library and do your handy work.

it basically progressed from that. "I enjoy being with you, and you kissed me that one time and I liked it. And I can see that you enjoy being with me too. So we're together now." He stated, and you were in shock, he's always been straightforward, but that was truly unexpected.

"Y-You haven't even... taken me out on a date yet!" That was the first thing that you thought to say, still processing everything.

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, "You don't call this and our every other meeting a date? We are together and we're doing what we want to do." Damn it, he made a good point.

"B-But..." You stuttered, making him sigh.

"Do you not want to be with me?"

"No! I-I mean... yes... Yes! I do, but you just dropped it all out of nowhere." You argued, seriously having a love-hate relationship with his unapologetic honesty.

He ignored your comment, only choosing to hear that you want to be with him. "Good, you're my partner now."

And then... with you being you, every milestone, every special event in your relationship, you'd make something for him.

First anniversary? A custom picture frame with 12 pictures of both of you in it to remind him of the 12 months you've been together.

His birthday? A crochet little plant in a pot, the plant seemingly just sprouting.

Just a random day? Well, you got something for him anyway. :D

You love him to bits and you wanted to show them in your very own love language, crafting little gifts!

Each one, Alhaitham accepted in an uncharacteristically bashful yet still pleased manner, muttering a "Thank you..." or a "You never fail to impress me." and then you are presented with a great honor of a smile from the scribe.

Making him feel happy and warm inside (though he would never admit that he was, but he really was) by making things for him made you so happy!

You managed to fill his desk with your creations, not just decor, but some useful trinkets too! Like a functional hourglass, a lamp that he can write on, and an organizer for books because you swear that he literally just lets the books litter his office since he reads lots of them on and off, and you needed to do something about it.

The main thing is... he loves your love for creativity.

At least... that's what you thought...

But ever since he became the Acting Grand Sage...

Alhaitham has always been an honest person, never one to beat around the bush or spare anyone's feeling by keeping his opinions to himself.

And he sure has gotten colder, much more poky, probing at the weaknesses and insecurities of many scholars in an attempt to only let researches and works he finds worthy to continue. The rest shall no longer be conducted.

Apparently, that included your work.

"I don't see a use for such an object. I prefer things in my desk to be practical."

"The way you designed it is rather... silly. Far too childish to be of sensible use."

"Decors are not necessary, there's better use of your time."

You took all of his critiques, from then and now, to heart, making sure to reflect on his words to improve. But when he was still the Scribe, he at least commented on how to improve.

Now, it's like... he wants you to stop.

You're currently in the office of the Acting Grand Sage, you brought your crocheting kit with you to pass the time, hoping to just have a quiet afternoon with him while you both do your work, much like what you did in the past.

"Alhaitham, what'cha up to?" You asked innocently, still working on your crochet as you were seated on the floor. He was working on something on his desk, his brows pulled together as he frowned at the report in front of him.

That was what you usually do, ask some questions about each other's business, encourage each other if it's really stressing you out, or jab at how you could never do his work, and he would not have even a quarter of your patience to finish a craft.

This time, however, he does not grace you with a response, preserving the quietness of the room. You got the message, so you opted to keep quiet and keep on crocheting a blanket with a print that you were planning to give him, maybe a fluffy blanket will keep out his cold mood.

A few minutes later though, you don't know exactly what made him snap, you don't know why he suddenly called your name, and you don't know why he looked at you with such a frustrated look.

"Y/N, just drop it." Alhaitham suddenly blurted out to you. Making you jump and pause what you're doing.

"W-What?" You stuttered, confused and worried at the same time.

"I saw that you've been struggling on that thing for hours, can't you just move on to something more useful?" The gray haired man sighed. "You're so creative, and you're wasting your time with that." He said it like so condescendingly, that such a calm sounding comment penetrated your heart more than an actual insult could.

"I mean, look at all this." He motions to his desk. "A bunch of junk that serves no purpose. I really don't see why you need to do all this." Tears started collecting in your eyes, and you heard his words as if you're the junk that serves no purpose.

"B-But... those are all presents for... y-you." Your voice was shaking, and you could only manage to whisper. "I wanted to make them for you."

"Then perhaps it is me that don't want to receive them anymore."

And that's what got to you. What you do to show your love, what you try to do for him, he doesn't even like. So does he even love you at all?

Tears streamed down your face, and what initially started as sniffles turned into sobs that echoed around the large room. You stood up, stuffing your things into your bag before aggressively wiping your tears away, though more seem to fall anyway.

Without another word, you ran to the elevator before rushing out of the Akademiya, running back home with a broken heart. It was a miracle you didn't trip with how cloudy your vision got from the tears.

...

"What are you doing here?" Alhaitham raised a brow, seeing Kaveh in his office, sweeping everything on his desk into a large bag.

The blond architect ignored him, clearing out the desk before heading for the wall with a few of your works filled the space.

"Did Y/N make this?" Kaveh questioned, finally looking at his roommate. Alhaitham merely nodded, though even more confused when the architect took the pieces and shoved them in the bag too.

"What are you doing?"

Kaveh scoffed, shaking his head at the Acting Grand Sage's pathetic ignorance. "You don't deserve these things!" He then proceeded to glare at him. "Saying such mean things at Y/N, they did nothing wrong and you started acting like some obnoxious fucker that just wanna bring people down."

"I mean, I know you like doing that. But to Y/N?" Kaveh questioned in disbelief. "Yeah, you don't deserve any of this."

And so Alhaitham was reminded of his words from yesterday, as well as you're crying face as you ran out of his office. He (rather stupidly) thought that you'd get over the comments, after all, you didn't mind his critiques from before.

"I wanted to make them for you." He remembers what you said, all the things Kaveh had in the large bag were for him. You wanted to make those for him.

You made them because... you love him...

And he fucked up.

Kaveh was done with his sweep, leaving him in a eerily empty room, free of everything that made it a bearable to work in. He hated the office of the Grand Sage, but your presence, the presence of your creations... made it that much better.

He had to fix this.

...

You heard knocking at your door, but after looking at the peephole and seeing a gray haired scholar for the fifth time that day, you didn't bother opening the door.

"Darling?" You ignored the endearment muffled by the wall separating the both of you.

On the other side, Alhaitham sighed before resting his head on your door. He's been trying to talk to you properly for five hours, but he didn't just want to say what he wanted to at your door, risking you not hearing what he has to say for himself.

"Listen, Y/N, I'll just be here... working." He didn't leave just yet. "You can join me, if you want. Just like before."

He sat back down on the bench that was right in front of your house. He brought the work he has to get done with him, and trying to swallow down the guilt yet again, he proceeded to work into the well hours of the night before leaving with yet another unsuccessful day of trying to talk to you.

For many days, it was like that, he stayed outside your home. Whenever you needed to go out, you ignored him, even if he followed you, even if he tried to talk to you, you wouldn't give him the time of day.

"I think this type of yarn would be good for structure." Alhaitham held a roll of yarn in his hand, looking you and anticipating a response.

Though you said nothing, you confirmed that you at least listen when you plucked up another roll of the same yarn and paid for it. He smiled a little, though you didn't wish to humor him further.

Everyday, Alhaitham would be working in front of your house, maybe knocking once in a while to check in on you. It was rather heartbreaking to see, from your window, you saw him sit there, looking like he isn't even getting work done, just staring at the reports and trying to make something of it.

And finally, it was night yet again, a particularly cold one this time around. The cold breeze as the sun sets in for the night sent goosebumps down the Acting Grand Sage's spine, but it was far too early to leave, so he didn't budge.

You don't get it, you don't want to feel sorry for him, he couldn't just say something so harsh yet act so stubborn to force you to forgive him!

But tonight... he does look rather cold, and from what you learned the days before, nothing will make him move from that bench until you let him talk to you properly.

There was a soft warmth that ingulfed Alhaitham as he was busy with his work, from his peripherals he could see the makings of a blanket, effectively shielding him from the cold.

Looking back, he saw you dressed in your pajamas, not bothering to make eye contact with him. "You looked cold." were the only words that you said to him.

Unbeknownst to him, while he was working in front of your house, you joined in on his day, finishing the blanket you were planning to give him before his outburst.

It felt like such a waste to scrap it, especially since you were half done with it already...

He stood up from the bench, looking uncharacteristically enthused at you. "Thanks..." He was looking fondly at you, but you still refused to meet his gaze.

You also noticed from watching him a bit that he wasn't really eating much throughout the day, so before you could stop yourself...

"Would you like to come in for dinner?"

...

You were quiet for most of the meal, but his ears perked at the occasional sniffles you let out, implying that you were trying not to cry. Alhaitham felt shitty for thinking he even had the right to feel bad when he was the one that caused all this.

After dinner, it was still silent, but Alhaitham proceeded to evaluate the blanket you gave him in your living room. It was crochet with, yet again, an irritated dendro slime on top of a building that resembles the Akademiya, you must have observed him and his sour mood from being the Acting Grand Sage.

"Do I get to keep this?" He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You bit your lip, anxiously twiddling your thumbs. "Umm... It's... not of much use." You replied, earning a sigh from him.

With your comment, Alhaitham made his way right in front of you, making it perfectly clear for him see that tears have started to fall from your eyes. "I-I think... it would be best if you g-go now."

You were looking down, still trying to cover your face despite knowing that he knew you were crying.

"Would it be okay if I talk to you properly first?" Something in you wanted him to leave because you thought that he deserved it, but you still wanted answers. Why did he say all those mean things to you? Why did he hate what you make so much? Why was he persistently outside your house all the time to persuade you to finally talk to him?

You didn't answer, but didn't motion at all for him to leave, so he took his chance before it was too late. "There's nothing I love more in the world than you. And to lash out on you for doing something you love was absolutely idiotic of me."

He took your hands in his, "I hated being the Grand Sage, I hated having to deal with the shit I don't care about. That hate just continued to build up, and I... you were the one that unfairly received it all."

"You didn't deserve any of that. And I know I can't use being stressed as an excuse for hurting you, that was my own stupid act. But I am truly sorry."

"I-I would have stopped making things for you if you hated them so much." You finally looked up at him with wet doe eyes, effectively clenching his heart even more.

"No, no, darling... I love what you make, every single one. Because I know that making them makes you happy, and I love seeing you happy." He lets go of one of your hands to wipe your tears away. "I'm so sorry about everything I said, darling. The moment Kaveh took everything from my office, I realized how empty it was... without you..."

"He did that?" You asked in disbelief, your question laced with a strained chuckle. He nodded, a pout forming on his face.

"Yeah, and I realized how terrible it was..."

You laughed, though your cheeks were still stained by dried tears. "Do you like the blanket I made you?" You asked him, and he gave you a rare genuine smile.

"I love it, you're a star for making it for me." He closed the gap between the both of you, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace.

"I love everything you gift me. I love you..." He whispered as he hugged you warmly.

"Even the plushie on your desk that doesn't do anything and always falls over?"

"Even that..." Your heart fluttered, your body cuddling with his to receive more of his warmth.

"Okay..." You responded, smiling against him. "You can tell Kaveh to stop keeping my gifts hostage..."

...

"There's somethings missing..." Alhaitham gave Kaveh a pointed look, making his blond roommate scoff.

"Well, everything I took I brought back here! If you lost a few things then that's you're fault!" Kaveh has always been a big fan of your crafts, and Alhaitham has a gut feeling that he liked a few things that he took.

The gray haired scholar merely raised a brow, making Kaveh sigh dramatically.

"Fine! But I'm keeping the plushie!" He left before Alhaitham could argue with him, leaving him only to sigh.

Your giggle occupied the room for a bit. "I'll tell him I can make one for him."

"Alright, but I'll appreciate if his isn't as cute as mine. Thanks." He said, and though you know he's joking, he still had that stoic face that makes you laugh when he says those unserious things.

"I'll keep that in mind."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

This is like almost 20k words, so I really hope that you guys liked it :D

It's been a while, (as always with my writing, but it's summer, so apart from work, I've been pretty free to write, which makes me really happy) enjoy!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact childe #childe angst #childe fluff #childe x reader #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham angst #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader

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ennabear · 1 month

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I really liked mean!abby, what would it be like shopping with her?

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ EEEE i’m glad u liked mean!abby cause i crave this validation!!!! i’m making this about the kitten because i know she secretly loves it, but if you want something else lmk!!! 100% projecting here because my cats are fucking FREAKS. anyways enough yap i’ll let you read now!!!

“aww, abby, look at this one!” you coo, the small white kitten sleepily stretches it’s arms out at the sound of your voice. abby shakes her head, “we don’t need another one.” she says coldly. the kitten rolls over with it’s stretch, showing off it’s soft white tummy. you reach out to grab abby’s shoulder in excitement, only to find her halfway down the aisle, eyebrows furrowed as she stares at her shopping list.

you give the kitten one last smile before turning to follow her, stopping to gaze at her beefy arms effortlessly lifting a heavy box of cat litter. she catches you staring, mumbling an annoyed “cmon. we have places to be.”

“what, you’re already antsy to get home and see your favorite kitten?” you tease, elbowing her in the side. surprisingly, she chuckles at this. “sure, whatever you say.” you turn the corner, eyeing a jar of catnip with a ribbon tied around it.

“fuck no.” she spits, your hand awkwardly halfway in the air as you reach for it. “oh, stop.” you roll your eyes. of course she has to say no to everything, she’s fucking glued to that damn list. “i’m serious, don’t you remember what happened last time? she jumped on top of the fridge and spilled the whole container, there was glass everywhere.”

“okay?” you laugh. “don’t you think our daughter deserves to get a little zooted from time to time? you do it practically every night, such a hypocrite.” she sighs deeply, debating the pros and cons quietly.

“fine. but if she pisses me off one more time, i’m sending her to rehab.”

“what’s that cat’s name?” you ask the cashier.

“the white one?” he gestures to the glass box behind him. “she’s meowrie catoinette, it’s here last day here before she gets sent to a shelter.” god, you’ve never heard a more perfect name. the stars are all aligning.

you grab abby’s wrist before she can swipe her card, using almost all of your upper body strength to hold it in place. “no. and i’m not gonna say it again.”

“what if they kill her, abby?” you plead. she’s not sympathetic at all, instead shrugging and wrestling against your grip on her wrist. “do they do that at the shelter?”

“there’s really no way of knowing.” the cashier answers. “once they leave here, it’s completely out of our hands.”

the kitten wakes from it’s nap at the perfect time, stretching it’s pouty mouth with a big yawn, then looking up at you and meowing. abby breaks free from your grip, swiping her card and quickly shoving it back into her wallet. “how much is she?” you ask.

“any adoptions within the last week of their residency are free. we wanna make sure these animals go home.”

“great!” you beam, “we’ll take her.”

abby’s mouth falls open at your audacity. no matter how much she says no, how hard she puts her foot down, you always find a way to beat her. she doesn’t say another word to you, not as the young man hands you a small meowing kitten in a cardboard box. not on the drive home. not while you eat dinner, your girls next to you slurping at a plate of fancy feast. not in the shower as you massage her scalp.

and it isn’t until you’re both in bed, half naked and half asleep, that she mumbles a grumpy “so this is our destiny now? to be cat moms?”

#true lesbian love is having your butch carry the cat litter that shit is so heavy #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #the last of us

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milksnake-tea · 26 days

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━━ say you still dare to dream .

Sunday has lost everything. His status, his home, his sister, all of it has slipped through his fingers, all for a failed attempt at salvation. Now imprisoned and destined to live his life in shameful shadow, you, his former subordinate, appear to offer him one last chance of redemption.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: aftermath of 2.3, depression, sunday at his lowest

word count: 1.5k

a/n: depressed sunday is my favorite sunday. like damn bro you got BROKEN ig this is what being rammed by a train 8 times does to a man... ANYWAYS. DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY THIS IS JUST ME DOING SOME WRITING PRACTICE WITH BEING DRAMATIC hunches over and dies

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina

“I can only allow you a few minutes at most,” says the woman in purple.

A devil in velvet, that was what they called her. Although she may not look like much - from a distance, you’d mistake her as yet another filthy rich vacationer of Penacony - up close, her snake-like eyes and elegantly poised stature, always ready to strike unsuspecting prey, told you just how dangerous she was.

Lady Bonajade, the Stoneheart of Credit and the most deranged loan shark the galaxy had to offer. She who does the impossible and creates miracles for the price of one’s livelihood.

She, who is currently the master who holds the life of the fallen Oak Family Head in her perfectly manicured hands.

You meet her chilling gaze with steeled eyes. With a deep breath, you force down the lodge in your throat.

“I understand.”

Jade smiles. It is neither threatening nor comforting, although you cannot help but feel unsettled by her calm amusement.

“Most of the Family has turned their back on Mr. Sunday,” she comments, crossing her arms and tapping one nail against her arm. “Why haven’t you, I wonder? Surely, a mere subordinate wouldn’t be so loyal to a traitor of this degree.”

You know better than to answer her. After all, all of her questions are rhetorical - tests. She already knows their answers, she just wants to hear them come from your lips.

But you don’t give her that satisfaction. Your silence is answer enough.

You walk past her and come before a heavily armored vault door. A bit much, in your opinion, for a man who has spent the majority of his life asleep. But he is also the man who had taken control of the Asdana system and nearly ascended into Aeonhood, so this level of security is to be expected.

Hundreds of locks and gears turn before the doors open with a hiss and a billowing of smoke. With a mental prayer to Xipe for strength, you step into the dark cell.

There’s little to no light in the small room, leaving you to wonder how Sunday had managed to stay sane all this time. You already know the cells are essentially soundproof, and with so little light, the Family’s prisoners were shut off from the rest of the world and their senses.

The brief rustle of chains catches your attention, and you turn your gaze to the iron throne at the center of the room.

Oh, how far he has fallen.

Once gleaming gold has lost its luster, reflecting not sympathy nor love like you had known them to, but defeat and a resigned acceptance. Fair skin has become drained and faded like that of a corpse. Feather-like hair, once so meticulously cared for, is ruined and frayed.

Bound are the hands that would never raise against another, and shackled are the wings that have never known flight. Caged is the bird who has known no other home; only now, his gilded shackles have become sullied, ugly, disdainful.

He is hollow, empty in every sense of the word - drained of what little vitality he once had.

“Sir,” comes your whisper. He doesn’t respond.

Your footsteps are heavy as you approach. Sunday’s head is bowed - something his pride would’ve never allowed back in the day.

Once upon a time, you had found his arrogance annoying, hypocritical even. Yet at the same time, it was endearing, knowing that even the perfect and saint-like Sunday had his faults. In a sense, it had brought him down to earth, it had made him human.

Seeing him like this, so despondent and defeated, makes you long for the days where he’d scoff at the IPC or make back-handed compliments for his own sick pleasure.

“Sir,” you repeat. You stop before him, and kneel down to one knee.

Sunday’s eyes flick to meet yours, before dropping down to his lap, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. Out of guilt, or out of scorn, you don’t know.

“Why have you come?”

Your heart aches at his voice. It cracks from the days without use, deeper than his typical chirp.

“I am a sinner, a traitor to the Family.” Not once does he meet your gaze again as he speaks. “Visiting me…”

He exhales.

“You should leave.”

“I won’t.”

His hands clench from where they’re bound to the arms of his throne. Briefly, annoyance flashes over him, before he lets it wash away with a slump of his shoulders.

“It would be easier if you just- left me here,” he says painstakingly. “I am of no use to you anymore - if anything, I am a stain. Abandoning me… is the logical thing to do.”

“You and your logistics,” you sigh. “Did it never once occur to you that I cared for you as a person, and not just as my superior?”

His eyes are shaking. Sunday’s expression is pained, like that of a grieving mother.

“Why?” he asks again, his face straining as he tries to understand. “Why are you here?”

Your answer is simple. “To free you.”

Bitterly, the corners of his lips twitch in a cynical chuckle.

“You of all people should know that I was not meant for freedom,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “That is what you believe. Lady Bonajade and I agree that you deserve to have this chance.”

“Lady Jade, huh?” Resentment flashes in his irises as he scoffs. “So you intend to coerce me into accepting charity from the IPC?”

Hurt pangs at your chest and you flinch. “That isn’t-”

“Spare me the concern,” Sunday spits, turning his head. “I may have fallen, but I still have my pride. If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.”

For a moment, you are speechless. Then you are indignant, and you rise slightly, your brows furrowed.

“Why are you so willing to accept your fate?” you ask, almost angrily.

Sunday exhales. “What else am I expected do?”

“This can’t be how your story ends." Your fist balls up the fabric of your pants in its grip. “Locked away, isolated from the rest of the world - that can’t be what you want. It is too cruel a fate for you.”

For you, who loved humanity so deeply.

“Tell me,” you say, gazing up at the man who had torn his skin and carved his heart for the people. “Tell me you want to be freed, and I will do so. I’ll take care of everything. All I need is for you to say that you want it.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers after a moment of silence. “Why, for me…”

“What is there to understand?”

“This is unreasonable,” he starts.

“Not for me, it isn’t,” you say softly. “If it’s for you, nothing is unreasonable.”

His voice raises, trembling upon its crumbling pedestal, panic seeping into every word. “I don’t deserve that kindness - that mercy. I am a sinner, I am a traitor, I am-”

“You are a man worth saving.”

Sunday’s eyes fly open. He stares at you, eyes wide with surprise, his lips parted as to say something, only for the words to die on his tongue.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from how long you’ve been looking up at him, but you push the pain aside.

“The Sunday I knew was kind and gentle,” you say, subconsciously leaning forward. Pent-up emotions, cumulated through the years, begin to bleed into your voice, weighing it down. “He always looked out for the weak, and cared when no one else did. He put others before himself, and even if he was a little arrogant, he was selfless.”

“No,” Sunday protests weakly. “I am not- You- I-”

“You are so much more than you allow yourself to be.”

Rising from the floor, your knees aching slightly, you gently take the face of the fallen angel in your hand. Cradling him like glass, you force him to look at you, to look one of the many he’d betrayed in the face, and see the love for him despite it all.

“Sunday, do you wish for freedom?”

For the many years you’ve worked under him, his eyes have always been a cold gem, calm and unfettered. Never have you seen them glossy with tears, threatening to break at any moment.

You see fear and desire clashing as he grapples for the first time, a choice not for the people, but for himself. You see the beliefs that have been molded into him beginning to crack. You see the caged bird gaze at the world beyond his bars, and for the first time, want to soar beyond them.

Sunday’s lips open and close as he struggles to find the right words to say.

“Where will I go?” he asks instead, tearing his gaze away. It is answer enough.

You smile softly.

“Anywhere you desire.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail sunday x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️

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ickadori · 8 months

Text

𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐋

[cws] none. gn reader.

“If I couldn’t use magic, would you still love me?”

You trace the dark lines on Orter’s face as you curl into his side, his bare chest steadily rising and falling with his breaths.

“What notion gave you the idea that I loved you?”

“Well, we’re married for starters.” You move to his hair next, smoothing the sweat-dampened locks out of his face.

“Marriages of convenience are not uncommon.”

You give him a bland look, one which he can’t see due to his closed eyes, and flick your fingers against his nose before moving to get out of the bed. His arms slither around your waist and pull you back against him, the both of you now on your sides and staring into each others eyes. “I was joking.”

“Your jokes are terribly unfunny.” A ghost of a smile settles on his lips.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t marry me for my humor then, isn’t it?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

You’ve always wondered if Orter’s love for you was conditional on if you could use magic or not. If you had been born without the blessing from the Gods, the very thing that was revered throughout this world, would he have still fallen for you? Would he have declared his love for you in a murky, dust-ridden library in a hushed whisper before kissing you behind the cover of a book? Would he have held you so tenderly, embraced you so lovingly, loved you like this if not?

“If it were the other way around,” you start, “I’d still love you.” And it’s the truth - you would love Orter through it all. If he were to lose his magic as well as everything to his name tomorrow, he’d still have you and your love.

He sighs out through his nose, one big hand settling on your waist, his skin hot against yours. “I abhor any and everything that threatens the current order of things - you know this. While I acknowledge that boy’s strength and contributions to keep this world safe…I would not hesitate to do away with him solely due to his lack of magic.” His gaze doesn’t falter, and you feel the corners of your mouth downturn as you try to bat away your disappointment.

It was a silly question, one you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to, and yet you had still asked. I have no right to be upset.

“With that being said, I can’t imagine myself feeling anything but love and adoration for you.”

“Orter..”

“Me hating you is simply unfathomable - if you were to wake up tomorrow and realize you could do exponentially better than me, I would still love you. If you were to drive a knife through my heart and smile as you did it, I would still love you. If you were to lose every drop of magic in your body, I would still love you. I’m aware that me saying that makes me a hypocrite, but there are worse things to be in this life.”

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before going to pull away, only to be stopped by your arms winding around his neck as you deepen the kiss, unable to stop the blinding smile that takes over your face.

“I love you,” you say in between kisses, and Orter maneuvers the both of you so he’s flat on his back with you straddling his hips. His hands settle on your waist and you push yourself up, your own hands splayed across his chest as you look down at him. “Even if you do look silly without your glasses.”

“…please disregard my earlier sentiments.”

#mashle x reader #orter x reader #doesn’t matter what time i post this bc the fandom is nonexistent anyways :3

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 months

Note

your posts about Tim being the parent in his time with Bruce+ Richard's parentification + Tim always planning of being a placeholder, got me thinking

What if Tim started off like that, playing parent for Bruce, ensuring he doesn't cross any lines or overworks himself

And just never stop?

His civilian life is starting to crack, and he's doing worse than he could be, but Batman has to be taken care off

In comes Jason who tries to kill him (great another Bruce) so his workload is doubled, and also Damian who has to be untaught murder

Well it's an escalation of what he's used to, but if he can deal with Batman, he can deal with his kids, time to bust out the books on therapy and deprogramming cult teachings

Besides, he's a placeholding for the two of them until they're better like Batman, so who better to teach them the ropes than him?

Let's toss in comments here and there that will clear misunderstandings between the Bats (excluding himself— he's temporary) and what about their interactions keeps the family apart

Like boy is neglecting himself to high hell, only stopping when it's literally impossible, and barely has a civilian life, but it's worth it for Gotham's betterment and the Batfamily's stabilization

Timestream? Well shit, he has to get Bruce back as per his job of keeping the family in order but the family is either not getting better or worse,

Let him just leave a bunch of personalized self-help guides and programmed schedules that'll ensure the bats are getting better while he's away

Oh hey Ra's, midn if I secretly learn everything about how Damian grew up in this fine League of yours so I can teach Damian what is so wrong about his childhood once I'm home?

So everything is getting better post BruceQuest, Richard can be a brother more (because Tim took on his job as parent-brother), Damian and his family are able to bond and understand each other (because Tim untaught an awful upbringing) and Jason feels like a member of the family (because Tim got Jason up to speed with how much he has always been loved) plus Bruce gets to be a father with his kids (because Tim kept the man out of his otherside inevitable self-made grave)

And say Batfamily, in a miracle of communication, realize that Tim has subsumed Bruce's role as caretaker and father

Not to the entire family of course, but even parenting for one sibling or parent as a kid yourself is one too many

And they remember all the comments Tim said to help the family get better subtly suggesting everybody but Tim is family

Like he's said "Your family," never "Our"

He says "You're a Wayne, a member of their family,"

He has to be referred to as Tim and Drake, never Wayne to catch his attention

And also imagine Richard saying "You can't keep being a parent to your brothers and father" and Tim going "glass houses, *tires to parent Rich*"

"NO—"

The shit storm that would happen if the batfamily realized that Tim donned Robin with the intention of always playing parent for Bruce, and then leaving once his intervention isn't need anymore

Yes! I absolutely love the ideas you incorporated with this. I didn't manage to hit all of them in my post, but I tried to expand upon them a bit:

At first, Tim wouldn't realize that's what he's doing. He just wants to help Bruce (even if that includes taking away the Batmobile keys, locking him out of the batcomputer, and using a rewards system when the man successfully takes care of his wounds).

Tim only comes to the realization that he's Bruce's parent when the YJ are being lectured by their mentors. At this point, the team has done far more dangerous stunts and missions than whatever the JL was lecturing them about. When the mentors come, Robin allows Batman to lecture him in front of the others. Tim knows they have to keep up appearances and can listen to a hypocritical discussion from Bruce to maintain the image of Batman Tim has spent so much time propping up.

After the other mentors leave, Tim pulls Batman into a private room for a chat. Bart, fearing that Robin is getting a second lecture, almost bursts in to save Tim. He's slowed down by the glare Tim sends his way. He's stopped by the conversation he overhears.

Tim, with his hands on his hips as he glares up into the cowl, lectures Bruce on all the behavior issues the man displayed the month that the YJ were away.

Bruce is just standing there, head slightly hung, as Tim goes on.

"This is why I feel I can never get away, B. I can't even leave you for a month before your excessive force statistics skyrocket! What am I supposed to do with you?"

Bart quickly leaves as he has a mental breakdown at this discovery. Two hours later, when Batman leaves, Bart asks Robin if he's Batman's father. Tim laughs it off at first, but after Bart lays out the evidence, Tim spirals for a few days at this discovery.

Once Tim accepts that he *is* like Bruce's dad, he decides to just embrace it. He and Alfred can share custody of the man-child (and this is also why Tim has the view of family that he does. His three examples of being a father are his own dad who constantly leaves, Alfred who maintains a professional distance, and Bruce who's his grieving son). Tim sees Dick as his brother, but he sees Bruce as his kid. It's confusing as hell, complicated, and Tim also doesn't see himself as part of the family at the same time.

While the teen is finally settling into his role as Bruce's parent, Jason comes back and tries to kill him. He doesn't know whether or not to laugh that Jason becomes his new responsibility at the same place Bruce officially (in Tim's mind) became Tim's.

The teen treats Jason similar to a grandson and son. He parents Bruce on how to interact with Jason, takes a few college classes and reads a few textbooks on PTSD, and interrogates LoA agents on the Pit. He slowly starts to feed them both phrases and perspectives so that they understand and interact with each other better. He almost wants to hit them both upside the head for their miscommunication.

It's not great, and Tim is so fucking tired, but they are getting closer to being a family. Tim can almost taste his retirement.

Then Damian comes into the family and tries to kill him. Tim wants to scream.

Damian isn't exactly friendly to Tim, but the teen spots a breakthrough when he catches how Dick and Damian interact. He, in what he later calls foolishly, drops some of the weight onto Dick's shoulders. Tim's tired trying to wrangle both Jason and Bruce into somewhat, even unhealthily, communicating with each other.

Then Bruce dies. It's unfair because Tim has lost someone who's both his son and his father to him. No one except Cassie could know about the amount of grief Tim is under because of that. Cassie, who Tim isn't talking to after the whole basement scientist cloning thing.

So, Tim finds evidence that Bruce is alive. He watches as Dick cracks under the weight of Batman and being a father to Damian. He's hurt (oh gods does it burn to lose his self-made but suffocating role that ties him to Bruce), but he understands why Dick gives Damian Robin.

Tim leaves, and he starts to discover himself. He became an adoptive father at thirteen. For once, even though he's heavily lost in the thralls of grief, he's free of that responsibility. He only has to take care of himself (an exhausting task he's never quite accomplished before) and he doesn't rely on anyone.

Still, despite his freedom, he sees Ra's offer for what it is. It's an opportunity to learn more about Damian. Bruce will need Tim's support when he returns, after all. If he takes down Ra's both for himself and Damian, that's neither here nor there.

When Bruce finally returns home, Tim starts to see his retirement again. He sees the progress he's enacting out of the family in all of their relationships. Like Tim's messy relationship with Bruce, Dick is both a father and brother to Damian. Jason and Bruce will occasionally meet at a diner. Damian and Bruce will have father-child outings outside of Batman and Robin. Cass returns home more often. Steph barges into the Manor for food or bugs different Bats on patrol. Babs is able to take time for herself outside of wrangling the Bats together. Duke is starting to join the family, but Tim doesn't imagine too much tension or difficulty with that transition. They'll be fine without him.

It's looking up. Tim can leave behind his the Wayne family.

Then Damian points out how Tim often uses "your" or "their" instead of "our" family.

Godsdamnit.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!#your ask has so many good ideas thank you!

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deadghosy · 1 month

Text

PLATONIC/ROMANTIC SLYTHERIN BOYS X LOVE WITCH/WIZARD! READER

Ft. The riddles, Draco malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott,&& Lorezno Berkshire

I appreciate reblogs, comments, and such as likes.

Tom Riddle

Makes you break couples up…🙁 please he gives off hater vibes on valentines days he don’t play.

He would especially make you break up that one couple that shows too much pda to the point Tom wants to Avada Kedavra himself. He literally points and says….

“Them..do your little love spells and break their pathetic hearts.”

Poor Tom just wants to go on with his day without hearing kissing noise.

Though he do wanders what your lips taste would taste on his.

Mattheo Riddle

Always pestering you to get him a date. Hell, he even woke you up straight on Valentine’s Day so you could help him find one.

Even for the yule ball…it was annoying.

“Are you sure you can’t make a love spell to work only for tonight?” Mattheo says, walking by you in the halls. You swiftly turn around with an annoyed expression. “Matt…please shove a sock in your mouth. I can’t force love, I can coach for sure. But force isn’t a good thing.” You lastly said. Leaving the Slytherin male to think to himself.

It took a few days for him to start to flirt with you. At first it didn’t work but then it started to.

Ending up with you two dating, oddly mattheo stopped talking about love which made you ask him.

Only for him to say this, “I stopped talking about love because you took it all.” Cheeky bastard…

Draco Malfoy

He’s just like Tom. He hates seeing pda from strangers. But for him he doesn’t mind showing you affection in public

A hypocrite I must say.

But he love show you do help couples with their relationship problems. He find it usual if you two ever get into an argument.

He’s curious, is he not? He goes into your so called “love office” and checks out your potions only to accidentally drop one called “obsession” on two rats who started to mate aggressively.

He was traumatized and never went inside your office again.

Blaise Zabini

Teases you a lil for being a love witch/wizard.

At first he thought you were joking to be one, but when you show your own magic he was amazed

Now he wants to watch all your sessions so can give his own love advice

Of course he credits you🫶🏾💕

If mattheo asked Blaise to steal a potion so he make two animals fall in love

He would either do it out of pure curiosity or just say no. You trust him a lot and even gave him a spare key for your office.

Theodore Nott

He would be a slight hater towards couple showing pda in public because he’s jealous he doesn’t that kind of love.

Would immediately sneak into your love office and try to do a “compatibility test” so he can see if you two are match

Would ask you a lot of damn questions of what do girls like in a guy and what do guys like in a girl. He just wants to know!

Probably asks if you do sex therapy.

Now that made him kicked out of your office.

He’s probably banned for life too🧍🏾

Lorenzo Berkshire

“Can you get me a date?”

Is what the poor boy would say to you. And sadly you decline as love is made within itself.

Lorenzo, being a slight hopeless Romantic and you being the romantic wizard/witch you are. Is quite a duo.

But despite everything, he wants to be your apprentice. Be finds your magic spells and potions very intriguing.

“Which spell works for this couple?”

“…break that one up. They’re so toxic.”

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jellyfishsthings · 4 months

Text

WARNINGS: sorry this is quite small , so they do have a reunion but I have kind of left their relationship as it was. Angry reader, lovestruck Five. Reader can read minds and direct thoughts...

part 1, part 3

He was laying in stacks of hay. His mind was spinning and a memory resurfaced behind his eyes.

Soft fingers trailed his arms. Deep watchful eyes stared back at him and their foreheads touched. The only thing that covered them was a light gray sheet. His arms were tightly wound around her, his hands either buried in her hair or trailing the arch of her back. They were talking about everything and nothing. She could talk his ears off and he wouldn't care. The sun rays warmed their skins and Five watched as the sunlight adored his wife.

The memory was gone as fast as it appeared to him. The happiness that flowed through his veins left a sour taste in his body. He could hear his siblings arguing around him. He could feel the blood staining his hands hours later after he fled the commission… again. Only this time he took the board with him.

Hoards of assassins appeared in front of the small shed they hid, trying to form some kind of plan. Was she out there?

His hands shook as he tried to keep up his cold uninterested facade. Trying to seem distant when in reality he was frightened to his core. The Handler was standing opposite of him. Sporting that creepy, horrible smile that put him on edge. Next to her is standing Lila, Diego's crazy friend from the asylum. And on the other side, a young woman sat kneeling on the ground. Her hair was cut short just above her shoulders, not in their usual length. Her cheeks were hollow and her eyes red, hunted in a faraway look. His wife, his beautiful, strong wife, sat with her hands shackled barely sparing him a glance.

“I believe that you remember her, Five.”

Diego looked at him dazzled, trying to place the pieces of the puzzle together. But Five only had eyes for her.

“She hasn't been of any use to us.”

Her words barely registered to him. She looked broken and yet strong. She held her head high, proudly showing the bruises that adorned her beautiful face. He could feel his heart shatter in his chest because somewhere deep down he knew that he was the reason for the bruises, of the broken look in her eyes. He wanted to destroy the Handler and anyone else who dared to lay a finger on her. Don't.

Her soft voice echoed in his head. She had read his thoughts and probably anyone else's thoughts in the vicinity. Her plan formed into his head and they fell into their familiar rhythm. But something was different. Nothing would be the same. Because even if by law she was his and him hers…. he had lost her, simply as that. Rather was when Vanya showed she was glowing all around and everyone was stunned. But not her, she took the opportunity and struck the Handler behind the neck while rushing towards him and his brother. He worked quickly on her bindings, setting her free. She smiled at him and the breath was cleaned out of him.

That was when she slapped him.

“What the hell?”

She quickly grabbed rocks close to her and started throwing them at him.

“Would you stop? I swear to God-”

“You pretentious fuck. How could you? You, hypocrite. Why must you always plague me?”

“I'm sorry. Please just-”

“He is sorry, he says. Do you ever mean what comes out of your atrocious mouth?”

“Please, sweetheart. Can you -”

“What was that? Huh? You have the audacity to talk to me? After everything you have done?”

Five felt a weird mix of love and irritation. He had missed her. And her yelling at him was a familiar scene. There was something comforting to it, besides the rocks that he dogged. He could hear the faint sound of his brother laughing somewhere behind him as he watched the presumable love of Five's life, giving him an earful.

Suddenly, everything was put to a stop as a scream sounded, and they ran towards the barn, where Lila was fighting with his siblings. And just as he was about to put an end to it, she grabbed the black lathered briefcase, their one way out of this hellhole, and disappeared into a vibrant bright blue light. He quickly grabbed hold of each of his family, and while they argued around him, he drew on his powers, reading himself and the others along him into another time jump. He looked at his wife's face and her eyes and found the remaining strength he needed to gather. Her terrified look was the last thing he saw as blinding light engulfed them. Everything could go wrong, but as long as he was by his side, he felt invincible.

words: 700 - something

#five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves

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yoursweetwife · 5 months

Text

warning: female reader, mostly fluff, mentions reader wearing dresses,

synopsis: Ratio has his own ways of showing his love

p.s some thoughts on how Veritas can take care of the reader because he is clearly very terrible at words

What Ratio does best is talk. Regardless of the topic, he will always find something to say, the words themselves will flow like a river, making an indelible impression on those around him.

However, when it comes to love, he becomes completely quiet. Rarely can you hear “I love you” or “I missed you” from his lips; most often this happens in very intimate and important moments, when he leaves his pride behind and completely surrenders to his feelings.

It's hard to say it didn't bother you. You perfectly understood what kind of person he was, and you didn’t blame him, but it was sad when Ratio just nodded when you said you loved him, or didn’t offer verbal support when you needed it, because you were capable of handling it on your own.

And he didn't lie! Ratio knows that you are a strong and capable person who has achieved everything on his own, so small problems shouldn't bother you, right?

And it seems hypocritical, considering that he constantly took advantage of your love. You always knew how to comfort him, even on his worst days. However, words remain just words, while actions speak volumes about more.

Most of the time, Ratio can't find the words to praise the new dress that fits you so wonderfully, or to say words of comfort when something bad has happened in your life.

But if you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t notice how his eyes begin to sparkle every time he notices your new outfit or hairstyle. A slight blush appears on Ratio’s cheeks, and his eyes hesitate to meet your smug face.

Or how his confident facade crumbles when he sees you after a long absence. No matter which of you was on a business trip, Ratio always brings pansies to a meeting and gives them as if nothing had happened, as if he had never read about the meaning of the flower.

And how he uncertainly looks at your crying figure from the doorway. And at the same moment he is next to you, offering comfort in the form of a hug and a kiss on the head.

Ratio's big hand constantly holds any part of your body. In public, his hand will intertwine with yours so as not to “lose you,” or he will place it on your back to gently nudge you in the right direction. It's hard for people to tell if he's enjoying it, but you can definitely tell that Veritas is enjoying it, it's easy to tell by the way the soft smile, meant only for you, spreads across his face, and by the gentle pressure on your hand.

And his most favorite action is to place his hand on your soft thigh, be it at home while you are relaxing on the sofa or bed, or in a public place, so he always sits next to you to make it easier to reach, basically this is a very innocent action , although sometimes he wants to go a little further.

Far from human eyes, it is very difficult for Ratio to stop physical contact. Unfortunately, he became too addicted to it. Previously, the only way for him to relax and clear his brain was bathing, but now all he needs to do is find you, hug you and bury his nose in your fluffy hair.

There's no use trying to loosen his grip, and who would want to refuse this big guy who's looking at you so pleadingly. You were always amused by his manner of sitting next to you and glancing in your direction, quickly turning away when you looked at him. A clear sign that he needs hugs and kisses.

And even bathing began to feel strange without your presence. And this makes Ratio nervous, because the bathroom is the only place where he could clear his mind, and now his head is filled only with how empty the space between his legs feels, where you usually sat.

Veritas always reads a book before bed, and he takes it seriously, but he really enjoys reading while his head rests on your stomach, thighs, chest, using them as a makeshift pillow. However, his favorite position is when he is sitting and you are lying on his chest, resting your head on his chin.

The sight of your sleeping body is the best way to end the day. It’s a pity that you can’t see his soft smile and loving gaze at this moment. Just like your happy face doesn’t reach his eyes when he says three cherished words.

Ratio doesn't know how to express emotions in words, but his actions speak louder than words.

#dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #female reader #dr ratio #dr ratio fluff #hsr #honkai star rail

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egcdeath · 3 months

Text

the old college try

summary: you reconnect with an unexpected guest at the creator of your scholarship’s dinner party.

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: stanford era, sassy reader, situationship, a touch of family drama, mentions of putting an etsy love spell on someone, arguing, emotional immaturity, maybe not the best decisions from our lovely characters, kindaaaa open ending

word count: 4.6k

author’s note: i am absolutely addicted to all things ex!patrick. i hope you enjoy reading this!

“This is my son, Patrick.”

Your stomach dropped the second the woman’s son turned around, familiar light eyes and scruffy appearance immediately taking you back to your tumultuous third semester of college.

You remembered it like it was yesterday—the extended periods without contact followed by a surprise appearance at your dorm room, or the drawn out arguments on the phone that left every passerby giving you—the angry woman on the phone in her pajamas on the sidewalk—a strange look, and even the few good times you had with him.

You blinked once to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then felt an onslaught of realization hit you at once. Despite your several month on-and-off situationship with Patrick, you never learned much identifying information about him, including his last name. In fact, that had been something you’d argued about multiple times. The two of you barely knew each other, save for each others’ bodies, which you unfortunately both knew very well.

Had you known that Patrick was the son of Mrs. Zweig, donor to your scholarship, you wouldn’t have accepted the invite to this family event.

Mrs. Zweig seemed to recognize the shock and confusion on both of your faces. While you didn’t think your mouth was agape, there was certainly a high chance that it was. “You two already know each other?” she asked, looking amused.

“No,” you quickly replied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his words coming out at the same time as yours.

“Yes,” you tried again, trying to get your story straight.

“No,” he said this time, your voices overlapping once more.

She glanced between the two of you skeptically before humming aloud. “Hmm. Well, I’ll let you two chat and connect, or reconnect, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She was off without much more fanfare, leaving you very flustered in her wake.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Patrick asked you, getting right in your face like he always did when the two of you argued. It was almost slightly nostalgia-inducing.

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, given that he had been introduced as the son of your beneficiary. Of course he would be at a family function. This was his family, after all. But you were flustered, as anyone else in your shoes would be, and words were currently failing you.

“Zweig doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. When you responded with a wordless shake of your head, he chuckled in annoyance and disbelief. It all felt very familiar. “What was it that you always used to say to me? ‘You don’t even know what my middle name is?’”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, not knowing where the discussion was going, but not liking it regardless.

In response to your non-verbal response, he leaned in close to your ear, clearly not trying to let on to the rest of the attendees the level of drama that was currently occurring in their midst.

“You hypocrite.”

The words he spat were simple, but effective—leaving you simultaneously filled with rage and oddly, a little aroused.

He walked off after that, using self restraint that you weren’t actually sure that he had. Knowing Patrick, he would be back and spewing vitriol in your face or in your ear whenever he next had the opportunity.

You were taking a very different approach to the situation. Now that you knew Patrick was at the event, you were determined to do everything humanly possible to avoid bumping into him.

You talked to any and everyone you could find, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Patrick’s eyes searing into you, no matter what part of the room you were in. He was clearly waiting for the moment he could pounce on you once again, evidenced by the way he seemed to start going on the move whenever you stopped talking to someone.

Somehow, you were still one step quicker than him, quickly maneuvering yourself into new conversations or inserting yourself into the conversations of others.

You weren’t sure what Patrick so badly wanted to tell you anyway. Maybe taunt you about some new conquest he was with, or to beg you to come home with him after dinner. Unfortunately, the latter proposition didn’t sound all that bad.

Other than your issue of avoiding conversation with Patrick, you were also facing another challenge: People trying to introduce the two of you to each other. You weren’t sure what it was that made people think that the two of you needed to meet so badly—from Patrick’s mom, who had been insisting for weeks that you meet her son, to a random cousin who happened to think that you’d like each other. You wished you could tell them that you’d already met each other, and that you’d magnificently crashed and burned.

Briefly wanting to get away from the repetitive small talk and questions about if you’ve met the person you were in a messy situationship with, you found your way to a bathroom—but not without being followed in.

“What the fuck?” you said immediately as the door behind you shut.

“We need to talk,” Patrick said plainly, locking the door behind him.

“Unlock that,” you demanded, not because you were all that afraid of your safety, but because you wanted a quick exit plan if he started to really piss you off.

“Fine,” he conceded, unlocking the door. “But don’t act weird if someone walks in on us.”

“Walks in on us?” you laughed, parroting his words. “There won’t be anything to walk in on. I mean, you can’t seriously think I’m going to fuck you at a family dinner.”

You were about 95% sure of your words, but that other 5% was thinking about the logistics of getting your tight dress off in that small bathroom.

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you,” he explained.

“Then what are you here for?” you asked, confused about what else he could possibly want from you.

“We need to get our story straight. I can’t have a repeat of that conversation with my mom.”

“Why does it matter? I’ll just stay away from you for the rest of the night. I’ll expect you to do the same, then there won’t be any issues.”

“That won’t work. Have you seen the seating chart for tonight?”

“Seating chart?” you scoffed. It seemed ridiculous, but it made sense. For people rich enough to create and fund scholarships, it made sense that a large dinner for friends and family members would come equipped with a seating chart. Besides, you were sure there were people with dietary restrictions in your midst. “How would I have known there was a seating chart, let alone look at it ahead of time?”

“Well, a little spoiler: you and I are sitting next to each other.”

“What the hell? Who did that?”

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like this is my fault.” Now that he mentioned it, you were currently glaring at Patrick. “It must’ve been my mom. I swear she’s been telling everyone that you and I need to get together. Everyone’s been telling me all night that we need to meet.”

“God, I thought it was just me. Is this a family of matchmakers or something? Or are they trying to help you out with your fear of commitment?”

“I don’t have- can you just focus instead of trying to be funny? We’re gonna be next to each other all night and people are going to be asking us questions. So what are we going to tell them?”

“You don’t want to tell them about you leading me on for months?” you asked innocently, not trying very hard to hide the contempt behind your words.

“No, you’re right,” Patrick agreed with you, fake thoughtfulness in his tone. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should tell them about the love spell you paid some Etsy witch to put on me.”

You instantly felt your cheeks warm at the mention of such an embarrassing action.

“That was a joke and you know it.” It wasn’t a joke. It was a dark period of time for you. “So what do you suggest we tell them?”

“That we’re just friends,” he said simply.

“They aren’t gonna be suspicious that you’ve never brought me up before?” you probed, part of you wondering the logic behind his decision, and the other part of you wondering if he’d ever brought you, his situationship, up to his friends or family.

“Doubt it,” he dismissed with ease.

You were only a little disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So what’s the story?”

“That we met when I was visiting Stanford.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Just leave it at that. We met once or twice through mutual friends,” he directed.

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you look really hot tonight,” he said, biting his lip and unabashedly checking you out.

“Okay. Goodbye,” you didn’t bother humoring him, though his words did satisfy you. You left the bathroom and didn’t spare a glance back, even as you heard him leave a few minutes later.

After the torture that was socializing with people whose sole purpose seemed to be setting you up with your ex fling, you’d all been summoned to sit down for dinner. Just as Patrick warned you, you sat down at a seat that was directly next to him. You wished you could switch seats with someone else, putting their nameplate next to him and hoping that no one would be any wiser, but you couldn’t see a world where that would work out for you.

Eventually, Patrick sat down next to you, clearly trying his best not to look at you too closely, lest someone catch on to the fact that you two knew each other.

You did your best to be a fly on the wall in the conversation that the people around you were having. You poked around at your salad and wondered if you focused hard enough on the leaves, if you’d be able to disappear.

“So, have you two had the chance to meet?” someone asked from across the table, directing the question to you and Patrick. Clearly, your plan of disappearing hadn’t worked out after all.

“Yeah! We actually know each other already,” you explained, directing a friendly smile towards whatever cousin or family friend you were speaking to. Clearly, Patrick didn’t trust your answering abilities, as he butt into the conversation before you could finish speaking.

“We have some mutual friends, so we’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Patrick clarified, attempting to give more context to your relationship. Technically, it was true. While you weren’t necessarily friends with the man who inadvertently set you up, you’d been invited to a party being hosted by some tennis player in your accounting class who played with Patrick at some point, and met at that very event.

Despite the many partygoers, Patrick seemed instantly drawn to you, or at least, was instantly attracted to you, based on the way that he openly checked you out as he approached you. Normally, that kind of thing would make you roll your eyes and walk away, but you’d been intrigued by his looks and his shameless demeanor. If only you could go back in time to tell yourself to roll your eyes and walk away.

“But we don’t know each other very well,” you added. That, you firmly believed was true. Patrick may have known what position made you cum quickest, but he didn’t know a thing that actually mattered about you. He probably couldn’t even tell you what your major was.

“What a coincidence you ended up here, then,” the other man, whose name you couldn’t remember, commented. “Did Patrick help you get the scholarship?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too offended, though you very much were. You tried to remind yourself that saying the wrong thing could cost you your entire higher education, and ended up laughing off the very rude allegation. “It’s really just a funny coincidence.”

To your surprise, Patrick jumped to your defense. “Unlike you and your seat on the board, there’s no nepotism here. We met long after she already got the scholarship, which she earned. She’s one of the most dedicated students I know.”

His words surprised you. The argumentative ones calling out his relative, not so much, but you were a little impressed by the way that he stood firm on the fact that you were a good student. Sure, he witnessed you studying for midterms in your dorm room every now and then—even if at the time he’d been trying to distract you from your work to get some attention—and now that you were thinking about it, he did bring you flowers after he found out you’d made it onto the Dean’s List.

Maybe Patrick hadn’t been all that bad of a… you didn’t even know what, after all. But that was certainly a thought you were only entertaining due to his sweet behavior he was currently exhibiting. The fact that you were a whole year out from your entanglement and still couldn’t define what the hell happened between the two of you was a testament to how much of a mess your relationship was.

“Not that you know too many students,” his relative laughed in that stuck-up rich person's laugh they all seemed to have. You tried to ignore how you were already getting caught in family politics, getting your academic ability called into question in the crossfire of an easy insult Patrick dealt to his family member. “Pat’s too busy going around the world hitting balls. How’s that going, by the way?”

From what you’d observed in your own efforts to see what he was up to, they weren’t going great. Notably, after you’d cut things off with him, his performance decreased significantly.

“It’s going well,” Patrick said with false confidence that you saw right through. If you could see right through it, you were sure that his family members were able to do the same. A brief glance at the woman in front of you who was clearly attempting to suppress a laugh confirmed this for you immediately.

It was almost a little pathetic to see, watching Patrick lie so obviously to an audience that couldn’t even pretend to believe him. Seeing how he stepped in to help you out, it was only fair that you did the same for him. Even if he hadn’t done so, you were starting to become embarrassed for him.

“Have you been to any of his matches recently?” you asked, interrupting their mockery of Patrick. “He did a really great job at the French Open. I mean, even making it to the French Open is really impressive.”

Not that you’d been at any of the matches, but you occasionally Googled his name to see what he was up to. Even more occasionally, you turned on ESPN to see if you could catch any footage of him playing. But it wasn’t like you even really cared.

Okay. You cared a little bit.

Most of the time, you were rooting for him to fail, as is the right of all bitter exes. But now was not the time for you to share that information. Not when Patrick was looking at you like you were crazy, and his family members were eyeing you suspiciously.

That was when you remembered that the two of you weren’t supposed to know each other very well. You instantly tried your best to cover up your tracks. “But I don’t know a lot about tennis, that’s just what our friend told me.” Considering that you hadn’t spoken to Art since Accounting 223 ended, he did not actually share this information with you.

“Huh. Do you guys talk about Patrick a lot?” you were trying your best not to fold under the skeptical look she was giving you.

“Only when he’s doing something cool. Which isn’t very often,” it was a good save, which left the rest of the table laughing at your little dig at Patrick. You were starting to understand his family dynamic a little more, and it didn’t exactly seem like a pleasant one.

You could practically feel his betrayed gaze searing into you, but you did your best to ignore it. You were already feeling guilt gnaw into you about hanging him back out to dry with a family who already liked to pick on him.

“You know, that actually reminds me. You said you don’t know much about tennis, but I remember seeing you play a little bit. How’s that going?” Patrick asked you, his question obviously trying to reveal something embarrassing about you. You instantly felt the blood drain from your face at the mention of your attempt to play the sport.

Your brief stint with tennis was mainly born out of your desire to see Patrick more often. After your run-in at his friend’s party, you were determined to put yourself in the type of situations that would allow you to ‘accidentally’ run into Patrick.

You started off simple, going to the tennis matches for Stanford’s men’s team, hoping that Patrick would eventually show up in the stands to support his friend. Despite your incessant searching of the stands, you were never able to find Patrick amongst the crowd of students, fans, and supportive family members.

Never one to give up easily, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Maybe if you were a little sportier, Patrick would take an interest in you, reaching out to you so you wouldn’t ever have to make the first move. You spent the evening perusing sporting goods stores with your roommate, putting cute tennis outfits and equipment that you couldn’t really afford on a credit card.

The next morning, the two of you got up bright and early to hit the tennis courts before anyone else arrived. The game seemed simple enough, but proved to be far more difficult than either of you anticipated. After half an hour of attempting to play with frankly awful technique, you decided to call it quits and do a photoshoot instead.

Feeling satisfied with pictures that featured your best angles and the slightest hint of breeze blowing up your skirt, you decided to post your photos on social media with a caption about how much you loved tennis. That was sure to get Patrick’s attention.

Just as you’d suspected, not long after you posted, you received a message from Patrick, casually asking about how things were going with you. Your faux interest in tennis had been promptly abandoned.

Surprised at the fact that Patrick was bringing up your very blatant bait of him, you were caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I was never really super into it,” you attempted to dismiss.

“That’s news to me,” he chuckled. “I swear, you told me about how you were super into tennis. Was that just a phase, or…?”

He eyed you mischievously, clearly challenging you to a match of whatever mind game it was that he wanted to play with you. Unluckily for him, you were in the mood to play–and win.

“Something like that. I guess I just figured out that tennis really wasn’t for me. But you know, college is a time to try out new things. See what you like, what you don’t like. And man, I really didn’t like tennis.”

Obviously, you weren’t talking just about tennis. You hoped that Patrick was able to catch onto the not-so-subtle subtext.

“I don’t know, I thought you liked tennis a lot. Thought it was good for you,” Patrick commented casually, going back to his food before looking back at you.

“It was surprisingly pretty toxic,” you replied easily.

“Are you sure you didn’t share a part in that toxicity? With a sport like tennis, you really get out what you put in.”

“Sure, but I didn’t put in nearly as much toxicity as I was getting from it.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Patrick murmured.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means that you think you’re so guiltless, but you played a bigger role in… tennis not working out than you’re acting like you did.”

“Please, enlighten me on how I could’ve made tennis work out better for me.”

“I just think maybe you’re being a little too hard on tennis in comparison to what really happened.”

“Just because you have a nice racket and a little more experience than me doesn’t mean you’re an expert on how bad things were for me. Seriously, Patrick. You actually don’t have a clue about what I was going through.”

“Are you guys still talking about tennis?” someone asked with a forced laugh, breaking the thick tension at the table. There was a stiff, awkward chuckle from your fellow dinner companions. It was almost as if you’d forgotten that you were at his family’s dinner, bitterly arguing with Patrick in loosely coded language. You should have the shame to feel embarrassed, but you mostly felt agitated with Patrick.

“Obviously,” Patrick replied. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously,” they said stiffly. “So like, are you sure you two don’t know each other that well?”

“We really don’t,” you quickly replied.

“Why would we lie about that?” Patrick said, your voices overlapping.

As if arguing about something that was very obviously a metaphor for your relationship wasn’t suspicious enough, this reaction certainly didn’t help your case. It was ridiculous to attempt to keep up this façade when it was becoming more and more clear to anyone at the table with eyes to see and ears to hear that you two were more than casual, mutual friends.

“Actually, we did lie. We were friends for a little while,” you confessed.

“Friends?” Patrick parroted with a scoff. He looked at you with disbelief before shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he announced before standing up and walking off from the table.

The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, which you took as your cue to follow Patrick to wherever he was sulking off to. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

The two of you said nothing as you followed Patrick out to his back patio. The fresh, cold air felt nice after a suffocating, stressful evening. As Patrick sat down on a piece of comfortable furniture, you wordlessly sat across from him.

“Just go. Back inside, back home, I don’t give a shit. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Clearly you do,” you replied, watching him dig in his pocket for a cigarette to no avail. He finally found a loose cigarette and brought it to his lips, ignoring you as he lit it up.

“Don’t blow it in my face,” you warned him, though you wouldn’t mind taking a drag or two from it.

“I won’t,” he replied, words muffled around the cigarette at his lips.

The two of you sat in silence before he spoke once more. “Do you seriously feel like we were just friends?”

“Jesus,” you laughed at the question, unbelieving that Patrick would think all of your desperate acts to try to get him to commit to you could be interpreted as anything but romantic. “Of course we weren’t just friends. But you try describing what we had to someone who wasn’t a witness to the train wreck that was our relationship.”

“We were…” he trailed off as he thought about how to describe your relationship. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sure,” you replied, though you obviously disagreed with him. “You know, this is exactly why things didn’t work out. I wanted to be with you so badly and you refused to acknowledge that we had a connection any deeper than physical until it was convenient for you.”

“Did you expect me to spell out how I felt about you when I was showing you how I felt?” he asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

“Actually, yes. Clearly we were not on the same page about how we felt if you thought that you were being so obvious while I was over-analyzing every single word you’d ever said to me to try to figure out how you felt about me.”

“Are you serious? You were the one who was impossible to understand. One day you wanted me to take you out on a date and hold you in your little twin sized bed afterward, and the next you didn’t want to speak to me. How was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Patrick, you were doing the same thing to me! I was just so mad at you. Like, constantly. Even though I had feelings for you. My friends were always telling me I’m an idiot for letting you treat me that way, so obviously I tried to start pushing you away. But even with everything, I still really liked you, so I couldn’t fully stay away from you,” you explained, hoping that your disjointed words would make sense to him.

It truly was a very complicated situation. Part of you wondered if you had communicated this earlier, if things might have ended differently for you.

Patrick seemed to be thinking deeply about your words before he spoke again. “Do you ever still think about me?”

You had two options for approaching his question. You could lie, like you hadn’t made it abundantly clear earlier that you still, at the very least, pay attention to his tennis career, or you could tell the truth and risk having your feelings hurt again.

“Sometimes,” you confessed, going with the latter. “I’m mostly still really annoyed with the way you treated me, and the fact that I let you treat me that way. But sometimes I miss you, anyway.”

“Then let’s do things differently this time,” he proposed as if it was the best and brightest idea he’d ever had. “I miss you, too. It shouldn’t have taken us breaking up for me to realize how much I need you in my life, but it did.”

“What are you saying, Patrick?” you asked, trying to make sure that you fully understood his proposition. Was he trying to get you back?

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he spelled out for you. “I want to treat you better than I ever did before. I’ve thought about everything that went down between us, and I think that we can make it work this time if we just try to be honest with each other. What do you think?”

You were shocked at the offer. If someone had told you going into this dinner that you would end it with your former situationship asking you to be with him, you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, his proposition, and the fact that you wanted to say yes, didn’t exactly feel like a laughing matter.

You paused as you stopped to consider your options. Your gut instinct was to say yes—you’d wanted him for so long, and he clearly wasn’t over you. You obviously had some things you needed to work through before you really made this relationship work, but the feelings were there. The more logical part of your brain was telling you to say no—Patrick had hurt you so many times before, that there was no telling if he would hurt you again.

“Sure. Let’s try it,” you said, ignoring all of the logic in your head and fully following where the passion in your heart wanted to take you.

You couldn’t be sure if this would end in another heartbreak for you, but you weren’t so sure that you cared either.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #challengers #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

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spenceragnewfics · 2 months

Note

f!reader losing virginity to spencer ? maybe as "just friends" to help her "get it out of the way" but they really like each other.

So...this was supposed to come out on Spencer's birthday but work and life got in the way...sorry.

WE’RE JUST FRIENDS? | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

(also, yes the girl in the photo has a certain skin color but it's not indicative of the reader. I try to make these open to everyone as possible.)

TW: Smut, oral (f! receiving), fingering, cursing, two idiots in love

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

DESCRIPTION: You have told you're best friend Spencer everything...well except two things. You're in love with him and you're still a virgin. Two things you never plan to tell him...until you do.

She never understood why people couldn’t just be friends. Opposite genders can be friends and not have any romantic feelings. Is it kind of hypocritical coming from her…yeah, but not totally.

You see, Y/N has feelings for her best friend since college but is purely platonic with all her other male friends; Chanse, Shayne, Tommy, Ian, Anthony, and all the other guys at Smosh. She knows the main reason she’s attracted to Spencer and has been for years, he’s himself. It’s hard to explain unless you know Spencer but what made her fall for him…is him.

It’s not like her feelings are so intense she couldn’t date anyone else, in fact, she’s dated a couple of guys but they haven’t lasted for vastly different reasons. One thing has been one of the constant reasons for the break up, you don’t want to sleep with them.

She doesn't know why, but she has yet to date anyone who has made her feel comfortable enough to lose her virginity to, not wanting to regret it later on. That’s something she hasn’t told anyone, not even Spencer because she doesn't know how to explain why she hasn't yet. It’s something she never thought she would tell him until one night of drinks, pizza, and gaming. A semi-regular night for the two of them, especially after a long shoot week.

It was barely midnight, the two of them had been hanging out for like four hours at this point just talking, eating, and trying to beat the other at Mario Kart or play duos on Fortnite.

The night had gotten away from them after an epic Battle Royale about an hour ago where they celebrated with an extra drink and chatting. Like everything, somehow they got onto the topic of dating, both of them being single for almost, or over in Spencer's case, a year. That then delved into talking about more intimate stuff, “Honestly, I’m so fucking happy that I lost my virginity in high school. I could not imagine still being a virgin now. Too much pressure.” He quips after he makes a joke about the movie 40-year-old Virgin.

Y/N looks at him confused and lowkey, panicking, “Why do you say that? I don’t think it’d be that bad.” She confesses, sipping more of her drink. “Dude, when you’re in high school or college it’s all just part of the experience. You barely have dated anyone so there isn’t much pressure. Now though, fuck dude!” He says, rubbing his face in frustration at the thought and she looks down.

“There would be so much pressure at this point. You’ve dated so many people and at this point, it’s probably just you being in your head.”

“Or you’re scared to give it away and regret it. Guys losing their virginity is a lot more different than girls. You have to remember that, Spence. A lot more at stake too.” She looks at him, trying to show a stoic face but Spencer isn’t buying it.

Y/N is always someone who tries to show both sides of the coin but is usually more silly about it. Now, she’s being very serious and trying to act stoic, like she’s hiding something. It’s not something he wouldn’t have noticed unless they had been friends this long.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I know you’re all about being things neutral but this seems like a bit more than usual. What’s up?” She looks at him confused, trying not to get embarrassed and say something she doesn’t want to. “Nothing, I just think that sometimes this whole thing is oversimplified.” He raises an eyebrow, “You’re acting like you’re still…” He trails off when she looks down and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Oh my god! Y/N! What the fuck! I thought you and-”

“We were but I changed my mind. Every time I thought about possibly losing it to him I felt nothing but dread. Same thing with the other guys. I don’t want to regret it.” She plays with her fingers, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looks at him shocked, “Why would I need to tell you? It’s personal but also how the hell do I bring that up?” She says before speaking in a silly voice, “Oh, Spencer, I gotta tell ya, buddy. I’m a virgin because I get major anxiety and overthink it to where I just haven’t done it.” She does a silly laugh that sounds a lot like Goofy.

“Okay, I get it. This is a sensitive topic, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, looking at her sadly and she feels her heart pinch. “It’s not that. I just…I want to. I want to so badly but I just get so anxious and overthink everything. Sometimes I think that it’d be easier to find someone to hook up with or just get an escort or something.” She looks at him, “Or someone I have been friends with forever basically and I trust more than anything.”

Spencer looks at her confused until she raises a brow and he gets the message, “Oh, you mean me? Really?” She nods, playing with her fingers again as she gets nervous. “Yeah, I mean. I know I wouldn’t regret it with you because you’re my best friend. I don’t think there is a guy I trust more than you.” She confesses, making his face light up.

“I would be honored. Holy shit, you won’t regret this. I promise.” He says, sounding like an excited young kid who just got picked first for baseball. She giggles at his silly antics before letting out a shocked yelp when he pulls her close. “So, are you more dominant or submissive or…” She shrugs her shoulders. Spencer shrugs his as well before putting his hand on her cheek, pulling her in gently before connecting their lips.

She puts her hand on his as her other moves into his hair. He sighs into the kiss as her nails scratch at his scalp, sending chills down his spine. Gently, he lays her down on the couch as his lips move to cheek then to her jaw, and landing lastly on her neck.

He feels his pants tighten as she lets out soft sighs from his lips on her sensitive neck. His tongue licks a long stripe along it before he sucks on her pulse point. Her hand pulls at his hair in response as she mutters out his name softly, the sound making him harder by the second.

Unknown to Y/N, Spencer was slowly coming to the realization of his own feelings for her. What he would always brush off as anxiety of her dating someone new and unknown to him has turned out to be jealously. Jealous that these random guys would take you out and not him. He finally has his chance to test the waters…well test a little more than the waters.

His lips continue to work on her neck but stop when she starts to giggle. “What, what’s so funny?” He asks, moving back a little and chuckling himself. “Your beard tickles a bit. I like it though.” She’s coy about her words, he smiles at her shyness before going back to kissing her neck as she giggles again.

This is nothing he’s felt before. The other girls he had dated and slept with were all serious about sex. They didn’t want or think that sex could be playful and fun but in this moment Spencer feels his heart soar. He’s pulled out of his trance as she tries to pull off his t-shirt, he helps her take the article of clothing off before slipping his hands under her shirt.

He holds back a moan just at the feeling of her lace bra, not even seeing it in person. She giggles before slipping the shirt over her head and swears his eyes are popping out of his head. “I knew you had awesome tits, but holy fuck!” He groans as he puts his face between them.

His warm breath fans over them, sending chills down her body before his warm tongue licks her lace-covered nipple. She bites her lip as he does the same to the other before pulling her bra down to expose the flesh fully.

A strangled moan falls from her lips when he wraps his around her right nipple. His thumb and forefinger play with her left, rolling and gently tugging it. She feels herself getting wetter with each tug as her hands tangle in his hair. He continues to stimulate her nipples for a while before moving down with open mouth kisses.

“Spence, you don’t have to-”

“I want you, now sit back relax and enjoy the show.” He jokes with his sassy smirk before kissing her plush thighs. She sighs comfortably at the feeling before laughing when he playfully bites her thigh. “Sorry, you just tasted too good not to have a bite.”

Her eyes stay on him as his beard tickles her thigh before he moves to be face-first with her pussy. His finger come up to spread her lips as she feels her cheeks heat up, not used to having someone see so much of her. Her thighs start to close but Spencer stops them before they can. “Don’t hide yourself. You’re beautiful.” He assures her as he licks a long strip up her slit.

The new feeling makes her eyes roll as she breathes shakily. He continues to give long licks before moving to suck on her clit. “Holy fuck!” She moans, her hands quickly finding a place in his hair as she relishes in the new feeling.

She had used vibrators and other toys but nothing had felt like this before. His tongue swirls around her clit a few times before sucking again. He moves a finger to her entrance, “I’m going to put a finger in. It might feel weird at first.” She nods, moving a hand down to his arm. She releases a breath at the uncomfortable feeling, her hand squeezes his arm.

“Are you okay?” He asks his finger fully inside. “Yeah, just feels… different.” She confesses as she starts to feel embarrassed. “It’ll feel better in a bit, just gotta get you warmed up a bit.” His finger thrusts in and out for a moment before he adds a second. She moans softly when adds a second and whimpers as they move. “Is it feeling better?” He asks, she responds with a sweet moan that makes his cheeks heat up.

His fingers continue going in and out, stretching her out slightly. His fingers graze the spongy spot inside her, “Oh my, do that again! Please.” She begs. The feeling made her see stars, who is Spencer not to please? His finger rubs the spongy spot as she starts to feel herself get close.

“Yes, yes, just like that-Fuck!” She screams when his lips wrap around her clit again. He licks and sucks intermittently while still playing with her G-spot as she screams his name. “Spencer! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” She yells as the knot in her stomach snaps.

He licks and sucks her clean before sitting up. Pulling off his hoodie and pants. He aligns himself with her leaking hole, “This will probably hurt, but it’ll subside. I promise.” She nods as he slowly pushes in.

While the tight feeling makes him moan loudly, having been a while since he slept with anyone, Y/N bites her lip, the feeling being intruding and uncomfortable. Noticing her discomfort, he leans down and kisses her sweetly, trying to distract her as he continues to sink in.

Spencer is just a bit above average in length but more girthy than most. The stretch is something Y/N will come to love but for the first time, it’s a different feeling than anything she’s ever felt. Her face unconsciously skews in a bit of pain when he’s fully inside.

Leaning down, he locks their lips. His hips are still as he gives her time to adjust, the feeling of her wrapped around him is making it hard to keep still though. Her hands tangle in his hair once again and gently pull when she’s adjusted, giving them the okay to move.

His thrusts start out slow, letting her body adjust to the new sensations and the starting pain slowly melts away. He intertwines their fingers as he thrusts at the same pace. The gesture is small but is enough to make her feel safe and loved by the man on top of her.

It takes about a minute before Y/N starts to moan, “Faster, please Spencer.” She begs needing to feel more. It takes everything in him not to smirk as his hips pick up speed. “Oh god.” She moans, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him close.

Spencer keeps a steady fast pace, his tip hitting her G-Spot as he moves his hips a little. The only sounds in the room are skin-on-skin, moans, and heavy breathing. The two are eye-locked, watching the other’s face and expressions.

“Shit, I’m close.” Y/N moans, feeling the familiar knot forming. “Me too, shit,” Spencer groans as his hand moves to rub her clit. “Fuck, Spencer!” She practically screams with the added sensation.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Please cum all over me.” He moans, his thrusts getting sporadic. She screams his name as the knot bursts in her stomach and she cums on his dick. He groans as she clenches around him, making it hard for him to not cum inside her. He continues to thrust through her high before he starts to breathe very heavily.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He struggles to get out, feeling very close. “I don’t care.” She says, her voice very breathy. He pulls out and only strokes himself a few times before he cums on her chest.

Coming down from his high, the two look at each other and then laugh. “Oh my god, that was amazing. How the hell are you still single?” She jokes as he lays on top of her. “Just haven’t found the right one yet.” He says, his eyes looking at her softly as she runs a hand through his hair.

“Maybe you just haven’t been looking in the right places.” She smiles at him and he leans in, “Or maybe I just have been overlooking a certain someone.” he says before kissing her.

#smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh mouth #spencer agnew #smosh pit #spencer agnew x reader #smosh imagine #smosh x reader #fanfiction #fluff #spencer agnew fluff #romance #imagine #request #spencer agnew smut #smut

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queenofvelaris · 28 days

Text

Worthy

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 9.7k (don’t look at me)

Contains: ANGST but with a happy ending, mentions of abuse, self-deprecation, Tony’s stupid quips, fight scenes (its age of ultron duh), tooth-rotting fluff, minor character deaths

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. Everyone except for the reader and her family belongs to Marvel.

Author’s Note: hiiii so I wrote this in 2021 when I was going through a really dark time. It brought me so much peace to write it and I figured it was time I share it with the world. Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts (such as if I should post more cause I got more 🫣) anyways I hope you like it!!

***

Worthy. What a ridiculous word. A hypocritical one, too. There are those who believe with everything they’ve got— even to the point of being prideful— that they’re worthy. Others hope that they are. And the rest feel, deep down inside, that they’ll never be worthy.

“I bet it’s a trick,” Clint commented, spinning drumsticks between his fingers. He was sat next to Maria, and on his other side, Bruce and Natasha were deep in conversation. Tony and Rhodey sat on the futon. Dr. Cho was asleep.

Thor chuckled and handed a newly opened beer bottle to Steve. (Y/N) was on the carpet, her back against Steve’s strong legs. Thor shook his head. “No, no. It is much more than that.”

“Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power,” Clint mocked in a Shakespearean voice that made (Y/N) snort. “Whatever, man!”

Thor grinned and indicated his hammer, propped up on the coffee table. “Please, be my guest.”

Tony smirked at Clint. “Go ahead!”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He leaped to his feet.

“Oh, this is gonna be beautiful,” Rhodey remarked.

Steve leaned down and whispered in (Y/N)’s ear. “Five bucks says he gives up after five seconds.”

“You’re on,” (Y/N) shot back. “I say ten seconds… gotta give the man a little credit.” She smiled to herself as Steve tickled her shoulder. If she were on the same level as him, she’d tickle him right back.

From the very beginning of the Avengers initiative, after that whole mess in 2012, Steve has always been the one (Y/N) was closest to, Clint being a very close second. It was an instant click. They loved the same movies, traded jokes and sarcastic comments, trained together, and even fell asleep next to each other on the couch on days off. Three years later, they are as close as ever.

Clint approached Mjölnir, a swagger in his step. Tony leaned forward in his seat. “Clint, you’ve had a tough week. We won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”

Everyone chuckled at that and Clint ignored them, eyeing Thor. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

He reached for the handle and tugged, grunting as he did so. About five seconds later, he gave up, shaking his head. “I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?” Tony jeered at Clint as (Y/N) grudgingly handed Steve five bucks.

Steve made it better with a flash of his perfect smile and a wink from his pretty blue eyes. Beaming, she rolled her eyes and focused on the petty ones in the room.

Clint held out his hand. “Stark, by all means.”

Tony shrugged and stood, earning a chorus of “Uh oh”, “Mmm-hmm”, “Oh here we go.” He practically strutted over to the hammer. “Never been one to shy away from an honest challenge.”

“Yeah, but how often do you win ‘em?” (Y/N) muttered and Steve laughed so hard he choked on his beer. Rhodey and a couple others went “ooo!”

Tony shot her a playful glare and looped his wrist through the loop on the top of the handle. “It’s physics.” He glanced at Thor. “Alright, so, uh, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor nodded benevolently. “Yes.”

Tony grasped the handle and put one foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta.” He grunted and pulled, but the hammer didn’t move at all. He removed the loop and cleared his throat. “Be right back.”

He stormed away and came back not one minute later with an Iron Man glove from his latest model. “That’s cheating!” Maria called.

Tony put it on and grasped the handle. “And I’m Tony Stark.” He yanked on the handle, but the Asgardian weapon remained unmovable. He turned his hand and little turbines came out of the arm, acting like a rocket. Still, Mjölnir stayed still as a rock.

(Y/N) shook her head, grinning as Tony struggled with the hammer. “Give it a rest, pretty boy, you can’t lift it.”

“I can and will, sugar lips,” Tony retorted good-naturedly. He waved Rhodey over and the latter put on his own hand gear from War Machine. Watching them try and lift it together was hysterical and (Y/N) could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard.

Next up was Bruce, who climbed on the table and screamed when he couldn’t lift the hammer. Everyone stared at him in amusement and he flushed pink, embarrassed.

(Y/N) had her head on Steve’s knee when Maria tried and failed. The former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turned to (Y/N). “Alright, you’re up.”

She lifted her head, chewing on her lip. “Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not doing it.”

Tony whined. “Come on! After Capsicle and Shakespeare in the Park, you’re the strongest one here!”

He wasn’t wrong. That’s another reason she and Steve were both so close-- they were the only enhanced beings in the tower. Her super strength and cat-like agility earned her the nickname of The Leopard, only she wasn’t experimented on. Her mom had been a chemist for S.H.I.E.L.D. when (Y/N) was young, and one day she came to work with her mom and there was an explosion that resulted from the leak of a new serum designed to replicate the one inside Steve. She and her mom both got struck. The result? She got powers and her mom was killed.

“I’m not lifting it, Stark,” she said firmly. She held his gaze. Normally, she’d sigh at the sight of those puppy dog eyes and grudgingly give into whatever task he wanted her to complete. But this… this was different.

Thor boomed, “It is not about strength, Stark. It is about worthiness.”

And I’m the least worthy person here, she said silently.

Steve petted her head for a second before patting her shoulder. “I’ll try.”

Grateful, she shuffled to the side to let him stand. She took his place on the couch next to Thor and watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up. His blonde hair glowed in the light and his arm muscles flexed as he gripped onto the hammer.

Clenching his jaw, Steve tugged on the hammer… and it moved slightly. Thrilled, (Y/N) stole a glance at Thor’s face and nearly pissed herself. Thor looked so shocked. Stifling her laughter, she watched as Steve pulled on the handle once more before letting go, holding up his hands in surrender.

Thor audibly blew out a sigh of relief, a small smile returning to his face. (Y/N) shoved his arm. “Don’t worry, no one’s coming for your throne, Thunder.”

Steve chuckled at that and sat back down next to her. Everyone looked at Nat, who smiled and took a sip of her beer. “Oh, no, no, that’s not a question I need answered.”

Tony raised his bottle. “All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king, but it’s rigged.”

Clint clapped Tony on the shoulder. “You bet your ass.”

Maria piped up, “Steve, he said a bad language word.”

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve demanded, glaring at Tony as (Y/N) buried her face in his shoulder to smother her laughter. Steve wrapped his arm around her instead of pushing her away, and when she lifted her head, she had to look away from Natasha, whose smirking expression was directed right at her and Steve. Nat has caught them curled up together on the couch before, and each time (Y/N) has told her “Steve is my best friend.” Even though I want more.

Tony leaped to continue his previous train of thought. “The handle’s imprinted. Like a security code. ‘Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints’ is I think the literal translation.”

“Yes, that’s a, uh, very, very interesting theory,” Thor replied, standing with his Asgardian ale in one hand. “I have a simpler one.” He lifted the hammer with ease and flipped it, catching it gracefully. “You are all not worthy.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a small smile on her face, Steve and Clint laughed, Rhodey and Bruce scoffed, Tony groaned a “Come on!” and Maria and Natasha exchanged looks with the now awake Dr. Cho.

Suddenly, a loud feedback whine pierced the air and everyone reacted, some stiffening and the others covering their ears. Tony frowned and pulled out his transparent pad that controlled everything in the tower.

A voice that sent chills down (Y/N)’s spine came to their attention, as well as the clanking of metal. “Worrrrrrtttttthhhhyyyy.” A tattered, roughed-up-looking version of one of Tony’s suits lurched into the living room, leaking oil. It turned to face them. It flourished its hand, and when it spoke next, its voice was clearer, more masculine, and much more sinister. “No. How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

At that, (Y/N) stiffened as dread rooted deep down in her gut. Steve let go of her and stood, his stern eyes fixed on the robot. “Stark,” he challenged without looking at the billionaire.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony called.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep.” The suit turned his head, the lights in his eyes flickering. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony tapped on the pad. “Reboot. We’ve got a buggy suit.”

The robot in front of them shielded his face. “There was this terrible noise, and I was tangled in… in…” he looked down at the wires and spare parts keeping the frame together. “...strings.”

(Y/N) and everyone else who had been sitting set down their drinks and stood, all of them tense. The suit flourished his hand again. “Had to kill the other guy… he was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Steve asked, serious and condescending.

Those words and his tone made (Y/N) feel a little sick, but she willed herself not to react and instead focused on the terrifying suit, which glanced at the floor. “Wasn’t my first call. But… in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” (Y/N) asked calmly.

The suit straightened up as the sound of a tape rewinding filled their ears. “I see a suit of armor around the world,” Tony’s voice came through.

Tony’s face paled. Bruce stared at him. “Ultron.”

(Y/N), Steve and Thor shot a bewildered look at Tony, while Natasha, Rhodey, and Clint all looked at Bruce for answers. Maria cocked her gun and Thor’s grip on his hammer tightened. (Y/N) clenched her fists and exchanged a look with Steve.

“In the flesh,” the suit answered. “Or, no, not yet. Not this… chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Natasha tilted her head. “What mission?”

Ultron jutted his chin out, and if he had a real form, (Y/N) was sure he would be smiling. “Peace in our time.”

Three of Tony’s suits burst out of the wall, concrete and plaster raining down like hail. Almost everyone dove for cover. Steve flipped up the coffee table just in time for a suit to collide with it, sending both (Y/N) and Steve over the couch.

He immediately reached for her, his eyes wide. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She scrambled to her feet at the same time he did. She ducked as one of the suits flew straight over her head and watched Thor smack it with his hammer.

She hurried over to the bar, where Natasha and Bruce were hunkered down, the assassin using her gun. Maria was also firing her gun, Clint was nowhere to be seen, and Rhodey tumbled through the glass window onto the landing below.

Grabbing a long skewer, she leaped onto the back of a suit that was towering over a terrified Dr. Cho. (Y/N) tried to impale the skewer in between the helmet and neck, hoping to dismantle some of the wires, but it threw her off and into the grand piano with a great crash. The impact barely hurt her, but it certainly knocked the air out of her lungs. She tumbled onto her back, winded, and her eyes widened in fear when the suit faced her.

Unbeknownst to her, Ultron cocked its head and turned his attention toward her. “Interesting.”

Natasha and Bruce hurried up the stairs, Clint barely missed a shot from a suit, Tony hopped onto the back of another one, and the suit looming over (Y/N) got distracted by Maria.

Her heart in her throat, (Y/N) watched as Steve got slammed against the wall on the second landing. He fell to the ground hard, groaning. Thinking quickly, she twisted her head and saw his shield. It was heavy as all hell for everyone else, but for her, it was nothing.

“STEVE!” She yelled, gripping onto the shield.

Steve bolted to his feet and at the same time, (Y/N) threw it to him like a frisbee. Thor dismantled one suit, Tony took down the other, but the third remained. With a spin, Steve threw his shield and it tore the suit in half.

It was over as fast as it had started. It was quiet for a second, the only sound being everyone’s panting. (Y/N) rubbed her neck and gripped onto the wall for support.

Ultron shook his head. “That was dramatic. I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through.”

Steve took a few angry steps forward and (Y/N) stiffened. Ultron continued. “You want to protect the world but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?” He bent and picked up the destroyed head of one of the suits. “With these? These puppets.” Ultron threw down the head and surveyed the room. “There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers’ extinction.”

Thor grunted and threw Mjölnir. The hammer smashed Ultron into pieces against the wall before flying back to Thor’s hand.

The lights in Ultron’s head sparked and flickered. In a sing-songy, raspy voice, the suit murmured, “I had strings, but now I’m free… there are no strings on me…” Then, it flickered and died.

Everyone remained frozen for a second as the tower’s lights flickered. Some went out. Steve rushed over to (Y/N), his intense fury softening as he looked at her. He reached to inspect her neck. “You okay?”

She nodded, though she was far from it. Ultron’s words about them being killers and his creepy disappearance… it unsettled her. She had a feeling they hadn’t heard the last of him.

She was right. Down in Tony’s lab, they realized Ultron had taken all of the Iron Man suits, Loki’s staff, important files, and hard drives. He was in the internet now and was most likely downloading everything he could about each and every one of them. The thought of that robot looking into her file made (Y/N) feel sick. Only Nick Fury had access to her file, but it was clear that Ultron could bypass that.

They also learned that Ultron could access anything he wanted, like nuclear codes. They all figured out that J.A.R.V.I.S. was the person Ultron killed. Tony revealed that he created Ultron because of a vision the female Maximoff gave him when they seized the scepter. He saw what he called “The Endgame,” and he didn’t believe the Avengers would be enough to save the world. Steve assured him that even if they lost the war, they would do it together.

That night, when all was quiet in the tower and everyone was asleep, (Y/N) began to toss and turn. She couldn’t get Ultron out of her head. The monstrosity followed her into the depths of her nightmares and made her feel trapped. Images of him infiltrating her file terrified her to no end.

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. It was no use. She needed water, or milk. She climbed out of bed and padded to the elevator. It took her to the kitchen.

She was a few footsteps away from the fridge when she heard it. “(Y/N).”

Ultron. She spun around, her fists out, but there was nothing there. Shocked, she lowered her fists. But then, she heard it again, much more sinister. “(Y/N).”

“What do you want from me?” She tried her best to keep her tone harsh.

“Do they know?” Ultron’s voice was quiet and menacing.

(Y/N) stood at attention. “Do they know what?”

Ultron chuckled darkly. (Y/N)’s eyes darted every which way, but she couldn’t see him, only hear him. “What I read in that file of yours… how many years has it been since the “accident”? Or should we call it what it really is?”

She felt her blood go cold. He wasn’t talking about 2012. He was talking about when she was seventeen. Her breathing got more shallow.

Ultron continued. “I’ll ask again… do… they… know?”

“Please.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as her mouth dried up. Her hands began to shake.

“It’s the reason you’re not worthy to lift the God of Thunder’s mighty hammer.” The sarcasm in his voice made her heart beat faster. “You will never be worthy. How could you be? You’re a killer. Imagine how your closest friends would react. Just think of God’s righteous man seeing you for who you really are… ”

“No.” She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “No, no, no.”

His voice, his words… it didn’t stop. Monster… murderer…

The kitchen got darker and more confined, until (Y/N) felt like she was in a cage. The words got louder and louder until she screamed…

Drenched in sweat, (Y/N) jerked upright, panting. Her hands wildly felt around her. She was in bed. It had just been a dream.

But there was a truth to it that shook her to the core, a fear that she hoped and prayed would never come true.

A knock at her door nearly made her jump out of her skin. The intruder spoke up, their voice gentle. “(Y/N), it’s Nat. You okay?”

“Fine, Nat. Just a bad dream,” the girl lied. She fought to take deep breaths and slow her racing heart. “Sorry I woke you.”

She could tell Nat was hesitating so she forced more conviction into her voice. “Seriously, I’m okay. It’s not so bad tonight. Sorry again. Just… don’t mention it to anybody, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the only girls in the Avengers, they shared this floor together. Unfortunately, nightmares were a common occurrence for (Y/N), and every time she accidentally woke up Natasha, guilt steadily consumed her. She never once let Natasha see her pain, her terror. No one could see. She was the “strong one”, the bold and cheeky (Y/N) that everyone knew and respected. Not the pathetic, shriveling mess that screamed herself awake in the middle of the night.

(Y/N) breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she heard Natasha’s footsteps recede. She was alone. Tears stung her eyes. Always alone.

She curled up in a ball and muffled her sobs, so as not to wake Natasha again.

***

It wasn’t long until they got a tip. Ultron had teamed up with Wanda Maximoff and her twin brother Pietro and were going to make a deal with an old weapons supplier of Tony’s. The rumor was that he had just come into a large stock of vibranium that Ultron wanted to get his hands on.

Pale yellow streams of light poked through the window when (Y/N) woke up. It was the morning of the raid. Silently, she climbed out of bed and suited up. She wore a dark blue leather coat that had leopard print on the inside-- courtesy of Stark. She also wore a blue leather top, black leather pants and boots, and her hair was done in a simple french braid down her back.

She crept into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, like normal. On a regular day, she’d wake up before dawn and go for a run with Steve. Sometimes they raced each other, sometimes they just walked and talked. But last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep, and she had a feeling Steve would skip the run, too.

After she sat at the bar with her mug, Steve walked in, fiddling with one of his gloves. He was in full Captain gear, and the sight of him made (Y/N)’s heart flutter. He always looked handsome, but his uniform and cropped golden hair along with his gorgeous face and eyes always made heat rush to her cheeks. He was just as handsome as he was good and kind. She definitely didn’t deserve him.

Steve wordlessly made his own cup and sat next to her. His thumbs traced the sides of his mug. “You look tired.”

“Thanks,” (Y/N) muttered. She rubbed her temples. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well since Ultron attacked.” Steve peered at her with his signature mom expression. “You’ve been having nightmares again, haven’t you?”

(Y/N) stiffened and met his gaze. “Nat told you?”

Steve shook his head. “Last night I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run in the stairwell. When I reached your floor I heard screaming so I went to check on you, but Nat came out and stopped me. She told me you were okay and to just leave it.”

(Y/N) was quiet for a second. She felt a little guilty for thinking Nat would betray her. Steve covered her hand with his. “You know you can talk to me, right? I may not have gone through what you and Clint did during 2012, but I’ve seen my fair share of horrors.”

“You haven’t done what I’ve done, Steve,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Before she joined the Avengers, (Y/N) worked closely with Clint and Natasha at S.H.I.E.L.D. She was the only enhanced agent, and everyone fought to keep that a secret. Then, Loki arrived. He turned his scepter on her and Clint, forcing them under the control of the mind stone. It was then that Loki came to notice (Y/N)’s strength and agility. He used her as his prized second in command and ruthless assassin. A lot of the human lives lost in Stuttgart, on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet, and during the Battle of New York were because of her.

Steve sighed. “(Y/N), what’s it gonna take for you to forgive yourself? You were under mind control.”

She shook her head. “So was Loki, but everyone blames him.” She interlaced her fingers with his. “Controlled or not, I have the blood of innocents on my hands.”

For a moment, she imagined what it would be like to tell him about the accident, to share the overwhelming amount of guilt of murdering innocent people in 2012. Would he still be here, holding her hand? Or would he hate her as much as she hated herself? No. She couldn’t tell him. Not till she was ready.

Steve said nothing, just kept holding her hand. He changed the subject, much to her relief. “Are your nightmares about Ultron?”

“Sometimes.” (Y/N) took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t wanna face that Maximoff girl. You heard what she did to Tony.” The thought of someone infiltrating her mind again made her want to throw up.

“I won’t let her near you,” Steve said firmly. He gently placed his index finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. “Do you hear me? I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart.”

She smiled softly, transfixed by his baby blue eyes. His gaze flicked to her lips, and for a split second, he leaned forward—

“Lady (Y/N), are there any Strawberry Pop-Tarts left in the cabinet?” Thor called, trudging into the kitchen in full Asgardian armor.

Looking away from Steve, (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the disappointment washing over her. “Should still be a box on the top shelf, Thunder.” She let go of Steve’s hand, but she didn’t see that he looked crestfallen at the missed opportunity, too.

An hour later, they were all assembled on the Quinjet and headed toward the African coast. Everyone was pretty solemn during the trek, the silence only being broken by Thor’s ramblings and Tony’s jokes. But even the God of Thunder and the sass master himself were more grim than normal.

As they snuck into the salvage yard and the hatch of the Quinjet opened, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Steve. He reached for her hand, squeezed it once, and let go. She didn’t need to hear him speak to know he was telling her he’s got her back.

They ran into the building, finding the discarded bodies of workers all along the floor. Tony in his Iron Man suit led the way, followed by (Y/N), Steve, Thor, Clint, and Natasha. Bruce hung back on the Quinjet-- they didn’t need The Big Guy just yet.

They all split up inside the salvage yard just as Ultron yelled, “Don’t compare me with Stark, he’s a sickness!” He had forged a new suit for himself. The robot was now about seven feet tall with red eyes and a shiny metal body. His back was turned to them.

“Aww, Junior,” Tony called, his voice filtered through the Iron Man helmet. “You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.” He landed down with a clunk on the metal bridge, facing his creation. Thor and Steve were behind him. Natasha and Clint were sneaking in from the sides, and (Y/N) was coming in from the back. Their goal was to box the enemy in.

Ultron turned to face them, flanked by Wanda and Pietro. (Y/N) allowed herself a brief moment of wariness before putting her game face on. She was armed with batons about the length of her arm, coincidentally made of vibranium.

“If I have to,” Ultron drawled, his voice powerful and menacing.

“No one has to break anything,” Thor warned.

Ultron and the Maximoffs approached until they were a few feet away from the three Avengers. “Clearly, you’ve never made an omelet.”

Tony tilted his head. “He beat me by one second.”

(Y/N) shook her head at his almost proud comment. She delicately ducked behind the door behind the Maximoffs and Ultron, peering out at them.

“Ah, so this is funny… Mr. Stark,” Pietro remarked, his Sokovian accent thick. “It’s, what… comfortable?” He glanced down at the missiles and other weapons. “Like old times?”

“This was never my life.” Tony sounded much more serious now.

Steve took a step forward, his eyes on the twins. “You two can still walk away from this.”

Wanda cocked her head. “Oh, we will.”

Steve didn’t back down. “I know you’ve suffered.” They’d heard about the twins losing their parents and nearly dying themselves in the process.

“Ah… Captain America.” Ultron gazed at Steve condescendingly. “God’s righteous man.”

At that, (Y/N) flinched. Ultron had called him that in her nightmare. However, when she saw Steve’s familiar haunted look appear, her fear turned into anger. She withdrew one of her staffs from its sheath.

“Pretending you could live without a war,” Ultron continued. “I can’t physically throw up in my mouth, but-”

“If you believe in peace, then let us keep it,” Thor cut him off.

Ultron took a step closer. “I think you’re confusing peace with quiet.”

Tony was over it. “Yuh-huh. What’s the vibranium for?”

“I’m glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan,” Ultron drawled.

Suddenly, he pulled his metal fist back and the energy sucked Tony forward. Ultron blasted him back against the wall and everyone sprung into action.

Tony and Ultron went head to head as suits-- clearly designed by Ultron-- came pouring out of a doorway. Pietro was a blur as he went around, trying to attack the Avengers. His sister was more successful and managed to blast Steve back.

(Y/N) launched out from the doorway and used her strength and one of her batons to knock the head of a suit clean off its body. She leaped over the railing and landed on the bottom floor. A small grin worked its way onto her face as two suits came down to meet her, tall and strong.

She swept the legs out from under one and started to attack the other, but it dodged her heavy blow. She was grabbed by it but twisted her body, ran along the side of a crate, and flipped up and over the suit, tearing its head off.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint took down a lot of the weapons dealer’s crew, who were shooting at both the suits and the Avengers. Steve forced Pietro to the ground a little ways away from (Y/N). His eyes flicked over to her, watching her battle Ultron’s minions. He’d been keeping his eye on her, and he was relieved and proud that she was holding her own. He smiled and went back to fighting.

Then Wanda struck.

It was Thor who went down first. A quick tendril of magic infiltrated his mind and turned his eyes red.

“Thor! Status!” Steve barked.

Nothing. He saw Thor falter and freeze in place on the second level as if he was frozen in time.

Immediately, he knew it was Wanda. He spun around, eyes wide and filled with worry. Before he could warn his girl, he was knocked backward by Pietro and witnessed his worst fear with a flick of Wanda’s wrist.

(Y/N) had no idea what was happening. She was easily taking down suit after suit, barely breaking a sweat. She heard static crackling in her earpiece but figured that was just a result of everyone’s efforts.

She was about to deliver a fatal blow to the largest of Ultron’s creations when it spoke. “Were you this talented of a fighter at seventeen, Agent (L/N)?”

(Y/N) froze in her tracks, her baton raised over her head. The suit climbed back onto its feet, its eerie eyes peering straight at her. When it spoke again, its voice bore a significant resemblance to that of Ultron’s. She felt like he was directly talking to her.

“That was your first kill.” It wasn’t a question… the suit knew. Ultron had examined her file.

(Y/N) swung at the suit, but her nerves made her sloppy. The suit grabbed her baton, locking her in place. “Did you enjoy your first kill as much as you enjoyed taking the lives you took in the Battle of New York?”

With a shriek, (Y/N) twisted her wrist and tore the baton free. She attacked the suit with both batons, her viciousness masking her vulnerable state of mind. When she’d backed the suit into a corner, she finally let up on her onslaught, panting. “I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy it then, and I didn’t enjoy it in 2012. I’m not a killer. I was under mind control.”

“Not the first time. You became a murderer of your own accord.” The suit stood again, looming over her.

“Stop it.” (Y/N) shook her head violently.

The suit took a step forward. “How did it feel, watching his life slip away? How did it feel, realizing that you took a life and it was all for nothing?”

(Y/N)’s hands tightened around her batons, trembling. “Stop it.”

The suit was relentless. “How did it feel to be completely and utterly alone?”

“I SAID STOP!” (Y/N) screamed and lunged, but she never reached the suit. A flash of red was all she saw and then the room shifted.

She stumbled and dropped her batons, trying to grasp onto a crate, but she grasped onto a railing instead. It didn’t feel metallic; it was sleek and smooth. She turned her head and realized she was gripping a wooden railing.

She looked up, expecting to see the metal landing and the rest of her friends in the midst of battle. Instead, she saw a carpeted staircase with walls on either side.

Instantly, she felt cold, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on her head. She was back home, back in the memory that haunted her sleep without relief.

She could hear the thumps from where she stood, tears already springing to her eyes. “No. No,” she choked out and sprinted up the stairs.

Even though she already knew what she would find at the top of the stairs, she still screamed. There was her dad, hovering over her baby brother, beating him bloody. It was obvious that Bobby was having trouble breathing. He was practically lying in a pool of blood.

Dad hated both (Y/N) and Bobby, but once (Y/N) got her powers, he couldn’t take out his aggression on her like when her mom was alive. Instead, he turned his attention to Bobby.

“Stop, you’re gonna kill him!” (Y/N) screamed, echoing the words she spoke when she was seventeen.

“Stay out of this, freak!” Dad roared, giving her a snarl that looked like a dog baring its teeth.

As if on autopilot, (Y/N) gripped onto his shoulders and ripped him away from Bobby. Unlike how it happened all those years ago, she was forced to watch his stumble in slow motion. She stood with her jaw dropped as he tumbled down the stairs and straight into the wall, his head colliding with the plaster so hard that a loud crack split the air. Blood seeped out of the wound, and he lay perfectly still. He was dead.

(Y/N) stared at her hands in revulsion. But tears began to fall when she realized what would happen next.

She whirled around and knelt next to her baby brother, whose chest was heaving and shuddering. This. This was what she saw almost every night, the image that never seemed to escape her. “Hey, hey, Bobby, please. Please. Stay alive. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone!”

Bobby’s innocent eyes met hers briefly before closing. His chest rose once more, but it did not fall. He, too, was still.

“NO!” (Y/N) screamed, scrabbling at his body.

Bobby’s body disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and (Y/N) covered her face with her hands as she cried. She was too late to save him. She tried, but in doing so she killed her dad. He was a menace, but she’d never wanted to hurt him. She never wanted to hurt anybody.

But the nightmare was far from over.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice spoke. However, instead of the normal softness and affection in his voice, this time his tone was laced with disapproval and disgust.

(Y/N) leaped to her feet and turned around, wiping her eyes. Steve stood there, his helmet off. Behind him was Tony, Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Bruce. They all looked horrified and furious.

“You just killed your dad,” Bruce said in a hushed voice.

(Y/N)’s hands began to shake. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I-I just-”

“No, no, no, you don’t get to justify what we just saw,” Tony snapped, holding up his finger.

Tears burned (Y/N)’s eyes. “I was a kid. My powers weren’t under control yet! You have to believe me!”

Natasha and Clint looked disappointed. The former Red Room assassin shook her head in disbelief. “I was trained to become a killer. You became one on your own.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” (Y/N) couldn’t stop the stream of tears as they steadily dripped down her cheeks. “I was just trying to save my brother.”

“And how’d that work out for you?” Clint scoffed. “How many more dads did you kill in 2012? No wonder Loki chose you-- you’re wicked, just like him.”

(Y/N) couldn’t breathe. She clutched her ribs, desperately forcing air into her lungs. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Guys, please.” She looked at the people she saw as her siblings. “Clint? Nat?” They’d said they understood about 2012… but they were looking at her with pure venom.

One by one, her team turned their backs to her and walked away, disappearing into vapor. The only one who remained was Steve, whose head was lowered.

“Stevie?” (Y/N) tentatively approached him, reaching for his hand.

He ripped it away like she’d burned him and she recoiled. Steve fixed her with a cruel glare. “Now I know why you refused to pick up Thor’s hammer. You’re not worthy, and this is why.”

(Y/N) felt her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. “Steve-”

“I thought the world of you. I wanted the best for you. I wanted a future with you.” Steve’s voice was low and dark. “Now… I don’t want anything to do with you.”

A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it and she fell to her knees. “Stevie, please!” She grabbed his hand and he pulled it away, walking away from her.

“Stevie, please, come back!” (Y/N) begged and pleaded, but she received no response.

Convulsing with sobs, she curled up on the floor, crying her heart out. Her worst fears had just been realized. The Avengers hated her as much as she hated herself for what she did, and Steve, her Captain… he hated her, too.

“It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault,” she whispered brokenly, wishing she could turn back time and reverse everything. “It wasn’t my fault.”

And that’s how Steve, the real Steve, found her.

When his vision cleared, he hauled himself up. Clint gave him the status report that he took Wanda out of the running, at least temporarily, and the archer went to look for Natasha.

Steve’s mouth went dry. Where was his girl? He reached for his earpiece, ready to command her to tell him where she was, when he heard it. The sobs.

He ran faster than he ever had in his life. It took him only a second to find her, curled up on the floor and crying.

He fell to his knees beside her, tearing off his helmet and setting down his shield. “(Y/N)... hey, hey, hey.” His hands fidgeted, longing to touch her but afraid of how she’d react. “Sweetheart, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

(Y/N) obeyed him, but her mind was still trapped in another world. Her eyes darted lazily around, the flow of tears never ending. She met his gaze and he flinched when he saw the raw brokenness in their depths. “It wasn’t my fault... it wasn’t my fault.”

Steve frowned and this time, he touched her. He ran his fingers through her hair, which had fallen out of its neat french braid. “What’s not your fault, sweetheart?”

“Please, you have to believe me,” she cried. “It wasn’t my fault, Stevie. You have to believe me. You have to believe me.”

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay. I believe you.” Steve’s tone was soft and gentle as he cooed to her, trying to calm her down. Frankly, he was freaked out, too, by her state and what he saw in his own vision. And he was angry. He’d been complacent. He promised her he would keep her safe, that he wouldn’t let Wanda infiltrate her mind. But he was careless, and now his girl was a wreck.

(Y/N) locked eyes with Steve, a bit of hope returning to her (e/c) depths. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve confirmed, forcing a smile.

Clint’s voice comes in on the earpiece. “All the tin men are down, but the Maximoffs are gone. So is Ultron. Tony said the Big Guy escaped and he’s fetching him. I think we need to head back to the jet. Tasha’s in bad shape.”

Steve pressed his own earpiece, looking down at the sweet girl who was crying silently next to him. “So is (Y/N). We’ll meet you at the jet.”

He placed his shield on his back and gathered (Y/N)’s weapons, placing them in his belt loops. He gently worked his arm into the crook of her knees and wrapped his other arm around her back. He stood, cradling her in his arms. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get outta here.”

She curled into him, and even though her tears had stopped flowing, she was still looking around blankly, like her mind was still adrift.

He carried her out of the warehouse, through the salvage yard, and onto the Quinjet. Natasha was slumped in a corner, pale and trembling. Thor looked tense and bewildered. Clint was unaffected vision-wise, but he was pacing the floor of the jet and scratching his head.

When Steve entered the jet, Clint turned and stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

Steve ignored his comment, clueing the archer into how worried Steve was. He followed closely as Steve sat down on one of the seats, arranging (Y/N) so she lay comfortably across the seats with her head in his lap.

“What did she see?” Clint asked quietly.

Steve shook his head, his eyes trained on (Y/N)’s face. His fingers gently combed through her hair, and his other hand traced light designs on her hand. “I don’t know. She wasn’t making much sense. She kept saying something wasn’t her fault. I’ve never seen her like this.”

Clint’s gaze was soft as he looked at her. “I was with her when Loki’s spell lifted. She barely spoke after.” He glanced at Steve. “Actually, it was you who got through to her. You got her to talk again. What Loki’s magic made her do… it damaged her. Being mind-controlled once is no joke, but twice?” He sighed. “Poor kid.” He stood and walked over to the pilot’s seat.

Steve’s heart was heavy, but at the same time filled with warmth. Had he really been the one to help (Y/N) come back to herself after 2012? As he gazed down at her, he decided it would be his job to bring her back this time, too.

So he kept stroking her hair, whispering to her. “(Y/N). Come back to me, sweetheart. It’s me, Stevie. If anyone can fight back against the power of that vision, it’s you. You’re strong, so strong. Stronger than all of us. I’m here. Your family’s all here. Just come back. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go. I promise. You’re safe with me.”

Though (Y/N) didn’t respond, her eyes flicked to meet his gaze and he could’ve sworn he saw a sparkle of recognition return to her eyes. Encouraged, Steve kept talking.

He lost himself in his quiet affirmations and gentle words to her, so much so that he didn’t notice Thor, Clint, and even Natasha watching. Thor and Clint smiled slightly, and Natasha, as shaken as she was, felt emotional watching the tender display. It was really obvious to everyone except Steve and (Y/N) that they had fallen for each other.

The three of them were so moved that when Tony and Bruce returned, Clint went out to meet them and warned them to keep their voices down and not make any comments-- with that bit being directed at Tony-- about what they were about to see.

All Tony said when they walked onto the jet and saw Steve with (Y/N) cradled on his lap was a grumbled, “Finally.”

***

They decided that it was too dangerous to return to the Tower. Ultron was everywhere, and after the whole Hulk incident they needed to lie low. Clint guided the jet toward a location he refused to tell the others about, and spoke quietly with Tony. They were the only two who hadn’t been hit with a vision at the salvage yard.

Thor was acting a little gruffer than normal, Natasha was quiet, and Bruce was weary, but the one they were really worried about was (Y/N). For the entirety of the Quinjet ride, her head rested on Steve’s thigh as she slowly came back to reality. It was Steve’s gentle touches and grounding words that eventually brought her back. But even then, she was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t slip back into your head.”

She nodded once, her face lined with sadness and a hint of fear. It made Steve’s heart ache. He kept his blue eyes locked with her (e/c) ones. “Do you remember Clint and Natasha? They’re like your brother and sister. We’re your family. You’re safe with us.”

He kept having to repeat these statements in order to keep her present. He did so without complaint and with a heart full of affection and concern for his girl.

At the mention of Clint and Natasha, the fear grew on her face and Steve moved his hand from her hair to her face. He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. “We’re not gonna hurt you. We all love you. I-” He swallowed. “… care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re safe with us, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie.” Her voice was small and quiet, reminding Steve of his mom after getting her ass handed to her by his dad. He hated it, and wanted nothing more for (Y/N)’s smile to return. So, he kept forcing a smile for her sake and continued anchoring her with his words and touches.

After a few hours, Clint landed the jet next to a farmhouse. Steve stood and held out his hands to (Y/N). “Can you stand for me, pretty girl?”

She nodded shakily and stood, taking his hands. He wrapped his arm around her protectively. The other Avengers watched with a mixture of worry and awe on their faces.

He and (Y/N) trailed behind as Clint helped Natasha walk and led Bruce, Tony, and Thor inside the house. When Clint’s pregnant wife appeared, who the Avengers had no idea about (except for Natasha), they all were stunned. Laura and Natasha caught up and Clint introduced them all to his kids and explained why he kept their location a secret.

(Y/N) tried to smile and hesitantly shook Laura’s hand. The yelling of the kids and the chatter of the others made her tense up. Steve rubbed her arms and made eye-contact with Clint.

Having seen (Y/N) go through something like this once before, Clint strode over to them and kept his voice low. “Tasha’s gonna sleep with Laura. Me, Tony, Thor, and Bruce will sleep in the living room. You two can take the guest room.”

(Y/N) was too in her head to fully process what he said, but Steve’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to question why he and (Y/N) should share a room and protest that it wasn’t appropriate, but Clint rolled his eyes. “Just take the damn room. Go. You’ll thank me later.”

Wordlessly, Steve took (Y/N)’s hand and-- after hearing Clint’s directions-- guided her upstairs. He entered a small but quaint room and shut the door. (Y/N) silently sat on the bed, her eyes on her hands.

Steve exhaled deeply. He walked to her and crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. She met his gaze, her expression clouded. Steve squeezed her hands lightly. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What did you see? I want to help you.”

“You won’t once I tell you,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

Steve’s tone was gentle but firm. “Try me.”

(Y/N) took a shaky breath. “Did… did I ever tell you how young I was when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Steve frowned, concentrating. “You said you were seventeen. You were one of their youngest recruits.”

(Y/N)’s hands fidgeted in his grip. “Did I say why I joined?”

“You said you didn’t want to go to college, that you wanted to work there to honor your mother.” Steve sounded puzzled.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “That-that was-um… it wasn’t the whole truth.”

Steve looked at her encouragingly, and that just made it harder for (Y/N). She swallowed. “After I-uh… after I got my powers and my mom died, my dad… he became more violent. He was violent before, but losing Mom just… it just made him snap. He knew he couldn’t hurt me anymore, so he started taking it out on my baby brother. He was only twelve.”

“Go on.” Steve’s eyes were narrowed, but he made an effort to keep his voice soft.

The stinging tears made it difficult for her to see. “One-one day I heard my dad beating my brother, and when I found them, my brother was barely breathing. I yelled at my dad to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, one by one, and Steve let go of one of her hands to brush them away. “I eventually grabbed his shirt and shoved him away, but… but I-I shoved him toward the stairs.”

Steve closed his eyes and (Y/N) shook her head. “I couldn’t revive him. The fall killed him. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes opened and he stared at her. “(Y/N), that was an accident. You didn’t kill him.”

“Stevie, I was too strong for him,” (Y/N) cried. “I should’ve-”

“Stop, stop, stop.” Steve cupped her face. “Sweetheart, you were a kid. Your powers weren’t under control yet. You didn’t mean to hurt your dad; you were just trying to save your brother.” And that monster doesn’t deserve your guilt and shame, he added silently.

(Y/N) sobbed once and Steve moved to sit next to her, pulling her onto his lap and encasing her in his arms. She cried into his shirt, staining it with her tears.

They sat like that for a minute, and he quietly shushed her and whispered words of reassurance. Once her sobs had died down, she pulled back a bit to look at him. “You… you believe me?”

“Of course I do.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Steve cupped her face again. “What happened to your brother?”

(Y/N) shuddered. “He broke a rib and it punctured his lung. I tried to give him CPR… but he was already gone. He’d lost too much blood.” The streams of tears continued to pour down her cheeks. “He was twelve, Stevie.”

Steve’s soul hurt for her, for that little boy he’d never gotten the chance to meet. He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead before pressing against it with his own. “I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N)’s small hands grasped onto his wrists as if they were her lifeline. “After that, I found Fury. He’s the only one who knows the whole story… other than you.” Her tone wobbled. “I asked him to lock me up. He gave me a job instead. He took a chance on me.”

Steve pulled her to him and his nose brushed her ear as (Y/N) continued to shake. “I’d managed to redeem myself in my mind. But then 2012 happened. When I realized what I’d done, what I’d been made to do… I was back in that house, with blood on my hands.” She gave a broken laugh. “It’s ironic, really. The girl with super-human strength and agility is weak in the head. She breaks everything she touches. She makes a fucking mess wherever she goes.”

“Stop, stop,” Steve pleaded, pulling back. “You’re strong, (Y/N). So strong. You’re stronger than me, that’s for damn sure, both mentally and in your heart. You don’t break everything you touch; you bring light to the darkest places. You gave a lost super-soldier a reason to smile again, inspired him to be the best hero he could be, which would never be half as good as you. When you make a mess, you own up to it. But you’ve never once willingly put someone in harm’s way. You’ve never once willingly allowed an innocent person to suffer. You love everyone around you with your whole heart.” Steve’s own eyes were brimming with tears now. “Everyone but yourself.”

(Y/N) stared at him. Steve took her hands in his and pressed kiss after kiss to her hands. “You’re a good person. It hurts me to hear you talk like you’re not.” He made eye-contact with her. “I have a feeling I know what you saw in that vision. You saw your dad and brother dying, right?”

“That’s… that’s not all.” Dare she speak the cursed words aloud? If she did… would that make it real? She covered her mouth briefly, looking anywhere but Steve. “You and the others hated me for what I did. You looked at me with pure disappointment. You-you told me… you told me that-that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

If it was even possible, Steve’s heart broke even further. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lifted her chin with his index finger, gently forcing her to look at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I could never hate you for what happened. Neither could the others. I’m sure if they found out, they’d all feel nothing but compassion for you. What happened? It wasn’t your fault. We’d never blame you. We all love you.” He moved his hand up to run the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone. She unconsciously leaned into his touch. Steve’s tone held sincerity when he said, “I love you.”

(Y/N)’s breath got caught in her throat. The flow of tears slowed, and Steve noticed. A small, watery smile tugged at his lips. “I love you, sweetheart. Have for a while now.” He shook his head. “And you don’t have to say it back—”

(Y/N) cut him off with a gentle whisper. “But I want to.” She wiped her cheeks and moved to cup his handsome face in her little hands. “I love you, Stevie.”

Steve gazed at her with softness and adoration. He leaned forward and kissed her chastely. The kiss was delicate, but for both of them it felt as if sparks were flying. When he pulled away, (Y/N) pouted and Steve laughed. He rubbed his nose against hers. “Trust me, sweetheart, when you’re feeling better, I’ll give you all the kisses you want. But I don’t wanna take advantage.”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered. Whether it was because he was from the 40s, or because he was just a true gentleman, he was the most considerate man she’d ever met.

She scrubbed her face, stifling a yawn as she did so. Steve noticed. “I think someone’s tired. Lie down.”

She could hear a tiny bit of his Captain voice as he spoke, and that made her smile. She was exhausted, it was true. Barely sleeping for the past couple weeks on top of the emotional baggage of today was more than draining.

She climbed under the covers of the queen-sized bed, and before she could ask Steve to stay, he shuffled over to her. “Scoot over, big guy coming through.”

(Y/N) laughed softly and did as he asked. Pretty soon, her back was against his chest and his big arms were encircled around her. He sighed, content.

She felt herself falling asleep already, but curiosity nagged at her. “What did you see in your vision?”

Steve sighed again, but this time, she could practically hear the resignation in it. “I saw myself going back to the 40s and dancing with Peggy.”

A bolt of jealousy and unease struck her. “Why did Wanda show you that?”

Steve buried his face in her hair, lightly brushing his lips against her ear and making her shiver. “Because she wanted to show us all our biggest fear.”

The unease faded to confusion. “Why was dancing with Peggy your biggest fear?”

“Because she wasn’t you,” Steve said simply. She felt his embrace get a little tighter. “I still care deeply for Peggy, and I try to visit her as much as I can, but I stopped dreaming about a life where I had been with her once I realized my dreams were now about you. I stopped loving her the minute I fell in love with you. Dancing with her… it was a picture of the life I don’t want anymore. It was empty and lifeless because you were gone. You’re my best girl.”

Tears sprung to (Y/N)’s eyes once more. He seemed to sense this and moved his lips from her ear to her temple. He kissed her hair and brushed his nose along her cheekbone. “Let’s go to sleep.”

(Y/N) nodded, and when she spoke she was half teasing, half serious. “Dream of me?”

Steve chuckled. “Always, pretty girl.”

They fell asleep minutes later, the super-soldier holding his girl securely to his chest. They didn’t hear the door open a crack, nor did they see Natasha peek her head in.

She smiled softly when she saw them and shut the door. She turned to face Tony, Clint, Thor, and Bruce, who all eagerly awaited the report.

“They fell asleep cuddling in the bed.” Natasha grinned at Clint. “They finally exchanged their “I love you”s.

Clint had a huge smile on his face, and he turned to Tony and held out his hand. Tony grumbled and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “You rigged it by giving them the same room.”

“Hey, I did that so he could comfort her in private.” Clint smirked and pocketed the money. “Them finally admitting their feelings was just an added bonus.”

Bruce glanced at Tony. “So if Clint betted they’d admit their feelings, what did you bet?”

“That the Leopard and Capsicle would break the bed,” Tony muttered nonchalantly.

Natasha thumped him and Bruce facepalmed himself. Thor beamed. “No, no. The Captain is far too chivalrous for that. The courting ritual back in Asgard--”

“We can hear you guys,” Steve called, his tone a mixture of tiredness and amusement.

Natasha grabbed the boys and shoved them away from the door. She apologized to Steve and (Y/N) and walked away, muttering, “I swear, men are idiots.”

***

Thanks for reading!!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #age of ultron #captain america #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #my writing

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helplesspuppet-bsd · 6 months

Text

BSD! Men x Reader Children?

Pairings: Chuuya, Poe, Jouno, Tetchou, Fyodor x reader

Female reader

Established relationships

Warnings: smut, clique scenario? Some religious themes (when it comes to Fyodor), not proofread

Overall word count: 2,989

Minors DNI

《~☆¤☆~》

Chuuya

Word count: 836

Chuuya hadn’t let his view on children clear to anyone, even you were unaware of his feelings about children.

At first, he didn’t see himself having them when he first started dating you.

When you and Chuuya started dating, he was content on keeping it just the two of you until the end of time.

He’d seen some of the lower-ranking members of the mafia bring their children in, as they couldn’t get someone to look after the young one.

After a year or two of you both being in a relationship, he started to imagine himself with you having his children.

He imagined him watching those mind-numbing cartoons with bright colours and over-exaggerated, ear bleeding voice acting.

Chuuya knew that you would love to have a child in your life, you would love it even more if you had one with him. You didn’t care on how you and him would have a child, whether it be through you both having sex, hiring a surrogate, or adoption.

You were beyond ecstatic when Chuuya told you he wanted to have a family with you

Scenario

Chuuya never had an interest in children, he didn’t see how a small human could be so fulfilling before he met you. It wasn’t on his mind when he was single. He did get along with the children that was left in the break room while their parents worked, they always had questions for him when it came to the mafia or his work. Chuuya made sure to keep everything PG for the young ones, most of them were at 12-years or under. He kept the most gruesome areas of his line of work out of the question.

“Don’t choose it has a profession.” Chuuya would always tell them. He was aware on how hypocritical it was for him to say, but at the end of the day, the mafia was the last resort. He did explain his ability to them when one of them asked

Then, he met you a year or two ago, and he wouldn’t trade that that time for the world. He loved you with all his heart. You had brought up the discussion of children he always told you that he was unsure.

Yeah, he got along with the children that was in the break room at work, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle one of his own.

He would never have guessed that the daily conversations he would have with the children would turn to him wanting one of his own, a part of him adored the way the children were curious, and innocent.

He looked at you and could imagine your swollen belly with his child inside it. He fantasied on how a child with you would be like. It even snuck into his dreams which he woke up from with a flustered face.

He was on his motorcycle heading back to the penthouse he shared with you, again the thought of a child entered and exited his mind as he paid attention to the empty streets, illuminated by the streetlights. it was that time of the night were most wouldn’t be outside.

Parking his bike, he walked into the penthouse and could smell the curry that were cooking. It was one of the perks he adored about you, although he’d rather coming home to your sleeping face and cook for himself, or maybe order a takeout for himself.

He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as you were on the stove, his hand slowly made their way to your stomach, caressing it softly and placed light kisses on your shoulder.

“What’s on your mind Chuuya?” You asked as you looked over at him

“I want a baby, Y/n. I want one with you.” Chuuya whispered causing you to blush before a large smile came across your face, you quickly lowered the heat just so you could turn around to kiss your lover.

“When?” You asked once you pulled your lips away from him.

“Preferably as soon as possible.” Chuuya responded, his hands only remained on your stomach. He could feel your heart and your body swell with love, happiness and excitement. “Let’s eat first.” Was everything you said before turning around again and turned the heat back up to continue dinner.

Hours after, Chuuya had you pinned on the bed, thrusting his cock in and out of you, your moans only fuelled his desire to continue. “Baby...” Chuuya moaned out as he kept going at his quick pace. “You’d be such a good mother.” he then muttered out as he let his own release come again.

You to stayed there for a small while, both in pure bliss.

“One more round... Please just one more round.” Chuuya begged in a whisper as his cock slowly moved in and out of your aching pussy

He wanted to make sure that he had defiantly fucked a baby into you before the both of you fell asleep.

Poe

Word count: 313

Poe already has a child. Karl.

He has expressed that he does not want (human) children, so have you.

You both have Karl, and whatever furry creature you bring into your shared home and that’s all you two needed.

Scenario

Poe was working on his new mystery novel for his rival, Ranpo while you fed Karl blueberries, which he took happily.

You looked up at your loving boyfriend for a moment before smiling a little. “We still have something to talk about Poe.” You said, petting Karl. Poe looked up at you “And what is that Dearest?” Poe asked as he now averting his attention to you.

“Children, Poe. We should discuss...” Poe cure you off before you could finish

“We have Karl. Why would we have the need for children?” Poe asked as he continued to stare at you, “So, no kids?” You asked your lover.

“Yes.” Poe answered.

You let out a sigh of relief, in all honesty, you didn’t want children of your own. You found them to be insufferable, with all the screaming they do, and crying they do. Not to mention the mess they make. It just wasn’t something you were interested in having.

“Well, if it helps, I’m not interested in having children.” You said with a smile as you went back to feed Karl blueberries.

“You're going to spoil him like that.” Poe said as he continued writing his novel.

“Oh, please... As if you wouldn’t spoil Karl yourself.” You said as Karl now climbed on your shoulder. “After all he’s just the cutest racoon alive.” You then cooed as Karl purred affectionately.

Poe smiled at you two. Karl was truly like his and your baby and you and Poe, are Karls parents. That’s all you needed.

You two didn’t want human children, but you two would be perfectly content with any animals you would adopt.

Jouno

Word count: 836

Jouno, much like Chuuya, wouldn’t originally want a child.

He would find the amount of noise they make overstimulating to his sensitive ears. Jouno wouldn’t believe he’d make a good father, he is aware that he is not a good person.

Jouno found out that you wanted children at how he heard how your heartbeat quickened whenever you seen families.

However, he was still unsure on children until he saved one.

Saving a child changed his view on him as a potential father.

The night after he saved that child he immediately after.

Scenario

Juono liked children, he wouldn’t want to bring them harm, but he couldn’t see himself having them, he doesn’t think he would be a good father due to his past as being a former member in a criminal organisation.

Lately he had been noticing how his wife, you, heart rate had been increasing whenever you had been seeing how parents and their children. He could only imagine what was going through your head whenever it did.

Jouno would come home and kiss you tenderly on the forehead as you slept at night, he would always be so gentle to you whenever he came home from a long, hard day, and found you asleep on their shared bed, you in one of his shirt because his scent lulled you to sleep, something he always teased you about.

Deep down, Jouno knew you wanted children soon, you just had never said anything because you knew Jouno would rather have a quiet life with you, you also knew that Jouno believed he wouldn’t be the best fit to be a dad, with his criminal past and due to how long he is away each day, sometimes never coming home for weeks, sometimes months at a time.

The turning point for Jouno was when he saved a child from a burning building, Tetchou was carrying three people at a time and was still running quickly while Teruko chased the arsonist that caused this fire.

The crackling of the fire made it difficult for Jouno to hear people's heartbeat, thankfully he heard the cries of a young child. Jouno was quick to run to the child's location, due the fire he was unable to activate his ability.

Jouno picked up the child and began to run as if his own life depended on it, he felt the child cling onto Jouno’s shirt, as burning timber fell in front of the exit.

Jouno felt his own heartbeat quicken, but he had to keep his composure, “This is bad, if I don’t get out of here then...” Jouno’s thoughts tracked out to you. Jouno turned his body around. Tetchou soon came running to where Jouno currently stood, carrying two people on his shoulders, Jouno could hear his breath hitched.

“Tetchou, make yourself useful and lend me your eyes.” Jouno said as he turned to his colleague, Tetchou had been working with Jouno for long enough to know what he means, but he hadn’t seen Jouno like that before. Was it because Jouno couldn’t use his ability? That he might not be able to go back to you? Tetchou couldn’t find out the answer.

“Uh... There’s a window.” Tetchou mentioned as he knocked on the ashy glass before continuing. “But we’re 3 floors high. I don’t think that...” Tetchou was silenced in shock as saw Jouno jumping out of the window, away from the fire, he could now activate his ability to get him and the child down safely.

Placing the child down he went to the fire engines to get a trampoline for Tetchou and the people he was carrying.

After things had calmed down, Jouno heard a very familiar heartbeat approaching “Darling? Why are you here?” Jouno asked before he felt you wrap your arms around him, he felt that you were shaking.

“Darling? Were you scared for me?” Jouno asked as he wrapped his arms around you, returning your hug in his own comforting embrace. “I thought I would’ve...” You didn’t finish your sentence as Jouno pushed your head into his chest “Shut up you fool and listen to my heartbeat. I am fine.” Juno said in a quiet voice.

He stayed as you calmed down, not particularly caring if the press acknowledged it. He heard footsteps approach him. “I had a strange thought when I was in there though, and that though is slowly turning into a feeling...” Jouno whispered as he stroked his hand through your hair for another second before his hand found your cheek and brought it up so you could face him.

“My next once in a blue moon break is in the next 3 months, why don’t we...” Jouno leaned down to whisper in your ear. “... Try to start a family together.” Jouno chuckled as he heard your heartbeat quicken and your face redden with the heat rushing to it.

For the first time, he was excited to have a child, start a family with his one and only love.

Tetchou

Word Count: 526

Tetchou would love to have children, why wouldn’t he?

He believes that a child with you would make his life with you more perfect than it already was.

He would be so happy the day he came home after a mission that took a few months to find you pregnant with his child.

Scenario

Tetchou remembers the moans that came from your mouth the night before he left for his mission. You two had been trying for a child each night he could with you. It wasn’t often he could have a night alone with you like this.

And he wanted to make you feel special before he had to leave you for long time.

You were the only thing on his mind each night he slept, awaiting the day the mission was completed and could return to you. His beloved wife.

That day came, after a dreaded 5 months, Tetchou could finally return to you. His love for justice was strong, but his love for you was even stronger. You made him feel more than just a soldier. You helped him feel human.

He went back to the shared apartment he had with you. He ran into the apartment and his eyes widened when he saw you being visibly pregnant. “Tetchou... Are you alright?” You asked as she placed her drink on the counter and got up from her couch to walk over to him.

“Tetchou?” You said with a smile before you saw tears falling from his eyes.

Tetchou pulled you into a tight hug, crying happily into your shoulder. It was rare to see Tetchou in such a state, but he couldn’t control himself in this current moment, you were carrying his child, he couldn’t ask for more.

Tetchou kissed your face so many times, before he guided you to the couch, getting you to sit down with him. He was hesitant at first to your bump, he looked at you as if asking if it was okay to touch it.

You only chuckle and place his hand on your stomach for him. he seemed amazed by it, his hands were so gentle as he grazed your stomach, touching it like it was glass.

Tetchou’s eyes were still filled with tears as he looked down at your stomach, he found it hard to believe that his very own was growing inside of you.

“I swear on my life, I will protect you and protect our future child. And if I fail, i will own sword and tear out my own guts.” Tetchou swore with the most serious voice you had ever heard.

“Oh Tetchou, I love you, truly, but I’d prefer to have you alive2 You said with a laugh as you ran your hand through his hair. Tetchou only looked at you with absolute wonder and love in his eyes as another few tears fall. He gives you a smile, a smile that only you saw.

“Then I swear to protect you and our child.” Tetchou whispered as he leaned in to kiss you.

As if his life wasn’t perfect enough already, now, he a child of his own on the way.

Fyodor

Word Count: 422

Fyodor is under the firm belief of having children after marriage, he sees it has the way god would intend it to be.

When you first approached him about children he just said “When we are married”

Scenario

You were laying in the shared bed you and Fyodor had with an icy hand wrapped around as he read one of his books to you, speaking in Russian as you laid your head on his chest.

“Fyodor... What do you feel about having children one day?” You asked him suddenly, causing him to stop reading out loud to you, he gave a chuckle and looked down at you “When we are wedded lyubov moya.” He simply said as he continued to read to you feeling your eyes droop before you fall asleep.

Fyodor chuckled as he went off the bed before tucking you in and giving you a light kiss on your forehead, and walked out so he could continue his work. It was routine for the two of you when you wanted to you to sleep, Fyodor’s voice always helped you go to sleep.

Fyodor sat in his chair in front of his many monitors and sat there for a moment “Children....” He mumbled with a smile.

“My dear... I promise you, once I have perfected this world, I will marry you, and give you the child you desire.” He whispered before he got to proper work.

He had to finish erasing you from any official documents, to keep hidden, to keep you safe from his enemies. And anyone that could take you away from him.

He thought of you, and the future child they would have together, he was already imagining on what his child would look like, how many they would have. Maybe 2 or 3, and what they would be like once they were adults

Of course, they would be little geniuses like him, his genes are strong, he’d also imagine them having black hair, and 1 or 2 would have your eyes the other/s having his eyes, or 1 or 2 having his eyes and the other one having yours.

He thought of everything about them. Maybe he’d have to marry you sooner than he planned, for him to have the children his mind is conjuring up.

“Oh, lyubov moya. How I love you.” He said as he looked at a picture of you. “You are my angel, and I swear, you and our children will make my world more perfect than the one i am currently making.”

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