#((I don’t know why or how this got so long I’m sorry.))

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is in the hospital for something and maybe another doctor or nurse doesn’t realize she’s remus’s gf and is being rude to her. And doctor!remus overhears and saves the day lol<3

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: reader who menstruates, mention (not really description) of severe period pains, healthcare gaslighting

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 632 words

“Have you tried taking pain medications like ibuprofen?” 

You clench your jaw. “Yes, I have.” 

“And how long has your period lasted?” 

“It started on Tuesday.” 

The nurse looks up from his chart, unimpressed. “So it’s only been a few days.” 

“Yes, but the pain started before that. And this has been happening for—” 

“Are you aware that many women experience period pains before the start of their periods?” 

Your skin feels hot. Frustrated tears threaten to clog your throat, and you fight the urge to bend over to relieve some of the pain in your abdomen. “Yes. I know that.” 

“One a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” 

“Eight.” Your voice nearly breaks. 

Your nurse pushes out a sigh. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s not uncommon either.” He sets down his chart, leveling with you. “Listen, we treat a lot of really sick and hurting people here. We have lots of patients to get to today, so if you think what you’re experiencing could be normal period pain—”

“Excuse me?” The nurse falls silent as Remus pulls aside the curtain, stepping into your little room. You have to shove down the urge to cry just for seeing him. He looks between the two of you, seemingly confused but obviously displeased. “What’s going on?” 

“Hi,” you offer meekly.

Your nurse turns to Remus with a long-suffering look that’s nearly conspiratorial as well. It’s clear he expects to be agreed with. “Doctor Lupin, sorry to waste your time. You’re welcome to check her out, but after an initial interview we’re fairly certain she’s experiencing regular menstrual cramps.” 

Your face flames at his use of we. You hadn’t agreed to any of that. 

“It’s not a waste,” Remus says, clipped. “I asked her to come here, because her menstrual cramps are abnormally severe and prolonged, and I’ve already ordered an ultrasound to find out why. Are you in the habit of deterring our patients from seeking care?” 

Your boyfriend’s tone grows increasingly agitated as he speaks, and you watch with a guilty sort of satisfaction as the blood drains from the nurse’s face. 

When he offers up no answer, Remus’ expression hardens. “I’ve got it from here. Find me later, please.” 

You barely get to see your nurse leave. Remus steps closer to you, eclipsing your view, the anger in your boyfriend’s expression melding into concern.

“Hi, honey.” His hand wraps around your arm. “How is it today?” 

You feel your face crumple under his caring gaze. “A little better,” you manage. 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, thumb sweeping gently over your skin. “Still nauseous?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he ask you to rate your pain?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what did you say?” 

You shrug. You’re never sure how accurate you are with these scales. “I said an eight. It might be a seven, though, I just” —your voice cracks— “wanted him to believe me.” 

 “Oh, baby.” Remus wraps you up in a hug, cupping your head to his chest. “I’m sorry he treated you that way, sweetheart. It was completely out of order. I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say tightly. “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault.” 

Remus makes a tsking sound like he doesn’t quite agree. “Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?”

You shrug, a bit bashful. “I didn’t want to, like, name drop you.” 

Remus smiles, shaking his head in astoundment. “You’re absurd.” He gives your cheek a loving hold. His eyes lock on yours, steady and earnest. “We’re going to sort this, alright?”

“Oh, don’t involve me, please. Talk to him after I’m gone.” 

“I mean your cramps,” Remus laughs. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “But yes, after you’re gone.”

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 2 | part 1

author note: hey friends, so im sorry for taking so long, i wanted to post it this Saturday but i got lots of work, it's not proofread so I'm so so so sorry for any mistakes, i promise ill fix them a bit later!

also im working on some pre portal stan x reader x ford fic and it's filled with what we love the most - glass and angst (smut included!!), i know i always say it, but im so excited to share it with you guys <3

nsfw, minors dni

Stanford Pines — the enigmatic genius who’s always just beyond your reach, a mind so vast, it feels like trying to grasp the stars. You should be focused, but your gaze keeps flicking back to him. You’re utterly captivated, heart racing, mind spinning.

And then it happens. One moment, you're holding the mug, your fingers curled around it and the next it slips. No! The mug tumbles from your grasp, its ceramic form hitting the floor with a sharp, brutal crack that echoes through the room. You watch in helpless horror as it shatters into a thousand pieces, each fragment piercing the silence like a blade through your chest.

Your heart skips, thundering in your ears, and your face goes hot with embarrassment, an awful flush spreading across your skin as you turn your wide, panicked eyes toward Ford. His gaze meets yours, a mix of surprise and concern, but it’s his calm that gets you. 

“Oh shit—” your voice cracks and you curse yourself silently, mortified. Of course, you would screw up right now, in front of him. Stanford fucking Pines, the man whose brilliance makes your own thoughts feel clumsy, an intellectual giant, and here you are, tripping over a damn mug. The pieces of it seem to scatter in slow motion, like a dream you can’t wake up from. You’re so stupid. You feel so stupid.

“I’m sorry— I'm so sorry,” you ramble, desperate to somehow undo the mess, your hands trembling at your sides. You want to sink into the floor, disappear, fade away. How could you be this careless?

But then Ford takes a step forward, and everything inside you freezes. His eyes are soft, so much softer than you expected, softer than anyone else’s gaze ever could be. He’s not angry, not even irritated. Instead, he’s. . . calm. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says, a chuckle escaping him, as though the whole situation is laughable, as though you’re not standing there, mortified in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with worse. Trust me.”

For one second, everything really seems to slow down as his words sinks into you like a balm. You believe him. It’s impossible to not. He’s seen everything and here you are, worrying over a broken mug.

“Im really sorry,” you stammer again, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, the tenderness in his gaze. What did you expect? That he’d scold you, dismiss you? But no. He’s calm, like this minor catastrophe is nothing. As if nothing could rattle him, as if you, standing there like a fool, didn’t matter at all.

Stanford laughs. “You know, after all I’ve been through, interdimensional beasts, curses, that damn triangle demon, a shattered mug would be nothing. So don’t apologize.” his eyes meet yours. “Im not made of glass. It takes more than a broken cup to rattle me.”

And then his voice lowers with that quiet authority. “Sit down,” he commands softly. “I’ll handle this. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

You can’t help it. His voice sounds so low, commanding, yet laced with something so tender it makes your skin tingle. The words come easy from his lips, but when they’re aimed at you, they tear through you. They make you feel like you’re something precious, something to be cared for, protected. But more than that, a part of you craves to be held by him, right now, right in this moment. To be pressed back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the strength of his arms, making you feel like you’re the only one in his world.

You’re not just obeying his words, you’re aching to obey. 

That’s why without thinking, you sink into the soft cushions. And shit, there he is — bending down, his bare chest covered with scars still glistening from the rain, droplets make you ache. They fucking shimmer on his skin, taunting you, daring you to touch him, taste him, make him yours. Every inch of him is fucking perfect. God, how are you even supposed to think straight when he looks like that? Your body is screaming for him, for his touch, for everything. 

You try to look away. You can’t. His broad shoulders, his strong fucking arms, his hard chest. It’s too much. He’s a fucking masterpiece and all you want is for him to paint you in ways you can’t even process yet. Your body betrays you, again, that warmth spreading low in your belly, growing. You cross your legs, trying to hide the desperate need that’s already pooling between them. Fuck, how are you supposed to calm this down? It only gets worse.

He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and it’s all laid out in front of you, impossible to ignore. His every movement is so natural, so fucking sexy, it makes your pulse race. You just know he can make you feel things you didn’t even know your body was capable of.

You’re trying to calm yourself, really, you are. 

You cross and uncross your legs again, desperate to release some of the tension building between your thighs, but it only makes it worse. Fuck, why is this so hard? Every thought you have is consumed with him, with what he could do to you, what he should do to you. And the more you try to control it, the more your body betrays you.

You need to touch yourself, but you’re stuck, just waiting, consumed by the need for him.

And then, the thoughts take over completely.

You’re delusional to the point where you feel his hands on your legs, parting them, spreading you wide. You imagine him on his knees, lowering his head, his lips tracing the inside of your thighs, so fucking gentle, so goddamn slow, as he watches you with those eyes, sharp, hungry, possessive. And then, he presses his tongue to your clit, licks you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, making you whine for him.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold it back, but it’s impossible. You need him. You want him between your legs, fucking you so deep you can’t think straight, making you beg for it. Fuck, what would he say? “That’s it, baby. . . just like that… good girl, taking what I give you. . .” the words seeping into your skin like a drug you can’t quit.

You bite down hard on your lip, desperate to keep quiet, but your body is louder than you’ll ever be. Fuck, your body’s soaking through, your pussy throbbing for his touch, and all you can do is stare at him, mesmerised. His body is a goddamn work of art, and you want to trace every inch of it, feel it on top of you, pushing inside you, taking you.

It’s so fucking embarrassing, but you can’t stop it. Your body’s so ready for him, for his hands, for his cock. You can almost taste him, can almost feel his cock sliding inside you, filling you so nice.

Fuck, any writer of erotic novels would envy your imagination. The thought of him getting rough with you, pushing you down into the cushions, fucking you into the sofa until you can’t think, can’t breathe. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Mine to fuck whenever I want. You belong to me.”

The thought of him pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, makes you want to lose your mind. You just want to hear him growl your name as he fucks you like you’re the only thing that matters.

And you know you’ll let him. Let him claim you, take you apart, until you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure, a good girl begging for more.

“Hey,” Ford’s voice drags you back into reality, unwantedly. Your heart stutters in your chest as you blink, trying to focus on anything other than the way your body’s still burning, aching for him. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, the concern on his face so fucking intense it almost makes you want to tell him everything you’re feeling, right here, right now. But you can’t. God, you can’t. Not when the way he looks at you like that.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” his voice is full of worry, but there’s that edge of guilt creeping in as he mutters, “I really should’ve checked the forecast before dragging you out in this mess. . . feels like a bit of a fool for that.” his fingers are rubbing the back of his neck in that shy way he does, that little sign of guilt that makes your stomach clench in a way that’s too much to handle.

But it’s his fucking proximity that’s driving you wild. He’s so close now, standing there shirtless, looking like some goddamn wet dream come to life. You can’t focus on anything but his body, the way the rainwater trails down his skin, glistening so beautifully. Fucking fuck. 

“No, Ford, im absolutely okay, I swear—”

“Hold still,” Ford commands and that’s when you feel his hand so damn warm against your forehead, sending a shockwave of need straight through you. His touch is too fucking soft and yet it feels like it’s scorching you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re so goddamn horny your body’s reacting to the smallest contact.

You try to calm yourself, try to act normal, but it’s too fucking hard. You force a weak smile. “I told you, I— I’m fine,” you answer, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s all you can do to not let the truth slip. You want to scream it, how much you need him, how much you ache for him right now, but you don’t. Not yet. Never probably.

Ford’s brows knit tighter together and his eyes lock onto yours. He’s not fooled, not for a second. “You’re lying. Don’t try to brush it off. If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”

The urge to confess everything is unbearable. You want to tell him you’re not sick, you’re just fucking drenched in need, that’s all! Aching for him to pull you into his arms, to kiss you until you can’t breathe. But instead, you do the only thing you can do: you force a nervous laugh, a weak attempt to play it off.

“No, I swear I’m fine! I could go on a thousand more anomaly hunts with you!” the words spill out with a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much frenzy and you pray to whatever god is listening that it’s enough to get him off your case.

Ford’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms, still towering over you, still so close

Man, just step back or I'll pounce on you and eat you.

“Cold rain can do a lot more damage than you think. You could’ve caught something serious, and ignoring it won’t help. Do you have any idea how quickly a fever can develop if you’re already run down?”

Oh no, his voice shifts into that familiar, lecturing tone, the kind that makes you want to both roll your eyes and lean in closer to hear more. 

When he says something about cold exposure affecting the immune system, you should be paying attention. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when he’s standing there — half naked, with his chest on full display, his messy hair slightly wet from the rain. God, he's just so fucking handsome. The serious, worried look in his eyes makes you weak and you can’t help but sink a little deeper into the sofa.

Just as Ford’s lecture hits a peak, the door swings open with a loud bang and Stanley Pines strolls in, halting mid-step as his eyes zero in on the scene before him. Ford, half-naked, standing too close for comfort, and you, perched on the sofa with that nervous smile plastered across your face.

Stan’s grin stretches wide, clearly loving the situation as he leans casually against the doorway. His eyes flick between you and Ford, then he gives Ford an exaggerated once-over, raising an eyebrow at his lack of turtleneck. “Well, ain’t this cozy,” he drawls sarcastically, giving a smirk that only widens when he spots Ford’s obvious discomfort. “Ya know, Sixer, when I said ‘show the girl a good time,’ I didn’t mean literally strip down to do it.”

Ford’s eyes snap toward his brother, his mouth twitching in a way that’s almost a grimace. His posture straightens, arms crossing defensively as he glares at Stan. “Stanley, really? Must you always reduce everything to your level? She dropped a mug and I was helping her avoid a mess. You wouldn’t understand, but maybe try acting your age for once.”

“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is, if ya plan on gettin' cozy, maybe take it to a couch that ain’t mine.” Stanley’s gaze slides over to you, flashing a wink. “But if you’re lookin' for company, darlin’, I’m more than happy to—“

Before you can let the awkwardness spread more, you spring into the conversation, desperate to steer it somewhere less humiliating. “Stan, actually, Ford was just helping me to—” you force a friendly smile, trying to make light of the situation.

Stan laughs like he’s heard it all before. “Sure thing, toots. But between you and me. . . you’re doin’ a hell of a job of keepin’ my brother here on his toes. Haven’t seen him all riled up like this since. . . well, ever.” your heart thump so loudly in your chest, you’re sure everyone can hear it.

Ford’s jaw clenches so tight, you can practically hear his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t look away from Stan. The vein in his neck starts to twitch.God, it’s almost painful how much he wants to just end this conversation, end this moment, and pull you somewhere private, somewhere safe, where he can have you all to himself, but he doesn’t. “Stan, enough. We have an anomaly to inspect. Something I’d actually prefer not to delay any longer.”

Stan lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying every second of Ford’s discomfort. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, Sixer, run off to your little projects. Just don’t forget there’s a real world out here, alright?” he gives you a quick nod, still smirking. “and you, don’t let him lock you in his lab too long, sweetheart.”

***

Grumpy Ford. The kind of irritated, scowling Ford you never realized you’d find so irresistibly enticing. That brooding frustration, that laser-sharp focus, you can’t help but imagine all that intensity turned on you, directed into every inch of your body.

God, if he just shoved you back onto that workbench right now, you’d let him. You wouldn’t care if his precious equipment went crashing to the floor, wouldn’t even flinch at the thought of papers and tools scattering everywhere. All you want is him, his body pinning you down, hands gripping you like you’re the anomaly he’s desperate to dissect, figure out, devour. 

Holy shit, you want him to push you up against that wall, pin you down until you’re writhing underneath him, his body grinding against yours, every bit of that frustration poured right into you.

Slick heat building between your thighs as you watch him, the way he moves around his lab, muttering in frustration as he punches numbers into some device, brows knitted in that fierce focus. And all you can do is want his hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock driving into you like you’re all he’s thinking about.

“The rain seems to have masked the anomaly’s energy signature. I suspect it might be due to ionization in the— are you even listening?”

His voice snaps you back, he’s tearing right through your flimsy attempts at focus with that intense gaze of his, as if seeing everything you’re thinking. You offer him a small, sheepish smile. “Of course I am! Gravity, paranormal. . . s-signatures, right?” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes keep drifting over his body, your ache throbbing inside, thighs pressing together as he stands there, so close you could reach out, slip your fingers through the fabric of his clothes, feel the warmth of his skin.

Ford lets out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Honestly, you’re as distractible as Stan.” 

He turns away, but your eyes don’t leave him. Instead, you let your gaze slide over the room, until something catches your eye. A strange, helmet-like device bristling with wires and so, without thinking, you ask, “Hey, what’s that thing?”

Ford’s gaze follows yours, his expression changes as he considers whether to answer. “That’s a thought-reading device. Designed to access certain mental frequencies,” he explains, stepping closer to it and closer to you. “It can pick up surface thoughts. . . theoretically, anyway. I was working on it before I. . . uhm, it’s meant to strengthen and protect someone’s mental processes. Block out. . . certain entities from gaining access to their mind.”

A mind-protective device. Of course, he’d build something like that. It’s so him, his beautiful mix of intellect, caution, that underlying fear of what he’s seen, what he’s had to fight.

“So, it could let me peek into that brilliant mind of yours?” it’s a playful a tease, mostly. But inside you just ache to know, to wonder, to feel his thoughts. Would he think about you. even once, in the same filthy, breathless way you think about him?

Stanford grins. “In theory, yes, but it’s hardly necessary. My mind is. . . complex, too complicated for most people to understand."

And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Ford lifts the machine, his grin is bigger. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Your heart slams against your chest and panic sears through you, cutting under your carefully held composure. Oh god. No. No, no, no. Every filthy thought, every desperate image of him, of those long, deft fingers tracing down your skin, of his mouth, his hands, of him pinning you down and splitting you open on his cock, of moaning his name until you can’t breathe. All of it, laid bare, displayed for him to see? 

You choke down the crazy urge to run, instead forcing yourself to laugh. “Why, Professor Pines, are you doubting my integrity?” you counter, flashing him a daring smirk, praying it’s enough to distract him from the heat that’s burning its way up your cheeks.

Ford chuckles in response. “Integrity?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “No. But curiosity? Oh, absolutely. I think it would be enlightening to see what actually goes on behind that amused little expression of yours.”

“There’s nothing interesting in my mind,” but your words barely sound convincing to you, let alone to him.

Ford tilts his head, arching his brow in that all-too-familiar, skeptical way that makes you want to simultaneously squirm and melt. “Oh really? You know, most people would be thrilled to test out new technology. But you. . . you’re avoiding it like it’s some kind of torture device.”

“Oh, yeah, you know,” a poor attempt at casual. “I just. . . don’t wanna risk, you know, brain cells or something.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, please just buy it. . . 

Ford’s laughter rumbles and by the look on his face, you know he doesn’t quite believe you. But, mercifully, he lets it slide. “Alright, alright,” he relents. “I’ll spare you. This time.”

***

The rest of the evening is a haze of Ford’s intense meticulous rambling as you both sit tucked away in the quiet of his lab, soft lamp light casting warm shadows that stretch over the various gadgets, books, and uncharted maps sprawled out on every available surface, his domain, the world he’s always losing himself in.

He’s explaining again, his words so precise about the anomaly you saw earlier today. His voice rises with each detail, the way the rain altered it, how it vanished before either of you could even think to grab it. You should be focused, but his beautiful voice turns into a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, your body sinking deeper into the chair. 

And Ford notices.

The way your head tilts too far, your eyes fluttering closed just a little too long. He’s not as lost in his thoughts as he likes to think. His gaze sharpens, flicking to you with that careful, assessing precision he’s always had. He sees that quiet exhaustion in the way your posture slumps, the way your breath catches unevenly as your body fights against the pull of sleep.

His voice softens. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “Of course you are. . . It’s too late. Go, get some rest. This. . . all of this will still be here tomorrow.”

A sigh tries to escape your chest before you can stop it. You want to protest, to stay longer, to pass just little bit more time with him. But the way he looks at you makes the words die before they can leave your lips. There's something unspoken in his eyes, a quiet concern mixed with that stubborn, unyielding sense of responsibility.

You try to stifle a yawn, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve, as if the touch might change his mind. “Maybe. . . maybe just a bit longer?” however even your own voice sounds tired.

His answer is gentle but final. “No. You need to sleep. I’ll be here, as always.”

You don’t argue. When you step away, you catch one last glimpse of him, standing amidst the piles of notebooks, the soft light casting shadows along the lines of his face, catching the silver in his hair in a way that’s so painfully beautiful so you let yourself stay a little longer before you close the door.

***

The silence that reigns in the room after you leave feels like a huge, endless void that stretches to all corners of the laboratory and suffocates in its stillness. Ford exhales slowly, a sigh caught between frustration and something deeper he can’t quite name. His gaze lingers on the door, where you disappeared through just moments ago, soft sound of your footsteps still echoing in his mind. God, he’s such a fool, he thinks, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the ache that’s been building inside him ever since you spoke those soft words, just a little longer.

He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t ignore it. The way you leaned in, hanging onto his every word, as if he were something more than he really was, something beyond the man who hides behind his work, behind his mind. The weight of your trust presses on him and with it comes the unbearable pressure of knowing he doesn’t deserve it.

And God, he tries to keep himself restrained. He tells himself that this is madness, that you’re too young, that every second he spends watching you, wanting you, is a betrayal of everything he’s tried to build.

But you’re gone now and his lab feels emptier than ever. Even as he reaches for his journal, his thoughts are still tangled with you, with the way you looked at him, the way your sleepy eyes followed his every move, the way you seemed to hang on to every word, every breath he took. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?

And as he opens his journal, he knows there will be no more notes on anomalies tonight. No theories, nothing but the restless, fevered words he can never, ever say aloud. Ford knows that if these thoughts ever slipped past his lips, they’d destroy you. You’d never look at him the same again. And he can’t lose you. He couldn’t bear to watch that disgust fill your eyes, that revulsion as you saw him for what he truly is: a man with a heart full of shame, but aching for you all the same.

He writes with a fever, the words coming too quickly for him to even think them through. He’s confessing things he’ll never have the courage to say to you. The way you make him ache, how wrong it feels, how unnatural it is to want you this way. You’re so young, so vibrant, so full of life. How could someone like him, an old man, a man of logic and reason, ever think he could want someone like you?

And yet, it’s all he can think about. It’s all he does think about.

God help him, he wants you.

Stanford’s hand trembles as he writes fast.

“The way she seems to lean closer with every word I speak, as if I’m some kind of god to her. I can’t breathe when she’s near, but I can’t stand being away from her either.”

He’s sickened by it, disgusted by the way his hands ache for you, by how his thoughts run into places he can’t control. But even so, he thinks, I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting you.

“If only she knew what I was dreaming about, how I want to erase all layers of distance between us. I want to melt into her, touch every inch of her skin, as if she was made to belong to me, only to me.“

Ford can’t let you know how deeply he feels, how far he’s fallen for someone like you, someone so out of reach, someone who might never look at him the way he looks at you. Because if he did, if he let those words slip from his lips it would ruin you. It would break you.

And he can’t do that.

Not to you.

So, he writes. He writes because it’s the only way he can make sense of the mess inside of him. The only way he can be close to you without breaking everything.

“God, if she knew, she'd never see me as anything but the perverted old man I am.”

“God help me. . . I want her breathless. I want her shaking, clinging to me as I bury myself inside her, feeling every inch of her wrap around me like she was made for this. I want her to be mine. The years between us be damned—”

One sentence, scribbled with shaking hands: “if she knew how much I want to make her come on my cock while explaining the fundamental laws of interdimensional, she’d never look at me same way again”

“I want her shaking, spent, marked by me, by the man twice her age who should know better but can’t help himself.”

“I picture teaching her how to harness interdimensional energy, but my mind twists it, images shifting until it’s my body pressed to hers, whispering “concentrate sweetheart,” while I trust into her from behind. Her breath would stutter as I correct her technique with my hands on her hips.”

“I shouldnt crave her, not with the years that separates us like an unyielding chasm. Yet when she laughs, carefree and obvious, I imagine making her cry my name, hands guiding her hips as I thrust inside up into her, showing her exactly what an older man can do. Showing her why age doesn’t matter when she’s trembling and breathless beneath me.”

“She's got no idea, does she? I want her bent over my desk, books and notes scattered beneath her, while I thrust into her like some animal in heat, filling her over and over until there's nothing left of her but soft, pleading sounds and the way her body pulls me back in with every move. I’d guide her, make her feel exactly what it means to be touched by a man who’s twice her age and twice as obsessed.”

Meanwhile, now, alone in your room, you’re haunted by the memory of your lovely scientist, pulsing between your legs, leaving a needy ache that’s impossible to ignore. Just thinking about him, the strong lines of his hands, those six fingers that could make you see stars. . . it all sends a jolt straight through your body and suddenly, you’re melting, undone, utterly helpless to this craving for him.

You let yourself fall back into your bed, eyes closed, his presence wrapping around you like a ghost you can’t shake off. You can’t even catch a steady breath now, the dampness pooling between your thighs, every inch of you begging to be touched — not by yourself, no. You need him, his skilled, explorative touch, those six clever fingers. The memory of every stolen glance, every careful brush of his hand, it all coils up inside, a slow, delicious torment, and now it’s throbbing there, heavy with need.

You drag your fingers down the length of your body, tracing where his hands might go as you imagine him, his fingers slipping lower, finding that sweet, drenched ache and grazing it with a delicate touch that he’d know so damn well. 'Fuck,' you’d gasp, his name like a prayer on your lips as his six fingers roam, rough and relentless, pressing right against that needy opening, filling you up until you’re nothing but breathless whimpers and cries for more.

“God, sweetheart,” you hear his voice, “I’ve wanted this for so damn long. Do you feel that? How hard you make me?” and then he’d press his cock between your legs, hot veins throbbing against your entrance, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he tells you what a beautiful mess you’ve become for him.

Your fingertips brush over your clit as you imagine his hand there, gentle but insistent, exploring you with that scientist's curiosity, his six fingers pressing slow, circling that sensitive bud, coaxing soft gasps from your lips. “Let me feel you. Take it slow, sweetheart. Let me make you mine.” but even as you touch yourself now, imagining his fingers in place of yours, it’s still not enough

You arch from own hand, fingers gliding through the wetness now slick and ready, you press a little harder on your clit, circling it faster, imagining the way his hands would dig into your skin, his strong arms wrapped around you as he thrusts into you, “take it all, darling. Every inch of me.”

And by some lucky chance, Ford stands outside your door, his pulse slamming hard against his ribs, a wreck of a man just clinging to sanity. The sound of you — all gasping, breathy moans slipping through the thin wood, whispering his name in that desperate little voice — he can’t help himself as his hand flies up to the doorframe, his fingers digging in so hard they’re going white, knuckles taut, trying to keep himself together. 

But the universe is laughing at him, at his pathetic attempt at control, at the sheer uselessness of his restraint, because fuck, every gasp you make sinks its teeth into him.

Something hot runs through him, then it sinks low, thickening in his chest, then spreads down between his legs. His cock twitches, rock-hard and aching, straining against the fabric, pressing hard, begging for the attention he keeps denying it. He shouldn’t be here — hell, he should be miles away by now, somewhere that isn’t two inches from falling apart at the sound of you! But he’s not. He’s a goddamn mess, held hostage to the way you’re sighing his name.

“Fuck, sweetheart. . .” he’s going insane out here.

Ford knows how you look right now, imagined it thousands of times, laid out on your bed with those soft thighs parted, hands trailing down, fingertips grazing over warm, damp skin, teasing yourself open, getting yourself wet just for him. Fuck, he thinks, I shouldn’t be this fucking desperate.

Ford lets his hand slip down, pressing hard against the hardness straining in his trousers, feeling himself throb against his own palm. There’s no relief, just that painful, growing ache that has him grinding his teeth, biting back the low, broken sound that wants to rip free from his throat. He’s a man undone, ruined just by the thought of you, the image of you with your legs open, your body calling out for him like he’s the only one you need.

“Jesus, fuck. . .” his free hand reaches down, trembling as he slides it beneath his waistband, wrapping around the throbbing heat of his cock, feeling himself swell, hard and pulsing against his palm. It’s wrong, so wrong to be here, touching himself to the sound of your little whimpers, but fuck if he can stop.

The sounds coming from your room grow louder and it’s too much for him. He’s already so fucking close as he imagines himself on top of you, sinking inside you, feeling your cunt wrapped tight and hot around him, your body arching, your hands clawing at his back, those delicate fingers pulling him close, begging him not to stop. 

Ford’s back collides with the lab door as he stumbles in, chest heaving, adrenaline of hearing his name on your lips. He locks the door behind him.

Fumbling hands tug at his belt, fingers clumsy, impatient, tearing at the fabric as it’s the only thing standing between him and relief. Finally, the belt slides free, and he wraps a shaky hand around his cock, swallowing down a low hiss as the raw heat of his own skin meets his grip. 

He strokes himself roughly and desperately, letting his thumb graze the sensitive tip with a ragged groan that he’s helpless to contain. His mind runs further, and he pictures you, perfect and pliant, sinking to your knees before him with eyes so innocent, with lips parting as you take him into your mouth. As you let him fuck your throat.

A shiver runs through him and he leans his head back, sighing, groaning and grunting louder as he loses himself in the fantasy. God, if you only knew. If you could see him like that, a desperate moaning and trembling mess with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock. 

“Ahh— ffuck,” hell, just how much he wants to hear you make those sounds too, moan for him, he wants to feel you beneath him, warm and soft, clinging to him, legs tangled around his waist as he sinks into you. His strokes become faster. Ford imagines pressing you down onto the lab table, your dripping pussy welcoming him as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper until there’s no part of you he hasn’t claimed. His breath hitches, hips bucking into his hand as he imagines the way your walls would tighten around him, clenching, pulling him in. 

He’s shaking now, barely able to hold himself together, his free hand clutches at the edge of the workbench, knuckles white, as he lets himself sink fully into the fantasy. You’d look so damn perfect spread out for him. Ford’s hand moves faster, tighter, fueled by the image of you writhing beneath him, helpless, pleading, so sweet and open, absolutely his, his beautiful girl, sweetest thing. 

The pressure building until he can’t take it anymore. His hips jerk, a loud needy moan spilling from his lips as he cums, his body shuddering with release. For a few long, breathless seconds, everything fades: his mind, his shame, everything but the overwhelming, blinding wave of pleasure.

***

The morning breaks, a new day arriving, one that promises to be spent with Ford close by— and, isn’t that something to look forward to?

When you meet Stanford, the first thing you hear is, “Did you not learn anything from last time?“

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but before you can protest, Ford is stepping closer, his coat swishing around him as he moves. The wool of his scarf unravels with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, it’s over your shoulders, the warmth of it spreads around your neck. You want to say something, but all you can focus on is the way Ford’s thumb traces the edge of the scarf, his touch so delicate it feels too intimate for something so simple.

This shouldn’t feel like it does, you think, but your body screaming what your mind refuses to admit.

“There,” Ford says, stepping back. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I thought you checked the forecast this time,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t today supposed to be sunny?”

Ford crosses his arms with a smile. “Yes, well. . . One can never be too cautious. After all, last time—“

“—last time, I nearly froze my ass off,” you finish, the laughter bubbling up between you and Ford shoots you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond, like he’s about to scold you but can’t help himself.

“I wasn’t going to put it quite so crudely,” he says, but that reluctant chuckle escapes him before he can hide it.

When the sun climbs higher, the forest around you changes in hues of gold, the leaves thinning just enough to let the light filter through in soft rays. You walk side by side, close enough to hear the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps in the fallen leaves and Ford’s murmured observations, but it’s all you can do not to lose yourself in him. His words float past, about terrain, weather, anomalies and predictions, but your mind doesn’t follow, not when your eyes keep straying to him.

You can’t help but wonder if there’s any room left for you in his head, if he ever thinks about anything other than those damned anomalies. A piece of you wants to shake him, to pull him from his thoughts, to remind him that life is more than equations and mathematics. But, god, there’s something so cute about him when he’s like this, so fully consumed by his world, and you can’t look away.

“You’re thinking about something,” Stanford starts, pulling you out of your trance. “Is it the anomaly, or. . .?”

“Just wondering what it is we’re actually tracking. I mean, last time it disappeared before we could even get a good look, so. . . what’s the plan if it shows up again?”

Ford’s face lights up with approval at your question. “It’s an elusive creature, no doubt,” and again, his voice slips into that familiar lecture tone, one you’ve learned to love despite yourself. “But this time, I have a better understanding of its behaviour. The rain threw it off last time, but if my theory is correct, today’s dry weather should keep it on course! And if we can corner it near the ravine, there’s a chance we might get a clear reading on its—”

“Ford,” you interrupt, he stops talking, his brow lifting slightly. “I mean, yes— corner it near the ravine,” you repeat. Wait, what did you just say? 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ford asks, smiling at you. “If you’re still tired from yesterday, I can handle this on my own.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, crossing your arms as you look at him defiantly. "Oh, please. I said I could do this a thousand times over with you and still keep up,” you challenge.

He laughs again and his laughter is so damn cute. “That, I don’t doubt.”

Time pass and as you walk beside Ford, your mind drifts, you're not really thinking about the anomaly or the hunt anymore. No, your thoughts are elsewhere. Again. Somewhere they shouldn’t be, but there they are. You can’t help but notice the way the sun highlights the strands of silver in Ford's hair, the curve of his shoulders as he walks, his posture so effortlessly confident and strong. And you think about how much you liked the way his body looked in the rain yesterday, when the wetness clung to his clothes and made every line stand out even more. 

You sigh inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye. The weather, as perfect as it is, only makes you feel a bit wistful. Why did it have to be sunny today? You had been hoping for more rain. The kind of rain that soaked him through and made his clothes cling to his skin, the droplets tracing the curves of his chest. That was a sight you’d never forget. But today sun is too bright, too cheerful.

The soft breeze brushes your hair against your face, and you snap out of your thoughts just as you see the clearing ahead. Ford slows his pace, his gaze scanning the area with his usual calculated precision. And just as yesterday, air here feels different, as if charged. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the unease settling in. This is it, the spot where the anomaly was last seen. But, of course, there's nothing. The clearing is quiet, calm, completely empty.

Ford steps forward, looking around with a frown, muttering something under his breath. You stand there for a moment, waiting, listening to the wind rustle through the branches and the distant call of a bird. But there's nothing. 

“Where is it?” you ask and Ford turns to you, his expression calm but with that familiar hint of worry in his eyes, the kind that usually only surfaces when he’s feeling frustrated. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, though his voice sounds more like he’s trying to reassure himself than you. He straightens up, adjusting his glasses. “The anomaly will show itself. We’ve got all day to catch it.” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

All day with Ford? 

Your heart skips a beat and you have to fight to keep your expression neutral. What could be better than spending the entire day with him, just the two of you in this quiet, secluded place? No distractions, just you and Ford, and the anomaly that might never show up.

It takes a little more time while you and Ford are waiting for the anomaly to appear and so, a dialogue ensues.

“I’ve seen some more strange things. In all my years of research, there have been anomalies of all shapes and sizes. Creatures from dimensions we can’t even begin to understand. Some are harmless, just curious things that wander around, never meaning to cause harm. Others. . . Others are far more dangerous. I've seen creatures that could tear through steel without breaking a sweat. Their behavior is— well, unpredictable.”

“What about the really dangerous ones?”

“There's one anomaly, one creature that I’ve encountered that still haunts me, to this day.” he looks away for a moment, as if weighing the decision to tell you more. “a beast unlike any other. Its skin is like iron, nearly impenetrable. And its mind is relentless. It doesn’t think like us. It doesn’t have the ability to reason, only the ability to kill and survive.”

Wow, you already can see it in your mind — a massive, hulking creature, covered in jagged, metallic plates, its eyes wild with an animalistic hunger.

“And you’ve seen it?”

Ford nods slowly. “Yes, once. And it wasn’t an experience I care to repeat.” and then he calls you by your name. “Listen, if we encounter anything dangerous, you stay behind me. Don’t try to be a hero, don’t try to ‘help out.’ I’ve trained for this. I know these creatures; I know their instincts and behaviours. You. . . you don’t. It’s crucial that you follow my lead.”

“I’m not helpless, you know,” you mumble, folding your arms. “I can handle myself.”

But Ford only smirks, oh how cute you are. “And if you ever find yourself lost between dimensions, the key is to stay calm. Panicking is a surefire way to make yourself vulnerable. Reality in those places doesn’t play by the same rules. Your mind can trick you, distort what you’re seeing” 

You stare at him, a mixture of awe and confusion washing over you. “Well, thanks, Ford, for the guide on how to travel through dimensions and fight the monsters that live in them.”

“Years of experience. Sometimes the hard way. But you don’t need to worry about that, alright? Just stick close, keep your wits about you, and we’ll make it out just fine.” he smiles.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, your gaze dropping to the forest floor. “You’re. . . you’re Stanford Pines. You’re used to dealing with this kind of thing. Me? I’d probably end up wandering off into some other dimension if I so much as blink wrong.”

He chuckles softly, and you feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then— crack. A twig snaps somewhere in the trees to your left. The sound is sharp, distinct, echoing through the quiet forest.

Your heart skips a beat and you instinctively grip Ford’s arm, eyes widening. He tenses, immediately going on alert as his gaze darts toward the source of the noise. “Stay behind me.”

You swallow, nodding as you press yourself close to him. Ford moves slowly, keeping himself between you and the sound, his shoulders squared, every muscle tense and ready.

Another rustle, this time from the other side. You bite your lip, feeling the cold prickling sensation of fear clawing up your spine. This doesn’t sound like a bunny, not in the slightest.

The sounds grow louder, surrounding you both. Ford’s posture tightens, his gaze focused and determined, while you hover close behind him, whatever lurks in the shadows isn’t friendly, and Ford, as always, stands ready to protect you at any cost.

Suddenly, Ford raises a hand, signaling for you to stay still. One. . . two. . . three—

A small, furry creature darts out of the bushes, a pudgy raccoon, more plump and inquisitive than fearsome. It scampers out, blinking innocently at you both and you feel sigh with a relief.

You slip out from behind Ford, who’s still standing rigidly, eyeing the raccoon with disbelief. “Well, would you look at that,” you say, glancing up at him with a slight grin. “Our terrifying forest intruder was just looking for a snack, huh?”

“Don’t get too close,” Stanford warns, still frowning. “These things are rarely alone.”

You laugh softly, crouching down and letting the raccoon sniff at your hand. “Oh, come on, Ford. You really think this little guy is hiding—”

The words die in your throat as you catch the look on his face, his eyes wide with sudden horror, mouth open as he shouts, “behind you!” and you whip around just in time to see something that makes your heart freeze, a hulking mass with matted fur and claws like daggers, looming in the shadows. Its eyes flash like yellow lanterns and a rank smell hits you, earthy and rotten all at once. You barely manage a step back before it lets out a furious roar, its maw wide enough to fit a head and then some. The sound is so loud it rattles through you and a splatter of spit flies from its jaws, landing on your clothes. You go stock-still.

“Th-that’s. . .” you stammer, but Ford’s voice interrupts you, calm and steady despite the chaos.

“Stay calm. It’s eyesight’s weak, but sound-sensitive. Just— slowly step back.”

You barely have time to take in his words before the beast’s head snaps toward you again, snarling with an intensity that shakes the trees. Immediately, Ford pulls out his gun, aiming directly at the creature, he fires off a round that echoes through the forest, hitting the beast and it lets out a howl of pain that sends birds scattering from the treetops. But it’s still very much alive, and now it looks angry, furiously angry. The monster's gaze is fixed on Ford with a vengeful glare, and he rushes towards him with a blood-curdling growl.

Ford stands firm, taking careful aim as he readies to fire again. But just as he steadies his grip, a branch underfoot shifts, making him stumble. The gun slips from his hand, landing somewhere in the tangle of roots and leaves and suddenly, he’s weaponless, the monster mere feet away.

Panic flares in your chest as you see the creature, claws poised, ready to strike. Ford scrambles back, but it’s too close, and something snaps inside you. Without thinking, you dart forward, adrenaline flooding through you and you grab a thick branch from the ground. With a yell that’s as much out of fear as it is determination, you swing it at the creature with everything you have, landing a blow that momentarily distracts it from Ford.

But that monster retaliates, slashing out in a blind fury and suddenly you feel the sting of claws raking across your leg. Pain flares sharp and hot, but you grit your teeth, ignoring it, keeping yourself steady enough to stay upright.

Ford seizes the moment, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and fear as he snatches his gun from the ground, turning back to the creature. His voice is hoarse but resolute, “what are you doing?” he shouts irritably, calling your name again. “I told you to listen to me!”

With a final, controlled shot, he fires, the bullet hitting its mark. The monster lets out an agonized cry, staggering back before it turns and lumbers off into the dense woods, its snarl fading into the distance.

The adrenaline ebbs, leaving you and Ford alone in the sudden silence. His gaze finds yours, mad and worried all at once, his hand reaching out to steady you as your breathing finally starts to slow.

Ford’s face twists with frustration, jaw clenched tight and when he speaks, his voice is seething with barely controlled anger. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, charging in like that! I told you to stay back!”

You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, not out of embarrassment or fear, but because, god, he’s hot when he’s angry, with that fire in his eyes and his tone like a damn storm. You force yourself to stay upright, despite the dull ache pulsing in your leg. “Ford, it’s fine. I just wanted to—”

But he’s already looking at you, really looking, his gaze flicking from your face to the way you’re leaning on your uninjured leg. “You’re hurt,” his tone dips from anger to something softer and worried. “Damn it, I should’ve never brought you out here. I’m such an idiot—“

“No, Ford, it’s just a little—” you try to brush him off, waving your hand dismissively, but as you shift your weight, a sharp bolt of pain shoots through your leg. You bite back a wince, forcing a smile. “Just a scratch, really.”

“Don’t even think about hiding this from me,” Ford turns annoyed and dead serious again, he steps closer as he assesses you, and there’s something really fierce in the way he insists, “Let me take a look. Now.”

For a moment, you think about arguing. But the pain flares again and you realise there's no winning against that look in his eyes. With a sigh, you give in, nodding reluctantly as you show him your new wound, from where the blood has already soaked into the fabric, turning it dark red.

Ford’s face changes instantly. “Damn it,” his hand hovers uncertainly like he wants to reach out, to touch, but doesn’t quite know where to begin. “This is— this isn’t just a scratch.”

His fingers finally settle gently around your calf, supporting you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he examines the wound. You can feel his pulse under his fingertips, it’s obvious he’s anxious, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the Ford who always has the answers.

“This was my fault, I shouldn’t have— damn it, I should’ve kept you safe.”

***

The journey back to the shack feels agonizingly silent. Ford has one arm around your waist, nearly carrying you as you limp along, every step makes the wound throb in your leg. The sting, the ache, it’s all mingling with a sick sense of regret. You feel it settling in your chest. The whole day had been a disaster. You both went out to catch that anomaly, that one lead he was so excited about. . . and instead, you ended up facing something brutal. The monster had nearly killed you both.

Ford hasn’t spoken a word since the forest and with each passing second, it gnaws at you more. The thought appears in your mind, he must regret it. Bringing you along, letting you be there, yeah. . . he’s mad and not in the way you find hot. He’s distant, still supporting you, guiding you with a firm hand, but it’s as though he’s somewhere else entirely.

When you finally make it to the Shack, you find it blessedly empty. No Stan’s loud jokes or questions to break the heavy silence between you. Ford helps you to walk, still wordless and the whole way, you’re trying to find something to say. Some excuse, some apology, but every time you look over at him, you just see that grim look and you stop yourself.

Inside, he lets you sit on the couch. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak, to try to lift that heavy cloud around you. “Ford, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go that way. I didn’t mean to—”

But Ford cuts you off. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I should never have let you come along, I put you in danger.”

That serious tone. . . You nod, saying nothing more and after a beat of silence, you get up slowly, mumbling something about heading to your room. Ford doesn’t stop you, and he watches you go, still worried as fuck, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s rooted there, expression tight as he watches you limp down the hall.

When you get to your room, you close the door softly behind you, but the pain in your leg has started pulsing heavier, sharper, demanding your attention. You look down and finally decide, you’re going to check it, even if just to prove to yourself that Ford’s look wasn’t warranted, that maybe you’re not as bad as he seemed to think.

You settle on the edge of your bed, carefully and slowly taking your pants off, but as you pull the fabric, the sight that greets you isn’t reassuring in the slightest. The cut on your thigh is deep, seeping a fresh, dark line of blood that’s begun to smear against your skin. “Fuck. . .” you curse, tilting your head to get a better look, your fingers hovering over the edges of the wound. Just as you’re mentally preparing to find the first aid kit, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“No, please, just— let me help still. I won’t be calm until I—”

In the midst of your concentration, you hear the faintest creak of the door, and before you can even react, it opens. 

You barely have a moment to react, still sitting on the edge of your bed, the bloody gash on full display as Ford steps inside, eyes widening as he looks at you. He freezes and for a moment, you both just stare at each other in silence. You’re sitting there in your panties and a t-shirt, and you don’t know if to be happy or not, realising how exposed you must look. Ford’s gaze flickers to your bare legs, to the wound on your inner thigh.

You cross your legs in shock and embarrassment. “Ford, what—” you start, but he quickly raises a hand, cutting you off.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Ford approaches, he kneels beside the bed, looking up into your eyes. “I— I can’t just leave you like this,” he pleads. “Please. . . let me help.”

“Ford—“

Ford’s hands hover over your leg. “You need to stop the bleeding, disinfect it, make sure it doesn’t get infected. It’s going to hurt, but, I can help. I’ll be gentle. Just let me. . . please.”

His eyes search yours, a quiet desperation in them that seems to say more than just his words ever could. Ford may be brilliant when it comes to the unknown, but in moments like this, when it’s you that’s hurt, he’s lost, even if he tries to sounds smart. He doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to fail you.

Slowly, you nod, the vulnerability in his gaze too much for you to ignore.

“Alright,” you whisper. “but be careful, okay?”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Wrong Person (College AU!)

Hockey player!Cregan Stark x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond's girlfriend has a group project with the man he hates the most, Cregan Stark.

Warning: abuse, domestic violence, alcohol consumption, implied smut, implied fighting, smoking, angst; characters generations/ages don't quite make sense but basically everyone is 20 in this

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

A/N Hey guys, I know its been a while. Some of you may have figured out I stop posting as much when school picks up but here’s something I’ve been slowly piecing together

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Aemond’s door. Softly, but not so soft he would miss it. Immediately the door swung open and I was met with Aemond’s eternally neutral expression. I felt my own heart sink as he yet again didn’t greet me with a smile. “Hey,” I greeted shyly, feeling my lips quirk up into a smile despite how disappointed I repeatedly found myself.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, stepping aside to let me through. I walked past him, finding his dorm just as I always did. It was surprisingly clean for a guy’s college dorm but Aemond was pretty tidy. Coming up behind me, he gently lifted my bag off my shoulder, placing it on the desk chair before moving me towards his bed.

I suddenly found myself wishing Criston, his roommate, was here. “Oh I actually need my-”

“What?” Aemond snapped, cutting me off.

I stared up at him for a second, trying to register just how angry he was. Finding no real, threatening anger I decided to answer him. “It’s just, I, uh I have to wrap up something quick for that project. Cregan just-”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his eyes. He walked around me, flopping onto his bed with an annoyed expression. “All I fucking hear is about Cregan fucking Stark and your project. You’ve been doing this project for like two months.”

I found my arms wrapping around myself but stopped. Aemond hated when I did that. “Stop acting like I’m gonna hurt you!” he’d say. “I’m sorry but it’s a semester long project,” I explained for the hundredth time.

“I don’t see why you had to partner with him,” Aemond grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

“I know, but there were no other seats.” We repeated the same conversation we’ve had dozens of times throughout this semester.

Walking into Tyrell Hall, I checked my phone. One minute until class started. Cursing, I rushed up to the second floor, quickly locating classroom 221B. Entering the room, I let out a huff seeing that every seat was filled. Scanning the room for a glimpse of an open seat, I observed my classmates. I waved to the few I knew, girls from my freshman year residence hall, some people who ran in Aemond’s circle, a few I didn’t know, and then the hockey team. They all sat in the rear corner of the room, with the only seat left being right next to their captain, Cregan Stark. Glancing at the professor, I found her looking at me expectantly so I reluctantly headed to the back of the room, trying to disappear into my hair as I walked past the hockey team.

“Now that we’re all here,” the professor started, “make sure to get to know your desk partner. You’ll be working with them all semester.” Shit.

I looked to my left, finding Cregan already giving me a shit eating grin. “Oh this is gonna be fun,” he smiled, knowing how much Aemond hated the athletes.

Aemond just got quiet, biting his lip as he looked down at his crossed arms. “C’mon, don’t be mad,” I begged, getting up on the bed. I no longer thought about it. We had been through this routine so many times I just acted. I laid on his bed, practically on top of him as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. “I hate it too but it’s only for one semester.”

Aemond huffed, uncrossing his arms so he could lay one across my shoulder, nestling me further into his chest. He didn’t say a word, rather he just looked at me. His expression wasn’t expectant but I knew what he wanted. Pushing my body up, I connected my lips to his. He immediately escalated it, turning so he could place one hand on my jaw, the other on my waist as he moved to be on top of me.

Managing to pull away slightly, I looked up at him, his lips still so close I could feel his labored breath. “Aemond, I want to, I really do,” I tried to keep him from getting mad, “but I have-”

“Is this about your project?” he interrupted me, still so close I could feel the sharpness of his breath as he got angrier.

“No,” I assured quickly. “I have a history assignment. Besides, doesn’t Criston get back from class soon?”

“I don’t care,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “Here,” he said, leaning over me to his bedside table to grab his phone. He typed out a quick message, only briefly showing it to me before tossing it back onto his bedside table. “You can do your work tomorrow morning before class.” His words phrased as a suggestion but holding the weight of a command. He connected his lips to mine again, wasting no time slipping his hand up my shirt.

~

Sitting in class, I tried my best to ignore Cregan. The first half of class was always dedicated to lecture, with the second half going to working on our project. I was keenly aware of Cregan’s eyes flickering toward me every few moments as well as Aemond’s friends a few rows ahead. I just kept my gaze firmly on my notes and the professor’s slides.

Finally, the professor reached the end of her slides. “Okay, that wraps up today’s lecture. Turn to your partner and continue working on your projects. Remember: you should be submitting an outline to me by Monday.”

As I turned towards Cregan, making sure to keep my hair covering my neck, I caught a glimpse of Aegon’s watchful eye. Remembering Aemond, I turned to Cregan’s wolfish grin, refusing to return it. Undeterred, he leaned closer to me. “Hey, I saw you were working on the doc at five a.m. What were you doing up at that hour?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Oh, I couldn’t get to it last night so I woke up early to work on it,” I shrugged. I tried my best not to dwell on the fact that he had noticed that. And judging by his furrowed brows, I tried to ignore the fact that he was concerned about me. “Why were you up at that hour?” I returned, immediately feeling guilty for engaging him.

Cregan’s smile widened. “I was up for hockey practice and got the notifications. Speaking of which, are you coming to the game tonight?”

I sent him a look. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Cregan’s lips fell into a pout. He actually pouted at me like a dog. “C’mon, I want the girl who’s carrying me through this project there.” I just let out a breathy laugh, trying to dismiss his insistence, but thoughtlessly moved my hair, exposing the hickies Aemond had made a point to leave. Beside me, Cregan’s eyes widened. “Woah,” he exclaimed. I felt embarrassment consume me and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole in that moment as I quickly replaced my hair back where it was. “Wow, someone wants everyone to know you have a boyfriend,” Cregan chuckled.

“Cregan,” I began, ready to tell him off. The mortification must have been written all over my face because his expression morphed into silent sympathy as I looked at him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his notes for a second before turning his attention to my laptop screen. “So where are we on the outline?” he asked. He looked back up, meeting my gaze and I gave him a soft smile of thanks before returning to the project.

~~

Cregan looked up at the stands full of students. Peering in the student section, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find the stands void of his health sciences partner.

“C’mon man, you had to know she wasn’t coming,” Benjicot Blackwood, Cregan’s best friend, interrupted his thoughts. “You know Aemond would never let her come.”

Cregan shrugged. “He’s not in charge of her. She could come.”

“Cregan,” Benji stopped his best friend, becoming very serious for once. “You know he basically controls her every move right? You had to have noticed. She basically hasn’t talked to anyone except Aemond and his friends since like October last year.”

Cregan stopped to think. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she had used to be one of the most well liked people at the university. But now, she really only had a reputation for being Aemond fucking Targaryen's girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that she of all people even looked at that silver haired prick twice.

Seeing his best friend’s dismay, Benji felt bad knowing that Cregan had had a crush on the girl since he first saw her freshman year. “Hey,” he caught his friend’s attention. “Larys told me Aemond and his little cult are going to Phi Gamma Delta tonight. Even if she isn’t there you could ‘accidentally’ spill some beer on Aemond.”

Cregan sent a mischievous look to his friend, a small smile quirking on his lips.

~

“So where are we going?” I asked Alicent as she curls my hair.

“Phi Gamma Delta,” she explained, putting down the hot wand and spraying hair spray all over me.

“Are the guys coming with us?” I asked, turning to her as she took the curling wand to her own hair.

“Yeah, Harwin is going to let the guys in,” Alicent explained, flawlessly curling her brown locks.

I stood up from her bed, going to my bag to grab my outfit. But as soon as I pulled it out, Alicent turned toward me with wide eyes. “Oh no, I already have something for you to wear so we can match,” she came up with on the spot.

“Thanks but I haven’t gotten to wear this since like first semester sophomore year,” I said, holding up the backless top. I didn’t say the quiet part out loud, I hadn’t worn it since Aemond and I got together.

“Yeah but I’m wearing a long sleeve,” Alicent said, standing up from her desk and holding up her sheer top.

“Another time,” I promised her. Grabbing my clothes, I headed for her bathroom, quickly changing into the top and my black jeans that I had cleaned beer off of so many times.

Entering the room again, Alicent had a slightly sour attitude as she finished off her hair. But I just ignored it, determined to have a good night as I got started on my makeup. Once the both of us were ready, we headed to Aemond’s room where all the guys were waiting for us.

I knocked, being louder this time so as to overcome the music that was already blasting. The door swung open, revealing Criston. “Hey!” he greeted the two of us excitedly. “The girls are here,” he announced to the very crowded dorm room.

Aemond pushed his way to the front of the room, a beer fueled smile on his face. But it dropped as soon as he saw me. My heart immediately sunk seeing his expression but he just grabbed my arm, dragging me into the dorm somewhat harshly. Before I could even speak, he was already barking orders at me. “Go grab a drink, I’ll talk to you in a second,” he spat. Disheartened and slightly scared, I went over to Criston’s desk which was lined with booze.

Aemond turned his attention to Alicent, seething. “I thought she was wearing that one long sleeve top,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I tried to make her take it but she wouldn’t,” she defended. “I could’ve told her it was you insisting she wear it,” she threw back with a quirked brow.

Aemond just sent her a glare before going back to his girlfriend. “Hey,” he greeted, an arm slipping around my waist to bring me to face him. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad earlier its just… this top,” he said, tugging at the fabric, “is… well its basically a rectangle of fabric held together by one string,” he explained. His fingers now finding the back of my top, tugging at the string to where it almost came untied to make his point.

I averted my eyes, gaze flickered down, shame coursing through me. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I loved this top.”

“I know, baby. And I’m not trying to control what you wear just, keep close to me tonight. Not all the guys there will respect you,” he said, giving another tug to the string of my top before stepping away towards his friends.

Feeling slightly disoriented and embarrassed, I headed to the bathroom in order to fix the top before returning to the pregame, trying to forget the earlier conversation with cheap booze.

After a few more moments, Aemond had declared that it was time for us to all go to the frat. As we all headed over, Aemond had his arm slung across my shoulder. By the time we reached the house, I was shivering thanks to all my exposed skin, and slightly wishing I had listened to Alicent.

As soon as we entered, Alicent grabbed my hand, dragging me to the dance floor as the DJ started to play Super Bass. It wasn’t long after we had been jumping around on the dance floor that Aemond found me again, moving to stand behind me with one hand around my waist and the other holding a beer.

After a couple songs, I felt Aemond’s fingers tap on my hip before his lips came up behind my ear. “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Be safe,” he advised before taking his leave, a few of the guys following him upstairs out of the basement.

I just turned back to Alicent who seemed to relieved to not have anyone hovering around her so she could let loose. I laughed as her dancing became more wild and sloppy. That was until her eyes went wide and she was looking at the staircase leading out of the basement. Confused, I turned to find the entire hockey team filling the stairway, with Cregan Stark standing at the top of the staircase.

He looked around for a moment as he descended the stairs, before his eyes settled on me and a smile broke across his face. It was as if Aemond’s training kicked in or something because I had the sudden urge to go find him but something in me kept me firmly rooted to the ground. Maybe it was the beer and god knows what other sticky substances keeping my shoes on the floor of this frat basement.

Either way, it was too late to leave because Cregan was pushing his way through the crowd towards me until he towered over me. The dancing bodies of other students being no match for his hulking frame. He stooped down, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “Hi,” he greeted, pulling away with a bright smile.

“Hi,” I returned, not even bothering to try to reach up to reach his ear.

“Where’s your owner?” he asked sarcastically.

I sent him a look when he pulled away. He just laughed, bringing his lips to my ear again. “I kid. But seriously, I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip making sure someone like me isn’t talking to you,” he teased.

This time he didn’t immediately stand up, allowing me to talk in his ear to answer. “He’s in the backyard. He’ll be out soon,” I answered.

“Well then I guess I have to make due with the time I have,” Cregan smiled. Before I could protest, his hand found mine, tugging me towards him. His grip was tight enough to move me, but not so tight that I couldn’t slip out if I wanted to.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help but move with Cregan, finding laughs building in my chest as I watched him dance. We were having a good time until all of a sudden Cregan got a serious expression on his face, standing straight up and looking toward the staircase. I didn’t even have time to follow his gaze before he grabbed my arm tugging me behind him.

“Hey! Wha-” I began to protest as I was whirled around but the words died in my throat as I realized why Cregan had gotten serious.

Currently pushing through the crowd was a murderous looking Aemond. Rather than rush to calm him like I probably should, I found myself cowering behind the hockey captain, clinging to his arm. “Stark!” Aemond barked across the crowded room, so loud everyone managed to hear it. “What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend?” he spat, getting in Cregan’s face.

“Nothing, we were just dancing,” he answered coolly. “Then you came down here looking like you wanted to murder someone.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t dance with another guy’s girlfriend next time.” He turned his gaze to me, holding out his hand expectantly. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

The fear coursing through me was screaming at me to take his hand but something wouldn’t let my body move. Cregan sent a glance back towards me before turning to Aemond. “She doesn’t wanna go with you.”

“Stay out of this,” Aemond seethed. “This is none of your business.” He then looked at me expectantly again. “We’re going,” he spat.

By now the music had died down and everyone was looking at us. Glancing around, I saw both the hockey team and Aemond’s friends coming towards us, prepared to back up their guys. “Nah, I’m not letting her go with you,” Cregan declared. “Not until you calm down.”

That just seemed to ignite a fury in Aemond. “She’s my girlfriend, Stark,” he spat through gritted teeth. “She’s perfectly fine with me and I sure as hell am not leaving my girlfriend with any of you,” he nodded to the hockey team.

“Then why does she look terrified of you right now?” Benji interjected.

“Shut up, Blackwood,” Criston spat.

All of the guys started arguing, yelling at the others to shut up. Still behind Cregan, I snapped my head behind me as I felt a gentle hand brush against mine. Turning, I found Rhaenyra looking at me with a concerned, gentle look. I just stared at her for a moment before Alicent’s voice brought me back to the conflict.

“Enough!” she got in between Cregan and Aemond. “I’m taking her back to her dorm unless all of you,” she pointed at the guys on both sides, “want to leave.”

There were some grumbles but no one protested. “I’ll go with her too,” Rhaenyra offered.

Not letting the boys fight it out even more, I spoke up. “Yeah, we’re going home,” I agreed. Stepping away from Cregan, I shakily approached Aemond. He was looking at me like I had committed some serious sin against him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. I tried to move past him but he grabbed my waist, pulling me into an aggressive kiss. I could taste the beer and smoke on his lips as he forced his lips into mine. And I had a sneaking suspicion his eyes were locked onto Cregan’s.

When he released me, I let out a shuddered breath as his hand rested on my hip. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” his voice was grave. But his hand came off my waist, as if giving me permission to walk away.

Nothing was really said as I left the frat with Alicent and Rhaenyra on my heels. They both tried to ask me multiple times if I was okay, to which I just nodded in agreement. My mind was too consumed playing out what had just happened. But as soon as we were within ten minutes of my dorm, I stopped walking and turned to the two girls behind me. “I’m good here if you guys wanna head home or back to the party. I appreciate you coming with me but I think I just need to be alone right now.”

They both sent each other a glance. “We’re not letting you walk alone at night,” Rhaenyra protested.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

They both looked at each other reluctantly before looking toward me. “Okay but, call someone if you start to feel freaked out,” Alicent said.

“I will,” I agreed, before turning on my heel and walking away.

Immediately, I pulled out my phone, afraid to see what was on there. Opening it, I was first confronted with a text from Cregan.

Hey sorry about tn If he tries anything with you let me know and I’ll handle it

My heart melted reading his messages. I wanted to cry at how sweet he had been lately, mostly because Aemond had been anything but.

Going to our messages, I found nothing. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. I’m sure my refusal to move would come up some way or another.

I swiped out of my messages with Aemond, going back to Cregan. Reluctantly, I held down on the message until the option to delete it popped up. My finger hesitated over the delete button before I hit it. Just like I had deleted all his flirty texts. Leaving nothing but the texts about our project.

~

The next morning, I was woken up by incessant banging on my door. Glancing quickly at the clock, I saw that it read eight a.m. Rushing to the door, I opened it without checking who it was because deep down, I already knew.

As the door flew open I immediately took a step back, finding Aemond practically glowing with fury. “What the hell was that last night?” he spat, storming into my room.

I backed up as he entered, the door slamming shut behind him. For the first time, I cursed the fact that my roommate went home every weekend. “Aemond, I’m-”

My words were cut off as he lunged forward, his hand coming to close around my throat. “You’re what?” he spat. “Sorry? Sorry for humiliating me? Making me look like an awful person?” But I hardly heard a word, too busy trying to process the fact that he had actually grabbed me by the throat and was choking me. But it seemed my silence angered him more as his fist became tighter and he pressed me up against the wall. My vision was beginning to fade as he crushed my windpipe even tighter. “You cowered away from your boyfriend behind Cregan fucking Stark! Do you know how that makes me look? This,” he said, referring to his hand around my throat, “is because of you. You make me out to be some abuser, fine. It can be that way,” he spat before dragging me to the floor.

I coughed and sputtered as I hit the ground. Hard. “I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out through tears and desperate gulps of air. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Aemond stood over me, bending down to get in my face. “You’re damn right you weren’t thinking straight. I’ll see you Monday and you better have fixed this attitude by then,” he said before marching out of my room.

~

That entire weekend I just flipped between numbly trying to wrap my head around what happened and sobbing violently. Every time I caught a glimpse of my bruised neck in the mirror—Aemond’s fingers clearly marked in my skin—or thought about the feeling of his hand around my throat.

I stood in the bathroom, my skin blotchy from the tears and black and blue covering my neck. I had only just managed to start being able to look at myself without immediately dissolving into sobs when my phone rang. Hesitantly, I picked it up, finding Cregan’s name scrawled across my screen. After another moment of hesitation, I answered the call. “Hello?” I answered, immediately cringing at the hoarseness of my voice.

“Hey,” Cregan’s voice came over the phone, his concern apparent. “Are you okay?” His heart was racing as he heard the scratchiness in her voice.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to clear my throat but it was no use. Between the choking and nearly two days worth of sobbing, my voice was fried. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, I’m coming over,” Cregan informed, already getting up from his bed.

“Cregan,” I began to protest.

“You’re still in Benjen Hall 514, right?” Cregan asked.

I opened my mouth to protest but the words wouldn’t fall. So instead, I gave a reluctant confirmation.

“I’ll be over in five.”

I hung up the phone, going over to my bed and slinking onto it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should try to clean myself up and hide the hand print on my neck. But if I hod it, what life was I resigning myself to?

I didn’t have much time to act because there was a knock at my door. I found myself rushing to open the door, despite my resistance to being seen by anyone. But either way, I opened the door, quickly ushering Cregan inside before letting it shut again, once again hiding Aemond’s act from the world.

After observing my room for a moment, Cregan turned to me. “So what’s wrong?” he asked.

I realized I was looking at the ground, effectively hiding my face and neck. After a second of hesitation, I looked up, letting him see the bruises and tear stains. His eyes widened, his jaw even dropping as he saw my state. He just stared at me for a moment before he spoke hesitantly. “Did- did Aemond do that?” he asked, horror lacing his voice. I only nodded reluctantly.

I watched the shock turn to sympathy, to hurt, to finally anger. His jaw locked and his fists curled as he took a step away from me. “That little-” he couldn’t even finish his insult he was so angry. “Did you get my text? Why didn’t you call?”

“I-” I began but I was cut off my my cringe at the sound of my own voice. “I don’t know. The past few days have just been a blur.”

Cregan stepped towards me. I flinched as he came towards me to which he immediately stopped. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he swore. He took another hesitant step forward until he was gently grasping my shoulders. “I am however, gonna beat the shit out of that deadbeat boyfriend of yours. Or should I say, ex-boyfriend.”

“Cregan,” I began, my hands finding his chest. “I-” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just broke down into sobs as I fell into his chest. In response, he just hugged me tightly, running his fingers through my hair.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he hushed me. “I swear I’ll be right back.”

~~

Cregan cringed as he knocked on room 514. His knuckles were bloody but he didn’t care. Immediately the door swung open, revealing his health sciences partner. She immediately threw herself into his arms, much to the hockey player’s joy. He hugged her tighter as her legs came to wrap around his hips. Entering the threshold of the room, he let the door fall shut behind him as her feet fell back down onto the ground. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again,” Cregan swore, his forehead resting against hers. “I promise you.”

Masterlist

[lemotmo]

hey so this has been rotting in my brain since yesterday and I'm going crazy so I need some outside perspective

im a buddie shipper and 100% believe they are perfect for each other, but sometimes it feels like buck is a better to friend to eddie than vice versa? like buck is there for eddie all the time and often goes above and beyond for him, buck gave eddie carla, was there for him during eddie/shannon troubles (s2 christmas ep), showed up to his probie ceremony in his cast, took care of him and chris during shooting, built chris a skateboard, literally saved him in the shooting, always gives him advice on relationships (told him to prioritise his happiness over chris during ana), showed him charlie at horse therapy, was there for him with his panic attacks, and then his eventual breakdown (repairing his wall), he was there at the diaz household when eddie went to texas, helped chris when eddie was at therpay, always babysists, was with eddie when the kim fiasco went down, never judged but gave good advice, he was there when chris left and even after (eg s8 chris bday zoom party)

if we compare this with the times eddie supports buck its not nearly as extensive, or oftentime his help/time comes with strings attached, eg tsunami (gave buck chris to cheer him up, but also got free childcare (twice)), with the poker (used his maths powers, but also helped cheer him up), he was just missing mostly from buck sperm donor storyline, he did help buck with donor baby trauma and all his relationship traumas, the thing is that whenever hes there for buck its often buck instigating it, he always akss for advice/help, its very rare that eddie does something completetly selfless for buck unprompted, whereas we have so many examples of buck doing that for eddie,

it rly funny when eddie complains of buck always thinking of himself/being selfish when hes consitently THE character who cares for others more than himself, im not saying buck is a perfect uwu little baby (the lawsuit for example, but even in this case the way it panned out buck took 100% of the blame, and no one even tried to understand where he was coming from except maybe Hen), or that eddie is the devil, i just want to acknowledge that buck similar to his childhood is always giving but never getting that same energy back, and that does make him a tragic character, because even in adulthood when he does have a found family he still sometimes faces the problems he did as a child, the show should actually acknowledge that buck is so used to being treated like shit he kinda takes it from everyone, and when they do get together maybe they have a conversation about this idk, sorry for the long ass rant and feel free to maybe add some counterpoints of eddie helping buck unconditionally, but this is all i could think of

Oh no no NO no NOOOO no NO no no no NO No NOOOOOOO no NO Nonny, just NO. 🤦‍♀️😬🤦‍♀️😬🤦‍♀️

Don’t drop this in my ask box Nonny. You need to back waaaaaaay up with this. You need to get rid of this bad take, because it’s absolute garbage. 😖

It seems to me that you fundamentally do not understand Eddie Diaz and how much he KNOWS and GETS Evan Buckley.

So buckle up Nonny, I’m about to take you on a walk down Eddie Diaz-lane:

Buck doesn’t need someone to feel sorry for him or to indulge him. Buck needs someone to tell him that enough is enough. That’s where Eddie comes in. He is the one who steps in and tells Buck to stop spiralling, because that’s canonically what he does. Remember how Maddie had Buck’s friends and family check up on him in shifts after the lightning strike? Eddie was the only one who said no. Why? Not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew exactly what Buck needed and it wasn’t to be pampered, but to be understood. And lo an behold, who shows up on Eddie’s doorstep at the end of the day? Buck. Ready to commit murder because he is tired of everyone walking on eggshells around him. And Eddie is the only one who knew Buck enough to know this wouldn’t end well. He knows exactly what makes Buck tick.

He knows what Buck needs or doesn’t need. He knows that Buck sometimes gets into his own head a little too much and that is when he acts and does something small and inconspicuous that will resolve the situation.

Often times Buck only sees the worst sides of a problem and he becomes blind to the good things in life. That’s when Eddie steps in and puts him firmly back on the ground again, reminding him that he is loved by his friends and family and he’ll be okay.

Do you remember whose voice Buck heard when he disassociated in the scene with Gerrard? Eddie’s was most prominent. Why? Because he knows he can always count on Eddie to get him out of his spirals. Eddie understands him on a fundamental level. Throughout the whole time that Gerrard was the Captain of the 118, Buck was struggling while Eddie kept his cool. We saw him hovering near Buck a lot of the time, trying to give him some advice, but mostly he offered him silent support.

It’s at these difficult times when Eddie comes in and NO Nonny, this does not come with any strings attached. Yes, Eddie barged in and told Buck to take care of Chris before the tsunami, but not to get free child care. That was just an excuse, a little white lie. No, this was because he knew that Buck was wallowing in self-pity and he wanted to get him out of that pit. He told him that Chris never ever feels sorry for himself and that Buck should take that as an example. And it's exactly what Buck needed as well. Bringing Chris was a very clever diversion to get Buck out of the house and start living again. (Of course then they got caught in a tsunami, but that’s not the point here.)

The poker date had NOTHING to do with Eddie wanting to USE Buck’s math powers. I assure you, Buck is a grown man. If he hadn’t wanted to go on that poker date he wouldn’t have gone and if he hadn’t wanted to stay there, he could have just gotten up and left. Eddie wouldn’t have held it against him either, because that’s the kind of friend he is… selfless. In that episode we see that Eddie was bang on again. Buck thrived during that poker game. He had fun being the best and Eddie indulged him, keeping a close eye on him at all times. He knew exactly how to get Buck out of his funk and his spiral of self-pity.

When has Eddie ever been selfish in all of these scenarios? I’ll tell you… NEVER.

Another example: After Eddie got shot, Buck sat in that hospital chair, telling Eddie it should have been him that was shot. Eddie immediately said: OH HELL NO! He then revealed he had put in his will that Chris would go to Buck if anything ever happened to Eddie. And not just to the benefit of Chris, because we all know that boy would thrive with a caretaker like Buck, but also for Buck himself. Eddie knows that if anything were to happen to him, there wouldn’t be anyone there who understands him enough to get him out of that slump and that spiral of blaming himself. So he gave Buck a task and a goal, something to do to keep him focused and sharp. Buck would never give into self-blame if he had to take care of Chris.

Eddie has consistently been shown to be willing to step in to Buck’s messes, sitting down next to him and listening to his plight. The hospital talk after Chimney got stabbed and Buck decided it was a great idea to illegally get into Chim’s phone? Eddie sat next to him and really listened, told him that he understood, but that he was still in the wrong. Buck needed to hear that, as he was increasingly getting more and more anxious about Maddie. He needed the voice of reason.

The balcony talk, after Chim had given Buck the black eye, where Eddie reassured him that Chimney would forgive him. Sure, he did it with a joke, but again that was what was needed. That joke provided some levity to the situation. Something Buck absolutely appreciated in that moment.

Even that last scene in 8x06. Eddie had just danced in joy (and in his underwear), the bell rings and who's there? Buck, looking miserable. Eddie could have turned him away, unwilling to deal with his obvious bad mood. Instead he just welcomed him in and no words needed to be spoken. His quiet acceptance was enough to let Buck know that he would be there for him, no matter what.

Point is, Eddie Diaz KNOWS Evan Buckley to the core and there isn’t anything he isn’t willing to do for him. Nothing he has ever done for Buck came with strings attached.

And as for Buck helping Eddie out and doing all of the things you listed? That’s just the way Buck loves. He loves completely and wholly. Once you are a part of his family, he will go above and beyond for you, no questions asked. He goes to bat for Eddie again and again. Him and Chris are two of the most important people in his life and Buck loves to give selflessly to the people he loves.

So taking care of Chris, babysitting him? That’s not a hardship for him. He does it with love and joy. Showing up for Eddie with his leg in a cast? Eddie never asked him to do that. He decided to do this because of love. Helping Eddie out during and after the breakdown? He willingly stepped into Eddie’s mess because that is the way Buck loves.

I could go on and on about this, but I’ll end it here.

Bottom line is this Nonny…

NO! Eddie doesn’t wait until Buck comes to him to ask for help. He gives him some time, yes. But then, when he sees him struggling? That’s when he steps in to help him out, to care for him, to love him the way Buck deserves to be loved. The only selfishness Eddie indulges in is that he WANTS and NEEDS to see Buck happy again. Because seeing Buck happy? That is what makes Eddie happy.

So NO, he has never treated Buck like shit and he never will. Neither has anyone else on the 118 by the way. Buck was treated like shit by his parents, that’s true, but the moment he stepped into the 118 he found his family. And they always treat him with the respect and love he deserves.

I’m not going to get too deep into the lawsuit arc, because I think both Buck and the 118 made some mistakes there, but in the end they got through it, which is what a good family does. Eddie was a little prickly in the beginning sure, but he had good reason for that. Buck had hung out all of his dirty laundry to that stupid lawyer. But they got through it and their bond became even stronger. At the end of that arc I do feel like everyone in the 118 understood Buck a little better than before. So did Eddie.

So NO. They don’t need to have some kind of conversation about this ‘imaginary’ problem you think they have Nonny. They do however, need to sit down and have a conversation about what they want out of life and how to go on from there. Them having been friends for so long, the switch to become more than friends is huge. They definitely need to talk about that and about Chris’s part in that as well. Whatever decision they make and take in life, Chris will be a part of it.

*deep breath*

Okay, I feel like I got out of my system what I needed to get out.

Listen Nonny, I appreciate you taking the time to drop something in my ask box and asking for some outside perspective, but in the future? Maybe keep these very bad and wrong takes about Eddie Diaz out of my ask box and just post them on your own blog? I’m sure you’ll find people out there who will agree with you, but I am decidedly NOT that person.

Thank you kindly. 😌

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[confiaenanaa]

Can I request an angsty one where the reader and Marshall/Em/Slim (whichever you prefer) they have an argument and at one point he tells her he doesn't need her, he can have whoever he wants and they won't complain about anything like she does. And obviously she feels hurt bc it's always been an insecurity of hers that he could have anyone. And he just confirmed her fear. Hopefully with a happy ending tho🙏🏻❤️ please and thank you! Sorry it's so long lol.

needed - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall says he doesn't need her, but what does he do when he doesn't have her?

warnings: cursing, drinking

A/N: loved this request! very fun to write. if you guys want anything written, my asks are open. hope you enjoy!

-Fuck you! 

-Oh, piss off!

Shouts could be heard from the Mathers residence that night. Y/N and Marshall were arguing over something stupid, again. They seemed to be having these arguments more and more often these days. This time, however, they were arguing over Marshall’s lack of communication. He’d have a bad day, be rude to Y/N, and when she’d ask what was wrong he’d blow up at her without telling her what bothered him. Today it seemed like he’d had an extra bad day. 

…

He got home from the studio later than usual. Y/N was reasonably worried, and when she called, he wouldn’t answer. So, once he got home, she asked him a ton of questions; questions like “where were you?” “what happened?” “are you alright?”. This angered him to no end since he hates explaining himself to people.

He refused to answer questions. Y/N knew he’d probably just had a rough day so she decided to make him his favorite home-cooked meal and some hot cocoa and treat him to a lovely night at home. But, when she brought him his food and drink, he just told her he wasn’t hungry, even after seeing all the effort she was putting in for him. 

That’s when something inside of her just snapped. She set the plate and mug on the table fecklessly, spilling some cocoa in the process. Marshall seemed a bit startled, knowing Y/N doesn’t usually throw fits like this and she usually keeps her temper in check. 

-God, Marsh! Would it kill you to at least give me a thank you? I’ve tried so hard to find out what’s wrong, and you won’t tell me! What happened to me being your #1 and your best friend? And come on! Look at this meal I made for you! Can’t you see how badly I want you to let me help you? 

-Fuck! I’m sorry I’m not living up to your boyfriend standards, Y/N! But, clearly, I had a rough day so just drop it! 

-You know what Marshall? I have bad days too! But you don’t see me bitching about it and acting like a little kid every time something doesn’t go my way! And even when I do feel upset, I tell you what’s wrong! Because I actually care about your feelings and I wouldn’t want you to worry!

- Oh, so, now I don’t care?! All I ever do is care about you Y/N! I write songs about you, I buy you everything you look at to make you happy, not to mention I make you feel pretty damn good!

- It’s not about that Marsh! God, are you even listening to me?! I don’t care that you’re upset, or that you’re in a bad mood or feeling mean; I just want you to tell me! I want you to communicate with me! I want us to work through our problems calmly, without me having to shout to get your attention!

-You always say that, but you never actually do it! Whenever you’re upset you just stay quiet! So don’t go telling me how to deal with my problems because you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with yours!

-Fuck you!

-Oh, piss off!

-Fuck, Marsh! This isn’t about me! We can work through what I do, but you seriously need to stop! 

-Stop it, Y/N! Stop already! If everything I do is so terrible and wrong, then why not just break up with me already? 

-Because I love you! I care so much about you and I just wish you could see it.

-You’re just saying that because you know I don’t need your ass. You know I can get with whoever the hell I want and they won't criticize me or complain about everything I do half as much as you do!

Y/N stayed silent for a bit. Her heart dropped and she could feel the lump develop in her throat. All this time she was with Marshall, she’d had her insecurities. But, he helped her work through them slowly. He helped her make sure she knew he’d never hurt her like that.

But, now, all that hard work was out the window. With those simple words. The tears began to prick her eyes and she looked down at the floor to try and conceal it. She felt like a little girl being yelled at. She felt helpless, and small. The man who was supposed to love her the most, to protect her, had failed her. He made her feel alone.

Marshall instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him. He felt it surge from his mind up to the tips of his ears down to the points of his toes. He looked at the girl he loves, knowing how badly he just hurt her. He opened his mouth to apologize, knowing he’d gone too far and he didn’t mean it; but, before he could, she had walked past him and into their bedroom. He quickly turned on his heels to follow her. 

Y/N was grabbing a few of her things: a hoodie, her phone charger, some gum, her earbuds, and some shoes. He once again tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear it. He followed her all the way down to the garage and watched as she hopped in her car and sped off. He wasn’t sure where she was going, and, to be honest, neither was she. 

She hated herself for complaining and she hated him for being so mean to her. But, deep down, she knew she loved him more than anything and everything. She gripped her steering wheel harder, and turned up the volume of the song she was listening to. 

She pulled into the parking lot for some random bar she heard of from one of her friends. Her friend said it was the best place to go if you’re feeling sad or having a rough night. 

When she walked in, the bar looked exactly how she felt. It was dimly lit, the smell reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. There were barely enough people to call a crown in there, all sitting far apart with a drink in hand. Everyone looked glum in there, so she’d blend right in. She sat at the bar and ordered herself a few shots of rum. She downed them quickly, not feeling much different. She then ordered herself a vodka, which she kept refilling until the bartender just gave her the bottle. 

She kept feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. She assumed it was Marshall. She didn’t really want to respond, but she still looked, just in case. It was actually a text from her best friend asking what happened. Of course. Marshall texted her friend to see if Y/N was okay (since she usually goes to her best friend in times of need). Y/N decided not to answer, she was in more of a “fuck the world” kind of mood.

She set her phone down on the counter, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get home or if she was going to get home at all. Before she could continue that thought, she saw a series of texts, making her phone buzz repeatedly. 

The contact name read “marsh :)”. She truly didn’t want to speak to him at the moment. She wasn’t sure why what he said affected her this way, but it did, and he knew that. She knew she was probably just being sensitive, but she couldn’t help but feel attacked. 

She looked at her phone again and saw Marshall’s concerned text chain.

“hello?”

“babyyy??”

“look baby i’m so sorry i know i messed up big time. please call me back so i can fix this.”

She didn’t bother reading the rest. She got more texts from him and her best friend. They seemed really concerned now. It was unlike Y/N, not answering the phone. It was cold, far too cold for someone of her character. However, Y/N wasn’t in the mood or the headspace to care about her character. She was too busy trying to keep her head upright as her vision blurred a bit from the effects of the white russian she was creating in her stomach at the moment. From that point forward, she couldn’t really recollect anything that had happened. The next thing she knew, she felt a pair of strong arms lifting her up by the waist and into their arms bridal-style. 

…

The next day, Y/N woke up in her bed alongside a snoring Marshall that had his arms wrapped around her tightly. She slowly shimmied out of his embrace, head beginning to pound when she stood up. She went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table with a small tonic for hangovers in hand. 

As she was washing the cup she was just using, Y/N heard a set of booming footsteps as they pounded against the wooden staircase. She turned around to look at Marshall. He looked incredible. His hair was a bit tousled and his eyes and lips were puffy. He came down and approached her without a second thought. The first thing he did was put his lips against hers. The kiss was warm, brilliant. 

Y/N crumpled under his touch. He pulled back and smiled slightly at her. His heart grew seeing her in front of him. He smiled even wider when he saw her smile back; however, he knew he wasn’t forgiven just yet. 

-Wait, look, I gotcha something.

He quickly walked into the living room and grabbed a small box and turned to the kitchen.

-I bought this a while ago. I wanted to give it to you somewhere better but this seemed like the right time.

Y/N opened the little box gingerly, a little nervous to see its contents. Her jaw dropped a tad when she saw it. 

A small ring, diamond encrusted and the exact type of metal she wears. It was perfectly tailored to her tastes. She looked up at him, eyebrow slightly raised.

-It’s a promise ring. I know what I said last night was fucked up but I didn’t mean it at all. I love you more than anything and you know that. I could never be with anyone else knowing that you’re out there in the world. 

He took the ring out of the box and secured it onto her finger. He then kissed her hand softly. She smiled taking in the view.

Then, she knew, more than anything, that she was truly loved.

[rosie-rosem]

no doubt

❥ pairing: husband!dad!heeseung x pregnant!wife!mom!reader

❥ genre: smau!, married!au, parents!au, comfort, angst(ish)& fluff

❥ warnings: mentions of petnames (love, sweetheart & baby), pregnancy symptoms, feeling doubt, crying, mentions of being ugly, grammatical errors, not proofread, lmk if i missed something!!

———————————————————————

WC: 800

A/N: ok so it’s been a WHILE. like always, it takes me months just to get out a short fic like this 🙄 i’m so annoying and i’m so sorry. but anyway, this is for the anon who asked for a long version of the text message fic but this is more about early pregnancy symptoms and that kinda stuff, so hopefully this meets your expectations <<333 again so sorry for taking MONTHS!! also, the no doubt reference ;).

Just 2 months ago you and heeseung found out you were pregnant. It was a big shock and you felt quite scared, but heeseung quickly reassured you that you would get through it together and that he was gonna be there the whole time.

That eased your nerves a bit, but you still will always have those worries about becoming a mother and growing and birthing a child.

So far, you had been a little nauseous and had mood swings here and there, but tonight was the worst nausea you’ve had yet.

You sat up, feeling uncomfortably sick, you turned to Heeseung seeing him sleeping peacefully, you didnt want to wake him so you quietly and quickly go out of bed and ran to the bathroom before sitting by the toilet, feeling the need to puke but not being able to. You felt like crying from just the inconvenience and sick feeling coursing through your body.

After a while of sitting on the floor by the toilet, you suddenly heard the bathroom door opening.

You turned your head to see a worried heeseung. “Sorry to wake you” you groaned to yourself. He shook his head “don’t worry about me sweetheart. Are you feeling sick?” He crouched down next to you, rubbing your back softly. You nodded.

“Is there anything i can do to help?” He asked sweetly. “Could you get me some water?” You asked to which he quickly nodded and got up to get the water. After he returned he handed you the glass and you slowly drank the liquid. “Better?” He asked. “Yeah, thanks hee.” You hummed.

He stayed by your side for a while more, rubbing your shoulders and back to hopefully soothe you.

Suddenly you felt extremely nauseous again and aimed for the toilet. heeseung noticed this and quickly grabbed your long hair to avoid it from getting in the way, still rubbing and patting your back.

Once you finished, you started crying from the uncomfortable feeling and doubts you were having. “What’s wrong love, why are you crying?” He asked, turning you to face him, before wiping your hot tears.

“I hate this hee..” you cried. “i know love, I’m sorry.” He frowned at seeing you so upset. “What if i cant be a good mother to this baby?” You said. He cupped one of your cheeks, rubbing it softly. “You will be a good mother y/n. You are the sweetest, most patient person i know, and i know you’ll be the most amazing mother to this baby.” He comforted.

You looked at him before crying again. “You’re probably tired.” You said. He sighed, “Me? Baby you’ve been sitting here for how long now? You don’t need to worry about me right now, I’m doing just fine and I want to be here for you when you aren’t feeling good.” You frowned and his sweet words. “Here have some more water.” He said, handing you the glass.

After about an hour later, you were finally feeling better, and wanting to go back to bed.

After heeseung cleaned you up a bit, he walked you over the the bed and tucked you in before getting in bed beside you. He wrapped his arm around you, resting it on your tiny, growing bump. You quickly fell asleep, feeling exahausted from the past few hours.

____

In the morning, you woke up to the feeling of Heeseung’s warm body pressed against yours. His steady breathing was like a lullaby, and you couldn’t help but smile as you turned to face him. How did you manage to get stuck with someone as perfect as him, you thought. Your hand drifted to his hair, brushing softly through the strands. Just act of touching him filled you with warmth.

Heeseung’s eyes fluttered open at the soft touch, and he smiled sleepily at you. “Mmm, good morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. You quickly pulled your hand back, startled at having woken him. “Sorry,” you apologized, feeling embarrassed.

He chuckled lightly, his hand finding yours and guiding it back to his hair. “Don’t be, it felt good,” he said, his eyes soft with affection. You gave a small smile before continuing to rub his head.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, rubbing up and down your waist. You nodded. “A lot better, yeah.” You said. Heeseung sighed, as if he had been holding his breath in worry the entire night. “I’m glad. I hate seeing you like that.

“Because I look ugly?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no. Not because of that at all. I just feel bad that I can’t do more to help. Seeing you in pain makes me feel helpless, that’s all.”

You chuckled softly, the tension in your chest easing. “I was just kidding, but I appreciate it, Hee. You always know how to make me feel better.”

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. “No more doubting yourself, okay?” He said. You sighed, feeling the weight of your worries lift slightly. “I’ll try,” you whispered.

“That’s all i need to hear. We are gonna be good parents y/n, i promise.” He smiled “youre gonna be a perfect dad, no doubt.” You giggled. “Same goes for you.” He kissed you softly.

———————————————————————

© rosie-rosem

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Syx: So when I said find a hobby, I didn’t mean buy a fixer-upper.

Icarus: I know!

Syx: Ok but if you knew then why?!

Icarus: Because it’s better than half of the shitholes on the market!

Syx: I bet I could find something better. Watch.

Icarus: NO! No.

Ares: Why are you guys yelling? I have such a bad headache.

Icarus: Can’t handle your liquor anymore? 

Ares: I can leave. 

Icarus: Oh he’s cranky.

Syx: Incredibly.

Winona: Hey! Uh, sorry to bother you losers but Icarus, there’s people outside.

Icarus: Huh?

-

Icarus: Hello! 

Umber: Hi, we heard someone moved into the old house on the gulch and we wanted to welcome you. Hope you don’t mind!

Icarus: Not at all. 

Umber: I’m Umber, this is my son Wren. My wife Juniper. Talia and my sister Sienna. Wow that was a mouthful. 

Icarus: [ chuckles ] Icarus and my sister Winona. These are my friends, Syx and Ares. My grandma is…

Winona: Sleeping.

Icarus: Ah, yes.

Juniper: We brought some apple pie for all of you. 

Winona: Mom used to make this all the time! Icarus, maybe she can teach you how to bake. 

Icarus: Oh-

Juniper: Actually, Sienna here made it. I just packaged it up. 

Icarus: We’ll have to say thanks, right Winona? Winona?

Winona: Sup. You guys cool?

Wren: Probably.

Winona: Sick.

Sienna: Nice to meet the fool that bought this place.

Icarus: Uh-

Umber: Christ Sienna-

Sienna: A joke!

Icarus: I mean you aren’t wrong.

Sienna: See? He agrees. Anyways, let us know if you need any help.

Icarus: I appreciate it. 

Icarus: So how long have you lived here?

Umber: Whole life. It’s rare when people leave.

Icarus: Ah. What happened to the folks who owned this home?

Umber: Old age, a sweet couple, they never had kids. They always said the whole town was ‘nough. With no one to take care of the house, things got rough to say the least.

Icarus: I see.

Umber: [ chuckles ] How’s it coming along?

Icarus: Bad, honestly. The cleanup took a few days. 

Umber: I wonder how many trash bags it took.

Icarus: Plenty. Cleared out the store down the street.

Umber: I bet Bill loved that.

Icarus: Definitely, the guy let me take home a soda. Sun’s hot here. No one tells you that.

Umber: Wait ‘til summer.

Icarus: Oh boy. Some of the pipes were damaged and on top of that we needed an electrician.

Umber: Was it expensive?

Icarus: Very. Most of the foundation is good but I replaced a few beams. That was difficult. 

Umber: Well next time you do that, let me know. I can help you out. We don’t want the house collapsing on ya.

Icarus: Wouldn’t that be something.

Umber: You’d be in some deep shit to say the least. 

Icarus: [ chuckles ] I guess so. Wanna see the house?

Umber: Lead the way.

[diamonddaze01]

[12:38 AM]

Pairing: bsk x f!reader | wc: 1.7k warnings: crying, reader is overworked! a/n: this was 100000% inspired by @tusswrites // lowkey i need seungkwan to yell at me when i overwork myself lmao

You’re on your third hour in the library, hunched over your laptop and surrounded by a mountain of research articles, notes, and half-finished slides. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, paired with the almost oppressive silence of the empty library, only serves to amplify the tension coiling inside you. Your gaze flickers to the clock on the laptop screen—12:38 AM. Tomorrow’s presentation looms over you like a storm cloud, the ticking clock counting down to when you’ll have to stand in front of your professor, exhausted and empty, and pray you can keep it together long enough to pass.

Beside you, Seungkwan shifts in his seat, his eyes darting between you and the neglected water bottle he placed by your laptop hours ago. He had insisted on accompanying you to the library after noticing you hadn’t stopped talking about this assignment all day—ever since you got it in the middle of class, you’d been laser-focused, muttering to yourself, planning out every detail. You could tell it worried him. He’d even made a quick run to grab snacks and water, placing them strategically in front of you, like little tokens of support. But in your mind, you don’t have time for snacks or breaks. There’s too much to get through, and the pressure is almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “You haven’t touched any of the snacks I bought. At least have a few sips of water.”

You shake your head, not even glancing at him. “I’m fine. I need to focus.”

He frowns. “It’s been hours since you ate anything. And don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped lunch too.”

You sigh, fingers still flying over the keys. “Seungkwan, I don’t have time for this right now.”

He doesn’t back down, crossing his arms and leaning in closer. “You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate. Come on—just five minutes. I’ll time it for you.”

“Seungkwan,” you bite out, tension lacing your voice. “Please.”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender but doesn’t move, clearly unconvinced. Minutes pass, with him silently watching your every move, his concern palpable. You try to ignore him, hyper-focused on your screen, but his gaze feels heavy.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks up again. “Look, I get that this is important. But you can’t push yourself like this. You’ll be completely drained by morning, and then how are you supposed to do your best?”

“Oh my god, Seungkwan,” you snap, hands freezing over the keyboard as you shoot him a glare. “Can you just… stop? This is important. I don’t need you hovering over me like some kind of health monitor!”

He blinks, clearly taken aback. Hurt flashes in his eyes, and he swallows before nodding. “Oh. Okay.” He stands up, quietly gathering his things and slinging his bag over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Good luck.”

WHe grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, the sharp echo of his footsteps leaving an empty void between you. The silence he leaves behind feels louder than anything he could have said. You try to turn back to your laptop, but the guilt, thick and heavy, wraps around your chest. You shouldn’t have snapped like that. He was just trying to help. Your fingers hover over the keys, but nothing feels right. You feel stuck—stuck in your frustration and your guilt, as if you can’t do anything but wallow in the mess you've made.

Minutes drag by. The longer you sit there, the more the guilt gnaws at you, until it becomes too much to ignore. Without thinking, you push your laptop away and bury your face in your hands, trying to hold it all together. You don’t even know why you feel so overwhelmed. It's just a presentation, just an assignment... but your heart races, your breath shortens, and the pressure of it all feels suffocating.

"I'm sorry," you whisper through your hands, but you don’t even know who you're apologizing to. Yourself? Seungkwan? The quiet library? "I’m sorry, please don’t hate me."

Before you can collect yourself enough to go find him, the sound of footsteps breaks the stillness. Your head snaps up, and there he is—Seungkwan, standing in the doorway, holding a can of Celsius in one hand and a small protein bar in the other. His eyes soften when he sees you, and without a word, he places the drink and snacks on the table beside you. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch gentle, reassuring.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The tears spill over, hot and fast, and you’re suddenly choking on your own sobs. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry," you whisper over and over, barely able to breathe through the flood of emotion. "Please don’t hate me."

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. The warmth of his embrace, the steady heartbeat against your cheek—it’s more than you deserve, and yet it’s exactly what you need. The first tear slips down your cheek, followed by another, and then you’re sobbing, clutching onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

“Shh,” he murmurs softly, rubbing your back in gentle circles. “I would never hate you, baby. It’s okay.”

His words feel like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. You cry harder, the weight of the stress, the exhaustion, and the guilt all pouring out in choked sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just—there’s so much to do, and I—” Your words dissolve into hiccups as you cling to him, tears soaking into his favorite sweater, the one he wears all the time, the one that smells like home.

He doesn’t let go, holding you as tightly as if you’re the one keeping him steady. His fingers trace gentle circles on your back, and he whispers, “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just stressed, and I get it.” He glances around, noticing the curious looks from other students. When one person stares a little too long, he shoots them a sharp look, muttering, “What are you staring at?”

You manage a weak laugh through your tears, feeling a strange warmth in your chest despite everything. But then you notice the mascara streaks and the growing damp patch on his sweater, and you pull back with a fresh wave of panic. “Oh no. No, no, no—Seungkwan, this is your favorite sweater, and now it has my snot and mascara all over it!”

He lets out a soft chuckle, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Baby, it’s fine,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s just a sweater.”

“But you love this sweater!” you sniffle, fighting back another round of tears. “I—this is your favorite, and now I’ve ruined it—”

“Hey, stop that,” he says, gently wiping the tear tracks from your face with his thumbs. “It’s okay. I can wash it, alright? Let it all out; I’m here.” His voice is so tender, so steady, and it only makes you cry harder.

He holds you tighter, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering little reassurances, letting you release all the tension and guilt into his shoulder, sweater be damned. “I’m here. Just let it out. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

You’re sniffling and hiccuping, clinging to him as you let yourself fall apart in his arms. With every gentle touch, he brings you back to a place where you can breathe again, where the overwhelming chaos of your mind finally begins to settle.

When you pull back, eyes red and puffy, he just smiles, reaching for your hand. “Do you wanna go home?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, sniffling. “I… I can’t. I have so much to do.”

“Alright.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Then we’re staying. Together.”

You look at him, blinking through blurry eyes. “Wait, you’re staying? Seungkwan, it’s past 1 AM. You don’t have to do that.”

He just raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual sass creeping back into his voice. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my girlfriend to study alone in a library at 1 AM? If you’re not gonna let me nag at you, at least let me stay and keep you company.”

You can’t stop the small, grateful smile that tugs at your lips. He settles back into the chair beside you, pulling your laptop towards him and scanning your notes. “Alright, so what’s the first thing we need to work on?”

He’s right there beside you, the same soft hum of his voice providing background noise as he helps you with the presentation. Hours pass, and time feels less like an enemy with him there, guiding you through it with gentle corrections and quiet encouragement. The soft glow of the laptop screen reflects in his eyes as he leans over your shoulder, pointing out a flaw in the data and offering a suggestion with that familiar, sarcastic edge you know so well.

At some point, he shoves a bottle of water at you, eyebrows raised in that way that makes you roll your eyes, even though you know what’s coming. You don’t protest this time, just take it from him and drink, the coolness of it grounding you.

He watches you for a moment, satisfied with your compliance, before a small, quiet smile curls up at the corners of his lips. It’s not loud or teasing, just... there, like a secret between you two.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he.

But the unspoken understanding between you feels clearer than it ever has. And for the first time in hours, you find yourself thinking, maybe... it’ll be okay.

Seungkwan just keeps working, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he goes over your notes. And for the rest of the night, there’s a quiet comfort in the way he’s simply there, letting you work, giving you space, but still keeping you grounded.

You don’t need to say anything. His presence is enough.

[romancecroc]

Lucanis Romance (Pt. 2)

This is an alternative take on finishing his companion quest (confronting Illario after saving Catharina). In this version, the whole "I made paella and your favorite" drink did not happen.

Things have felt different between them. Especially after Spite somehow dragged Rook into Lucanis’s subconscious and helped them align on a goal.

Nothing had really happened before that. Just the occasional lingering glances. Hands brushing against each when nobody could see. Overprotectiveness during battles.

But with all that was going on, it was almost impossible to find quiet moments. To reflect. Or to talk. 

And with all her confidence, Rook didn’t dare bring the topic up again. Nor make a move. 

But she felt closer to him. Especially after witnessing all his inner troubles, his regrets. 

But was that enough? How would you name this? Having feelings for someone, feeling close to them and yet… nothing happening?

What exactly did I want to happen?

The thought caught Rook off guard.

Guilt was starting to build up. They never said they were in a relationship after all. Lucanis didn’t owe her anything. 

But at the same time… there was a sense of frustration?

“Rook! Are you listening?” Teia said, waving her hands.

“Ah.” Rook responded, finally snapping out of it.

She was in Trevisio. They were getting ready to save Catharina and set Illario straight.

Teia and Viago were preparing, but Lucanis was nowhere to be seen.

Apparently he would join in later.

“Don’t worry, Lucanis knows the plan. He’ll join you at the mansion. Are you ready to go?” Teia asked again, patting Rook’s shoulder.

“Yes, sorry. We will get Catharina out of the mansion and then we’ll confront Ilario at the gathering.” Rook said, mostly to summarize it for herself.

“What are you going to do with Ilario when all of this is over?”

Teia and Viago chuckled, grabbing their daggers and facing the exit.

“I’m sure our first talon will know what to do.”

And with that, they both vanished.

—

It didn’t take long to sneak through the mansion. The team had initially agreed to only send out Rook and Lucanis - the less attention they attract the better.

But where was he?

Rook noticed one of the hallways having more guards than the others. With a dagger in hand and magic in another, she swiftly took care of them within seconds.

Until she felt a presence behind her. 

Instinctively, she elbowed them in the stomach, using the opportunity to turn around and push them against the floor. Her mouth dropped when she was finally hovered above him, her knees digging into his arms, locking him in position.

“Not a bad move, Rook.” Lucanis said, coughing between his words.

“Are you insane? I could have killed you!” Rock angrily whispered, immediately putting her dagger away.

“Please, Rook. I let you tackle me. Why miss out on an opportunity to get overpowered by a beautiful woman? ” he answered, a chuckle between the coughs.

It should have made her happy. The small flirts between them.

But instead, it just reminded her about her own frustrations. The impatient feeling, the guilt.

Without responding, she got up and offered him a hand. Pulling him up.

“Rook?” Lucanis asked, concerned. He had expected a matching response.

“We should focus on the mission.” Rook responded, perhaps a little colder than she intended.

“Where do you think your grandmother is? I already checked the east wing, but no luck so far.”

It felt like he was catching on, but the mission’s urgency kept him from investigating further. Instead he started leading the way, casually sharing childhood memories whenever he saw something familiar. 

He hasn’t been home for so long - and yet she couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy his stories. Once Catharina had been saved and Ilario confronted, Rook would return to the Lighthouse and spend some time alone in her room. Clear her head.

That sounded like a good plan at least.

“She must be here.” Lucanis said, stopping in front of a door not too far from his childhood room. 

Rook motioned to get ready, just in case.

Once the door opened, a cane started swinging around aggressively - until Lucanis grabbed it.

“My grandson!” Catharina gasped in disbelief.

Rook stepped away for a bit, not wishing to interrupt their reunion.

“You are mad as us. Why?!” Rook suddenly heard in her head.

Spite??

“Answer! It is…. distracting him!” Spite responded telepathically.

Rook wasn’t sure how Spite was talking to her. Based on how Lucanis was acting, he didn’t seem to be aware of it either.

I’m not mad. I’m just trying to focus.

“Hurt. Longing. Is it loneliness? No. It smells like… disappointment!” Spite continued on.

The last thing Rook wanted was a conversation about her feelings. With Spite. She imagined a mental block around her head - it must have worked because the last thing she heard was a disapproving growl from Spite. And then it was quiet again.

“Thank you, Rook! For returning my grandson.” Catharina said gratefully, looking over to Rook.

“He did half of the work. We should really bring you somewhere safe.” Rook quickly responded, rejoining them.

“Nonsense. Now go and stop Ilario, I won’t be far behind.” Catharina responded, waving her cane around again.

The expression Lucanis made, said enough  - there was no way to convince Catharina to change her mind..

—

“You must feel relieved having your grandmother back. Any plans for Ilario?” Rook asked, as they were approaching the gathering.

“I don’t know. But one way or another, he needs to pay.” Lucanis said, approaching the giant door.

One could hear Ilarios' speech from the outside. Monologues about how he was grieving Catharina’s death. How Lucanis was a shame to the family and the crows due to becoming an abomination.

And that he was taking the title of the first talon for himself.

“Whatever happens, I’m with you.” Rook said, preparing herself for battle.

“I know. Let’s finish this.”

And with that, the door was kicked open.

Everything happened so fast.

Ilario didn’t hesitate to attack Lucanis on sight, backed by venatori.

The crows, unsure who to believe, were fumbling around.

But like many other fights, this one was about to end quite fast.

“They will never accept you. You’re an abomination!” Ilarios screamed at Lucanis, almost like a child who wasn’t picked for a group activity. Most of his venatory allies had fallen by now.

“Are you sure you’re not stuck with a demon yourself, Ilario? Even Spite sounds saner than you do right now.” Rook said loudly, currently finishing off remaining venetario on the opposite side of the hall.

Embarrassment was plastered on Ilarios face. The sheer audacity of being compared to a demon. And despite having little backup left, he used whatever remaining blood magic he had to teleport himself past the crows.

“You will pay for this insult!” Illario yelled, appearing in front of Rook with a dagger in hand. Ready to stab her in the chest.

Growing up with the shadow dragons taught her well - especially on how to deal with crazy individuals that were about to stab you. There were different ways to make them stop,  even for a few seconds. They just need to believe they won. 

So Rook didn’t defend herself. Didn’t use any magic spells.

Instead she positioned herself in a way, so that the dagger would end up between her armpits. Her clothes were already torn at a few places, covered in blood. It would be hard to tell whether she was really hit or not. And a delusional blood mage wouldn’t know the difference either.

To dramatize the moment, Rook let out a terrible cry that melted together with Ilario’s victory laugh.

And multiple people shouting in the background?

Rook couldn’t focus too much on it, as she was busy taking a few steps back. Holding the dagger close, while she fell on her knees. And then to her sides, closing her eyes.

“Let this be a lesson for anybody who insults Ilario-”

The sound of something smashing against the wall echoed across the hall. Followed by a demonic snarl.

“They. touched. Rook! They die!” 

That must be Spite.

Oh…

Rook realized that she never discussed her cinematic move with the others. Neve was used to it. She had witnessed it too many times during their missions.

She hated it. But she couldn’t deny how it made enemies feel overconfident. Prone to making mistakes. Better to catch off guard.

But not something to do with unaware participants.

When Rook carefully opened her eyes, another body flew against a wall. Ilario was still standing next to her, looking in another direction. His entire body tensed up in shock. Apparently Lucanis/Spite had been brutally throwing any Venatory standing in their way against the stone walls.

“Cousin, you need to calm down. They are already dead!” Teia yelled at Lucanis, but Viago held her back.

The final stand was Lucanis/Spite finally reaching Ilario, grabbing him by the throat and hurling him across the hall. The impact was strong enough to make Ilario break a few pieces of furniture in the process.

“Not. Enough. He needs to… suffer!” Lucanis and Spite shouted, as if they’d merged.

He quickly kneeled next to Rook and despite his pupils not being visible, his narrowed eyebrows showed enough concern.

“I’m fine.” Rook whispered, already feeling bad for the entire thing.

“No! He hurt you. He hurt us!” Lucanis/Spite responded back, hissing.

He was going to kill them all. If he hadn’t done so already.

“I think you already punished them well enough. Here, look.” Rook said, grabbing the dagger and pulling it out.

“See? No blood. Your cousin just has a terrible aim. He thought he won and that made him arrogant, distancing himself from his allies.” Rook explained, though she wasn’t sure how much lucanis/spite caught in their frenzied state.

“No… blood.” Lucanis/Spite whispered back.

During all this, Viago and Teia used the moment to tie Ilario down. All the other venatori were dead due to… impactful wall slammings. 

“You’re disgraceful, all of you. It’s not enough he’s an abomination, but he also kneels?! How the crows have fallen!” Ilario continued to shout, but his defeat was imminent. 

Rook slowly lifted herself off the ground, kneeling next to him.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about this little… stunt I use from time to time. Neve hates it too. I won’t do it again and-”

Lucanis pulled Rook against him, wrapped his arms around her as the purple glow in his eyes started fading away.  Burying his face against her neck.

“Never again.” he growled. 

Rook squeezed his arm as a confirmation. The embrace ended with him taking her hand and raising Rook back to her feet with him.

All the yelling subsided when Catharina finally entered the halls. Even Ilario finally closed his mouth.

Rook didn’t dare speak. As the situation calmed down, Teia and Viago complimented her on the dramatic stunt. Thanked her for all the help she’s given.

Rook politely nodded. She could feel Lucanis staring at her. Avoiding any instances of aggravating him further would be wise.

That, until Catharina announced him as the first talon. At this point, he was swarmed by crows. People who wanted to start building connections. Others who just wanted to share a celebratory drink.

Getting through the crowd would be impossible.

“I’m going home. Could you tell Lucanis when you catch him? I think I have worried him enough for one day.” Rook said to Viago.

He nodded and then sheepishly smiled at Rook. 

“What? What is it?” Rook asked, confused.

“Take care of my cousin, Rook. Enjoy your night.” he responded, slapping her shoulder in a friendly manner.

Rook shrugged and started heading towards the Eluvian. She looked back once more and managed to make eye contact with Lucanis. With hand motions, she quickly pointed towards the Eluvian and then waved goodbye. Before he could respond, Lucanis was swarmed by another wave of crows.

—

When Rook made it to her room, she wanted to throw herself onto the bed. What a day it was.

But these clothes had to go. 

She quickly slipped out of the blood soaked fabric that was already torn in a few places. Doesn’t look like it can be repaired.

She left it on the floor and moved to the baths. It was so late at night, she doubted anybody was going to notice.

After a good cleanup, a few bruises became visible. Nothing fatal. But some were going to stick around for a while. Especially the deep purple ones. 

Too lazy to dress up, Rook grabbed a robe and headed back to her bedroom. But she was hungry. There was no time to eat during the ordeal. Maybe the kitchen had something? Even just a snack.

She quietly snuck her way into the kitchen. Perhaps she could gather a few cookies and eat them in bed! Nobody would notice. It would be her little secret. It was also doubtful that Lucanis would already be back from his celebration.

“Rook.”

She froze. Her hand was so close to grabbing a cookie.

“Oh! You’re back already?” she responded, turning around. Caught in the act.

Lucanis was sitting on the couch. A cup in his hand, presumingly coffee.

“Yes.” he responded.

“I was actually going to come visit you in your room. After I had finished my drink.” he added.

“Visit me so late at night? Whatever for?” Rook responded as a joke.

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead Lucanis took another sip of his coffee.

“You’re wearing a robe.”

Suddenly Rook started feeling very shy. 

“Ah, yes. I was covered in blood and wanted to check for bruises. Nothing bad, luckily.”

There was tension. And she wasn’t sure in which direction it was going to go.

The sound of her heartbeat made it difficult to focus.

“I… should go. Get out of this bathrobe.” she added and slowly took a step back.

“A good idea.” he said, taking the last sip. And then placing the cup back on the table.

“You can then show me the bruises.” 

It took a moment for her to register what he said.

That, until he stood up and started walking towards her. Rook took another step backwards, only to find herself clashing against the kitchen table behind her.

It was too late now. Any means of escape were blocked. Lucanis stood in front of her, resting his hands on both sides - pinning Rock against the table.

“I thought you were dead.” he finally said.

Lucanis didn’t shy away from eye contact. Rook looked down instead, ashamed. At least until he gently lifted her chin.

“I was going to kill them all.”

His hand slowly moved to her cheek, caressing it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” she whispered back.

“You didn’t think I would react?” Help me understand, Rook.”

“No! It’s just… I didn’t think you would react like that. I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t sure where I stood with you, so I decided to focus on the mission and do my thing.” 

“And has today cleared your doubts?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her lips.

She didn’t respond. And somehow she already felt breathless.

“Mierda.”

His lips clashed against hers. It didn’t take long for Rook’s to wrap her arms around his neck. Her hands grabbing onto him. Lucanis lifting Rook and placing her on the kitchen table, keeping her close.

It felt needy. Urgent. Especially when his tongue was starting to dance with hers, moaning into her mouth. 

He grabbed onto her waist, pressing himself against her. From all the movement, Rook’s bathrobe was starting to slip and any exposed shoulders were bitten, licked or kissed. 

What they didn’t realize was all the noise. Every moment caused a plate to fall. Cutlery clashing against other metallic objects. 

They finally froze when somebody yelled “What is going on down there?!”

After that, silence. Followed by quiet chuckles between them.

“I know it’s not honorable, but we could pin it on Manfred.” Rook suggested, fixing her robe.

“Hmm… No, I’ll tell them the truth.” Lucanis smirked, kissing Rook on the forehead and giving her space again. 

“And what is that? Sorry, I was fooling around in the kitchen?” Rook asked.

“Fooling around is a temporary notion. I intend to keep you for a long time.”

Lucanis smirked again, witnessing Rook blushing. 

“Now go rest. I’m still planning on inspecting your bruises sometime soon.”

Before Rook could respond, Lucanis had returned to his room. 

Falling asleep would be difficult after such a promise.

[holidayinhell]

CWs: carewhumper, dubcon touch

“Sorry ‘bout earlier.” 

Whumper waved an apple in front of Whumpee’s face, shiny, bright red and perfect. But Whumpee sat in place catatonically, staring straight forward at the wall behind Whumper.

“Hey. Look at me bud.” 

Whumpee paid him no mind.

The tall man tried to swallow his annoyance. He knew it was important for Whumpee to feel safe and relaxed right now, but it wasn’t in his nature to be so… understanding. He was the impatient type, and the silent act was his least favorite form of passive aggression. 

“Hellooooooo.”

Whumpee shot a poisonous look up to Whumper, grimacing.

Whumper raked his nails across Whumpee’s neck, dragging them into the delicate flesh. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but enough to force a sharp gasp as Whumpee recoiled, scrambling backward. 

Fuck! Goddamn it!!!! He lost his fucking temper again. He didn't mean to. Why does this keep happening?!

“Sorry. Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t-- shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you really act like you’re fucking sorry.” Whumpee spat sarcastically. His good arm clutched the fresh scratches below his ear. It hurt, but the pain was nowhere in the same league as his violently pulsating arm.

A tear rolled down Whumpee’s nose, landing with a sting on his broken wrist. He glanced down at the black-and-blue marks. Perfect handprints were seared into the skin there, an echo of Whumper’s unforgiving grip. He'd never forget the sickening crack when Whumper snapped it—sharp and hollow, like stepping on a brittle branch in the woods.

“Well, I uh, couldn’t find any gauze at the Penny Mart. But I got this bandana I can use to wrap around it though. I’ll make a sling thinggy or whatever.” Whumper hesitated for a moment before pulling a crumpled bandana from his jacket pocket.

“Aaannnnd… this is the best part.” He presented the captive with the red apple again. “I got this for you.”

“Woah.” 

“Right? Isn’t it crazy shiny?”

“Yeah.” Whumpee ran his fingers over the apple’s immaculate, shining flesh. “It really is.”

He hated how fascinated he was with a simple piece of fruit. Then again, how long had it been since Whumpee had eaten something that was actually grown from the earth? 

Hanging from its stem pinched between Whumper’s fingers, it rotated in the air slightly, and it was so red it practically glowed, shining like a Christmas ornament. For a moment, both men were strangely enamored with the perfection of the apple.

Just as Whumpee outstretched his hand to accept the small gift, the fruit fell to the floor, bouncing against the concrete with a dull thud.

“Goddamn it Whumpee.” Whumper muttered, voice low and frustrated. “I was tryna do somethin’ nice.”

“It’s okay.” Whumpee said numbly, retrieving the bisected chunks from the ground. The juices from inside the apple glistened under the light. 

“Huh. Almost expected it to be red on the inside, too.” Whumper anchored his head on Whumpee’s boney shoulder. He was pleased when Whumpee didn’t pull away, allowing him to rest his ear against his collarbone.

“So," Whumper said coolly, "do you still want it?”

“...yeah…”

“Mm, yeah, I’d eat it too.” Whumper growled into Whumpee’s ear. “Even smashed to pieces and ripped inside out.” 

Whumpee shifted on his feet, uncomfortably shrugging Whumper’s face off his shoulder. The man took a step back, eyes flickering over to Whumpee, his intense gaze tracing his body up and down, savoring the sight.

“Don’t do that.” Whumpee protectively shielded his broken wrist.

“Don’t do what?” Whumper laughed with a crooked smile, his voice teasing. “I was just sayin'. The inside of the apple is just as pretty as the outside. Maybe even more pretty. And ya know...” 

Whumpee didn’t know what to do when Whumper stepped into him, putting his mouth over the red scratch marks from earlier.

“I bet you’re like that too.” Whumper purred as he lapped at the skin. 

His tongue swirled over the scratches and glided up Whumpee’s neck until he met the fleshy lobe of his ear.

“It’ll be a nice day when I can finally rip you apart too. But I'll take good care of you 'til then.”

((more whump drabbles))

[lostsyren]

i have a request for a scene based on these seemingly cut out scenes in episode 4 for part 1

https://x.com/rafeslut/status/1848180750941552843

maybe how it would've turned out if it had not been cut out and how it led to that contemplation scene and eventually influenced his decisions in episode 5 in goat island, idk if that makes sense

𓆉 ❀ 🫧 the right thing

{a/n: thank you for the request, sorry it took me so long to get to it, but I hope you enjoy it and I hope it’s what you expected of the deleted scenes!}

{summary: what happened between rafe and sofia after the showdown in s4 episode 4 on the beach, and a little context to the deleted scene pictures we got from them!}

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼

It was downright cruel the way they were all treating Kiara and her friends, Sofia thought, face etched in concern as Ruthie plowed straight through the group all waving their hands at her to stop– to no avail despite their persevering efforts. Ruthie was like that, in the months Sofia got to know her– relentless.

Sofia glanced over at Rafe, who had a small smirk on his face, as if he was trying to hide his glee, but failed, even letting out a little laugh. Her discomfort grew, squirming as she listened to the defensive outcry coming from the other side of the beach.

She inhaled deeply, wrapping her arms around herself. At least it was over now.

But then Sofia heard the low rumble of the engine revving yet again, her frown returning.

The jeep sped up, sending sand flying in its wake, as Ruthie and Topper once gain hurtled past the pogues, who all dove for cover, before Ruthie tipped out her drink over Kiara.

Sofia’s heart sunk for the girl, as she lay on the ground, crestfallen with her hair dripping wet. The way Sofia’s supposed kook friends treated all the pogues made her wonder if they’d do the same thing to her, if it wasn’t for Rafe. The thought made her nauseous, imagining being humiliated the way Kiara was right now and like she was a couple days ago, when she’d overheard Rafe, Topper and Ruthie ridicule her behind her back.

Sofia looked over to Rafe, she didn’t know why, (perhaps for backup, perhaps for comfort), but he remained indifferent, gazing at the scene across the sand with a cool stoicism, lazily sipping at his beer. She shook her head in disdain, finding his behaviour repulsive. She didn’t care about Ruthie, Topper and the others– she cared about Rafe, still, even after he slandered their relationship to his friends.

Sofia spotted Kiara stride over to them, her face twisted in anger.

“Here she comes guys, on a warpath– get ready.” Topper teased with a deriding tone. Sofia observed from a safe distance, mouth still pursed in reproach.

“Look what you did– is this ok?” She yelled, holding out her hands. Sofia peered over to see a baby turtle, crushed in her palms, granules of sand stuck to its lifeless body. Ruthie glanced away, her mouth twisting in an unreadable emotion.

“No look at it! There was a turtle hatch you idiots– you drove right over it!”

Sofia had to avert her gaze, a sickness settling in the pit of her stomach. She hated being on the wrong side of this– being one of the people Kiara was yelling at.

“I understand you’re upset Kiara-“ Topper began.

“I’m more than upset Topper.”

“Alright but it was only one and I mean look,” Ruthie pointed out, tone casually cruel, “there’s so many more of them. A hatch is what? A hundred turtles? Most of them don’t make it anyway.”

“I think it’s like one in a thousand.” Topper added

Kiara shook her head in disbelief. “So?”

“So I think you should go throw that to the seagulls– cycle of life right?” Ruthie plastered on a scornful smirk, her eyes squinted as she stared down Kiara. Sofia could feel the tension fizzle between them.

“Cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck?” Kiara jumped up suddenly, shoving Ruthie square in the chest.

Sofia bristled in shock, her arms falling away from around her waist as she stepped back from the commotion. Looking around for Rafe, she found him topping up his empty beer bottle, just disregarding the spat completely. She couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance at his as insouciance whilst Topper pulled back Ruthie and JJ reined in Kiara.

“Your move Kie, what are you gonna do?” Ruthie goaded.

Topper held out his hands placatingly, “I would just walk away ok? We’re not doing this.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you people.” Kiara avowed, Sofia glancing down at her feet at her words, a sinking shame tricking its way down her insides, before Kiara spun around back to her friends.

“Yeah that’s right, go back to your side Kie!” Ruthie called out, right before Kiara shoved their speaker to the ground.

“You come near her or any of us ever again, and I’ll come back and kill every single one of you.” JJ warned, before joining Kiara as they walked away.

Sofia hated this. Hated all of it. Her frown was stark on her face as she ignored the chitters of laughs and fragments of conversation around her, from people she barely knew.

She huffed a deep breath, before stepping back to look for Rafe– someone familiar, someone comfortable.

“I mean did you see that?” Ruthie commented as she walked past Rafe, Sofia hovering a couple feet away from him. She was waiting for him to say something…anything. He could’ve put a stop to this– Topper would’ve listened to him. But no, all he did was watch in silence, drinking like he always did.

“I saw it. All good shit, Ruthie.” He chuckled. Sofia crossed her arms around herself yet again. All good? It wasn’t all good, and she wished that her boyfriend had done something. These were his friends, not hers.

Sofia waited for him to come her way, her hands resting on her hips, face a picture of dismay. He locked eyes with her, and she hoped he’d apologise, criticise what had just occurred. say anything, but all he did was look at her with embarrassment, as if he forgot she was there.

“Not cool Rafe.” She scorned, as he walked past her to take a seat in one of the beach chairs, inciting Sofia’s rage to burn hot and fast.

“They deserved it,” he muttered.

“I wanna leave.” She instructed, her lips twisting in ire when he had to audacity to glance back at her with shock.

“Now!” She spun around, not waiting for him to follow, ready to gather all her things and head home, her mind swirling with shame, rage and disgust.

“What do you mean you wanna leave? We just got here!” He called out from behind her, as she frantically stuffed the sun screen and lotion into her beach bag.

“You serious right now Rafe? You feel good about what just happened?”

Some of the people surrounding them cast glances their way, beginning to whisper and quietly snicker behind shrouding hands.

“Ooo Rafe’s in trouble,” one person chided.

“Why’s she so pressed for?” Another pestered.

“Because she’s a pogue herself– didn’t you know?”

Sofia didn’t care though, but she could tell Rafe did.

“Look just chill ok? I thought you wanted to sunbathe?”

“Yeah well I don’t anymore– I want to go home.” Sofia pulled her tube top over her bikini as Rafe warily eyed everyone around them.

“Baby, just stop a minute yeah?” He tried a more consoling tone, which only cause Sofia to get even more angry.

She stepped through her white skirt, slipping on her sandals, and hoisted her beach bag over one shoulder, before wrapping her arms across her chest.

“I’m going.” She said with a stern face, turning on her heel ready to leave the beach.

Rafe ran a hand through his cropped hair, cursing under his breath before following Sofia down the sandy trail where his car was parked.

“Why are you so mad for?” Rafe wandered after her, easily keeping up with Sofia’s irascible stride with his long legs.

“The fact you have to ask me that is making more angry.”

“Oh come on, it was Ruthie and Topper, what was I supposed to do?”

Sofia stopped in her tracks, swivelling around to face him. They were far away from everyone else at the beach, protected by the thicket of trees encircling them.

“You could’ve said something– anything, but instead you just stood there and watched.”

“Yeah well I didn’t see you speak up either.” He muttered with an eye roll.

She scoffed, piercing him with her unwavering stare, “because in case you’ve forgotten Rafe, I’m a pogue too. You heard they way they were speaking about them– how do you think they’d react if another pogue told them to shut up huh?”

Sofia’s words were thinly veiled from her own insecurities, her hurt and rage at his previous comments resurfacing like flotsam that thrashed in the waters of her heart.

“I’m not living with a pogue…I have standards…”

“You’re not…” he trailed off, for once thinking before her spoke. “it’s different.” He didn’t elaborate how it was different though.

“Whatever Rafe, I saw you laugh and smile as if it was just some big joke– it wasn’t funny, it was straight up bullying.”

Rafe let out a short laugh, “bullying?” He scoffed, “that’s nothing compared to what they all did, they deserve whatever bad shit comes their way Sofia.”

“Yeah well I want no part in it.”

She left him, heading to his car, getting in the passengers seat with a sigh. She hated fighting with him. They both could be so different sometimes, and when they didn’t see eye to eye, it was never a good thing. She was stubborn like her father and Rafe was so…rageful– never towards her though, but when he felt strongly about something, she could feel it radiating off his body in scalding waves.

A moment passed before he got into the drivers seat. She could see him pace the leaf-strewn path, his ring clad fingers running though his buzz cut and he breathed in and out. She rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

The car door shut behind him with a loud bang, Sofia unable to see his face since she’d twisted away from him.

“Are you going to be mad at me for the rest of the day now?” He asked, tone sharp, as he tried to make eye contact with her.

Sofia just shrugged non-committaly, gazing out of the window.

“I did nothing wrong Sofia.” He tried to reason.

“You didn’t do the right thing either.”

Rafe didn’t respond to that.

She felt his hand hover over her knee, “look Sof, I don’t want to fight with you ok? Especially over something as stupid as this, yeah?”

She turned round to face him, her mouth still folded in a frown, “I want to go.”

He retracted his hand from her leg with a deep sigh, “fine– stay mad.”

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼

Rafe had tried everything to get her to speak to him normally again. When they reached the house she’d left straight away to have a shower, locking the door– she never usually locked the door.

And when she got out, she got dressed and went and made her own dinner as the sun began to set, the sky doused in the orange glow of the Outer Banks.

Rafe entered the kitchen, hoping to try and make amends yet again.

“Hey baby, what you making?” He murmured gently, sliding his hands around her waist from behind. His fingers brushed away the strands of her freshly shampooed hair, the decadent smell of strawberries filling his nose as he inched his head down to press soft kisses against her neck.

She quickly shrugged him off.

“I’m not in the mood Rafe.”

Stepping back, he tried to hide his dejected expression, leaving her to cook alone in the kitchen, disappearing in the study to let her have the house to herself for a bit. Maybe then she’d cool down.

It was getting late– they’d usually go to sleep around this time. So Rafe got up, shutting his laptop and left to go to their bedroom.

He heard Sofia brush her teeth in the en suite so he went and sat down on the mattress, waiting for her to come to bed.

After a while, she did, entering the room an impassive expression on her face. He tried to smile at her, but she didn’t look his way, instead walking up to the bed and grabbing a blanket, turning back around again.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asked getting up from off the bed, his brows stitched on confusion.

She remained calm, face as still as a lake. “I’m sleeping on the couch,” she said plainly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Sofia… you can’t still be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad…I just need some space.”

“I won’t get too close then.”

Sofia shook her head, “night Rafe,” she said softly, before heading out of the room, blanket trailing behind her, leaving him to curse exasperatedly under his breath– leave it to the Pogues to find a way to mess with his relationship too.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼

After an hour or so fruitlessly grasping at sleep, Rafe paced the bedroom, biting at his thumb.

“You didn’t do the right thing either.”

Sofia’s words spun around his brain, making him think about all the shit he’d done. The memory of seeing Sarah today had lingered with him surprisingly, their silent gaze across the windswept beach reminding him of the terse look they shared a year and half ago on the tarmac, where he unknowingly sent his father to his death.

“Look it’s Sarah, do you think she’d want to talk?”

Sofia had asked him as she sat beside him earlier on the warm sand, with that sweet, gentle voice of hers. She always seemed to nudge him to do the right thing– the moral thing. And he always seemed to do the opposite. Rafe realised he couldn’t stand to disappoint her.

Quietly exiting the bedroom, he pattered down the stairs, heading to the living room. There she was, nestled into the sofa, the blanket fallen on to the floor. Rafe smiled to himself seeing her look so pretty and serene, noiselessly approaching and draping the blanket over her exposed legs.

He then meandered over to the gaping window, the cerulean night sky silhouetted by the swarthy trees and faint shape of boats lining the dock.

His eyes snagged on to the picture frames he’d packed from Tannyhill, the final memory of the family he once had. In all honesty, he was going to put them in the trash, or at least let them gather dust in some storage unit miles away; Sofia had been the one to convince him to keep them when she was helping him move out of Tannyhill all those many months ago.

“They’re your family Rafe, you can’t just throw them away like that, come on I’ll help you pack them up.”

It hurt to see that picture of him when he was in his early teens, making Sarah what? Ten? Eleven? Because all he could think about was how she looked when he held her under the water– the terror in her eyes, the tremble of her body. She’d turned into a little girl in that moment, so frail and scared..

“It’s Sarah…it’s your sister…please stop.”

She’d begged, clutching at him, clawing at him. The recollection made him nauseous.

His father used to always say “Family is the most important thing” and here he was alone and unmoored, his two baby sisters no longer with him. His heart ached with a sudden and deep grief, as if he’d just realised the extent of what he’d lost.

But he wasn’t completely alone…he still had Sofia. He sometimes thought of her like light– she had this effervescent, incandescent quality to her. The way her eyes would light up like liquid gold, how her hair glinted bronze in the sun, her smile exuding lustre. She’d make him feel lighter too. Rafe mulled over her words again.

She had a point– he didn’t do the right thing. And he was going to fix that by amending his relationship with Sarah, getting Wheezie back from Rose’s clutches, and finally start a family of his own– with the woman he loved. Sofia wouldn’t lead him astray.

Rafe walked over to her slumbering body, crouching down as quiet as he could be, taking a seat next to her. She stirred slightly, but stayed fast asleep, almost subconsciously nearing him in her dream state. The thought brought a small smile to his face.

His thinking drifted back to the morning, when they were getting ready for the beach. She was telling him how maybe Hollis’ dead was legit, about how the patrons of the club were all gunning for it.

Rafe knew how to show her he listened, show her he’d show her he valued he– he’d take her advice seriously. And with Goat Island soon to be his, Rafe could finally start that new life and finally start that family, all with Sofia by his side.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜ 𓆉︎ ☼

[mrsriddles-blog]

Lorenzo Berkshire X Fem!Reader ???

Could you do a oneshot of the reader and Enzo being close friends? Basically they both secretly harbor feelings, but they don’t know how to tell each other. Reader starts to have spicy dreams about Enzo and get shy and flustered to be around him so she avoids him. Her bestie is Pansy. Basically, Pansy asks why reader has been so weird. Maybe a smutty ending between Enzo and Reader?

If Only | L.B

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x Fem Slytherin Reader

WC: 5.9k+

Warnings/Notes: mild language, p in v, smut, fluff, angst…

Summary: Suddenly, you’re developing feelings for your best friend and you’re unsure what to do…

Authors Note: I suck at writing smut lmao I tried my best for the request and hope whoever requested this is happy! I’m soooooo sorry it took me so long to get to the request. While reading the request, it kind of sounded like something I read, but not completely you know, but it sounded familiar, so after going through my reading archives—I found the fic that it reminded me of. If you haven’t read it already, it’s called “Agora Hills” by @theostrophywife , so please go check out her piece! And her other work! It’s amazing! She is a super, super, super talented author!🤍

If someone were to ask you who your best friend was, you'd answer right away and tell them, "Lorenzo Berkshire."

There was no need for anyone to ask the question of course as it was pretty obvious. You two were always together. In fact, you guys were seen so often together that some began to question if you two were just friends. You were quick to deny the speculations and to shut any rumors down, but it didn't always help.

It didn't help that your own friend group also questioned your guys' relationship. You'd remind them it's "platonic" and it's just a "friendship" and not a "relationship". You begun to think that they enjoyed how flustered it made both you and Enzo.

Of course they choose to tease their two most empathetic, shy, and naive friends.

Out of your friend group, it was you who was the most empathetic. Sometimes your friends wondered how you got sorted into Slytherin. You were shy and always were timidly in the background. You weren't super confident in yourself mentally or physically. You were naive to the crudeness and cruelty ongoing around you. You were definitely the innocent one, a trait that your friends admired about you even though they sometimes secretly think your Hufflepuff or something.

You loved to tie a ribbon bow in your hair if that said anything. You use to do a pink ribbon, but everyone teased you for it, so you switched to an emerald green ribbon.

However, it was your friends who scared everyone away who teased you about your love for your bows. They loved your innocence, your naivety, your shyness, and your cuteness. You were like a female version of Enzo in their eyes, but a lot less exposed to the world compared to him. He hung out with the boys a lot because of Quidditch, so it was obvious he had not the most innocent mind.

Enzo and you have known each other since before Hogwarts. After all, your mothers were childhood best friends themselves and this wished the same for their future children. Your mothers were amazed when they ended up pregnant a few months apart. Enzo was older than you by four months, but you both were attached by the hip the moment you both met.

Your mothers believe the two of you are destined or something like that. They said they saw it the day they put their two babies in a room together. They claimed the sun brightened and that childish giggles were all they could hear as the two of your begun to play. Enzo and you always roll your eyes and smile, believing the two women were over exaggerating the day you two were introduced.

"Pans...could we talk about something?" You murmur.

The boys were practicing for their next Quidditch game on Friday against Ravenclaw. It was just Pansy, Astoria and you in the Common Room, but Astoria had fallen asleep while studying. Pansy was reading through her essay and you were trying to read your latest romance novel, but you couldn't quite focus.

"Yeah, of course! What's up?" She asks, looking up at you with a soft smile.

Her black hair was in its normal perfect bob, her green eyes sparkling in the soft glow from the fireplace. She was pale and had sharp features, light freckles dusting across her nose and cheeks. You were always envious of how perfect she looked.

You glanced around the Common Room, realizing it was just you three in the room which was rather strange, but you were thankful in the moment.

"I...I like someone, but I don't think I can like him." You admit softly, so softly she would have had missed it if she weren't accustomed to your soft tone.

"And why is that, honey?" She asks softly, sitting up as she angled herself more towards you.

"He's my friend. I doubt he likes me that way. Even if he did like me that way...I don't know if I could be with him. I'd be worried about losing him if things went array." You admit quietly, anxiously fidgeting with your hands.

"Hun, is this about Enz?" She asks softly, placing a hand over your fidgeting ones.

You look up from your hands, your cheeks flushing red as you meet her soft eyes and her soft smile. You nod slowly, your hair falling in your face, and you suddenly were thankful for the shield to protect you.

"What would you like to do? Would you like to find out where he stands?" She asks.

"I dunno...maybe...maybe I should wait. Maybe it'll go away." You mumble embarrassed.

"Okay, hun...why don't you talk to me after you wait and you're one hundred percent certain how you feel and I'll help you figure it out? How's that sound? It'll give you time to think about it and maybe I can sniff out some information for our next conversation." She says.

"Okay...thanks, Pans. You're the best." You murmur, hugging her.

She smiles, hugging you back as she waits until you pull away. You had always wondered about why she waited to pull away from a hug. You learned that she wanted to wait until the other person was ready to let go because maybe they really needed a hug. You loved that about Pansy and it made her hugs all the more special. 

You both abruptly pull apart when the guys walk in as they talk and yell obnoxiously loud. Astoria had jumped and fallen off the armchair she was curled up on. You and Pansy softly giggle before helping her up and sort her notes back out.

"Our girls! How are you three?" Theodore asks, the group of tall men surrounding you girls.

"I'm tired." Astoria grumbles, curling back up in the armchair, looping an arm around your waist.

You smile softly as her, continuing to play with her hair as she snuggled closer to you.

"We are alright. You boys should go get showered before dinner." Pansy says, a smile on her lips.

"Don't you want a hug, baby?" Blaise pouts.

"Not with how sweaty you are. I'm sure your Quidditch husband would love a hug right now though." She says, rolling her eyes playfully.

You giggle, shaking your head. Blaise and Pansy were such an adorable couple who bantered playfully.

"Girl, you can't pull that on me when you got your school wife." Blaise snorts.

"True. I did get pretty lucky with this fine piece of woman." Pansy says, winking at you as she kisses your cheek.

You flush red at her words, looking down at your lap as you smile shyly. Your hair served as a barrier against the boys' eyes who of course were teasing you about your reaction to Pansy.

You glance up at Enzo to see him staring at your knees with furrowed brows. Your cheeks flush red as you had fallen up the stairs earlier today and had nearly dragged Pansy down. You had some nasty bruises on your knees now.

"Stori, we should go get ready for dinner." You murmur.

"Noooooo." She grumbles, holding you tighter.

"Yesssss, I'm hungry and I'm teetering towards being hangry." You whine.

"And a hangry her is never good." Pansy snorts.

"Hey!" You exclaim with a pout.

"She isn't wrong, love. You are a tad bit scary when you're hangry." Lorenzo says, offering you one of his famous crooked smile.

"Meanie, your suppose to stand up for me." You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as your pout.

Pansy snorts, rolling her eyes as she watches Enzo's cheeks flush red and he diverts his eyes to the carpet. Theodore clears his throat, catching Pansy's attention and he polity motions to your chest. Pansy snorts, loving how Theodore was always such a gentleman and it explained Enzo's reaction.

"Hun, you've got a few buttons undone and you're pushing your boobs up. I can see your bra too." Pansy whispers.

You flush red and immediately button up the buttons that came undone, struggling as the blouse was a tad bit tight, but you managed.

"Alright! We'll shower and head to dinner. Wait for us?" Theodore asks.

"Yep. Oh! I remembered what I was gonna ask this morning! I need one of your guys' extra jerseys for Friday. I may of forgotten your guys' custom made one for me at my house over break." You admit shyly.

"You can have mine, love." Enzo says softly and you smile thankfully.

"You're the best, Enz! I'd give you a hug, but you are a little sweaty." You say softly.

"She means a lot sweaty, but she's just being nice." Pansy says, her nose crinkling as she looks at the sweaty boys.

The boys all look at each other before grinning and tackling you girls into a hug as you girls squeal and beg for it to stop. You were being held against Enzo's sweaty chest and you look up with a pout as your nose crinkles slightly.

"That's not really nice, now we are all gonna have to shower." You grumble, your hands resting on his chest.

"Oh? What was that? You want more hugs?" He asks, the three of you girls getting passed between the guys once more before you ended up in his arms again.

"Uhhhh, you guys are such jerks." Astoria grumbles sleepily from her boyfriend's hold.

"She isn't wrong." Pansy huffs, shoving Theodore and Blaise away.

"Come on Y/n/n, let's go shower real quick." Astoria mumbles sleepily, holding a hand out to you.

You take her hand, looking at Pansy who takes your other outstretched hand.

"Together?" Theodore asks, his cheeks flushed red as the guys gape at you three.

"Oh yeah, we are gonna just lather each other up with soap and wash each other hairs." Pansy says sarcastically, winking at them as she smirks.

"We technically have showered all at once on a few occasions. I mean we are best friends and we've seen it all before." Astoria says with a shrug.

"And if we are going to get to dinner on time, I guess we'll have no choice." Pansy says, sighing with fake disappointment.

"Uh, can I watch?" Theodore asks before getting smacked by the other guys.

"Uh, girlfriend?" Blaise says in a duh tone.

"We are husbands, we can share a wife." He says.

"My girlfriend." Draco says in a duh tone.

"And no one can see Y/n/n." Mattheo says, his eyes flickering to Enzo.

You start to lead the girls out of the Common Room, heading towards your guys' shared dorm—even though it was just you a majority of the time in here.

"Alright, we have to study hard tonight guys. You boys have a Quidditch game tomorrow and if you don't pass your tests tomorrow, you'll be benched." Pansy says, walking in front of the boys who sat in a line.

You couldn't help, but giggle as Pansy was practically a General of sorts for these boys. She looks at you sharply and raises one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"You got something to say over there, pipsqueak? I believe if you fail the tests you get a week of detention." She says and you groan, sinking down into a seat next to Blaise.

"Ha!" Astoria says, pointing at you.

"If you fail, you'll be in detention for two weeks and excluded from any extra curricular as well." Pansy scolds.

Astoria sighs and sits down, the group zoning out as Pansy rants before leading them to the library where they take up four tables, the four most needed subjects to be studied for. You were sat next to Enzo who was entirely focused on his studies.

You studied for an hour and still have an hour and a half before dinner which was when this study session was going to be ended. You decide to rest your eyes for a moment, completely unaware of what could have gone wrong.

"Enzo? What are you doing in here?" You ask softly.

His hair was tousled, almost as if he had run his hand through it. His eyes weren't their normal soft and welcoming brown. There was a darkness to them, an edge to them you haven't seen in those eyes before.

"I can't stand it when you're so kind to those fools, love. Can't you see that they just want your attention because they think you're pretty? They don't actually need your help." He says.

His voice sounded an octave deeper as he takes slow deliberate steps towards you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"They just needed help, Enz. Why is it bothering you?" You ask softly, putting a hand on his arm.

"Because I see the way they look at you. They look at you the way I look at you. They want you, love. They want you like I want you." He murmurs, his eyes slowly looking over your face.

Your lips part in surprise as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in. He leans down, kissing you hard. You kiss back softly, surprised by how soft his lips were despite the bruising force. His hands find your hips, slowly trailing down to the backs of your thighs. With a barely audible whisper of the word "jump", you do as your told, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His lips were on yours once more, climbing on the bed, slowly crawling up it before lying you down in the middle. He kisses down your jawline, unbuttoning your blouse with skilled fingers. He lifts you slightly, letting you shrug off the blouse as he reaches a hand behind you and undoes the clasp of your bra with two fingers.

"Enz." You whisper softly as he kisses down your neck.

Your fingers begin to undo the buttons to his button up, the two of you slowly working out of clothes. His pillow soft lips find yours once more and you tangle your fingers in his brown locks, holding him closer.

His lets a hand travel down between you both, groaning as he gathers your wetness on his fingers. You whimper, letting him toy with yours folds before pushing yourself in his hand as he pushes a finger inside of you.

"Enzo." You whimper, arching up to be closer to him.

"You're so pretty, baby." He murmurs, leaving marks behind on your neck.

You mind felt foggy, feeling as if you were in a state of shock because this was finally happening. This means he wants you too, right? He's had feelings all along?

"You gonna take my cock like a good girl, baby?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as you looked up at him with your innocent eyes.

"Mhm, I will Enz." You whimper, squirming beneath him.

"You're my good girl, baby. My good and pretty girl." He murmurs as he slowly pushes his cock into you.

You whimper, your nails digging into his skin as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him. His swollen lips find yours, swallowing your whimpers and soft moans.

He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he rests his forehead against yours, letting you adjust.

"Oh Enz, you feel so good." You whimper, squirming once more.

He moves, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he starts to move his hips at a slow pace before he slowly picks up the pace. You moans grow louder and closer together as a coil of heat winds in your stomach.

"Such a pretty girl. Taking my cock so good. Mmm, you're such a good girl, baby. You're my good girl." He whispers.

"Your good girl, Enz, only yours." You whimpers

"That's right baby, only mine." He murmurs.

"I'm close, Enz." You whimper, your nails leaving behind bloody crescents in his arms.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum for me like the good girl you are." He murmurs.

"Enzo!" You cry out, coming around him.

He whimpers softly, feeling you squeeze around him. You whimper, feeling his warm seed coat your walls.

"Such a good girl, baby." He whispers into your hair.

"Need you, Enz." You whimper, your lips brushing against his cheek.

You jump awake, looking around slowly as your face flushed red. You realized everyone was still studying and you clench your thighs, feeling your soaked panties. You couldn't believe you just had a dream about your best friend—-right next to him.

"How was your nap, love? I promise I won't tell Pans. You needed it." He says, smiling softly at you.

"Uh, good. I...I'm going to go ahead and go a little early." You mumble.

"Oh? You okay? I can go with you." He says.

"No, that's okay. I-I just need some fresh air." You say.

"Oh...okay, see you later then?" He asks, smiling at you.

"Yeah, later." You whisper, grabbing your stuff and quickly leaving as you ignore Pansy's calls back.

"Here's Enzo's jersey. He said he tried to wait up for you, but you were taking too long." Pansy says, tossing it to you.

You chew at your lip nervously before you throw on the jersey. It was one from last year.

"I-uh-I dunno if I'm going to the game." You murmur.

"What!? This is the big game. At least one of the two. It's against Gryffindor!" She snaps.

"Easy." Astoria scolds.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry." You mumble, scurrying away as she sighs and calls for you.

You hole yourself up in the bathroom until it's literally minutes until you had to leave. You slide the jersey back on, putting your hair in a ponytail with a green and silver ribbon. You slide your skirt on, tugging at it before rolling your eyes.

It was Astoria’s turn to do laundry this week which probably meant she forgot and did some spell which shrunk your guys' clothes—again. You slide your shoes on before you make your way to the field alone.  You couldn't quite get to the girls because the stands were so packed, so you stood a few rows up. You huff as you feel someone keep tugging on your ponytail.

You ignore it and focus on the game that began. They were currently matching up and you saw Enzo looking at the stands. You smile awkwardly when he spots you and he waves so you do the same before you see his frown as he focuses on the person behind you who was still tugging on your ponytail. You huff and pull it away again, turning around to glare at them.

"Please stop it. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if I was pulling on your hair." You scold softly.

"Awww, she can't even stand her own ground. So soft spoken and she says please. God, you are a disgrace to the Slytherin house." He cackles.

He was a year above you and you frown at him, your eyes watering and you turn around, looking down as you cross your arms over your chest.

You ignore the tugging on your ponytail and try to focus on the game, Gryffindor was winning because Enzo kept missing hits as he was watching the stands. Your ribbon is pulled free and your hair was whipping everywhere because the wind. You turn around and try to snatch your ribbon back, but he holds it above your head.

"Give it back you jerk!" You exclaim, trying to grab it.

"God, you are pathetic. Who wears ribbons in their hair? You act like a child all the time and hide around those jerks who think they run the Slytherin house." He laughs.

He elbows you when you managed to get a hold on it. This was your favorite ribbon. It was from Enzo a few years back. You stumble and fall down. One of the first year girls help you up, offering you a sad smile.

"And Berkshire is heading for the stands along with the Riddle twins. It seems that...Anderson is picking on Y/l/n." Neville announces.

"Give it back to her, Anderson." Enzo says.

"And leave her alone or we'll punch your face in." Mattheo warns.

"Pathetic." Anderson hisses at you, giving you the ribbon.

"What did he say, love?" Enzo asks.

You shake your head, looking away.

"Arms up." Mattheo says.

Your eyebrows furrow, but you do as he says. Both he and Tom grab a hand and lift you slightly where you feet were a few inches off the ground, to the front row with Pansy and Astoria to ensure Anderson won't bother you again. Pansy takes your ribbon and gently gathers your hair into a ponytail before tying it. Enzo was a lot more focused on the second half of the game and somehow Slytherin managed to win.

You knew there was an elaborate party planned. You were feeling a bit insecure about you place with your friends after Anderson, so you branched off from the girls who were waiting for their boyfriends. You reach your dorm, curling into a ball on your bed and falling asleep.

You were sitting in the Common Room with the girls again. It was a little over a week since the big win against Gryffindor. The boys were practicing for their next match even though it was Saturday.

You had managed to avoid Enzo since the game against Gryffindor and somehow managed the same at yesterday's game. You managed to find an excuse as to why you couldn't do movie night last week. You tried to find a way to distance yourselves from the girls, the thing Anderson said really bothered you, but Pansy wasn't having it.

"What's going on with you? You've been acting strange." She notes, closing her book.

Astoria looks up from her notes and focuses on the conversation. You frown, playing with the hem of your skirt and sigh.

"Am I...childish?" You ask.

"What? No! Why would you think that?" She asks.

"Anderson said something about me being childish and that I hide around your guys." You mumble.

"Anderson is an asshole. You aren't childish. We love you the way you are and you don't hide around us. You are equally as apart of our group. No one hides." She says, smiling at you.

"Okay." You murmur, smiling slightly.

"Now, what's going on with you and Enz? You've been avoiding him." She says.

"Nothings going on. I haven't been avoiding him." You say quickly.

"You have. He's been real upset about it. He thinks he did something wrong. You canceled on movie night with him last week and you owled him to tell him you didn't think you'd be able to do it tonight. You've got nothing to do and we know that, so what's up?" Astoria asks.

"I...I realized that after these past few weeks that those feelings I've grown to develop for Enz haven't gone anyway. They are getting stronger. I...have you guys ever had a dream about one of the guys?" You ask.

"No, I can't say I have." Astoria says.

"I have. I used to have dreams about Blaise and I before we got together." Pansy says with a grin.

"I've had a dream about all three of you." Mattheo says.

"Same." Theodore says, the pair walking in together

"Where's the others?" Astoria asks.

"Showering. Don't worry." Theodore says.

"Wait...you had a dream about Enz, didn't you?" Astoria asks in shock as she looks back at you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing red as you use your hair as a shield to hide from the four sets of shocked eyes.

"Enz has been torn up this past week. He thinks you hate him or something." Mattheo says.

"Turns out you fancy him! Wait until he hears this." Theodore laughs.

"Tone it done, boys. No one is saying anything. This is her business. Honey, I think it's time you talk with Enz. You're hurting not only him, but yourself by keeping this distance between you guys. It's obvious your feelings for him are growing. It's time you talk about it. Maybe he feels the same." Pansy says softly.

"No. It's fine. Maybe if I ignore it long enough it'll go away. I don't wanna lose him because he doesn't feel the same, Pans. I can't tell him." You say, shaking your head as you pull your knees to your chest.

"Honey, you need to say something." She says softly.

"No. It's fine. It'll be fine. I've been avoiding him, yes, but I'll put an end to that today. I...I should go get snacks for the movie night. Maybe make two pallets...no, he'll still think he's done something wrong if we aren't cuddling like normal." You mumble, thinking more to yourself than talking to your friends who felt bad for you.

"Practice was great!" Enzo exclaims, walking in with his hair dripping wet.

You were completely oblivious as you mumbled to yourself about different snacks and film titles, but then since you have to go out and get the snacks, you started to make a list in your head of some other things you needed.

"Is she okay?" Enzo asks quietly as he looks over you.

"I believe she's just making a list of items she's gonna grab when she heads into town real quick. See, snacks, clothes because Astoria shrunk ours again—wait! Astoria! You shrunk our clothes again!" Pansy exclaims.

"I didn't mean to!" She exclaims.

You get up, heading to your dorm, unaware that Enzo was following you. You sit at your desk and start to make a list.

"Love, can we talk?" He asks.

"Argh!" You exclaim, you hand knocking the ink pot over.

You mumble curses as you hurry to clean it up before turning to Enzo with a sheepish smile. He smiles slightly.

"O-Of course, sorry. I've been kinda in my head all day today." You admit shyly.

"Is something bothering you?" He asks.

"No, no, of course not. What do you wanna talk about?" You ask.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asks.

"I haven't been avoiding you, Enz. I've just been a tad bit busy is all." You say, smiling softly at him.

"So you have time for our movie night tonight?" He asks.

"Mhm. I just have to grab snacks. Anything you want?" You say.

"Just you, love." He says cheekily, winking at you.

"I-oh-well I'm getting snacks anyway. I have to get me some new clothes again anyway." You say shyly.

"You could just wear my shirts...or nothing, but whatever suits your boat, love." He says, smiling as he leaves.

Pansy walks in with raised brows and she gives you a grin when she sees your dropped jaw.

"I believe Enz just suggested he rather see me in his clothes or naked." You mumble.

"Okay...Enz is here, check...snacks is a check, as are the drinks...extra blankets is a check...I feel like I'm forgetting something. Am I forgetting something?" You ask as you look back at your list.

Enzo was lying on your bed, his arms behind his head as he watched you pace with your clipboard and quill.

"You right next to me." He says and your cheeks flush red.

"Enz, I'm being serious. Something is missing. Or am I going bonkers?" You ask.

"In my eyes you've always been a bit bonkers, but in the cutest most adorable way you can be bonkers. Nothing is missing though. I think you're overthinking per usual." He says.

"Jerk." You grumble.

You take your sweater off, leaving you in a white tank top and your skirt. You carefully climb onto the bed, careful not to flash him as Astoria unfortunately shrunk your guys' underwear as well and Enzo talked you out of clothes shopping today as he wanted to watch two films.

You start the movie, bringing the blankets up more as you were cold.

"Why are you so far away? Get over here, love." He says.

You scooch over slowly until he rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You sigh softly, resting your head on his shoulder and resting a hand above his heart. He rubs circles on your exposed side, slowly going higher. It wasn't strange for him to do this. Enzo was a very touchy person when it came to showing his affection.

"What was your dream about?" He asks.

"What?" You mumble confused.

"Your dream about me. You were talking about it earlier today. What was it that I was doing to you?" He asks.

"Oh...you heard about that...which means you heard everything after that too." You whisper as your nerves begin to start.

You go to get up, but he rolls over so that you're beneath him. You look up at him with wide eyes.

"You aren't going anywhere, pretty girl. We are going to talk about this." He says seriously.

"I-uh-oh." You splutter, your cheeks flushed red as your heart races.

"Is it hard to believe I like you too, love? I thought I had been making it pretty obvious." He mumbles, his eyes flickering over your face.

"You like me?" You squeak.

"Mhm, quite a bit. I never thought you'd like me, but then I overheard the conversation earlier and it was like a new hope for me." He admits.

"Enz...I never would've thought you would like me. I just thought you saw me as your best friend." You admit shyly.

"You'll always be my best friend, love. But, now we can be more too." He admits.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, wondering if they are as soft as they were in your dream. His eyes darken, catching where your eyes were focused. He leans down, kissing your lips softly. You hum softly as you kiss back, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

He trails a hand between you both, ghosting over your stomach before trailing down your thigh. You whimper as he moves his hand back up your thigh, moving it beneath your skirt. You try to squeeze your legs close, but he was in between your legs.

His fingers brush against your wet folds as he pulls away with a grunt. His eyes find yours and you flush red under his intense gaze.

"No panties?" He asks.

"N-No, Stori shrunk our clothes again." You whisper.

"Such a dirty girl, aren't you?" He murmurs, leaning down and kissing the column of your neck.

You let a shaky breath out as your eyes fluttered closed. You push yourself down closer to his hand that was between your legs. You whine softly as he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Enzo, please." You plead, squirming beneath him.

"So impatient, baby." He murmurs, nipping at your neck and eliciting a gasp from you.

Before you could scold him to hurry up, he was working his pants off. Your fingers went to his loosely buttoned dress shirt where you begin to unbutton it. He shrugs it off after kicking his boxers and pants off.

He starts to pull your skirt down as you stare at his hard cock that was thick and long, a vein bulging out the side of it, the head an angry red and oozing precum.

You sit up and take off your tank top, before lying back down. He hovers above you, kissing your lips so softly as he praises you and calls you beautiful as he sinks into you. You arch up into him, your nails dragging down his back as your walls stretch to accommodate him.

"Enzo!" You moan, his lips swallowing the sweet sound.

"Your alright baby, you're doing so good. Taking my cock like the little cock slut you are, aren't you?" He murmurs into your ear.

You clench around him, the dirty name making something twist inside of you as you let a breathy moan out. You never expected Enzo to say such dirty things.

"Enz!" You cry, arching your back off the bed as his thrusts speed up.

You squirm, feeling the overwhelming pressure building. He holds your hips, his teeth leaving marks all over your skin, leaving his claim. He wanted everyone to know that you were his. Now that he had you, there was no letting go.

"That's it baby, keep taking my cock like a good girl. You feel so good around my cock, so fucking tight." He says, his voice deeper—huskier.

You wished he'd keep quiet just for the fact that hearing him like that—was because of you and that made a whole new feeling wash over you.

His lips slant over yours, the two of your lips moving in sync. You follow his lead, sinking back further into the bed and he follows, deepening the kiss. Your hands get lost in his hair as he bites your bottom lip, swallowing your whimper as he deepens the kiss once more.

His tongue glides across your bottom lip, before teeth were clashing as the kiss got too intense. You both pull away, chests heaving as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Thank you, Pansy. I really appreciate it." You say, smiling softly as she helped cover all the hickeys.

"I get it. Eventually, he'll get a little control over himself. The boys, especially our boys, are all about staking their claim. I don't get it entirely either, but if it helps them sleep at night, so be it." She says, laughing softly and you join her.

You both walk to breakfast, getting lost in your guys' normal conversation. You were unaware of Enzo's eyes on you as you walked in.

His lips part, seeing you wearing an olive green sundress that ended a little above mid thigh. Your hair was down and the smile on your face lit up the whole room.

"You're staring." Theodore chuckles.

"Fuck, she's so hot...wait a damn minute. One, she covered her hickeys and two, there's over a seventy five percent chance that if she moves the wrong way in that dress she will flash someone." Enzo says, sitting up straighter.

"Look...I learned the hard way, but you've just got to trust her. Don't make the mistakes I did and make the foundation rocky in the beginning." Blaise says.

He sighs, looking at his plate as you and Pansy take a seat. He looks up and has to take a deep breath. He hated how much cleavage was on show, because he knew people would see you like this.

You looked beautiful.

But, he hated the idea of other men seeing you this way. He remembered his plan and reached beneath the table for the bouquet of flowers. Your lips part as he hands you the assortment of flowers.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Y/n/n?" He asks, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as the boys whoop and tease him.

You smile and look at him like he was the only man in the world—a look that made him melt.

"I'd love to, Enz." You say softly.

The whole table whoops louder before being quieted by Professor Snape. You smile at Enzo, feeling really good about this.

[yagiichan]

cod x fem!reader EDC Week

cod x fem!reader

cod members reaction to you when they first see you out of your tactical gear, and you’re actually dressed up for EDC.

Warning: mentions of smut, 18+ Minors DNI, language. Mentions of breeding.

A/N: EDC literally just happened in my city, and I’ve been into the COD x reader stories recently. It’s not going to be anything impressive, but I hope ya’ll like it. Again, this is my HC for whatever reason. IDK, I don’t really make sense to myself neither, so don’t @ me. :3 This is also my first time posting on tumblr, so please be nice.

FYI I do not know a whole lot of lore, I’m just here for the fun of it, so please do not flame me for any inaccurate/unplausible storytelling I am about to convey.

P.S. I drew the design of the dress, but I referenced an image on pinterest. I apologize as I do not know the original artist for the figure.

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

Chatter amongst the operatives broke out, as everyone began filing out of the room, from another long debriefing. You were new to the squad, and just barely began speaking to anyone. Layered in heavy combat armor, and face covered with a balaclava and dark round shades every time you’re on base. You don’t like it when people gawk at you, especially when conducting professional business.

You find it easier when you’re covered up. People treated you like a normal soldier, rather than a piece of meat. Though, doesn’t really stop the flirtatious comments coming from your companions.

Soap would linger sometimes, making fun little passes, “What’ve you got hidin’ under there, bird?” You’d laugh him off and just tell him nothing he’d be interested in. He’d quip back “Bet there’s loads I can find interesting, dove…” You continue to laugh, making your way down the dim hallway. The other members, following behind. Gaz would chime in with a “knock-it-off” comment every now and then, but he was just as curious how you’d look too.

Pretty much, everyone has seen one another, considering how long they’ve been enlisted together, so it’s no surprise that fresh meat would immediately attract the attention of wolves.

Ghost, Konig, and Horangi followed from behind, watching you laugh.

“What’s the fresh meat good at anyways?” Ghost asked nonchalantly. Horangi shrugged his shoulders, with a soft “mm-mm”. Konig shook his head at the both of them “Hand-to-hand combat and reconnaissance. Apparently, she’s managed to close the distance on the Captain and threw him straight into the wall.” Ghost scoffed, attempting to burn a hole in the back of your skull. “She is? Look at her” he pointed with his chin, “A literal fuckin’ gnome is what she is.” Horangi chortled a little bit, Konig staying silent.

Price picking up on their conversation, cleared his throat, “You’ll see in due time lads. Someone like that can be the least expected.”

“So, since it’s the start of the weekend why don’t we start with a bang and head down to the pub for a fill?”

 Soap suggested eagerly. The week prior had been incredibly taxing, so everyone was privy to the idea, besides you.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I’ve actually got plans this weekend,” you sheepishly laughed. Soap whined, prodding you on what your plans are. You didn’t budge, only that it was already planned some time ago and you can’t miss you. Despite the constant badgering, Soap deflated in defeat, as Gaz patted his back. Despite the initial rejection, Soap bounced back almost immediately.

Chatting away with you, talking about coming out with them another time. You laughed along, apologizing that you couldn’t attend now, but promised to meet in the future.

Making your way towards your apartment complex on base, you noticed everyone else also shuttling into the freight elevator with you. You tilted your head in confusion, queueing Price,

“Well, we all share the same apartment complex. Compliment of the base we currently reside on. Wants to make sure we’re on the ready for when things go down.”

 You slowly nodded in understanding. You clicked your floor number, 10 and noticed that nobody else clicked a floor number besides 14. You looked at Price again, who sheepishly explained that squads are assigned to their own floors. That, since you’re now part of their operation, you’ll probably need to get the changes made soon.

“S’pparently supposed to bring us ‘closer’, build a bond with one another?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, thinking it was cute, “Yeah, I suppose it makes sense.” Chatter continued, until you reached your floor. Getting off, you said your goodnights to everyone. Soap continued to moan, hoping to get a glimpse of you at some point. Gaz agreeing, and Price chuckling at them.

The brooding bunch discussed themselves the best bar to pick from for the night. As the elevator finally reached their floor Soap clapped his hands together “Welp! How’s bout we all meet up again in an hour aye? Freshen up a lil bit. Maybe catch us a pretty bird tonight,” wiggling his eyebrows with the suggestion.

Sighing at Soap’s obvious desperation everyone agreed to meet in the hallway before heading down to the pub.

“Right! Now, let’s get this party started!” Soap howled, looking like he pregame’d before meeting up with the crew.

Everyone had transferred themselves into fresher clothing, finally peeling away the grime of the week. Excitement slowly brews in the group as they can finally wind down for the weekend. Although everyone had changed into more comfortable attire, the three brooding bunch kept their visages concealed.  All members shuffling into the freight elevator, chattering happily amongst themselves.

As the freight elevator begins its slow descent towards the ground floor, it suddenly stops at floor 10. Voices begin to hush as the door slowly slides open, revealing a woman with a high slit dress, stopping at the waist. Four thin black bands wrapped around strong thighs.

Her upper torso covered with black cloth besides the diamond cut pattern, exposing her breasts with dangerous allure. Her lower face covered by a black cloth that looked infused with the rest of the dress, leaving only her eyes visible, and hair to flow freely.

The unknown woman continued to adjust herself, before looking up into the elevator, capturing the eyes of every man on board.

----

Your eyes gleamed with happiness, pulling your mask down, smiling brightly at the lot.

“Hey team!” You chirped.

Silence.

“Heading out to the pub now?”

More silence. Eyes continued to stare you down. Not sure what to make of who you are. You started to feel awkward. Not realizing that this is their first time seeing you, especially like this.

“Erm… well then, off we go…? Heh…” you laughed nervously, with the door sliding closed once more, and the lift beginning its descent once more.

The ride down was silent and awkward, at least for the men. You just continued to tap away at your phone, not a care in the world, making plans to meet your friend at the festival entrance.

“(Y/N)?? Is that you?” Gaz piped up, still inspecting you from head to toe. You turned towards Gaz, nodding your head and smiling.

“Suppose this is the first time you guys have seen me outside of my Michelin Man outfit huh?”

You laughed at your own joke, not ever noticing the way their eyes grew hungrier by the second.

You never noticed the way Price stood just a little bit closer, in hopes of accidentally bumping into you. He’d blame it on how crowded the elevator was.

You never noticed the way Soap suddenly started spilling all over his words. His face slowly heating up with every time you laughed at his silly antics.

You never noticed the way Gaz was literally, so star struck, only nodding and laughing at whatever you were saying.

You never noticed the way Ghost suddenly stood up a little straighter, rather than leaning towards the rail of the elevator, trying to make himself look taller. More attractive for you.

Or the way Horangi adjusted his glasses every now and then to make sure you don’t catch him staring at you.

Or the way Konig began to fidget anxiously, staring intently at your being, hands held together to hide something that slowly began to rage in his pants. He was sweating profusely.

“Konig?” you questioned, staring up at the hulking 6’10” man.

Shit.

“Are you alright? You’re sweating up a storm.” Everyone began to turn towards him, suddenly finding himself embarrassed. With a few ‘legit’ coughs Konig spoke.

“Just need some air s’all.” He played it off way too cool. The others glared at him with jealousy when you showed concern for him. Konig, though his face not visible to others, smiled a triumphant smile under his facemask.

You smiled brightly at him, breathing a sigh of relief, tugging at his heartstrings even more. Glances were stolen every now and then by your team members. Assessing your body, and trying to determine if it’s the trick of the light, or your thighs are just that delicious. Toned, large, and ready to crush heads.

Oh, how they wished to have their heads between your legs. To have that pretty black dress lifted over their heads, and to hear your sweet voice calling out their names in ecstasy. Your hair sticking to your skin, drenched in the sweat and tears of your pheromones.

To watch the rise and fall of your heaving chest, as your honey coats their face and tongues. Once you’ve had your high, the dress comes off and you smile that bright smile at them, hands cupping their faces whisper-begging.

“Come here, darling… Come to me. I need you, so badly.” You’d pant out, with tears in your eyes, and a wobbly smile on your face, just begging to be ravaged by them. To be pumped with their loads.

Oh, they all wanted you, and you didn’t even know it.

The ride down felt like forever, until the soft ding of elevator is heard throughout, indicating your destination of the ground floor.

----

“So, where are you heading, dressed up like this?” Price inquired.

“EDC. It’s going on for 3 days, but I’ll only be going for two.” You stated excitedly.

“EDC? Wassall that then hen?” Now Soap asking the questions.

“It’s just a music festival. Electric Dance Carnival. Been dying to go, and since we’re out here I wanted to take the chance.” You informed the bunch. They all walked along side you, the rest in silence as Soap continued his barrage of questions.

“Oh, but I won’t be getting insanely lit or anything like that! It’s just an opportunity is all! I’m meeting some friends.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to have your team think you’re some sort of degenerate (hehe).

As you continued to happily chat away, your taxi pulled up. Bounding towards the door you turn back towards your fellow soldiers, not missing a beat.

“Ay, be safe, okay? If you need anything, don’t hesitate to phone me.” You chirped once more.

“Anyways, I’m off then! Be seeing you around!” You waved as you got into your taxi, driving away into the city.

----

Sitting around a table, with a dimly lit light hanging above them, Ghost groaned at the thought of phoning you to let you know that he isn’t feeling well. That he might need some of that ‘comfort’ you were giving to Konig earlier. Felt kind of sweaty. Might need you to take care of him, if you get what I’m laying down.

Price, Konig, and Horangi sat around the table, watching Gaz and Soap playing rounds of pool, but not really committing to it. Something on their mind, pretty sure knowing what, or who, it could be.

“If I died tomorrow, I’d want it to be those thighs wrapped around my head.” Soap dreamt, leaning on his pole.

“Yeah, no shit. Wasn’t expecting any of that. Reckon I’d begin howling at the moon just to have a bite.” Gaz chuckled.

Eyes snapped up at the duo, and then at each other.

Price laid a hefty pat on Ghosts shoulder, reminding him of his comment earlier.

“Still not what you were expecting, weren’t you lad?”  laughing heartily. Ghost grunted at his comment, as did Horangi and Konig.

“I… must admit… I too, was not expecting such a treat tonight.” Horangi shuttered with each word. Konig nodded vigorously.

Still fantasizing about your worry over him. Fretting over his comfort. He was already fantasizing about your wedding. The life you’ll lead together. Breeding you up with his young, having you cry under his weight, with your legs wrapped tightly around him as he drilled his throbbing member deep into your core. Konig shuttered at the thought.

“I’m going to make her mind” Konig stated out of the blue. Suddenly, all eyes snapped at him. Flashes of competitiveness and want evident on everyone’s face. Now, everyone was vying for your affection. And you didn’t even have an inkling of an idea that any of this was going down.

----

I hope ya’ll liked my story. It’s probably all over the place, and that’s okay. It was something I’ve been needing to get out of my system. Something I can go back to when I’m feeling that little itch.  I may build on this for our individual heroes. IDK.

[swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters]

champagne supernova

summary - After the events in Sokovia, Wanda goes to live at the Avengers compound and there she ends up getting closer to Natasha, someone she initially thought hated her. Natasha had every reason in the world to hate Wanda, but seeing her so lost and broken with Pietro's death made Natasha, even if unconsciously, take on a protective stance towards Wanda, and the closer they got, the more a feeling that Natasha never thought she could really feel came to the surface. Clint invites them to spend Christmas with his family, feeling that some time away from the Avengers compound would do them good. And he wasn't wrong.

warning(s) — Fluff, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, More Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Canon Divergence, post Age of Ultron, My First Work in This Fandom, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Soft Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, mentions of Pietro, No Wanda/Vision, no nat/bruce, Natasha is a big softie, also is wanda, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Lesbian Wanda Maximoff, Lesbian Natasha Romanov, Mild Smut, Eventual Smut minors DNI please word count: 14,550k

Natasha felt her heart ache with agony when Hulk’s image disappeared from the screen. She knew Bruce had been battling with his own demons for a long time and even after joining the Avengers and saving the world more than they count, even now that they had found a way to put Hulk to sleep with ease, he still couldn’t relax. He was always on alert. And things only got worse after they met the Maximmof’s twins and Wanda used her abilities to make him lose control and attack and destroy everything in his path. Nat sighed deeply, trying not to show any emotions in that ship surrounded by so many people she didn’t know. 

“So, where’s Bruce?” Fury asked, appearing at her side. 

“I don’t know. He turned off the communication system and kept the Quinjet in stealth mood.”

“Well, at least the Quinjet is completely equipped. He’ll be fine.” Fury sighed, running a hand through his head. “Go get some rest, there’s nothing we can do for now.” 

“Where are the others?” 

“Barton and Rogers are in the infirmary. Tony rescued Thor after the city blew up and they were thrown down, and Vision just left Wanda here a moment ago.” 

“Where is Pietro?” 

Natasha felt tears welling up once again at Fury just shaking his head. “How?” 

“Ultron’s final attack.” 

“Where’s Wanda?” 

“She’s down there, with Pietro.” 

Natasha nodded and without saying anything else started her way to the lower levels of the ship. She wasn’t sure why she was going to check on Wanda, why she cared, especially after what she did, entering her mind, bringing back her worst memories, but still. 

It didn’t take long for Natasha to locate Wanda and despite everything, it broke her heart to see her like that: her head on Pietro’s chest as her tears streamed down her face silently. She wasn’t sure what she would do or say as Wanda probably held them accountable for losing her brother, and in a way she was right. If Tony hadn’t created Ultron none of this would have happened. She also knew that Tony meant well but still. 

Natasha sighed and approached them slowly, not wanting to startle Wanda, and not wanting to invade her final moments with her brother, but definitely not wanting her to be alone right now. She didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t very good at it, and the fact that she barely knew them didn’t help at all. Each person reacted differently to their grief, and Natasha had no idea how Wanda would react to her presence there.

“What?” 

Wanda’s heavy accent and annoyed tone pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I just wanted to check on you.” Nat sighed, kneeling beside her.

“Why? Want to make sure I won’t use my powers to kill everyone in here?” 

Natasha’s brow furrowed. Why would she think that?

“So?” 

“I’m sorry.” Natasha shook her head. “No one here thinks you will do such a thing. I just- I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because that would be a really stupid question, I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone right now.” She shrugged. 

“Why?” 

“I won’t pretend I know how you’re feeling but I know the feeling of losing someone you loved.” Natasha said softly, more softly than she ever thought possible regarding Wanda but then her eyes flickered to Pietro’s body and well… 

God, she was exhausted. She sat on the floor and leaned back, her whole body sore, her muscles complaining against the awkward position and the hard floor beneath her. 

“So, what happens to me now?” Wanda asked after a minute. 

“As far as I am concerned, you stay with us.” Natasha said, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.” 

“And where exactly would I go now?” 

Natasha opened and closed her mouth a few times before settling for silence. She knew the implications of what Wanda said - she had lost everything, everyone. She didn’t have anywhere to go. 

“I know.” Natasha exhaled deeply. “What I meant is that you don’t have to stay at the compound, or with us at all. I know that you hate us, that you hate Tony.” She bit her lip, thinking about the options. “I mean, I hope that despite everything, you decide to stay with us, but if not, then I’m sure Fury can help find a place for you.” 

Natasha saw the surprise in the way Wanda’s eyes widened a bit at her words, at the way her brows rose, and she was surprised herself, but she realized that she meant it. Even if she was still mad at Wanda for invading her mind and making her relieve her worst memories, she knew what it was like to be completely alone and with nowhere to go, and she didn’t want that for her. 

“You’re right, I don’t like Stark, but you and the others aren’t so bad.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. That was new. And good, maybe. “What made you change your mind about us?”

“Your friend, the arrow guy, he could have let me die down there when I froze, but he didn’t. He saved me. He said that it didn’t matter what I did or who I was, and he didn’t blame me for what was happening. He said that I had the choice to stay hidden and he would send Pietro to get me but if I decided to fight, the moment I walked through that door I would be an Avenger.” 

“Yeah, this is how Clint is.” Natasha smiled genuinely despite everything. “Look, what happened can’t be changed, unfortunately, so, if you decide to stay with us, I promise you that we won’t hold what happened in Sokovia against you. It is your fault as much as ours. But the moment you stepped out of that door, after Clint peeptalk, you became an Avenger and we will help you.”

“As long as Stark is not the one responsible for me, I’m okay with it.” 

“Don’t worry, he won’t be.” Natasha smiled tiredly. 

Before she could say anything else they felt the ship preparing to begin its descent for landing. As soon as the ship stopped they made their way to the higher levels. Natasha nodded as they walked past Fury and led Wanda into the compound. 

“Nat! Wanda!” Clint’s voice stopped them as they were about to enter the building where the living area was. “Thank God you guys are okay.” 

“I wouldn’t say okay, but we are alive.” Natasha said. “How are you?” 

“I’ll be okay.” He smiled weakly. “Look, I spoke to Fury and he will take care of everything-” Clint gestured vaguely. 

“Thank you.” 

Wanda said absently and Nat could only imagine all the mixed emotions she was going through right now. She knew there wasn’t much they could do other than that but still.

“So, I’ll head to the farm, call me if you guys need anything.” Clint said when they remained silent. 

“Thanks, Clint, we’ll do.” Nat smiled tiredly. “C’mon, Wanda, let’s find a room for you.” She put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder, not even realizing what she was doing until they started walking into the building. 

Natasha led Wanda straight to one of the rooms, she could show the place around later. 

“My room is just across the hall.” She pointed to a room with a closed door. “You will find average clothes in the dresser and everything you need in the bathroom if you want to take a bath. God knows I do.” Natasha exhaled shakily. “Just let me know if you need anything, ok?

“I guess you want your jacket back.” Wanda said flatly as she started to remove the item.

“You can keep it. It looks good on you.” Natasha stopped her movements gently. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I was just messing around back in the church.” 

“Okay then.” Wanda smiled, pulling the jacket back. 

Natasha nodded and went to her room. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she started removing her suit and went straight to the bathroom. She filled the bathtub and let her body sink in the hot water as all the feelings from that long week came crashing down on her. 

She felt a mix of exhaustion, anger and sadness simmer beneath the surface, reminders of Ultron’s destruction, Bruce's departure, and the countless losses they had endured along the way. Yet, under it all, she couldn’t shake the nagging awareness of Wanda just down the hall. 

Here was this girl - no, woman - who had lost so much in the span of a single battle. Her face, streaked with tears, haunted Natasha’s mind. It felt strange to feel protective toward her after everything. She wasn’t sure what had compelled her to sit by Wanda's side earlier, other than the raw understanding of how it felt to have no one, to feel like the world would swallow you whole in the quiet after a tragedy. That’s why she avoided being alone, because being alone made her think about life, and loss, and herself. And she hated it. 

Inhaling deeply, Natasha sank a little deeper into the water, closing her eyes to let the warmth seep in. Her muscles started to loosen and she let herself relax a little bit. They had defeated Ultron, Strucker was dead, and for now they didn’t have any monsters or enemies to defeat, besides their own. 

The images of the Red Room started to resurface and Natasha let out a long sigh. It would take her some time to push all those memories away again. She should be fuming at Wanda because of it, but for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she couldn’t bring herself to be really mad at her. 

Once her skin began to prune, Natasha reluctantly got out, wrapping a towel around herself and padding barefoot across the floor to her room. She slipped into a loose shirt and sweatpants, and she glanced toward the door, wondering if Wanda was still awake. Maybe she should check on her? Just to make sure she was settled.

Before she could change her mind, Natasha crossed the hall and knocked lightly on Wanda's door. The soft rustle behind the door confirmed that Wanda's was still up, and after a moment, it cracked open. 

"Natasha? Is everything okay?" Wanda’s eyes, still a little red, met hers, surprised but not displeased.

"Yeah, I-" Natasha scratched her neck. "I just want to check how you're settling in, if you need anything." She shrugged.

Wanda tilted her head, confusion all over her face but she stepped aside so Natasha could enter. She looked like she’d washed up too, hair damp, face scrubbed clean, but the sadness hadn’t left her eyes. 

“I’m okay, considering everything, I guess.”

Natasha glanced around the room, knowing what she would find there; the plainness, the sparse, impersonal feel. She knew better than anyone how stark the compound felt to someone who wasn’t used to it, especially to someone grieving. Maybe she should take Wanda shopping, this way they could turn this cold room into something more like… home.

“I thought…” Natasha paused, weighing her words. “I thought maybe you’d like some company. The nights here can be pretty lonely.”

“I-” Wanda blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Natasha.” 

Natasha did her best to ignore how her heart raced or how her stomach fluttered at the way Wanda said her name, with that heavy accent of hers and those big, enchanting, green eyes that seemed to see through her soul. 

“Are you hungry? I can make something for us or we can order anything.” Natasha said, desperately wanting to change her thoughts to something else. 

“I didn’t know you cook.” 

“I know my way around the kitchen.” Natasha shrugged, trying her best to avoid Wanda’s inquiring eyes and the little grin on her lips. “C’mon, let’s see if there is anything we can put together as a meal or if the boys already eat it all.”

They left the room in silence, and Nat was glad that Wanda simply agreed. She could feel Wanda’s eyes roaming around the place as they walked through the corridors down to the kitchen. 

“Of course you would be here.” Natasha teased as she saw Sam in the kitchen. 

“Nat!” He smiled. “Oh, hi!” He said to Wanda. “I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Sam.” 

“Hi, Sam.” She shook his hand. “I’m Wanda.” 

“I’m sorry for your brother.” 

“Thank you.” 

Natasha watched the exchange in silence, attentive to Wanda’s reaction. She knew it could be overwhelming but she also knew that Sam was one of the most easy going among them all. It was easy to feel relaxed around him. 

“So, is there anything to eat in this place or you and Steve have already finished everything?” 

“Ouch.” 

Natasha smiled and started going through the cabinets and the fridge in search of something to eat. “Hey, Wanda, how do you feel about mac and cheese?” She had no idea what Wanda liked but pretty much everyone she knew liked mac and cheese. 

“I guess it’s okay.” 

Natasha looked over her shoulder and offered a small grin to Wanda. 

“I love mac and cheese.” Sam said, stuffing another bite of sandwich in his mouth. 

“Aren’t you already eating?” 

“I never say no to mac and cheese.” 

Natasha only shook her head and grabbed everything she would need to put the meal together. She could feel Wanda’s eyes on her, curious, grateful and confused at the same time. It was a weird connection that she felt towards Wanda, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“Hey, Sam, can you put the table, please?” 

“Can I help?” 

“Sure.” Nat smiled softly. “Sam, please, show her where everything is.” 

Natasha watched them for a moment, and was grateful for how easy going Sam was. Maybe the fact that Wanda had not entered his mind was a plus for how good they were getting along but still. 

"So when do we start training?" Sam asked as they ate.

"What training?" Wanda perked up. 

“Fury wants Steve and I to train you guys, but I asked him for a few days so you can settle.” Natasha said. “Also you probably need new clothes and stuff.” 

“Yeah, well, we destroyed my home to save the world, after all.” 

Natasha sighed. She could feel all the mixed emotions in Wanda’s voice, and the worst part is that she was right. Of course, she would take the same decision over and over, but still. 

After they ate, Wanda helped them to clean everything and excused herself back to her room. Natasha watched as she disappeared through the halls, not sure what to do next. Should she go after Wanda and actually make her some company or it was better to leave her alone for a while? 

“So, I heard things were pretty rough for you guys there. Are you okay?” 

For a second Natasha nearly jumped, but then she remembered Sam was still in the kitchen. 

“Rough is an understatement but we’ll be okay.” 

“She can really enter our minds…” Sam gestured vaguely. 

“Yes, but I don’t think she’ll do this again unless it’s really needed.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha shrugged. “Maybe because I know what it is like to be in her position.”

“Fair enough.” Sam nodded. “Well, you should get some rest as well.”

“I will.” 

(...)  

Wanda closed the door behind her and let her body slide down to the ground. She pulled her legs up to her chest and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall down her face. Images of the last few hours played through her mind, over and over, as she tried to see what had gone wrong, how she could have let Pietro die, what she could have done, how she was all alone now; thrown into a country that wasn't hers, in a place surrounded by strangers. Strangers who she had hurt, in one way or another. Strangers who, despite having every right in the world, didn't seem angry with her.

Especially Natasha. She hadn't seen what memories it had awakened in her, when she entered her mind, but for some reason she didn't understand, Wanda could feel the weight of those memories, and she knew that it had affected Natasha deeply. 

She wanted to apologize to Natasha for that, but she had no idea how to do it, and even less if it would be well received, even though Natasha had been nothing but kind to her since the walk to the compound. Wanda closed her eyes tightly and leaned her head against the door. Tears rolled down her face and sobs made their way to her throat, making her whole body shake.

In the space of just over twenty-four hours, she and Pietro went from villains to heroes, and that was how he died, but that was far from easing the pain, anger and sense of uselessness she felt at that moment. She couldn't even kill the person responsible for his death, since both Ultron and Strucker were already dead.

Wanda wished she could let her powers flow through her body, like she had done in the church, in Sokovia, but that wasn't possible here. She dug her nails into the fabric of the sweatpants, trying to control her powers and tried to focus her thoughts on something else, because she knew that if she kept thinking about Pietro she wouldn't be able to control her powers for much longer.

A flash of red hair and green eyes shone in her mind and then the memories of her brother were slowly being replaced by Natasha; the fight in the church was something that, despite the chaos of the moment, impressed Wanda, because unlike most of them Natasha didn't have special powers, nor special suits, she only relied on her skills, but that didn't make her less than them. She was relentless, precise, strong, and she still managed to be effortlessly attractive. Wanda opened her eyes, shocked by her own thoughts.

During all the years serving Hydra and with her mind focused on her revenge against Stark, Wanda never bothered to think about any kind of relationship, never even entertained the idea of ​​getting involved with anyone, because honestly, who could she get involved with? Certainly not the men of Hydra. And among the citizens of Sokovia there was no one who really sparked her interest to the point of making her deviate from her target, from her revenge, but for some reason, ever since she had laid eyes on Natasha, that idea seemed to always be in the back of her mind, waiting to come to the surface.

"Wanda?" 

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and she lifted her head, staring at the door. 

"Wanda, is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I- I'm fine." She swallowed hard at the sound of Natasha's voice. "Why?"

"Nothing, just checking."

Wanda narrowed her eyes and her thoughts began to race through her mind. Had Natasha somehow felt her powers almost going out of control? Or had it been something else? Wanda hoped it wasn't either of those options, but if it had to be either, she prayed it was the former. She sighed heavily and got up from the floor, running a hand through her hair before opening the door. "I'm okay, see?"

She felt a chill run down her spine at Natasha's piercing gaze, at how her eyes slowly studied her; her face, her body. She knew Natasha was looking for any reaction from her that would indicate the opposite of what she had said, and Wanda was aware that she wasn't very good at hiding her feelings, but after a moment Natasha just nodded and her expression relaxed, giving way to a soft smile.

"Very well."

"Do you want to come in?" Wanda found herself saying.

Wanda felt her heart race when Natasha just arched her eyebrows and smiled, entering her room without saying anything. She waited, fidgeting with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing, while Natasha also seemed to be searching for words. From what little she had seen of Natasha, she seemed confident and determined, but standing there in the middle of her room with her arms crossed over her chest and biting her lip, Wanda realized there was much more beneath her tough surface.

"I was thinking we could go shopping tomorrow," Natasha said after a while. "Buy clothes and shoes and whatever else you need."

"Sure, I guess."

"Great, we'll leave after breakfast then."

Natasha smiled, and even though it was a genuine smile, Wanda could tell she was nervous.

"Okay."

"I'll be going then." Natasha gestured vaguely.

"Sleep well, Natasha."

"You too, Wanda." She stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder. "If you need anything, just knock on my door."

"Thanks."

As soon as the door closed behind Natasha, Wanda walked to the window and sat on the edge. The large glass window offered a breathtaking view of the compound and the vast greenery around it. She had no idea where the place was, but the view offered a certain calm to her turbulent thoughts, even more so after Natasha's visit.

Wanda couldn't quite understand why they, especially Natasha, were being nice to her after everything that had happened. Sure, Clint had said that from the moment she walked out that door she would become one of them, an Avenger, but she wasn't sure if everyone agreed with that. Especially Tony or Bruce, who happened to be missing. Possibly because of what she had done to his mind. She had seen the destruction the Hulk had caused, and it had been her fault, Wanda was fully aware of that. She knew he hated her, and if she was honest with herself, she expected that feeling from all of them, especially Tony and Natasha, who after Bruce, seemed to have been the most affected by her powers.

But since she had stepped onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. ship, Natasha had been nothing but kind to her, staying by her side and offering silent comfort as she cried over Pietro's body. Wanda felt the hot tears running down her cheeks again and decided that maybe it would be best to try to sleep, to get some rest. The day had been too long and she was too confused and tired to really think about anything. She just wanted to let herself be swallowed up by the pain of her brother's death.

(...)

Natasha stretched, every part of her body aching from the recent battles they had fought. Fighting against super sophisticated robots sucked. She groaned and sat up in bed, reaching for the bedside table in search of some pain medication. After taking the medication, Natasha got up and headed to the bathroom. A hot, relaxing shower would help.

As the hot water jet relaxed her muscles, Natasha thought about the day ahead; breakfast, then taking Wanda shopping and taking the opportunity to grab something to eat. After that she really didn't know what to do, as they had nothing planned for the next few days since everyone agreed that both Wanda and them needed a break.

Maybe she should take the opportunity to show Wanda some sights? But what exactly if Natasha didn't even know what she liked? She shook her head and focused on finishing the shower before the hot water ran out.

"Good morning, boys." Natasha said as she entered the kitchen and came face to face with Steve and Sam.

"Good morning, Nat." They smiled broadly.

"Steve made breakfast."

"Then I better grab something to eat on the way." Natasha joked, accepting the plate of eggs and bacon that Sam was pushing toward her. "Did Wanda come down for breakfast yet?"

"I'm here."

Natasha turned around, smiling broadly at the sound of Wanda's voice. "Hey." She took the plate that Sam had slid toward her and handed it to Wanda.

"Are you guys going somewhere?" Steve asked, looking between the two of them.

"I'm taking Wanda shopping, she needs clothes, girly stuff. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, okay." Sam and Steve answered together and they laughed at their expressions of slight panic and embarrassment.

After breakfast, Wanda and Natasha went up to their rooms to get ready and met in the living room.

Natasha led them to the compound's vast garage and went straight to her favorite Corvette Stingray.

"Wow, that's-"

She turned with a mischievous smile at Wanda's surprised tone.

"You haven't seen anything yet, get in." Natasha winked and got in the driver's side.

Natasha sped up, showing off a little and laughing at Wanda's expression. They left the compound towards the city and in a short time they were in downtown New York. She knew the crowds there could be overwhelming, but it was also good for distracting, especially in Wanda's state. Natasha drove the car to a neighborhood that concentrated most of the stores with clothes in the style she thought Wanda would like, because from the little she had the chance to observe her, Natasha doubted she cared about designer labels and renowned brands.

She was pleased to see that she was right about that, and before long the two of them were carrying enough bags that they had to make a trip to the car. At first Wanda was reluctant to accept Natasha paying for everything, but with some talking she managed to convince Wanda.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Natasha said as they loaded the last few bags into the car.

"I never knew shopping could make you so hungry."

"Right?" Natasha smiled. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

(...)

When they arrived back at the compound, they went straight to Wanda's room.

"So, did you have fun today?"

Natasha asked as she placed the bags next to her bed, and despite her tiredness, Wanda definitely felt a little lighter. Natasha's company was better than she could have imagined.

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you, Natasha."

"You're welcome."

Natasha winked playfully, or rather tried to, which caused Wanda to smile softly.

"I really mean it."

"I know."

Natasha's expression changed from playful to more serious, but it was still gentle and soft. Wanda felt her heart race at the understanding she saw in Natasha's gaze, and she really couldn't comprehend how that was possible.

"Hey, talk to me." 

Wanda felt like a thousand butterflies were flying inside her when Natasha took a step towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her voice was soft and concerned, as was her gaze, and it left Wanda dizzy. 

"I- I just- I don't understand why you, of all people, have been so kind to me." 

Natasha smiled, and shook her head slightly. Her red hair falling slightly into her eyes. "Remember what Clint told you? It doesn't matter what you did, or who you were." 

"Still." Wanda held her gaze. "I haven't seen the things I put you through, but I could feel the weight of the visions I caused you and it's overwhelming." 

"You're right, it is overwhelming, but I've dealt with it once and I'll deal with it again." Natasha said gently. "My past is ugly and red, for the most part, but I got a second chance when I met Clint. And although your powers have brought up memories I would rather have remained buried deep inside, I refuse to let it dominate me." 

Wanda wanted to ask, wanted to know about Natasha's past, the good and the bad. For some reason she didn't yet understand, she wanted to know every piece of that mysterious woman, but she knew it wasn't the time, and that if Natasha wanted, she would share of her own free will.

Natasha was so strong, so resilient. Wanda wanted to be a little like her, but most of the time she felt like she was drowning.

"How do you do it?" Wanda asked, her lips trembling slightly.

"How do I do what?" Natasha frowned.

"How do you stay so strong?"

Natasha chuckled and shook her head. "Do you think I'm strong?" Gently she took Wanda's hand and guided her to the edge of the bed. "I'm far from strong, but there are specific people I choose to show my vulnerability to."

Wanda nodded absently, too overwhelmed by all the things she was feeling at that moment. "Still, it's more than I can be right now," She said after a moment. "I feel like this wave washes over me, again and again. It knocks me down, and when I try to stand up, it just comes for me again and it’s just gonna drown me."

"Grief is a day-to-day process," Natasha said gently. "It's something that lasts a lifetime, I think." 

Wanda noticed Natasha's gaze grow distant, and she wondered who she had lost. 

"Grief, the worst of it, hits us when we least expect it. At first, we think that the loss of the person we love is something that will crush us, that pain in our chest, the feeling of numbness, the lack of will to do anything, but then all of that starts to become less and less and we move on with life. Until one day, something simple brings it all back, a thousand times worse." 

Natasha used the back of her free hand to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall, and Wanda wished she could do it for her. 

"The worst part of grief, of missing the person, is not the beginning. It's one day when you're doing something and you think 'he would like that.' or you see something on TV, hear a song, or anything really, and you immediately think of that person, you want to share it with them and they're not there. It never gets easier, but at least for me, grief comes from a place of love. It's a love that endures."

"You lost someone." 

Wanda found herself saying. It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Natasha looked at her for a moment before nodding. 

"I know how you feel, and that's why I want you to know that you're not alone, okay?" 

Wanda knew Natasha wouldn't go into details now, after all, they barely knew each other. She had been incredibly kind, but Wanda knew there were limits for now. And she was okay with that. 

"Thank you, Natasha." 

"Anytime." 

(...)

As the days went by, things started to fall into place and return to a sense of normalcy. The new members' training began, and it was going better than Steve or Natasha had expected.

At first, Wanda had a little difficulty with the physical part of the training, the hours in the gym doing exercises and physical fights - usually with Natasha - but in a few weeks she got the hang of it.

Little by little they started doing some simple missions to see how the new members were performing, how they controlled their abilities and everything else, and both Sam and Wanda were doing very well.

Tony hardly showed up at the compound, which was a relief for Wanda. Natasha taught her how to drive, in addition to the Avenger training, but she still didn't feel comfortable driving around.

Thanksgiving was celebrated simply, just Wanda, Natasha, and Steve at the compound, although Clint had insisted that they go to the farm. Sam had spent the holiday with his sister and nephews.

The week before Christmas, Natasha finally gave in to Clint's insistence and agreed to go to the farm. She had convinced Wanda to go with her, also at Clint's insistence, and since he didn't want her to be alone at the compound.

They stopped in town to buy Christmas presents for the Bartons and from there they left for the farm.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to spend Christmas with you guys?" Wanda asked again.

Nat smiled, glancing sideways at her, not really taking her eyes off the road. She could feel the nervousness rolling off Wanda in waves.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Yeah, Clint's sure too."

"Okay." Wanda said absently, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt.

When Natasha parked near the main house, she barely had time to unbuckle her seatbelt before Lila was already running toward her, her small feet kicking up dirt and snow on the gravel path.

"Auntie Nat!" 

Without hesitation, Natasha swung open the door and stepped out, instantly lifting the little girl into her arms. Lila's small body melted against her, and Natasha couldn't help but smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Ouch, you've gotten big, kiddo."

Lila giggled and wrapped her arms around Natasha’s neck, her cheek against Natasha's. 

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at Wanda, who was still standing on the other side of the car, a little more reserved but watching them with a quiet smile. Natasha gave a subtle nod, inviting her closer. 

"Lila, this is my friend Wanda," Natasha said gently, keeping her hold on the girl. "Say 'hi' to Wanda."

Lila pulled back slightly, giving Wanda a curious look before offering a shy but warm smile. "Hi."

The greeting was simple, but there was an undeniable softness in Lila’s voice, like she instinctively knew Wanda was someone safe. 

"Hi, Lila." 

There was something almost maternal in the way she spoke to the little girl, a tenderness Natasha hadn’t quite expected, but welcomed.

Before Natasha could say anything else, Lila tucked her face into her neck, her small arms tightening around her. 

Natasha laughed quietly, and just then, a familiar voice broke through the moment. "Well, look who decided to show up!"

Natasha turned, smiling brightly at the sight of Laura standing on the porch with little Nathaniel in her arms, his eyes wide and curious as he stared at the newcomers. 

"Hey, Laura," Natasha grinned, shifting Lila just slightly so she could wave.

Laura’s grin was warm, and her eyes were sparking with amusement. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten the way out here."

"Never," Natasha replied, her smile softening as she looked at the family she'd come to care for so much. 

They approached the porch and Natasha set Lila down. Laura sent the little girl to get Clint and Cooper, who were in the barn tinkering with the old tractor.

Natasha wagged her fingers at Nathaniel, who immediately reached forward.

"Oh, look at you, all soft with kids. Who would have thought," Wanda said, but there was no malice in her voice, just genuine surprise.

Natasha felt her cheeks immediately flush. Even though she and Wanda had grown quite close since the events in Sokovia, this was the first time she had seen her outside the compound, so carefree and somehow vulnerable.

Natasha had told Wanda bits and pieces about her bond with Clint’s family, about the kids, but this was the first time Wanda had witnessed it firsthand. The surprise was there, quiet but clear.

"Oh, Nat here is such a softie," Laura teased.

Natasha lifted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she shot Laura a look. "Traitor," she muttered under her breath.

Laura just grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "What? It's true."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curled up despite herself. She’d always tried to keep her distance, maintain the tough exterior, but the Barton’s were more her family than she would ever admit out loud because saying it out loud would make it real and she couldn’t afford to lose another family. 

Natasha met Wanda’s gaze, and held it for a moment. The way Wanda was looking at her made her feel things she never thought possible. Not with her past. She heard Lila’s and Cooper laughter as they approached them and this seemed to break the moment between them. 

“I have my moments,” Natasha said with a small, playful smile.

"Nat! Wanda!"

Clint's voice made them turn and Natasha smiled widely. His eyes were shining with mischief and he glanced between her and Wanda with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him, but Clint didn't even flinch.

"I'm glad you decided to join us." He hugged her tightly, and then hugged Wanda. "Let's go inside, it's getting cold fast."

Natasha smiled, feeling her heart warm at the ease of Clint's relationship with Wanda. It was as if he had taken on the role of big brother, mentor, or whatever it was he did, and it worked well. She noticed how the tension was slowly leaving Wanda's shoulders.

The inside of the house was warm and inviting; the fireplace was lit and there were a few toys scattered on the floor, papers and crayons spread out on the coffee table, a bottle, a baby blanket, and some half-eaten gingerbread cookies on a plate.

As they stepped inside, the warmth of the Barton’s home wrapped around Natasha and Wanda, bringing with it the scent of wood smoke, fresh pine, and something cinnamon-sweet baking in the kitchen. Wanda glanced around, a quiet curiosity softening her usual guarded expression. It was a side of her Natasha rarely saw; calm, open, almost like she was letting her guard down bit by bit.

Natasha caught her gaze lingering on the family photos lining the walls. Each picture told a story: Clint and Laura on their wedding day, Clint and Cooper covered in mud from some backyard project, Lila in a princess dress with a bright, toothy smile. Natasha nudged Wanda gently, pulling her out of her trance. 

“Welcome to the chaos,” Natasha murmured with a soft smirk.

Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes still tracing over the photographs. “It’s…nice. Feels like home.”

Before Natasha could say anything, Clint reappeared with Cooper and Lila racing behind him, already caught up in some sibling rivalry and ran towards the kitchen, returning a second later. Cooper was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, which Natasha was pretty sure Laura had spiked with vodka or whiskey. 

"Mom said to give them to you guys, it'll help ward off the cold."

"She said, huh?" Natasha accepted the mugs and handed one to Wanda.

She ruffled Cooper's hair and he clung to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Natasha's smile softened and widened, and her gaze met Laura's over the boy's head. "Thanks." She lifted the mug slightly to Laura, who did the same from the kitchen.

Cooper beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. Lila, never one to be outdone, immediately tugged at Natasha’s sleeve. “Auntie Nat, we made cookies for you!” She pointed proudly toward the kitchen, where Laura was pulling a fresh tray from the oven, the scent filling the entire room.

“Oh, you did, huh?” Lila nodded enthusiastically, running back into the kitchen and rocking back on her heels as Laura placed the cookies on a plate.

Clint appeared beside them, smiling proudly as he watched his children. He looked from Natasha to Wanda and smirked. 

“Think you can handle that, Maximoff?”

Natasha snorted, a rare, carefree sound that seemed to make Wanda’s eyes brighten with curiosity, as if she wanted to hear it again and it made her heart skip some beats. Clint took that as his cue to clap his hands and rally everyone. 

"Alright, alright, movie time! We need your votes: are we going classic Christmas, or one of those superhero movies Cooper keeps insisting are 'totally holiday-appropriate'?"

Natasha laughed, shaking her head. "Classic, definitely. I think we've all seen enough superheroes for now." There was a flicker of amusement on Wanda's face, something Natasha rarely saw.

The group made their way to the living room, where Laura had already transformed the space with blankets and pillows spread across couches and the floor. Lila made a beeline for Natasha, curling up beside her and resting her head on Natasha's shoulder as they settled in. Meanwhile, Cooper took the seat next to Wanda, stealing occasional glances her way as if she were something magical and rare and Natasha couldn't help but smile. 

Once the movie started, the room grew quiet, the atmosphere softened by the flickering firelight and the comforting sounds of popcorn crunching. Wanda, sitting beside Natasha, seemed to lose some of her usual guarded tension, taking in the warmth of the room and this feeling of belonging that wrapped around them. Natasha felt Wanda’s shoulder brush hers lightly, the simple touch filling the space with an unexpected sense of peace that lingered between them as they watched the screen together.

(...)

The morning broke crisp and bright, sunlight gleaming off the fresh layer of snow that blanketed the Barton farm. Natasha was savoring her first sip of coffee when Lila and Cooper burst into the kitchen, voices ringing with excitement.

"Auntie Nat! Wanda! It snowed!" Lila squealed, her eyes wide with delight.

Natasha barely had a chance to respond before Cooper tugged on her sleeve. "You have to come out with us! It's perfect for sledding, or snowball fights, or building snow forts!"

Natasha opened her mouth, but Lila had already grabbed Wanda's hand, pulling her toward the door. "You can't say no. It's a rule!" 

Wanda cast a helpless, amused glance at Natasha, wrapped up in Lila's enthusiasm. Natasha rolled her eyes, smothering a smile. "Alright, alright. Just bundle up. It's freezing out there."

Soon enough, they were trudging through the snow, boots crunching over the fresh powder as Cooper and Lila ran ahead, their laughter echoing across the fields. Natasha watched them, taking in the simple joy on their faces as they dashed ahead, caught up in the magic of the snowy morning.

Cooper sprinted ahead, immediately scooping up snow and forming snowballs in his gloved hands, while Wanda knelt down to help Lila pack the snow. Natasha noticed the way Wanda's face softened, absorbed in the task, her gloved fingers shaping smooth snowballs with surprising concentration. It wasn't often that Wanda allowed herself to let go like this, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile as she watched her friend so fully in the moment, mirroring Lila's delight.

"Nat!" Cooper called, pulling her from her thoughts. 

His mischievous grin was a warning she caught just a second too late as a snowball flew through the air, hitting her square on the shoulder. Shaking her head with a chuckle, Natasha crouched down to form her own snowball.

"Oh, you're in for it now, Barton!" she called, tossing a snowball that landed perfectly on Cooper's back. He laughed, dodging behind a tree for cover, the game fully underway.

Natasha caught a glimpse of Wanda watching them, her eyes bright as she observed Natasha's rare carefree moment with the kids. Wanda's gaze held something soft and warm, an expression that Natasha couldn't help but feel a hint of pride in causing.

A small tug on her sleeve brought Natasha's focus to Lila, whose hands were attempting to form a snowball, her face lit up with mischief. Natasha smirked, joining in the playful plotting as she began packing another snowball, catching sight of Wanda doing the same. 

Natasha's gaze sharpened the moment she noticed Wanda's smirk and the playful glint in her eye. Wanda narrowed her focus on Natasha, packing the snowball deliberately, and a thrill ran through Natasha, settling as a faint, unexpected chill down her spine. Her usual poise wavered, replaced by a surprising spark of anticipation at Wanda's challenge.

"Don't even think about it, Maximoff," Natasha warned, raising an eyebrow and taking a cautious step back, though she found herself almost wanting Wanda to ignore the warning.

"Oh, I'm thinking about it," Wanda replied, her smirk deepening. 

Before Natasha could fully prepare, the snowball was already flying toward her, hitting her shoulder in a burst of cold powder that scattered through the air. Natasha laughed, a touch breathless, her heart pounding with the exhilaration of the moment.

For a second, she caught Wanda's gaze and felt her stomach flip. The teasing glint in her eyes felt like something more, something that Natasha didn't often feel; the thrill of letting her guard down, of giving in with someone she trusted.

Natasha laughed, and before Wanda could blink, she scooped up her own handful of snow, sending it flying in a perfect arc that landed squarely on Wanda's chest. 

Wanda's laughter rang out across the open field, a sound so pure and unrestrained that Natasha felt herself pause, caught up in the warmth of it. A smile crept onto her face as she watched Wanda, taking in the sparkle of her eyes and the rare openness of her expression.

"Is that all you've got, Romanoff?" Wanda challenged, shaking the snow from her jacket and stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Natasha grinned, feeling her competitive side flare. "You really don't want to start a snow war with a spy."

"Oh?" Wanda arched an eyebrow, her smile widening, clearly calling Natasha's bluff. 

That spark of challenge between them sent a thrill through Natasha, and she barely had time to react before they were fully immersed in a whirlwind of snowballs, laughter, and scrambling feet as they dodged and ducked around trees and snow piles. 

Lila and Cooper joined in, adding to the chaos, and Natasha found herself caught off-guard more than once by their surprisingly accurate snow missiles. Somewhere in the madness, Cooper slipped, tumbling into the snow and sending Natasha down with him in a playful heap. She barely had time to process it before Wanda rushed over, laughter bubbling up as she offered her hand to Natasha only for Natasha to grin mischievously and pull Wanda down beside her, both of them collapsing into the snow with laughter echoing around them.

After a while, breathless and cheeks tinged pink from the cold, they lay back in the snow, gazing up at the pale blue sky as they caught their breath. Natasha listened to the sound of Wanda's breathing beside her, feeling strangely at ease. She glanced over, taking in the peaceful expression on Wanda's face, her closed eyes and faint smile.

"I think they wore us out," Natasha murmured, an amused warmth in her voice.

Wanda's smile grew, her eyes still closed. "I think I'll let them take the blame," she replied softly, her voice carrying a note of contentment that Natasha couldn't remember hearing before.

Lila and Cooper shared a victorious grin, scrambling to their feet and running toward the house with eager cries of "Hot chocolate time!" Lila shot, already halfway to the door.

As Natasha and Wanda got up, brushing the snow from their coats, Natasha noticed the way Wanda's gaze lingered on her, her eyes shining with a rare, easy happiness. She looked back at Wanda, feeling a strange but undeniable closeness.

"Thanks for indulging them," Natasha said, her voice warm and genuine. "It's been… nice, seeing you like this."

Wanda's smile softened, her eyes meeting Natasha's for a long moment. "I think it's been nice for me, too."

They walked back to the house together, snow clinging to their coats and boots, the quiet warmth of the moment stretching between them.

As they stepped into the living room, Laura took one look at them and shook her head with a knowing smile. "Alright, go take a hot shower and change your clothes. All of you," she added, giving both Natasha and Wanda a firm look.

They followed the kids upstairs, exchanging a bemused glance as they headed to freshen up. By the time they gathered in the kitchen, Laura had laid out steaming mugs of hot cocoa with fluffy marshmallows on top, the room warmed by the crackling fire.

As the afternoon slipped into evening, Clint suggested a round of Christmas movies, and soon the living room was bathed in the soft glow of twinkling lights and the warm flicker of the fire. Natasha settled in, feeling Wanda close beside her, sharing this quiet, festive peace as the day faded into a cozy night.

(...)

Wanda settled in next to Natasha on the couch, her side pressed warmly against Natasha's. Cooper snuggled up on Natasha's other side, while Lila, still a bit drowsy from the day's excitement, climbed onto Natasha's lap, wrapping herself up in her arms with a soft yawn. Wanda watched, her gaze softening at the sight. There was a gentleness in Natasha's movements, a tenderness Wanda rarely saw so openly, one that seemed to emerge only with this family. 

On the other couch, Laura and Clint shared a quiet moment, with the baby nestled between them. Wanda's attention, however, remained fixed on Natasha. She felt something warm and deeply tender as she watched Natasha gently run her hand through Lila's hair, soothing her with a care that felt uncharacteristic but entirely genuine. It was as if each touch allowed Natasha to step into a peace that Wanda knew was rarely hers. 

After a moment, Wanda leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur. "You’re good with her, you know."

Natasha glanced over, caught off guard but pleased by the comment. "I guess she brings out a different side of me."

Wanda smiled, her expression gentle. "I think it's just you. The real you."

Natasha didn't respond with words, but the way her eyes held Wanda’s gaze for an extra beat was more than enough. It was a vulnerable silence that said everything, and when Natasha finally looked away, Wanda felt a pang of both gratitude and sadness. She realized how much Natasha kept hidden, even from herself.

As the movie played, Wanda's attention drifted, returning again and again to the sight of Natasha with Lila asleep in her lap. She saw something rare there, a quiet hope in Natasha's eyes, a contentment that was so precious it took Wanda's breath away. Wanda's heart raced as unexpected thoughts of a family - a real, lasting family - entered her mind, not just for herself, but with Natasha.

Her chest tightened as she remembered a night at the compound, sitting out on the lawn with Natasha under the stars. Natasha had shared parts of herself that night, things Wanda hadn't known before. Stories of her childhood, of Yelena, her younger sister, who she hadn't seen in years; of a song that haunted her because of what it reminded her of; and of the cruelty of the Red Room that had stolen her chance to ever have biological children. Wanda knew she could never erase those scars or the memories Natasha carried. But she wished, with everything in her, that she could show Natasha that it was still possible to have a family - that maybe, together, they could build one.

(...) 

The next morning, Natasha was jolted awake by a small whirlwind named Lila, who came barreling into the room she was sharing with Wanda, flinging herself right onto Natasha’s bed.

“Ouch,” Natasha groaned, her voice still thick with sleep. She wrapped an arm around Lila, pulling her down beside her. “Too early, kiddo.”

“Auntie Nat, we’re going to make gingerbread houses!” Lila’s excitement was infectious, and her eyes sparkled with it.

“Oh, God.” Natasha muttered, suddenly recalling all of Clint’s endless Christmas traditions. She had almost forgotten how many they packed into the days before Christmas.

“Come on, Auntie Nat. Mommy’s waiting!” Lila urged, tugging at her arm insistently.

Natasha sighed and finally blinked her eyes open, realizing there was no way she’d be able to coax a few more minutes of sleep. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” She pressed a quick kiss to Lila’s forehead before reluctantly getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

When she emerged, she noticed Lila had now cozied up in Wanda’s bed, eagerly chatting to her about gingerbread houses. Wanda’s gaze met Natasha’s, warm and amused, and Natasha offered a sheepish smile in return.

“Good morning, Nat,” Wanda greeted as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

“Morning.” Natasha felt her cheeks warm slightly. “Sorry about the... wake-up call,” she said, nodding toward Lila, who was watching them with open curiosity.

Wanda smiled, shrugging off the apology. “No problem.”

“Auntie Nat, come on!” Lila tugged insistently, and Natasha allowed herself to be pulled down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Once there, Laura greeted her with a guilty smile. “I swear I tried to hold her off for another hour.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Natasha assured her, stifling a yawn as she adjusted to the early hour.

“Here.” Clint appeared at her side, handing her a mug of steaming coffee. “Where’s Wanda? Still sleeping?”

“As if that was an option,” Natasha laughed, taking a grateful sip. She felt herself starting to wake up with each sip of the hot coffee.

A few minutes later, Wanda joined them, looking just as cozy and a little more awake. Natasha quickly poured her a mug of coffee, handing it to her with a smile. The kitchen was soon alive with the clattering of dishes and the laughter of kids, as they gathered the supplies to start their gingerbread creations.

While everyone else was busy assembling pieces and attempting not to eat half of the icing, Clint took charge of breakfast. The warm aroma of eggs, bacon, and pancakes mingled with the rich smell of coffee and fresh juice, filling the kitchen with a cozy warmth.

“Alright, construction break for breakfast!” Clint called, setting plates down and wiping his hands on a dish towel.

The kids practically inhaled the food, barely pausing to chew as they wolfed down their breakfast, eager to get back to their creations. Natasha exchanged an amused look with Laura as Clint went about clearing the table, and Laura quickly reset the gingerbread supplies so the kids could dive back in.

Natasha couldn’t help but glance at Wanda over the top of her coffee mug, catching her eye with a soft smile. It felt good to be here, in this warm little chaos, sharing these small moments - moments that felt almost like they belonged to a family. And as Wanda smiled back, Natasha felt a warmth that went deeper than the coffee she was holding.

Natasha and Wanda joined Laura and the kids at the table, where bowls of vibrant icing and candy decorations waited to be used. Natasha settled into the task, carefully piping a line of frosting along a gingerbread wall, but her attention kept drifting to Wanda, who was completely absorbed in her work. Wanda's brows furrowed in concentration as she placed gumdrops in precise rows, oblivious to everything else.

A small smirk tugged at Natasha’s lips. “You’re really into this,” she murmured, leaning in just enough to tease.

Wanda looked up, her cheeks instantly flushing, and Natasha's smirk softened into a grin.

After a while, the table became a delightful mess of scattered sugar, crumbs, and half-eaten gumdrops. Flour hung in the air like a soft cloud as the kids’ laughter echoed through the room. Lila proudly held up her sticky, icing-coated fingers, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Auntie Nat! I made a mess!”

Natasha chuckled, gently ruffling Lila’s hair. “That’s the best part of it, kiddo.”

Laura’s laughter caught Natasha’s attention, and she glanced over, confused, only to see Laura motioning toward her own cheek. “Nat, you’ve got a little something…” Laura gestured vaguely at her own face.

Before Natasha could react, Wanda noticed it too and reached over instinctively, her thumb brushing softly against Natasha's cheek as she wiped the flour away. The touch lingered a second longer than necessary, and Natasha found herself frozen, her eyes meeting Wanda’s. Her gaze drifted to Wanda's lips, and for a moment, her breath stilled as they both seemed to forget the world around them.

“Uh… there,” Wanda murmured, her voice barely a whisper, her cheeks flushing as she finally pulled her hand away.

Just then, a shriek of laughter brought them back to reality. Natasha turned to see that Cooper and Lila had somehow managed to shower each other with a handful of flour, their hair now dusted white. Natasha let out a soft laugh, glancing back at Wanda with an amused smirk. “Looks like we’re going to have to clean up after these two troublemakers.”

“Oh, no, you two,” Laura cut in, her own laugh barely contained. “Clint, take your kids to the bath now. They’re done here.”

“Oh, so when they’re covered in flour, they’re my kids?” Clint shot back, shaking his head.

“Mom, we promise to behave!” Cooper added, pulling his best puppy-dog eyes.

Natasha chuckled as Laura shot her a knowing look. “I wonder who he learned that from,” Laura teased, aiming a pointed look at Natasha. “Alright, but if there’s one more mess, it’s over for both of you.”

Cooper and Lila exchanged triumphant high-fives and went back to decorating their gingerbread houses with renewed focus.

Laura shook her head, glancing at Clint. “Clint, dear, can you give Nathaniel his bottle?”

“On it.” He wiped his hands on his apron, going off to prepare the bottle.

The warmth of the moment lingered as they all continued decorating, laughter filling the air along with the sweet scent of gingerbread. Natasha couldn’t help but steal glances at Wanda every now and then, her heart softening at the way Wanda’s face lit up with laughter around the kids. For the first time in what felt like ages, Natasha felt… at peace. Something about this felt wonderfully right, and she couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, she could belong have this too.

(...)

The rest of the day was peaceful, Cooper went to help Clint work on the tractor so he wouldn't end up getting into trouble because of the cold while Wanda and Natasha were dragged to the living room by Lila.

The little girl handed them some sheets of paper, colored pencils and crayons and with a pointed look indicated that they should sit next to her to draw.

Laura joined them soon after, gently rocking Nathaniel to sleep.

The hours passed quickly and in the early evening they sat at the table for dinner. Then, as in the previous days, they gathered in the living room for another classic Christmas movie.

Clint helped Laura carry the bowls of popcorn, mugs of hot chocolate and cider into the living room while Natasha and Wanda helped Lila and Cooper get the room just the way they liked it.

Cooper slurped his hot cocoa loudly, prompting a chorus of giggles from Lila and a roll of Clint's eyes. "Seriously, kid, where are your manners?"

"I learned them from you," Cooper shot back with a grin.

Wanda chuckled, her eyes meeting Natasha's for a second. She felt her heart race and her stomach felt like as if there was butterflies inside. She hadn't realized just how much she missed this feeling; being part of something whole, something good. She was so lost in thought that she nearly missed it when Natasha squeezed her hand, the smallest reassurance, and her eyes met Natasha's, catching that familiar glint of mischief in her gaze.

"Want to help me with a refill?" Natasha whispered, giving Wanda's hand a gentle tug as she rose.

"Sure." Wanda followed her into the kitchen, away from the cozy chaos of the living room. 

Once they were out of earshot, Natasha leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Are you okay? I thought you were a little overwhelmed just now." She said, her eyes studying Wanda with concern.

"I'm fine, Nat. Thanks for caring tho."

"Really? We can call it a night and go to the bedroom if you want."

"I do feel overwhelmed sometimes, yes, but in a... good way, I guess."

"Okay, let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

"Alright." 

Natasha held Wanda's gaze for longer than necessary.

"Is it weird that I never expected you to be so…" Wanda searched for the right word, one that would capture the side of Natasha she'd been witnessing those past days; soft, unguarded, even playful.

"Human?" Natasha offered, her smile crooked, playful but with an edge of vulnerability.

"Real," Wanda corrected softly. "I mean, ever since I arrived at the compound you've been amazing to me, always around, worried about me, and you've shared more things with me than I ever thought possible, but at the same time you've always remained a little distant, reserved. It’s nice to see this side of you."

Natasha felt her smirk dissolve into something softer, her expression turning reflective as she glanced down, weighing her words. “I didn’t think you’d want to see this side of me.” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, a hint of uncertainty in it, as if she wasn’t used to admitting something so vulnerable aloud.

Wanda took a small step closer, and Natasha noticed the way her gaze softened, her own walls beginning to crumble. “Actually,” Wanda murmured, her voice steady yet gentle, “I think this is exactly what I needed to see.”

Natasha held Wanda’s gaze, feeling a tangible connection that had simmered for too long, something raw and undeniable surfacing between them. Away from missions and façades, it felt real here. For once, there was no armor, just them. The sounds of laughter drifting in from the living room barely registered in her mind; she wasn’t ready to let go of this moment yet.

She let out a soft laugh, one that felt vulnerable even to her own ears. “This might sound ridiculous, but… thanks for being here. I didn’t know if you’d actually come.”

“I almost didn’t,” Wanda admitted, her voice just above a whisper, an honest softness in her eyes. “But I’m glad I did.”

They stood there in the silence that followed, Natasha unable to resist lifting her hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. The gesture was gentle, lingering in a way she hadn’t anticipated, as if savoring the tenderness of the moment. Her pulse raced at the touch, especially when Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, and Natasha felt a warmth spreading in her chest that had nothing to do with the cider.

But the spell was broken when the kitchen door swung open, and Clint waltzed in, oblivious to the tension he’d interrupted. “Hey, you two, you’re missing the best part! Santa’s about to-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing between them and scratching his chin. “Am I… interrupting something?”

Natasha cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand, her laugh coming out just a bit too casual. “Nope, just… catching up.”

Wanda looked away, her cheeks flushed, clearly trying to hide the faint blush creeping up. Clint just grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, then. Don’t take too long; we’ve got more popcorn waiting.” With a wink, he disappeared back into the living room.

Natasha huffed, shaking her head as she muttered, “He’s like a big kid sometimes.”

They filled their mugs with fresh cider and made their way back to the others. When they settled back onto the couch, Natasha found herself instinctively draping her arm over the back of the couch, her hand resting just behind Wanda’s shoulders—a gesture that felt casual, but in truth held an unspoken promise of protectiveness. Wanda leaned back slightly, just close enough that Natasha could feel her warmth, her pulse quickening at the sensation, and for once, Natasha let herself enjoy the comfort of their closeness.

As the movie drew to a close, Natasha watched as Laura smoothly began herding the kids toward bed, Lila putting up a sleepy protest. Natasha leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss on Lila’s forehead and speaking softly, “I’ll be here in the morning, okay? Go get some sleep.”

Once the kids were tucked in, Clint and Laura returned to the living room with the kind of satisfied sighs that come with a quiet, winding-down evening. The room had dimmed, leaving only the soft golden glow of the fire casting shadows across their faces.

“How’s training been, Wanda?” Laura asked, curiosity evident in her tone as she wrapped her hands around her mug. “Nat’s been saying you’re really getting the hang of things.”

Natasha felt warmth in her chest as Wanda glanced over at her, a little shy, as though gauging her reaction. “It’s… intense, but in a good way, I think,” Wanda replied thoughtfully. “I’m learning more about focus, and it’s been helping a lot.”

Natasha couldn’t hold back, giving Wanda’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “She’s being modest,” she chimed in, pride evident in her voice. “You’ve come a long way. Pretty soon, you’ll have Rogers eating your dust.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “Really? That’s high praise coming from Romanoff.” He nodded at Wanda, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re tougher than you look, huh?”

Natasha watched Wanda chuckle, a quiet warmth filling her gaze as she took in Natasha’s words. “I have a good teacher. Besides, it’s nice to have something to work toward. Keeps me grounded,” she said with a confidence that had been growing steadily over the past weeks.

Laura’s expression softened as she looked at Wanda. “Well, it’s good to hear. And I have to say, you’ve seemed so much happier lately. I’d say it’s working for you.” She winked at Wanda before her gaze drifted to Natasha, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I think Nat might have a little something to do with that too.”

Natasha could feel a slight blush warming her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes playfully. “Let’s not give me too much credit. Wanda’s the one putting in the work. I’m just… there when she needs a little push.”

“Oh, you’re there alright,” Clint teased, his eyes glinting with amusement as he shared a look with Laura. “Can’t say I’ve seen you this dedicated to ‘pushing’ someone, Nat.”

Natasha chuckled, relaxing into the gentle teasing as Wanda turned to her with a playful glint in her eyes. “To be fair, you’re a pretty great ‘pusher,’” Wanda teased, nudging Natasha’s shoulder lightly.

“Well,” Natasha replied, letting out a soft laugh, “if I’m going to be a pusher, might as well be the best, right?” She held Wanda’s gaze, her smile turning softer, her voice lowering. “But you make it easy.”

The glow of the fire reflected in Wanda’s eyes, and Natasha found herself lost in their warmth until Clint cleared his throat with exaggerated volume. “Alright, lovebirds,” he said, grinning. “Are we just going to sit here staring into each other’s eyes, or can I get someone to help me with the marshmallows for s’mores?”

Laura laughed, swatting him playfully. “Way to kill the vibe, Clint. But yes, let’s do s’mores.”

Natasha watched Wanda grin as she rose, her eyes dancing. “I’ll help you grab the marshmallows, Clint. Natasha, you coming?”

Natasha leaned back against the couch, smirking up at Wanda with an affectionate, mischievous smile. “I’ll be right here, keeping your seat warm. Don’t take too long.”

She caught the slight flush of Wanda’s cheeks and the smile they shared before Wanda headed to the kitchen with Clint, their laughter trailing into the next room. Natasha couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in her chest at the sound.

Laura shook her head, a fond smile on her face as she watched them go before she turned to Natasha, eyes full of quiet understanding. “You know,” she began softly, “you and Wanda… you make sense together.”

Natasha felt her breath hitch, her gaze drifting to the kitchen where Wanda’s laughter still echoed. “We’re not… we’re not—”

“Nat,” Laura said gently, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I’ve seen the way you look at each other. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone.”

Natasha swallowed, feeling a confession clawing its way to the surface, something she’d tried to suppress. “It’s stupid, Laura. Letting my guard down like this… but I can’t help it with her.”

Laura’s voice was soft, reassuring. “It’s not stupid, Nat.”

“But you know my past.” Natasha’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no way I could ever have something… normal.”

“Good thing Wanda’s far from normal, isn’t she?” Laura said with a gentle smile, her eyes warm with understanding.

Natasha shook her head, her voice strained. “It wouldn’t work.”

Laura sighed, giving Natasha a knowing, patient look. “Just… think about it, okay?”

(...)

As the others drifted off to bed, Natasha stayed behind, lingering in the quiet with Wanda beside her. Their shoulders brushed as they sat on the couch, the firelight casting warm, flickering shadows over the room. Natasha could feel the heat radiating from Wanda’s hand, resting so close to hers, close enough that the small distance between them felt charged.

Without fully deciding to, Natasha found herself leaning closer. The weight of everything unspoken, everything she’d tried to ignore, pressed heavily on her chest. She could feel the warmth of Wanda’s presence, the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing.

"Wanda," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word heavy with so much she didn’t know how to express. "You… you make me feel—" She faltered, uncertain. No words felt right, no way to truly say what was pounding in her chest.

But Wanda’s eyes softened, her gaze unwavering, silently urging Natasha to let down the last of her walls. It was an invitation, one that Natasha didn’t realize she’d been waiting for until she was already leaning in. Before doubt could take over, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Wanda’s in a gentle brush. But that initial softness, that tentative touch, was quickly replaced by a heat Natasha could no longer deny.

Wanda responded without hesitation, her hand sliding up to Natasha’s cheek, her thumb tracing a slow, steady path along her jaw. That small gesture undid her completely, and Natasha felt herself deepen the kiss, a barely controlled need taking over as their lips moved in sync, more intense, more consuming than she’d imagined. The fire crackled beside them, but it was nothing compared to the heat that spread through her body, lighting up every nerve, every cell.

It was everything Natasha had wanted and everything she’d been afraid of—a connection that was raw, fierce, and unguarded. Wanda’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, her fingers threading through Natasha’s hair, and the intensity of it, the sheer honesty of what she was feeling, made something inside Natasha twist.

Abruptly, she pulled back, breaking the kiss with a shuddering breath. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her heart hammering against her ribcage, a familiar panic clawing its way to the surface. She felt like she was splintering apart, the weight of her past pressing down on her, reminding her of all the reasons she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be feeling this.

“Nat?” Wanda’s voice was soft, laced with concern and something deeper that Natasha wasn’t sure she could handle. That depth, that vulnerability, only made the fear sharper.

“I- I can’t,” Natasha managed, her voice shaky and barely audible. She pushed herself to her feet, running a hand through her hair in a desperate attempt to steady herself. She could feel everything slipping out of her control, every carefully built wall crumbling. The memories, the training, the missions - all the years she’d spent pushing people away came crashing back, louder and more insistent.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” she said, each word a painful effort. “I don’t… I don’t do relationships.” Her voice broke, and she could feel the sting in her chest, the realization that she was hurting Wanda. But the fear was overwhelming, a tidal wave of everything she’d tried to bury for so long, and it left her no room to think, no space to breathe.

Without another word, Natasha turned and hurried to the door, her footsteps heavy in the silence of the house. She didn’t dare look back, didn’t want to see the hurt in Wanda’s eyes. All she could do was escape, feeling the memories clawing at her, threatening to pull her under as she stepped out into the cold night, her heart pounding and her mind reeling.

Just as Natasha’s fingers brushed her coat, Clint’s voice cut through her resolve. “Nat.”

She froze, feeling her heartbeat thundering in her chest. Clint stood in the doorway, his gaze unwavering, the look in his eyes both gentle and firm. 

“You’re really going to walk away from this?” he asked quietly, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. He stepped closer, his face a mix of understanding and expectation. “You know, you’re not the only one with a past, Nat. Wanda’s been through hell too. But here she is, willing to take a chance on you.”

Natasha swallowed, her throat tight as she processed his words. “I don’t want to hurt her, Clint,” she whispered, her voice raw with honesty. “I don’t even know if I can be what she needs.”

Clint’s expression softened, his eyes full of warmth that only a best friend could carry. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nat. Wanda doesn’t need you to be anything other than yourself. And from where I’m standing, that’s more than enough.”

She looked down, her mind a storm of doubts, but Clint’s words seemed to ground her. She realized, with a painful clarity, that maybe - just maybe - she did deserve this. Deserved Wanda. Her jaw tightened as she absorbed his words, feeling memories surface in her mind, fragments of her past - years of survival, of running, of pushing everyone away so she wouldn’t have to face her own heartache. The idea that someone could see her past and still care for her, still want her, felt foreign, but here was Wanda, offering her something she hadn’t dared to hope for.

Clint’s hand settled on her shoulder, the weight both comforting and firm. “Talk to her,” he urged. “You don’t have to have all the answers. Just… talk to her.”

Natasha stood by the door, Clint’s words lingering in the quiet, a steadying force as she considered what she was about to leave behind. She had always run, always turned her back on anything that felt like home. But standing here, with Clint’s words echoing in her mind, she realized that running hadn’t kept her safe - it had only left her alone. Wanda had opened her heart to her, despite everything she’d been through, and it was courage Natasha hadn’t seen in anyone before. It was time, maybe, to stop letting her fear control her.

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she let her hand fall away from her coat. Clint gave her an encouraging nod, the quiet support of a friend who had known her through it all. She nodded back, a silent acknowledgment, and without another word, turned toward the room she was sharing with Wanda, a newfound determination guiding her steps.

As Natasha approached the doorway, she found Wanda still there, her gaze fixed on the dimming embers of the fire, her expression difficult to read but so achingly familiar. The warm light danced across her face, illuminating that quiet strength, that gentleness that Natasha couldn’t resist.

“Wanda,” Natasha said softly, her voice raspy and filled with vulnerability she didn’t recognize.

Wanda turned, her eyes catching Natasha’s, reflecting both vulnerability and hope. It was a look Natasha had come to cherish, one that made her realize just how deeply she was in this. How far gone she was already.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I… I’ve spent so long keeping people at a distance. But you…” She swallowed, feeling her own defenses crack. “You’re the first person I can’t seem to push away, no matter how hard I try. And that scares me. Letting someone in like this… it’s not something I know how to do.”

Wanda took a step forward, closing the distance with that unwavering gaze. “Then don’t,” she murmured, her voice warm and soft, coaxing Natasha closer. “Let me in, Natasha. I know you’re scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.” She raised a hand, cupping Natasha’s cheek, her touch featherlight but grounding.

The tenderness in Wanda’s eyes, in her touch, undid Natasha entirely. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, the walls she’d held for so long dissolving in the warmth of Wanda’s touch. Her fingers trembled as she reached up, holding Wanda’s hand as if it was the lifeline she hadn’t known she’d needed. “I’m scared, Wanda,” she admitted, her voice breaking, barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of letting myself love you, and even more of losing you. Everyone I let in either dies or disappears. I can’t…”

Wanda’s grip on her hand tightened, a quiet promise in that simple touch. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her thumb stroked softly over Natasha’s knuckles, grounding her. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nat. I don’t need you to be anything other than right here, with me.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, relief washing over her as her fingers laced through Wanda’s, feeling as if they’d always belonged there. “I’m done running,” she murmured, her voice quiet but resolute.

Their eyes met, and in that gaze, Natasha found all the courage she’d never been able to find within herself. Slowly, she leaned in, closing the distance, capturing Wanda’s lips in a kiss that held all her fears, all her hopes, and every unspoken promise between them. This kiss was different. It was deeper, free of hesitation, her emotions pouring into each movement, each second. Natasha’s hand found its way into Wanda’s hair, pulling her close, her need fierce, unapologetic. Wanda’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her in as if she, too, had been waiting for this, for them, for so long.

The kiss intensified, Natasha pouring herself into it, letting her guard drop completely, allowing herself to be vulnerable in Wanda’s arms. Her fingers twisted deeper into Wanda’s hair, and Wanda’s hand trailed up her arm, soft but firm, grounding her. Natasha felt as if she was coming alive, like every part of her had woken up, drawn into Wanda’s warmth, her steadiness. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they held each other close.

Natasha looked into Wanda’s eyes, her heart pounding, and saw the same fire, the same need that mirrored her own. Unable to resist, she cupped Wanda’s face, bringing her in for another kiss, more intense, almost desperate, as months of unspoken tension gave way. It was an ache she could feel in her chest, a need she hadn’t let herself feel for so long, and she surrendered to it completely.

As Natasha looked into Wanda’s eyes, she saw that same fire, that same unrestrained desire, mirroring her own. The weight of everything they'd held back, the longing, the fear, and the inevitability, all of it seemed to rise to the surface. Without a second thought, she pulled Wanda in, capturing her lips in a kiss that went beyond tenderness, beyond anything she had ever let herself feel.

This kiss was no longer tentative or questioning; it was a fierce, consuming need, her hands finding Wanda's waist and pulling her closer, as if she needed her as much as she needed air. Wanda responded in kind, her fingers slipping into Natasha's hair, tugging her closer as their lips moved together in perfect sync, every touch feeling like fire running through her veins, something primal. Natasha could feel her heart pounding and she was pretty sure Wanda could hear it too.

Their movements grew frantic, both of them losing themselves in the moment. Natasha could feel Wanda’s soft gasp against her lips as her hands roamed Wanda’s back, gripping the fabric of her shirt, anchoring herself in this moment. They stumbled slightly as they edged toward the bed, neither willing to break the kiss, not even for a second. Natasha barely registered the feel of the mattress at the back of her knees before they tumbled down together, Wanda's soft laugh breaking through, only for Natasha to capture it with another kiss, deeper, more unrestrained.

Their limbs tangled, hands exploring as they gave into the intensity they had held back for so long. Natasha ran her fingers through Wanda’s hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, feeling Wanda’s warmth, the way her body pressed against hers. She could feel Wanda’s heartbeat, as frantic as her own, their breaths mingling as they finally gave in, letting the world fall away.

Wanda's hands skimmed Natasha’s shoulders, tracing a path down her arms, her touch gentle but charged with electric energy, sending shivers through her. Natasha couldn’t hold back a soft, involuntary gasp as Wanda’s lips found her neck, trailing heat along her skin, igniting something deeper, hungrier. She pulled Wanda even closer, their bodies pressing together as they moved in sync, both of them surrendering completely to the moment, to each other, letting themselves finally fall into what had been waiting for so long. 

When they finally parted again, Natasha held Wanda close, her forehead resting against hers as she caught her breath. Wanda traced gentle, reassuring patterns along her arm, anchoring her.

“So…” Wanda whispered, her voice tinged with that same vulnerability Natasha knew was on her own. “We’re really doing this?”

Natasha nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice shaky. “We’re doing this. I mean, unless you don’t want it, which is totally okay.”

“Natasha.” 

“Yes?” 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

Natasha felt her heart race, every part of her body vibrating with the determination in Wanda's voice. In her entire life, it was the first time she had gone to bed with someone not because of some stupid mission, but because she really wanted to, because she felt something for the person who was with her at that moment. And that scared Natasha more than she could admit. She closed her eyes tightly, pushing those thoughts away and focusing on the feeling of Wanda's lips against hers, on the way her hands slid tentatively over her shoulders and arms until they reached her waist and even more tentatively, slid under her blouse, gently brushing her skin. 

Her touch was warm and intoxicating and Natasha couldn't contain a moan when Wanda's lips found the skin of her neck again, biting lightly. Her hips rocked involuntarily against Wanda's, who was sitting on her lap, one leg on either side of her. Natasha abandoned all caution at that moment and slid her hands under the sweater Wanda was wearing, lightly scratching her back. She smiled in satisfaction at the moan that escaped Wanda's lips and did it again, gasping when Wanda ground her hips against hers.

"Fuck." Natasha moaned as Wanda bit and then licked her pulse point.

"I think that's what we're about to do, huh?"

"Oh, God." Natasha felt her panties get even wetter at the sound of Wanda's voice, husky and full of desire.

"Wanda will be enough."

Natasha's eyes met Wanda's and in them was a silent plea. Nat nodded, and lifted herself just enough for Wanda to remove her shirt. She was always very confident about her body, but when she saw Wanda's gaze, so raw, so intense and filled with true desire mixed with something else, Natasha felt her cheeks burn.

"You're so beautiful." Wanda whispered and leaned in to kiss her again. 

Natasha moaned softly against Wanda's lips as her hands explored her exposed skin tentatively but determinedly. It was almost impossible to keep her moans down, but she knew they couldn't make too much noise, for the sake of the children in the same hallway as them. 

Natasha bit the back of her hand hard to suppress a moan as Wanda's lips reached her breast. She had never experienced anything like this, a desire so intense, so true, so raw. And she needed to feel Wanda's skin against hers.

Natasha slid her hands to the hem of Wanda's sweater and with a silent request removed the garment. She took a moment to appreciate Wanda's beauty, feeling her mouth water at the sight that graced her eyes. Tentatively she slid her hands down Wanda's belly to her breasts, squeezing gently.

A low moan escaped Wanda's lips, and Natasha rose, kissing her with a desire she never thought possible. With a quick movement Natasha reversed their position and wasted no time began to distribute kisses along Wanda's jaw and neck, until she reached her breasts.

"So beautiful." Natasha whispered and her eyes met Wanda's again, with another silent request.

When she nodded, Natasha got rid of their jeans, and along with them their panties, eliminating any barrier between them. They moaned into each other's lips as their bodies touched for the first time, hips rocking against each other in a desperate search for contact, for friction.

Natasha slid one leg between Wanda's and nearly came right then and there at how wet she was. "Fuck, Wands."

"I need-" Wanda swallowed, her hips jerking.

"What do you need?" Natasha teased, rocking her hips slowly against Wanda's wet pussy.

"I need you, Nat."

That was enough to get Natasha moving, another time she would tease Wanda to the limit, but she needed it just as much and didn't want to waste time with games. Hopefully they would have plenty of other opportunities for that.

Gently, Natasha slid a finger inside Wanda, both of them moaning at the sensation. She began to move her finger slowly, and when she felt that Wanda was comfortable enough, she slid another one in. A louder moan escaped Wanda's lips and Natasha swallowed it with a kiss.

She moaned against Wanda's lips when she felt her slide a finger inside her and Natasha never thought it was possible to feel so much pleasure. Not really, and it was embarrassing how close she was to cumming.

Soon they found the perfect rhythm and their moans were muffled by the intense kisses as their bodies moved in perfect synchrony. It didn't take long for them to cum together, and that was, without a doubt, one of the best sensations Natasha had ever felt in her life.

As they lay together, Natasha realized she had never felt so vulnerable yet so completely safe, wrapped in the warmth of Wanda's touch, her hands on her skin, her breath brushing softly against her neck. It was as if every unspoken fear, every moment of hesitation, had melted away, leaving only the trust and certainty that whatever happened, they were here, together, completely lost in each other.

And as the night stretched on, Natasha allowed herself to fully surrender to the moment, letting go of every doubt and opening herself to Wanda in a way she never had with anyone else, trusting her completely, feeling the depth of their connection, and knowing that this was exactly where she was meant to be.

In that small, fire-lit room, wrapped in Wanda’s arms, Natasha felt a warmth and belonging she hadn’t thought possible. The rest of the world faded away as she let herself be completely, irrevocably lost in Wanda.