#I don’t think it looks entirely like her but it’s alright

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Special Delivery

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, possessive Simon, arguments, annoyance (spouse and nonspouse annoyance)

Author’s Note: Simon forgot some stuff at home, you are a firecracker if anyone has ever seen one so here we are. Inspired by one of my favs @bi-writes and her younger!wife x John Price fic

Masterlist | Bi’s Fanfic

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It starts with a text.

My Ghostie: Forgot my wallet.

Then another.

My Ghostie: And my lunch.

And another.

My Ghostie: ...And the file on my desk.

You stare at your phone, lips pressing into a flat line. Unbelievable. You love your husband, truly, but some days? Some days he tests your patience.

With a sigh, you gather everything—his wallet, his carefully packed lunch, and the stupid file he swore he wouldn’t forget—before grabbing your keys. You could ignore it, let him suffer, but you both know you won’t.

Which is how you find yourself at the base entrance, staring down a soldier who looks entirely unimpressed with your existence. Arms crossed, legs planted apart, like he’s guarding the last bastion of civilization.

“I can’t just let you in, ma’am.” His voice is flat, bored, like this is the most mundane problem he’s dealt with all day.

You, on the other hand, are vibrating with irritation. “Look,” you huff, adjusting the duffel bag on your shoulder and waving the brown paper lunch bag in your other hand. “I’m not some crazy stalker trying to infiltrate your little clubhouse. My husband, Simon Riley, left his wallet, his lunch, and some other important stuff at home, and I’m just here to drop it off.”

The guard doesn’t budge. “Can’t confirm that without proper clearance.”

Your patience is wearing thin. You exhale sharply, then, with slow, deliberate movements, hold up a very distinct leather wallet between two fingers and shake it slightly. “Alright, genius, let’s use some logic. If I wasn’t supposed to be here, do you think I’d just so happen to have Ghost’s actual shit?”

The man hesitates, clearly uncertain. “That… that could belong to anyone—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, resisting the urge to fling the wallet at him. “If I was trying to sneak onto base, don’t you think I’d pick something a little less obvious?”

You go in for the kill. Flipping open the wallet, you shove it right into his face. “Does that look like just anyone to you?”

The poor bastard leans in, eyes locking onto the ID tucked inside. His face blanches.

It’s right there. Simon’s name. Simon’s face. Your husband’s face.

“…I mean, I still can’t—”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alright, listen here, Private Dumbass.” You shift your stance, letting the overhead lights catch the big-ass rock sitting pretty on your ring finger. You tap it against the metal of the gate for good measure. *Clink, clink.* “See this? This means I can make your life very difficult.”

The man stiffens. You decide to twist the knife. “I may not have rank here, but I am married to a lieutenant. And if you don’t let me through in the next ten seconds, I will personally make it my mission to have you running laps around this base until your legs fall off.”

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “You… you can’t do that.”

You smirk. “You sure about that? ’Cause my husband definitely can.”

That does it. With a sigh, he gestures for another soldier to let you through. “Fine, fine. Go.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, marching past him with your head held high.

Smart man.

——

After waiting at the gate for so long, you storm onto the base with a paper bag in one hand and a duffel slung over your shoulder, exuding confidence as your boots click against the concrete. The guards barely had time to stop you before a sharp-tongued remark had them stepping aside, unsure if they were more intimidated by your presence or impressed by your sheer audacity.

Simon’s dumbass forgot his lunch, his wallet, and a few other essentials, and you’ll be damned if he goes without just because he’s too stubborn to admit he needs you. He might be the terrifying "Ghost" to everyone else, but to you, he’s just your husband—the same man who forgets his keys and leaves his socks all over the damn house.

Walking into the common area is like stepping into a lion’s den—if lions had the audacity to gawk at you like a bunch of wide-eyed recruits seeing their drill sergeant off duty for the first time. A few soldiers are loitering, some cleaning their gear, others playing cards, but the moment they spot you, their focus shifts. You can practically hear their thoughts.

Who the hell is this?

Why does she look like she owns the place?

Did we miss a briefing?

The most unsubtle reaction comes from a particularly cheeky Scot lounging with his feet kicked up on a chair.

“Well, now,” Soap drawls, an impish grin spreading across his face. “And who might you be?”

You don’t bother stopping. “Not in the mood, Braveheart. Where’s Simon?”

Soap lets out a low whistle. “Oi, no need to be feisty, lass. Maybe if ye tell me who ye are, I can help.”

You sigh, shift the duffel on your shoulder, and lift your left hand just enough for the overhead light to catch on the massive wedding ring decorating your finger.

“His wife.”

The room goes silent.

Soap’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. His mouth opens, closes, then—“No shit.”

“No shit,” you confirm dryly. “And unless you lot want to deal with a grumpy, starving Ghost, you’ll tell me where he is. Now.”

Before anyone can answer, a deep, familiar voice rumbles through the space.

“Don’t need to.”

The effect is instant. The tension in the room shifts as every soldier in the vicinity straightens instinctively.

You turn just as Simon strides in, the mask covering his face doing nothing to hide the sheer command he carries with every step. He looks at you, and even though his expression is unreadable, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

You plant a hand on your hip, tilting your chin up. “Bringing you your shit.” You shove the paper bag into his chest before shrugging the duffel off your shoulder and letting it drop at his feet. “Your lunch. Your wallet. And the file you swore up and down you wouldn’t forget.”

Simon catches everything with practiced ease, his gaze dropping briefly to the items before flicking back to you. “…I would’ve managed.”

You snort. “Yeah? And by ‘managed,’ you mean sulking around all day, hangry as hell, making everyone else suffer for it?”

A muffled snicker comes from Soap. Simon’s head *slowly* turns toward him. The room collectively holds its breath.

Soap lifts his hands innocently. “What? She’s got a point.”

You smirk, smug. “See? Even he agrees with me.”

Simon exhales sharply, a sound you know is the closest thing to a fond sigh. Then, before you can react, he hooks a hand around your waist and tugs you in, pressing your body flush against his. It’s firm, grounding, and entirely possessive. His fingers spread wide over the small of your back, holding you there like he’s making sure you’re real.

“You shouldn’t’ve come all this way,” he mutters, voice softer now.

“You love when I show up unannounced.”

His grip tightens slightly. You know you’ve won. His hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer if that was possible. His touch was firm but gentle, grounding you in a sense. You tilt your head up at him, grinning. “Besides, I know you missed me.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he rumbles, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“And you’re lucky I love your grumpy ass.” You grin up at him, reaching up to brush your fingers over the side of his mask. “Eat your lunch, alright? I made sure it’s still warm.”

A long beat passes before Simon finally responds.

“…Yeah. Alright.”

Soap mutters something under his breath, and Simon growls, “MacTavish, if you don’t shut it—”

But before he can finish, you press a quick kiss to his mask-covered cheek. His grip tightens slightly, and you catch the subtle shift in his stance. Oh yeah, he missed you.

“Well, my work here is done,” you say, stepping back with a playful salute. “Try not to forget anything else next time, yeah?”

Simon grunts, his version of a reluctant thank you. But as you turn to leave, you hear him mutter, “Get home safe, love.”

As you turn to leave, you call to your husband, “Oh, by the way—told the guy at the gate he’s gotta run laps for giving me a hard time. Make sure he actually does it, yeah?”

You shoot him a wink over your shoulder before strutting out, leaving a room full of stunned soldiers—and one very flustered Ghost—behind.

You don’t stay to hear the response, but you do catch the sound of Soap absolutely losing it as you step out the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 13

Summary: Your life in Boston after Wanda.

The air is cold, and just your luck, today you left the car outside of the building’s parking lot.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, as a cute woman is inspecting the black Corvette, in awe of the elegant and expensive car.

“Want a ride?”

“This yours?” she says, genuinenly fascinated.

“Yeap” you nod. “She’s a beauty, 490-hp 6.2-liter V-8 engine”

Do you know what those words mean? Not at all.

“My father and I used to fix cars. I need to send him a picture. Can I?”

“Sure, go ahead” you smile. “I’ll even take one of you standing next to it”

You pull out your phone.

“Oh, wait, I should have given you mine” the woman says, and you smile.

“Or you could give me your number and I’ll send the pics” you smile at her, offering your phone.

“Very smooth” she blushes, taking it.

“If you wanna talk about smooth, the leather seats are just…”

“Ugh, it’s too cold to take my motorcycle, can you give me a ride to the hospital?” Yelena interrupts, coming out of nowhere as usual.

“Shh, go away” you push her behind you.

“God, we’re gonna be late. Just skip to the part where you lie about texting the girl and get on with it” she mumbles, and luckily only you can hear her.

“Sorry, she’s being annoying” you elbow Yelena’s side. “I’ll send you the pictures, and my offer for a ride still stands”

“Well, alright then. Have fun babysitting” the woman comments, which earns her a glare from the blonde.

“Get in the fucking car” you mutter. “Why can’t you ask your mother for a damn car? She has lots of them”

“Like the one you borrow and use to get phone numbers? I don’t understand why you do it, you never call them”

“It’s not about having a date. It’s just fun to talk to girls. I never really did it outside of college” you shrug your shoulders.

You never call them because the thought of being with someone who isn’t Wanda is simply absurd.

But you don’t expect Yelena to understand it.

“I never ask for a car because then she’d be like See, I was right, a motorcycle was a bad idea”

“Get both, like your sister”

“No, because then she’ll say I’m copying her, like when she went to school with a green backpack and I got one that was similar the next day. But green has always been my favorite color” she rambles.

“Are all the Romanoffs this complicated?”

"Is your music taste always this random?" Yelena points at the screen. "Yesterday it was ABBA and now it's Metallica"

"Don't even think about changing it" you say, slapping her hand away.

You finally get to the hospital, parking in your spot, which is one of the best ones in the entire facility.

Melina is trying to convince you to stay beyond your three month contract, and she’s not shying away from providing a life of luxury, with a penthouse and a fancy car included.

If it wasn’t because you’re busting your ass in the ER, you’d feel like a sugar baby.

“Go and check on the people waiting, I have to sign discharges and look at some post ops” you tell Yelena as soon as you walk in, and she nods.

“Morning, everyone” you greet the front desk. “Is Patrick ready for his recital today?”

“Yes, he’s very excited” Nurse Roman says.

“Well, as a doctor I don’t feel comfortable saying break a leg, so let’s just leave it at good luck”

“That sounds perfect to me, Doctor Y/L/N, thank you” the woman says. You’re smiling until you notice the frown on Peña’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that. Not my fault you keep betting on Shelton when he’s literally playing against Alcaraz”

“Shelton is the future of American tennis”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the resounding noise of your debt” you say, going back to the charts but keeping your palm open. You don’t look up until he gives up, putting a 20 in your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Peña. I’m so looking forward to Indian Wells and Miami back to back”

You don’t realise that Natasha is also at the front desk, signing a couple of discharge forms.

It’s been a month and you’re already friends with half the people who work here. Natasha’s glad, because it can be miserable to be isolated while you’re away from home.

The other side of her can’t help but feel really stupid too, because all this time she thought you were flirting and in reality, this is who you are with most people.

Now that’s a fast way to humble someone.

“Hi, Doctor Romanoff” you say, finally noticing her. “Ending your shift?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Starting a 48”

“Didn’t you just do one 12 hours ago?” she says.

“Yeah, but my brother and sister are coming over so I need the weekend off” you smile, actually excited. Natasha is probably one of the only people who could understand how good it is to reconnect with your siblings, but she’s been distant with you ever since you came to Boston.

So, you wish her a good day, and walk to the madness of the ER.

“Fuck my life, fuck it hard” you mutter when you notice who’s there. Ed Lorne, aka clown nurse. He’s a young one, practically fresh out of college and with an unhealthy obsession to behave like Patch Adams in that movie that always puts you to sleep (No disrespect to Robin Williams).

“Please tell me his shift is almost over” you plead to Yelena.

“Don’t be mean. He’s trying to make an impression”

“He already did and it’s a fucking awful one”

The fact that there’s no swear jar around has turned you into a sailor on leave. Not that you keep track, but if the twins could hear you, they’d be set for an Ivy League education.

Stop thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself, trying to breathe to settle that uncomfortable feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Yelena mistakes your frustrated sigh with a protest as Ed approaches you. Truthfully, it’s a bit of both.

“Top of the morning to you, Doctor Y/L/N” he says, removing an imaginary hat.

God, you’re gonna strangle him with a stethoscope.

“Guy in bed six has problems with urinating and I’m like well, more like ur-out of my bladder!”

“Boy, you’re really bringing the theater kid energy today, aren’t ya” you complain, ignoring Yelena’s smack on your arm.

“Why, thank you for noticing”

“No, that wasn’t a compliment. Check all of my post ops and medication, then fill out the medical records in the computer”

That should keep him busy for the next two hours and away from you.

“Evil” Yelena mumbles, but she’s laughing along.

You take care of a few people, ordering lab tests and other stuff that is quickly taken care of by the staff. It’s nice to have an ER that is never short on medical personnel.

You finish your exam on a patient just in time to get your daily call.

“Hello, Judas”

“Darcy!” you say, always with the same enthusiasm.

“I hate you” she repeats, every day since you left. Well, minus the first week. You didn’t have a phone at all. “Carol hates you too and you’re no longer invited to her wedding”

You can faintly hear Carol’s voice in the background, shouting that what Darcy’s saying is not true.

“I’m trying to get her to come back” Darcy explains. “Look pal, it’s either the good way or the bad way aka getting you in the Psych ward until you go back to your senses”

“I don’t suppose you could get my stuff and send it over?”

“No, for two reasons. One, if I see Wanda I’m going to kill her and dos, you belong here. So it would be stupid to send stuff that you’ll need when you’re back. Besides, how do you know Wanda didn’t throw them away?”

“I just do. Ok, it was nice being emotionally manipulated by you, but I gotta scrub in. Same time on Monday? Remember I’m seeing Zach and Jenny this weekend”

“Yes, get me all the deets on the gossip and yes, same time”

“Love you, pal”

“Screw you”

Darcy hangs up, but stares at her phone for a moment longer. She does miss you and even if she’s giving you shit for it, she understands where you’re coming from.

“Are these the CVs for Chief Fury?”

“Yes” his secretary says, carrying a couple of files. “He doesn’t like to read on the computer”

“Oh, here, I’ll take those”

And Darcy does take them. Straight to the trash can.

Gotta make sure the job’s open when you come back.

—

You’re out of shape. It’s been 27 hours and the work keeps on coming. It doesn’t help that Boston is so much bigger than Westview.

As you sit in one of the front desks, looking over paperwork and lab results, Ed comes in, holding a deck of cards.

“Pick a card”

“Did you get the lab results for Mrs. Pattmore?” you say, resisting the urge to slap the deck to the floor.

“No, they said it would take another hour…”

“Can you check again? Thank you”

Fortunately, he leaves and you sigh.

“He’s quite the character” a man shows up next to you, and you nod.

“He is very useful when I need urgent results from the lab. The technicians can’t stand him so they rather not see him around” you laugh.

 “I haven’t seen you before. I’m doctor Stephen Strange. Yes, that is my last name” he adds when you frown.

“Oh, nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m the interim Head of Trauma. Just until they find someone new”

“Huh. Not what I heard”

Well, there’s no way Melina will convince you to stay. But then again… you never thought you’d take the job in Boston.

“That’s definitely my plan” you assure him. “Were you on break?”

“Honeymoon. We just got back” he nods towards another woman who joins you, her smile wide. “Doctor Christine Palmer, meet… sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Y/L Y/L/N. Congratulations to the both of you” you shake her hand.

“Thank you, how are you liking it here so far?”

“Everyone’s great” you say, but Christine catches your exhaustion.

“Lorne was just here asking to do a magic trick”

“Ah. That” she nods.

“Yeah” you get paged, and then wave at them. “See you around, and welcome back”

There’s a man coming in with a stab wound. Another shift from your work in Stark Hospital; the frequency of people who come in as a result of fights is a lot higher.

It was very rare to treat these kind of things in Westview.

“BP 130/70, no external bleeding or fractures” Yelena says and you nod, encouraging her to continue. “I want a chest X-Ray, transthoracic echocardiogram and blood work”

“The patient’s yours, Doctor Belova”

You’re honestly impressed. Yelena has been putting the work, and she’s very talented, especially while working under pressure.

“She has a good teacher” Melina speaks. The woman has a talent for knowing what people are thinking.

“Well, it’s in her blood, isn’t it? The whole Romanoff dinasty”

“Yes. By the way, this is your last patient. You’re not to be on call for so many hours in a week. The workload is very different here. And we will talk about a bonus so you can buy something to that girlfriend of yours to thank her for letting you be here”

About that.

Nobody knows Wanda kicked you out.

Except Yelena, but that’s because she kept asking about what Wanda said when you decided to come to Boston. The only way to shut her up was by telling her the truth.

It’s impressive that she’s kept the secret for so long.

“No need for a bonus, I’m doing my job as usual”

While you wait for the results of Yelena’s patient, the man begins to complain about pain between the shoulder blades.

“Lorne, book an OR and page Yelena” you say, knowing that’s a bad sign.

The blonde scrubs in as you begin the laparoscopy.

“What’s wrong? I’m still waiting on the results” she says, standing next to you.

“Pain between the shoulder blades is not a good sign for this type of injury. I’m seeing blood cloths in the anterior surface of the stomach and the liver. We’re switching to a laparotomy”

You find three lacerations in the liver and one in the stomach. Well, Melina’s plan didn’t work; you’re staying here for a bit longer.

As you move to inspect the pericardium, you look at Yelena, asking if she sees anything.

“No, it’s fine. Aside from the diaphragmatic perforation”

“And how are we closing that?”

“Ethibond suture with pledget” she answers after a slight hesitation.

“You’ll do it and I’ll be watching” you nod, moving aside. Truth is, your shoulder is hurting. It’s the old injury combined with the extra workload.

“Need any help?” Natasha walks in, and you shake your head no.

“I thought your shift ended”

“Came to do some post ops, and Doctor Romanoff asked me to help so you could go home”

“I’m fine” you lie. But Natasha stays in the OR, looking over Yelena’s shoulder.

“You’re making me nervous”

“Good. You could use some pressure. Y/N’s going soft on you” the redhead teases.

“I’m not!” you say, laughing. “I’ve been told I’m a great teacher”

“I’ve heard” Natasha nods.

Though Yelena takes a little bit longer than you would have, her work is excellent. Once you check everything’s done, you give the team instructions and scrub out.

“What are you doing with your siblings?” Natasha asks, joining you.

“Well, Jenny’s looking at NYU to apply. So I’ll meet them in New York, take them to a Broadway show. I was hoping they’d wanna go to the Met but not holding my breath for two teenagers to choose a museum”

“That’s fair. Have fun with your family” she smiles.

It’s weird to think about them as your family. They are, of course.

But to you, family is an entirely different group of people. One that you’ll never see again.

“Thanks. See you around” you nod, hoping to get some rest.

—

You never thought you’d be eager to see your family, but here you are, waiting in the airport, looking for Jenny.

As soon as she spots you, she runs towards you.

“Hey, kiddo”

“Make room for me” Zach says, jumping right in and making sure his sister has no room to breathe.

“You’re so annoying!” Jenny complains. Even if she’s three years older, Zach is a lot taller, being in that awkward teenage phase. “This trip was supposed to be just me”

“Y/N invited me” he says.

Well, kinda. He inserted himself in your conversations with Jenny, and as soon as he heard the words weekend in New York, he was ready to go.

“Well, I didn’t alter my girls weekend schedule for you, Zach. So just so you know, you’re getting a manicure and we’re plucking your eyebrows” you tease, walking them to where you parked. Of course they argue over who gets to ride in the front. “Alright, this is a rental. So, rule number one, no eating in the car. No throwing stuff at each other. No feet on the dashboard. And no one changes the music”

“Fine” they agree.

“First stop, the penthouse, then NYU”

Melina had heard about your trip and went out of her way to offer you everything at her disposal. Exclusive tickets, the Romanoff penthouse (apparently they have one in every major city), a reservation in a very nice restaurant.

You took most things happily. In a way, this is your compensation for emotional damages.

“So, what happened between you and Wanda?” Jenny says.

“Wow, can we at least have lunch first?” you accidentally hit the brake, making Zach hit his head against the headrest of your seat.

“I’m blind!”

“You’re fine” Jenny shushes him, turning to you. “I’ll tell you about our parent’s divorce”

“Ugh, deal. But you go first”

So, as you get food, Jenny tells you everything, with the occasional intervention from Zach. It’s nothing exciting, not technically. Their father finally realising your mother is an evil witch and taking their children away from her. It would have been ideal to do it when they were younger, but whatever.

“And you guys are doing good?” you ask, making sure things are better.

“Yeah… I just feel bad for her sometimes” Jenny admits. “Like what if she’s lonely or sad, you know?”

“That’s because you’re a good kid” you smile at her. “Let’s go get changed, we have to be ready for your college tour soon”

“What about your part of the deal?”

“Later” you say, trying to avoid talking about it.

By the time you reach the penthouse, you can’t help but admire the view to Central Park. It’s even bigger than the one they gave to you back in Boston.

“I want the biggest room” Zach says as soon as they drop their bags.

Of course, they’re engaging in a fight that involves some name calling and a lot of finger flicks on the forehead.

“You guys are worse than…”

They turn to look at you and you smile, trying to keep it together.

“Worse than…” Zach says but you shake your head.

“Nothing. Come on, better change fast”

Worse than Wanda and Pietro.

Will you ever stop thinking about her?

—

Earning the title of cool sister only takes a borrowed penthouse, Broadway tickets and exclusive seats at Yankees Stadium.

It’s day two and though you haven’t been able to convince them to go to the Met, you’re still enjoying yourself.

Kind of.

“So how long do these last?” you ask again, even if Zach explained the rules a dozen times already. “Ok, next time we’re going to the US Open because at least I’ll understand the game”

“So, you’re planning on staying here?” Jenny asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no plan for anything, really. I have two months left on my contract”

Zach goes to get more food and you keep watching the game in silence.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asks. Truthfully, though you’ve enjoyed spending time with them, Wanda’s been in the back of your mind more frequently than when you’re busy with work.

You can’t help but think about all the trips you never took with her, or wonder what she’d think about the city.

“Want the grown up answer or the big sister being brave answer?”

“I’d like the truth”

“Well…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not ok. I fucked up big time. I had everything I wanted within reach and just… I don’t know. Maybe it was never meant for me. It was too good”

“You are good enough for it, come on. Don’t say that”

“It’s hard to believe it when I hurt her so much. And the kids. But, it is what it is I guess”

“I’m sorry. If you wanna talk…”

“I know, sis. Thanks” you smile at her. All of the sudden you hear the crowd roaring and look up to see a ball that’s coming straight your way. You catch it, thinking nothing of it, while some people around you begin to speak to you. “What? Do I have to throw it back?”

“Are you insane?” Zach comes out of nowhere, taking it from you. “This is the coolest thing!”

“It’s a ball” you say, looking at the field.

“Nu-uh. It’s Camarena’s 50th home run. You know, the most promising baseball player of the season”

“Ok, if you say so”

Turns out it is a very big deal, as the player wants the ball back and is offering to meet you in exchange for it. You let Zach decide for the two of you, and his answer is an excited yes.

So, you take a couple of pictures and thank him when he hands you a signed baseball bat.

“Thanks, Carme…”

“Camarena” Zach elbows you. “I’m your biggest fan”

Yeah, you definitely earned the award to coolest sister, and it had nothing to do with all the money you spent. It came down to your ability to catch a freakin ball, like a competition with a golden retriever.

“We still have some time before we have to take the plane. What do you wanna do? You’ve been doing everything we want to” Jenny says, and you think about it.

“Let’s have a picnic in Central Park”

“Sounds fun” she agrees, while Zach keeps taking a million pictures of the bat.

As you walk around the park, you find something that unlocks a memory that was totally lost on you.

“Balto!” you point at a statue of the sleigh dog. They both look at you with blank expressions. “You’ve never seen Balto? Seriously?”

“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t let us watch some stuff. She said it was silly to have a movie with speaking animals”

“That and Ghostbusters. But we never learned why”

“Oh, that’s because she and dad watched that movie on the day I was born” you explain while you pull out your phone to take a picture of the statue.

“Mom is such a bitch” Zach mutters and it makes you laugh.

“Come on, kid. Screw the picnic, I’m buying you the biggest burger we can find”

“See? I’m her favorite already” he teases Jenny and they begin to argue again. You hug them, staying in the middle to prevent a fight.

“Love ya both, kiddos”

—

Coming back to an empty house stings a bit more when you spent the weekend surrounded by playful banter and pleasant company.

The silence is unbearable and you know that at moments like this there’s only one thing that can make you forget.

So, even if you have to go to work tomorrow, you get changed and head for the usual club.

“Thought you found a better spot” Laura greets you as you approach the bar.

“Work was crazy” is all you say. No one knows your name, or what you do for a living. You just get drinks and dance to loud music.

“The usual?” you nod, accepting the glass of scotch. You enjoy it slowly for a bit, watching as some people dance and party. The outfits and the music are different from your time in college; plus Darcy and you used to go to shitty bars.

Either way, what hasn’t changed is how drunk people act; messy, unaware. You love it. No one’s asking if you’re ok, or why you're there.

“I was gonna buy you a drink, but you’re not done with that one yet” a woman offers with a flirty smile.

You finish what’s left of the scotch in one swift motion, and wink at her.

“There”

“Are you that thirsty, huh?” she teases, and you laugh, sipping from the new glass. “I’m Eve. You?”

“I’m… really thankful for my drink, Eve” you say, because you’re never gonna share your name with anyone else. “Wanna dance?”

The woman rolls her eyes, but follows you to the dance floor. It’s the perfect place to get lost, and avoid any conversation. The music’s loud, there’s people everywhere and you can simply disappear when you’re done.

It’s what you do best, isn’t it?

As you go out for another drink, there’s an impulse to talk to Laura.

“That was the name of a friend”

“What?”

“Laura. Well, not my friend. My ex girlfriend’s friend”

That’s about everything they have in common. This woman is covered in tattoos and has dark hair, styled in a mullet. Very Joan Jett, which is every girl’s type.

But my type is Wanda.

“Is that why you drink until I have to call you a cab?” Laura says, and you nod, taking a shot of tequila and asking for another one.

“Yeah. Come on, just one more” you plea when she’s doubting about giving you a third one. You pout and Laura rolls her eyes. “Thank you. Ah, I love this song!”

You blow her a kiss, running back to the dance floor. Wait, no, you don’t even know this song but it’s cool anyway.

And then the next one is good enough, until you’re a bit too drunk and have no idea what’s playing.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

To your disappointment, it’s a man.

“I’m fine!”

“Yes, you are” he says, putting his arm around your waist.

“I’m gay, dude. Stop it!” you push him away.

“Come on, you just need a good di…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, not when your fist crashes against his nose.

Stupid move, as he’s tumbling to the floor, creating a commotion. You can tell he’s pissed when he stands up, but he never even gets to yell at you, because someone is pulling you back until you’re out of sight.

“You really are trouble” Laura tsks and you try not to laugh.

“He was an asshole”

“Yeah, he is. If it were up to me he wouldn’t go in at all. I have to get back to the bar. Stay here, drink some water. Then I’ll call you a cab”

“I’m sorry” you say, reaching for her when she walks past you.

“That girl did a number on you, huh?”

“I only have myself to blame” you smile sadly. “Thanks for the help”

Following the woman’s advice, you walk around the room, drinking some water and breathing to gather yourself. You’re vaguely aware of the pain in your hand, and remember that it was stupid to risk yourself that way.

If you can’t operate, Melina’s kicking your ass.

After a while, Laura comes back.

“Car’s waiting”

“Thanks… I owe you...”

“A cup of coffee”

You’re about to protest when she rolls her eyes.

“Not as a date. You have too many issues for me to handle. But I’d rather we stop meeting like this, with you starting a bar fight”

“Yeah, that’s fair” you smile, looking back before leaving the room. “My name’s Y/N, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

—

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s all you can think about as you get ready for a 24 hour shift, sporting a massive headache and hangover.

You’re leaning against the elevator when the doors open, and you speak without opening your eyes, handing the keys of the car to Yelena.

“You’re gonna have to drive me today”

“Yelena already left”

You look up a little too fast, eyes meeting Natasha’s.

“Ah, jeez” you complain, feeling your head pound with the sudden movement.

“Rough night?” she says with a mocking tone, but then pays attention to your bruised knuckles, taking your hand. “What the hell? Are you ok?”

“Dude thought he could touch me and get away with it. It’s fine” you promise, though she doesn’t let go of your hand.

“You know mom’s gonna freak out when she sees this?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Romanoff” you say, stepping out of the elevator. “What are you doing?”

“Get in my car” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re in no condition to drive”

“This is nice” you look around the Mercedes-Benz, reaching to touch the controls in the dashboard. Natasha slaps your hand away.

“Nicer than the Corvette?”

“Nah, let’s not get crazy”

“Did you have a nice weekend with the family?” she asks, rolling into conversation naturally.

“Yeah, we went to see Wicked because Jenny wanted to, then to a Yankees game where I caught the ball, which is apparently a big deal”

“It is, congrats”

“They made me buy some clothes that are not scrubs or…”

“Mini skirts? Like the one you wore last night”

“How did you…”

“My penthouse is in the same building, remember? Same as Yelena’s. Mom was smart enough to get a house away from everyone”

“Right”

“Doesn’t Wanda mind?”

That shuts you up real fast. And honestly? You don’t feel like lying. But as you’re about to answer her, she stops in the parking lot.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business” she mistakes your silence with annoyance.

“No, that’s not it” you explain, but then your phone pings. It’s a message from Jenny, sending you the Instagram post she made for the weekend in New York.

J: You made it to the gram!

Youths. You don’t even have instagram but click the link nonetheless. Yeah, those are nice pictures.

“Oh, you two came together?” Melina greets when she meets you in the hallway.

“Y/N can explain why” Natasha smirks and you glare at her.

“I was just feeling tired after the family trip”

“Natalia, who will be your plus one to the gala?” Melina changes the subject abruptly.

“I’m not taking anyone”

You direct your attention back to your phone, knowing they’re about to argue.

As you swipe through the pictures, a name catches your eye.

w.maximoff

What?

Does Wanda follow your sister?

She saw the pictures and liked them? Even if you were in them?

Don’t be an idiot, don’t think this means anything, she hates you, she’s better off without you.

The sudden urge to throw up has nothing to do with your hangover. You look around the hallway, and feel the desire to turn around and beg her to take you back.

You miss her too much, you can’t do this without Wanda.

Who are you kidding?

“Take Y/N” you hear all of the sudden.

“What?”

“Take Y/N to the gala with you” Melina decides, making Natasha roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go” you interrupt Natasha.

Anything, anything at all to stop thinking about the one person who made your life worth living.

“Then it’s settled” your boss nods, pleased.

“Excuse me” you walk away, hoping there’s a ton of work that can keep your mind off everything else.

There is, and you’re grateful for the distraction it provides.

“I’m exhausted. How are you managing with a hangover?” Yelena complains after a few hours.

“Get some rest,” you mutter, looking at the lab results. “The OR won’t be ready for another hour anyway”

Unfortunately, it gets very slow as the day progresses. Everyone in the hospital is focused on a kidney transplant that is happening next week.

You see a woman walk in with her son to the ER and approach them.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Y/L/N. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes. My son fell and I’m not sure, I think he might have hurt his wrist”

You turn to look at the kid, who is probably ten or eleven, and he looks back at you scared.

“I understand. What’s your name?”

“Kyle”

“Hi, Kyle. I’m Y/L. Can I take a look at your wrist?”

It takes him a moment to nod, but once he does you take him to one of the hospital beds where he sits. As you put on a pair of gloves, he looks around, clearly nervous.

“Cool shirt” you make conversation, noticing his Yoshi shirt. “My favorite is Rainbow Road, but the best time I ever did was on Vanilla Lake”

“Really? My favorite is Koopa Troopa Beach”

“That’s a good one” you agree, applying pressure on his wrist. “Ok, I don’t think anything’s broken but we need an X-ray to confirm. I’ll walk you there, it will take a minute”

Thankfully, it’s just a sprain.

“You’ll just wear a brace for a week, I’m also sending some medication for pain. Now, you’re gonna have to hold up on playing Mario Kart for a bit, as the movement isn’t good for your hand. Take it easy and if there’s any more discomfort or pain, come back to the hospital”

“Thank you” the woman nods, relieved that it’s nothing major. You’re about to say goodbye when her son hugs you.

“Take care, kid”

As you watch them walk away, your mind goes back to Billy and Tommy.

You miss them so much.

“Everything ok?” Yelena asks when you leave in a rush, walking towards the stairs.

Instead of answering her, you go down the steps, until you push the emergency exit, breathing heavily.

Don’t cry at work, don’t cry at work.

It’s not working. You squeeze your eyes shot, pinching the bridge of your nose.

A sob leaves your lips the minute Yelena catches up with you.

“It’s ok. I’m here” she says, hugging you.

“I miss them”

“I know. I’m sorry” is all she says, allowing you to cry as you lean your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be…” you finally gather yourself, wiping away the tears. Your face is hot with the embarrassment of being so emotional in front of Yelena.

“I understand. There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, you should get some sleep. I’ll cover the ER for a bit”

“Ok” you nod. But she still follows you to the break room, and as you lay in bed, Yelena makes small talk, asking about your trip and telling you some funny things that used to happen to her and Natasha when their mother would leave them to roam the city while she had board meetings.

As she tells you about her favorite things from the Met, your eyes feel heavy and you fall asleep, exhausted.

The younger woman looks at you, feeling a bit guilty. She understands that everyone in this situation is an adult, and sometimes relationships don’t work.

But it’s still hard to see you so heartbroken and lonely.

“Hey” Natasha walks in the room, and Yelena shushes her, leaning her head towards you. “Is she ok?”

“I don’t know” the blonde admits, closing the door behind her.  “What’s up?”

“Mom told me you’re bringing a plus one to the gala! I thought we agreed no dates for this one”

“Oh, yeah…” Yelena blushes, and Natasha tilts her head.

“Who is it?”

“So, what are you doing? Should we find you a date?” Yelena rushes to change the subject, walking with her sister to the cafeteria.

“No, Y/N volunteered. Or, my mother kinda forced her to”

“Maybe it will be good to have a distraction. She’s having a rough time”

Natasha stays silent as they get some food. To be honest, she has been distant with you. It was hard to get close again after all the hard words you exchanged.

Natasha was just trying to protect herself.

“So you’re not gonna tell me who it is?” Natasha insists after a moment of silence. Yelena laughs, shaking her head.

“You’ll find out soon enough”

—

You open your eyes to the sound of your pager. The OR was busy for longer than anticipated and you’re about to go and check if everyone’s ready.

While you yawn, you dial Yelena’s number.

“Hello?” you hear Natasha’s voice.

“Why are you answering Yelena’s phone?” you say, doble checking that you indeed called her sister.

“Oh, crap. I took her phone by accident”

“Hey” you step out of the room, and find none other than Natasha, ready to leave for the day. “Guess your mother bought these phones in bulk”

You show her the mobile Melina gave you, though you insisted in keeping your number. It’s identical to Yelena’s and Natasha’s and every head of department has one as well.

“Heads up, she might be tracking your location”

“What? Can she do that?” you say, shaking the phone. Natasha smiles at that.

She forgets not everyone is expecting the worst from Melina.

“I better go and exchange phones with Yelena” the redhead says.

“Sure, can you tell her that the OR’s ready? Thanks”

You leave, but then Natasha’s voice stops you.

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of shock in your face, but you nod and smile.

“Yeah, sure. Wanna come over to watch a movie?”

“Sounds good” she agrees.

“Alright. See ya then” you wave goodbye.

Between this and the gala, Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to spend so much time together.

She’s about to find out.

��

Natasha is questioning her choices as she knocks on your door, thinking it might be unwise to spend alone time with you.

She had felt like you both got some closure after the emergency surgery on that woman. And then, one week later you had shown up at her hospital, as if you hadn’t refused the offer a number of times.

As if the thought of leaving your precious girlfriend behind wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.

“Hey, come on in” you greet, opening for her.

“Love what you’ve done with the place” she teases, watching as the only real decoration is a Polaroid picture of you and Yelena that is taped to the fridge.

“I’m happy this thing came with furniture or we’d be having dinner on the floor”

“Martha Stewart would be proud” she says and you roll your eyes.

“Come on, food will be ready in a bit” you say, asking her to open the bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get it from?”  she asks as she hands you a glass.

“Uh, the grocery store?” you look back from the stove.

“Wait, you’re making it? From scratch?” she puts her glass down, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, not from scratch, it’s not like I made the pasta”

“I thought you didn’t cook”

“I didn’t” you smile, offering her a taste of the sauce. “But I got used to the finer things in life, like a good old homemade meal, and had to figure out how to get something done”

“This is actually really good” she says, surprised.

“I will give you a pass because I am also surprised that my cooking’s not so bad”

It must have been because you used to watch Wanda cooking all the time.

Ah, shit.

Maybe eventually you’ll go a day without thinking about her. Or not, and that’s your karma for being an idiot.

Once everything’s ready, you pull out two plates, and serve the food.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Not sure, could we eat first?”

“Why, want to check that I won’t give you food poisoning?” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “Oh, come on! I’ve never gotten sick and it’s been a month!”

“Let’s just eat”

“Fine, are you sure you’re gonna be ok talking to me? You’ve been avoiding me since I arrived in Boston” you comment, though you can’t be mad at her.

It was easier to blame her for your screw up that own up to it. You’re not particularly proud of it.

“I wasn’t sure if your girlfriend would give you shit for talking to me”

“We’re not together anymore” you blurt out, making Natasha stop chewing.

“You’re shitting me”

“She broke up with me” you shrug your shoulders. “So I quit my job and ran away like the asshole I am”

There’s a beat of silence, and you keep eating. You’re not expecting anything from Natasha, like pity or words of comfort. It’s just the way things are.

“I had no idea… I’m sorry. I feel responsible”

“Nat, don’t. Honestly, you weren’t wrong. I am attracted to you, and I didn’t set boundaries. If anything, I’m sorry for being a jerk and ruining our friendship”

She keeps eating quietly, and you know that she accepted the apology without making a fuss about it.

“Crazy, stupid love” you mumble after a couple of minutes.

“Yeah, I guess it can be”

“No” you snort out a laugh. “I mean that’s the movie I wanna watch!”

“Oh, I don’t know it” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Of course not, it’s not a Bond movie. Come on, now that you’ve seen my food won’t take you to the ER, let’s get everything ready” you say, picking up the dishes. Maybe you’ll make popcorn, even though you are full.

“Wait a minute” Natasha says, and when you turn around, she’s got you cornered against the kitchen counter.

“Huh?”

“You said you are attracted to me. Not were. So you still are” she smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself?” you stutter. It’s not helping that you’ve gotten used to physical intimacy and you’ve been craving it for the past weeks.

But that makes you think of Wanda again.

“I just… you deserve more than being a rebound, Natasha. And I am serious when I say I’m not staying beyond my contract”

You know you can’t be someone who isn’t heartbroken and in love with Wanda. But you can at least be honest about it.

“I know. It’s just fun to watch you get all flustered” she says with a sultry voice.

“Not funny” you say, pushing her away.

“Let’s watch that silly, corny movie now” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“You’re gonna love it”

“Doubt it”

As you suspect, she’s critizing Cal at every possible turn, calling him a loser. She’s also constantly texting about the hospital in between complaints.

“Hey!” she protests when you snatch her phone.

“I know we’re both workaholics, but you’re missing the parts with Emma Stone which are arguably the best ones. And this big reveal will blow your mind”

So, you put both of your phones down in the coffee table and take it as a win when she’s laughing at some of the moments in the film.

“Hannah is Cal’s daughter?” Natasha screams when you get to that scene.

“See?”

“Damn!”

“Bathroom break” you announce a while later, leaving the movie playing as you know the dialogues.

Natasha is actually interested in the movie when her phone rings and she picks up without looking away from the screen.

“Hello?”

She’s met with silence, which makes her actually pay attention to whoever called her.

Shit.

Wanda.

She took your phone.

But before she can explain or tell the other woman to wait, the call disconnects.

“What’s wrong?” you say when you return, sitting next to Natasha. “I know it’s sad, but I promise it has a happy ending”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“Nat, you’re scaring me”

“I thought it was my phone, I picked it up. Wanda called you” Natasha says, handing over the phone to you.

“Oh” you tilt your head, shocked. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. She hung up. I’m so sorry”

“Well, maybe she just wanted me to get my stuff. That’s the only reason she’d call me, honestly” you say, returning to the movie.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Natasha insists.

“I don’t know” you confess. Maybe you’re in shock. It feels surreal to have Wanda call you, after everything she said to you.

You left your old phone at Darcy’s house before jumping on a plane. You only got your old number back after Melina gave you one of those fancy phones.

Now you wonder if she ever tried to call you.

“I should go”

“And leave me to drown in obsessive thoughts?” you say dramatically. “Look, what’s the harm here? That she’ll think the worst of me, and then what? We broke up. She kicked me out, I’m gone like Wanda asked me to. I’ll just text Pietro and ask if the kids are ok”

That was your real concern. You had a feeling that it could be a mistake or something very serious. And you’d always put your pride aside for the sake of the kids.

“We’re watching a horror movie now” Natasha snatches the remote as soon as the credits roll, looking for Insidious. “That will distract you for sure”

—

“You’re evil” you say when Natasha walks out, laughing.

“And you’re a baby”

“There was a demon! Sewing while that creepy song played. You’re sick, Romanoff”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N” she says, whistling the song as she closes the door.

Now you won’t be able to sleep.

But there’s also another thing in the back of your mind.

Pietro hasn’t answered which can mean that it Wanda's call was a mistake and he’s choosing to ignore you.

Or something so monumentally horrible happened that he doesn’t even have his phone on him.

“Fuck it” you say, trying to control your breathing as you dial back.

You begin to feel like an idiot, especially when it’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t pick up the phone.

Hands squeeze the device as you deal with the disappointment. You are about to hang up when you hear it.

Wanda, saying your name.

And for a moment, you feel like everything’s ok again.

[jiminomenon]

what is jimin’s reaction to assistant yn threatening to quit?

from my series: the devil wears prada

the penthouse was silent—eerily so, considering the shouting match that had just taken place. the air between them was thick, charged with lingering frustration and unspoken words. jimin stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, expression locked in a stubborn scowl. y/n was a few feet away, breathing heavily, fists clenched at her sides.

neither of them had meant for it to escalate like this. it started with something minor—an argument over jimin’s impossible demands, her bratty attitude, the way she acted like y/n was hers to boss around twenty-four-seven. but then, words were thrown like knives, sharp and cutting.

and then y/n snapped.

“maybe i should just quit, then!”

the words ripped through the space between them. jimin stiffened instantly, her brows drawing together.

“what?” her voice was dangerously quiet.

y/n exhaled sharply, still fueled by frustration. “if you’re just gonna keep treating me like this, maybe i should just leave, huh? find another job where i’m actually respected.”

jimin scoffed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “you wouldn’t dare.”

“why not?” y/n challenged, eyes blazing. “give me one good reason why i shouldn’t.”

jimin opened her mouth, but for once in her life, she had no comeback. no smug remarks, no bratty retorts. because the idea of y/n actually leaving—actually walking away—felt like a punch to the gut.

her jaw tightened. “you’re being dramatic.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh. “of course you’d say that.”

jimin hated this. hated the way y/n looked at her right now—like she was tired of her, like she was done.

“you’re not quitting,” jimin said firmly, like it was a fact, like she refused to acknowledge the possibility.

“and why not?”

“because—” jimin’s voice faltered. she wanted to say because i need you—because she couldn’t imagine her life without y/n constantly by her side, keeping her in check, understanding her in ways no one else did.

but that wasn’t how she worked. she didn’t admit things like that. she didn’t let people know how much they mattered.

“because i said so,” she settled on instead.

y/n’s expression darkened. “you don’t own me, jimin.”

“i never said i did.”

“but you act like it!”

the silence that followed was suffocating.

jimin hated the thought of y/n leaving, but she also hated feeling like this—out of control, vulnerable, on the verge of losing something she refused to name.

so she did what she did best.

she walked away.

but before she could fully disappear into her bedroom, y/n’s voice cut through the air.

“you don’t even care, do you?”

jimin froze.

“if i left, it wouldn’t even matter to you, right?” y/n’s voice was quieter now, but still laced with hurt. “you’d just find someone else to boss around.”

something snapped inside jimin. she turned around, storming back toward y/n, eyes burning with something unreadable.

“it would matter,” she said, voice low. “it would matter a lot.”

y/n blinked.

jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, frustrated—at y/n, at herself, at the entire situation.

“you think i don’t care?” jimin continued, tone softer now but still firm. “you think i’d just let you go that easily?”

y/n didn’t respond.

jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i’m sorry, alright?”

y/n’s brows shot up. “what?”

jimin groaned. “don’t make me say it again.”

y/n stared at her, searching for any sign of insincerity—but, for once, jimin actually meant it.

a small smirk tugged at y/n’s lips. “wow. never thought i’d hear those words come out of your mouth.”

jimin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “don’t get used to it.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. her frustration wasn’t completely gone, but… jimin had apologized. and for someone as stubborn as her, that was a huge deal.

“you’re impossible,” y/n muttered.

jimin smirked. “and yet, here you are. still not quitting.”

y/n sighed dramatically. “unfortunately.”

but there was a warmth in her eyes now, and jimin—though she’d never say it out loud—felt like she could finally breathe again.

[lowkeyerror]

Our Soul

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Requested, soulmate au, mostly fluff, like the smallest dash angst maybe

Summary: When searching for coven members, Agatha finds her soulmate. Her nerves about the woman being involved only grow when The Witches' Road turns out to be legit.

An: Sorry the request took so long, I did simplify it a bit I hope that it's still enjoyable.

Masterlist

Agatha made a mistake. The moment she had looked into Y/n’s eyes, she was sure of it. She’d always thought finding her soulmate would be this horrific thing. That the description of having your soul intertwined with someone else's sounded painfully, boring, and wasteful. Yet when she had it all wrong.

It was the soft pull of a flower to a summer breeze. It was if something warm finally reached her freezing soul. The souls were translucent with glowing specs shinning inside. Agatha’s, dark purple like her magic; Y/n's, golden like the tint of her irises sparkling in the sun. They twirled up together, two halves becoming one whole. Then they lay flat, into a singular form.

She visualized it, beautiful, all encompassing, and complete. However she was still horrified in some ways. She glanced at the paper with Y/n’s name scrawled across it and then back at her. It was too late to take back the offer. The way that Y/n's wyes lit up at the mention of the road was impossible to miss.

She’d have to do something about it. There was no way she was going to let her end up like the rest of the people on the list. Y/n dying was nowhere in Agatha’s plans.

Y/n made a mistake. She was sure of it when Agatha’s hand pulled her down on to the road. The way her mind had called Agatha’s hand a perfect fit for her’s. The entire reason she had agreed to come in the first place was now jeopardized. All because of Agatha’s illustrious blue eyes, her cunning smile, and the warm softness of her hand in yours.

She was here to find her soulmate. That’s all she wanted from the road. Yet here she is swooning over Agatha Harkness, known most for her treachery. It felt like she was failing her one true love.

When Agatha stops abruptly at the last step, Y/n crashes into her. Agatha is quick to tug at your wrist, pulling you back into her, rather than tumbling backwards.

“Are you alright sweetheart?”

Y/n watches Agatha’s eyes scan over her, worry easily perceived. The younger woman respond with a loose nod. She was being pulled in by the current of Agatha’s crystal-esque eyes.

“Yeah,” is all she can manage to say.

She smiles slyly knowing she had Y/n flustered. Agatha doesn’t let go of her, the older witch’s pull persisting. The older woman doesn’t trust this road. She knows it isn’t real, that this shouldn’t be happening. Whatever this is, she wouldn’t let it claim you.

While she takes charge of the others, Agatha never strays far from you. She felt like she had to protect Y/n. After the road’s first test Agatha knee she was right. Mrs. Hart was dead, and everyone was shaken up about it. Especially Y/n.

As everyone walks away from her body, Agatha falls in step with Y/n.

“How are you holding up?”

Y/n’s gaze stays on the ground she shake her head slightly, as if she expects a thought to fall out, “I don’t know.”

“Is this your first time dealing with that kind of thing?”

Y/n tilts her head, “Agatha we’re hundreds of years old. I’m no stranger to death or dead bodies. It’s just… been a long time.”

“Right.”

“Why’d you bring her?” Y/n couldn’t help but ask.

Agatha fumbles for an answer. The truth being that she didn't think things would go this far. This was supposed to end in the basement. She would’ve stolen everyone’s powers then manipulated Mrs. Hart’s memories and she would be none the wiser. She was intended to be a placeholder not a carcass.

Y/n watches Agatha carefully wondering what kind of lie she would tell, how the woman would spin the story. Instead she sees a small dip in the character Agatha was always playing.

“I didn't think she'd get hurt,” it’s a small, but honest truth.

Agatha was scared of the woman’s response. Perhaps Y/n would call bullshit and turn on her. Everyone was always so quick to point a finger at her. She had been taking the blame since she was a child all that time ago. So it would be nothing new to her.

“I believe you.”

Y/n doesn't know why she said it. She didn't plan on responding, but something inside of her was begging her to speak. It was another flaw in her eyes, wanting to bring comfort to Agatha. The woman that was distracting her from her soul mate.

Agatha is fighting the urge to question why you believe her. She didn't deserve your trust. She’s staying to begin to believe she didn't deserve Y/n. Yet that didn't necessarily matter anymore, their souls were already intertwined.

“We should try summoning another green witch,” Y/n suggests.

It causes a bit of commotion in the group, but with no choice left, they try it.

“M’lady.”

When Rio Vidal comes crawling out of the ground Agatha lunges at her. The rest of the group is stunned by their clear complex past. Agatha’s not the only one who reacts to The Green Witch.

Y/n’s eyes widen, “Oh no.”

When Rio sees Y/n she turns away from Agatha. She stalks towards the woman, cautiously taking Y/n’s hand in her. With a charming smile she presses her lips to the backside of the younger witch’s hand.

“Mi vida.”

Agatha watches with her jaw nearly on the floor. The blush on Y/n’s face told her everything she needed to know.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Rio drops Y/n’s hand, “What? I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd come by, help out.”

“So are you a green witch?”

Before Rio responds Y/n cuts her off, “As green as it gets, let’s keep moving.”

“I like that idea,” Agatha seconds that and begins to walk off, Y/n trails behind her.

The rest of the coven eventually joins.

“So... you know Rio too?”

Agatha keeps her gaze straight ahead, “Yup.”

Y/n let’s out an amused huff of air, “Seems like we know her in the same way too.”

“It does look that way. I gotta say, I would've never guessed she was your type.”

“At one point in time I thought she was my soul mate. You have to admit under all that cunning is someone so tragically lonely, but eternally beautiful. I always doubted that love would exist without fear of her."

Agatha knew what the girl really meant when she said ‘her'. Death had an air of beauty about her not only in appearance.

“Rio is everything you said, but you forgot to add irritating,” Agatha adds.

Y/n laughs at her, “Always showing up at the most convenient times for herself. Which just so happens to be inconvenient to everyone else.”

“I can't believe you thought she was your soulmate.”

Y/n looks away bashfully, “Well you must’ve too all things considered.”

Agatha disputes the statement instantly, “I never really bought into the whole soulmate thing.” She takes a moment to look into Y/n’s eyes, “At least not until recently.”

“Why not?”

“Agatha didn't believe in any of those kind of happy ending fairytale like romances sweetheart, just not in her character,” Rio steps in between the pair to get in on their conversation.

“Something to do with you maybe?” Y/n shots at Rio.

Rio gasps in faux-shock, “No, I’m the perfect wife. Right, my love?”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Ex-wife, current thorn in my side.”

“Aww she’s so grumpy without her magic, Y/n. She’s usually a much more cheerful spirit.”

“Fuck off,” Agatha starts walking faster.

She reaches over Rio, to grab Y/n’s wrist pulling her along in a similar way she did down the road in the first place.

Whatever conversation that was going to play out died upon seeing another trial. By the look on the witch ‘s face it was obviously Alice’s. The outfits, the rock band, the grunge of it all was a bit fun at first. Yet the fun never lasts in these things, especially when threatened by a generational curse.

The ballad was once again the key to the trial. Almost reminiscent of your way onto the road, singing the ballad helped Alice defeat her curse. However it was not without a cost, as Teen had some how gotten injured.

The responsibility fell on a group. A second trial and second death was looming over the group. The care and distress in Agatha’s movement was stark contrast to what had happened when Mrs. Hart died.

Y/n couldn’t help it as she silently asked Rio if it was the boy’s time. Lady Death stood silent, pensive, as if she herself was gauging the situation. Then she shook her head.

It was during this time that his wound was healed. Though he lay unconscious, it was general consensus that he'd be alright. While this placated the others, Agatha was not leaving his side.

The rest of the coven went to set up camp for the night. Y/n knew she wasn’t obligated to stay with Agatha and Teen, but she wanted to.

Whatever Agatha was feeling, for once it was plain on her face. The moment was fragile, something Y/n was mindful of as she sat quietly next to Agatha.

“Have you ever lost something so pivotal to your existence that without it, you no longer feel whole?”

“My brother,” Y/n’s gaze lingers on Billy.

“Do you… have you seen him in other people?”

Y/n nods, “Sometimes I can’t help it. I see someone that looks like him or likes the things he likes or acts like him, but they’re not him.”

Agatha turns her attention to Y/n. The far away look in her eye makes the older witch move close to her.

“What happened to him?”

Y/n’s bottom lips curls up into her mouth, “I happened.”

Agatha’s hand finds it’s way on top of Y/n’s. The younger witch intertwines their fingers. Y/n lets out a large breath, trying to center herself.

“My son,” Agatha whispers. “I see Teen and I see the kind of boy that mine could’ve grown to be .”

“Agatha,” Y/n says her voice softly.

Agatha clears her throat, “Let’s go see what kind of camp they’ve set up.”

She stands abruptly, but makes sure to extend her hand to the other woman. Y/n takes the help to stand. Agatha is reluctant to drop the girl’s hand, but she does. That doesn’t keep the woman away from her. Y/n walks close enough that their arms brush as the walk to camp.

When both sit, the other’s are full of laughter, reminiscing about their battle scars. Agatha shows off her's and the rest give her a roar of laughter that she didn’t expect.

The laughter dies down as Rio talks about having a scar. Something that both Agatha and Y/n know to be false. The younger of the pair can’t help, but glare as Rio spins a tale of a woman. Someone that Y/n knows to be Agatha.

A trick to rile the woman up. It works as Agatha storms off. Rio tries to go after her.

“I think you’ve done enough,” Y/n stands to stop her.

Rio raises her hands in defensive before gesturing them in the direction Agatha ran off in, “By all means then, you go after her. Just remember at the end of the road, your soulmate will be waiting for you.”

“Fuck you Rio,” Y/n goes after Agatha.

She finds Agatha just standing in a field. Y/n approaches her, moving to stand in front of Agatha. The powerless witch doesn’t look at her.

Y/n takes Agatha’s face in both of her hands. Agatha’s expression has a million facets to it. Sorrow, regret, anger, but most prevalently Y/n sees a plea.

“Death has a nasty way of lingering doesn't she?”

A single tears slides down Agatha’s cheek. Y/n wipes it away with her thumb.

Her laughter is shaky, “You didn't have to come after me.”

“Agatha, I wanted to be here,” Y/n reassure her.

“I don’t deserve you,” she leans into Y/n’s touch.

It’s like Y/n’s says it to herself when she speaks, “ I decide what I deserve.”

Agatha’s crystal blue eyes meet Y/n’s, “And what about your soulmate?”

“This isn’t about that.”

Agatha’s holds Y/n’s in place against her face, “What if it is?”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What are you saying?”

Agatha steroids out of the woman’s hold. Her hands move wildly as she talks, “Don’t you feel it? When we locked eyes, I saw our souls mixing. I know that you're too good for me. I’m this no good evil hag, with a reputation that makes dictators seem like saints. I don’t deserve to have a soulmate, especially one as good as you.”

When Y/n looks into Agatha’s eyes she feels it. She sees what Agatha saw when they first met. Their souls coming together, in what is certainly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Tears form in Y/n’s eyes. She strides over to Agatha, again cupping the woman’s face in her hands. Y/n smiles through her tears.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

A smile fights it's way onto Agatha face, “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Agatha I’ve dated the physical embodiment of death. I don't care,” Y/n tucks a piece of Agatha’s hair behind her ear.

“I’m no good-”

Whatever Agatha had planned on saying didn’t matter to Y/n. The younger girl plants her lips on Agatha’s firmly. The older woman melts into the kiss the words dying on her lips.

“You’re good to me,” Y/n breathes out as the kiss ends.

Agatha hugs Y/n’s waist, keeping her close. Their foreheads rests against each other. The brunette’s eyes slowly open. There’s fire behind the blue orbs

“I will be, I promise.”

The road wasn’t finished and Agatha had yet to regain her power. However, she already felt more complete with Y/n in her arms. A part of her restored upon connecting with her soulmate.

[dailyd0ses]

A Rose Without Thorns Pt. 2

Mama Rose from Gypsy on Broadway x Female Reader

The night stretched on, but for the first time in what felt like years, Rose slept.

It wasn’t a deep sleep—she tossed and turned, mumbling in her dreams, fingers twitching as if she were still conducting some unseen orchestra—but it was sleep nonetheless. And in the quiet hours before dawn, when the city outside your window softened into a gentle hum, you found yourself lying awake, thinking about the woman now resting under your roof.

Rose Hovick. The infamous stage mother, the woman who built stars and burned bridges, who had spent her life chasing dreams that never truly belonged to her. The same woman who, just hours ago, had been sitting on a cold bench with nowhere to go.

She was a force of nature. But even storms had to settle eventually.

By morning, the scent of fresh coffee filled the apartment. You were already up, seated at the small kitchen table, flipping idly through a newspaper when you heard the shuffle of footsteps.

"Smells good," Rose muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, draped in her fur coat over the same dress from last night, though now slightly wrinkled. Her hair was tousled, but not in a careless way—it softened her somehow, made her look less like Madame Rose and more like just Rose.

"Hope you take it strong," you said, pushing a mug toward her.

She let out a tired chuckle as she sat across from you. "Darling, after the life I’ve had? The stronger, the better."

She took a sip and sighed, her whole body seeming to deflate just a little.

For a while, there was only the quiet sound of coffee cups clinking against saucers.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"So, what’s your story?"

You raised an eyebrow. "My story?"

"You took me in last night like it was nothing," she said, studying you over the rim of her mug. "Either you’re a saint, or you’ve got your own ghosts keeping you up at night."

You smirked. "Maybe both."

Rose hummed, as if she weren’t entirely convinced, but she let it go.

Instead, she leaned back, tapping her fingers against the side of her mug. "I don’t know what the hell I’m doing," she admitted.

"With what?"

She gestured vaguely. "With this."

You tilted your head. "With staying here?"

"With..." She hesitated, searching for the words. "With letting someone help me. With letting myself stop for once."

That caught your attention.

"You’ve never stopped before, have you?" you asked gently.

She gave a short, humorless laugh. "Not once."

You studied her for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "Maybe it’s time you did."

She scoffed. "And do what, exactly?"

You shrugged. "Figure out what you want. Not for June. Not for Louise. Not for show business. Just you."

Rose fell silent at that, her fingers tightening slightly around her cup.

It was a terrifying thought, wasn’t it? She had spent her whole life chasing dreams on behalf of others. What was left when there was no one left to chase for?

Finally, she exhaled, shaking her head. "You really are something, you know that?"

You grinned. "So I’ve been told."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but there was something else in her eyes now. A quiet curiosity. A shift.

"You could stay," you offered before you could stop yourself. "At least for a little while. Until you figure things out."

Rose arched an eyebrow. "Are you always this generous with broken women?"

"Only the interesting ones."

She let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "You’re dangerous, kid."

You smirked. "Not half as dangerous as you."

For a long moment, she just looked at you, something unreadable flickering across her expression. And then, ever so slightly, she nodded.

"Alright," she murmured. "I’ll stay."

Rose stayed.

At first, it was temporary. A few days, she told herself. Maybe a week, just until she figured out her next step. But days turned into weeks, and weeks stretched into something that neither of you bothered to name.

She made herself at home in small ways. Leaving her fur coat draped over the back of your couch. Setting her coffee cup in the sink but never actually washing it. Fixing the placement of your picture frames with an absentminded precision, as if she were arranging props for a show.

She still carried the weight of years spent fighting, pushing, demanding—but in your space, she started to ease, bit by bit.

One night, you found her in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a dish with the same intensity as if she were directing an orchestra.

"You don’t have to do that, you know," you said, leaning against the doorway.

She scoffed. "What, you think I don’t know how to do dishes?"

"I think you’ve spent too many years having other people do them for you."

She smirked. "Well, maybe I’m finally learning to fend for myself."

"That’s assuming I kick you out," you teased.

Rose turned her head slightly, giving you a long, unreadable look. Then, to your surprise, she sighed and muttered, "You’d be a fool to keep me around, you know."

"Why’s that?"

"I ruin everything I touch." She rinsed the dish a little too forcefully, the water splashing over the sink. "Everyone leaves. Even when I give ‘em the world, they still go."

"You didn’t give them the world, Rose," you said gently. "You gave them a dream. There’s a difference."

She stiffened.

For a moment, you thought you’d pushed too far. But then, she let out a breath and shut off the sink.

"You’re a smart one, aren’t you?" she muttered.

You smiled. "So I’ve been told."

She grabbed a towel, drying her hands with slow, thoughtful movements. Then, she turned to face you fully, leaning against the counter.

"You never told me why you took me in that night," she said.

You shrugged. "Because you looked like you needed it."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

She studied you, her sharp gaze searching, as if trying to decipher a script that hadn’t been written yet.

"You know, I’ve never—" She stopped herself, clicking her tongue. "Ah, never mind."

You tilted your head. "Never what?"

She hesitated.

Then, with an almost defiant lift of her chin, she said, "Never been looked at the way you look at me."

The words settled in the air between you, delicate and dangerous all at once.

You swallowed, holding her gaze. "And how do I look at you?"

Rose exhaled sharply, like she couldn’t believe she was even having this conversation. "Like I’m more than just the mess I’ve made."

You took a step closer. Not too close—just enough to let her know you were listening. That you saw her.

"You are more than that," you said softly.

She didn’t look away.

For once, Rose—who had spent her whole life running, chasing, fighting—didn’t retreat.

Instead, she nodded. Just slightly. Just enough.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she allowed herself to believe it.

[frostedpuffs]

“So,” Chat Noir drawled, squinting at Ladybug as she peered through a pair of red-and-black-spotted binoculars. She was locked onto the entrance of a bustling supercenter from their rooftop perch across the street. “Run that by me one more time?” Ladybug didn’t even bother to lower the binoculars as she said, “I have a lead on who the new holder of the butterfly Miraculous might be.” Chat Noir followed her gaze to the store’s sliding doors, where customers streamed in and out, their blue shopping carts piled high with groceries and other household items.  His ears flicked backward. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was about to get weird. “Okay,” he said slowly. “And you think they’re… in there?” He gestured toward the store with his baton, as if confirming they were, in fact, talking about the same automatic-door-having, discount-cereal-selling establishment. Ladybug nodded sharply. “Yes. Yesterday, right after the Akuma attack, I saw an employee bolt from the scene and run back into this store. They looked frantic, and I’m almost certain they wore a brooch.” Chat Noir tilted his head. “You think the new butterfly holder is an employee?” That… was not the sort of villain he’d expected. When he pictured the next wielder of the butterfly Miraculous, he imagined a shadowy billionaire, a disgruntled scientist, maybe even a power-hungry politician. Not some underpaid retail worker who probably had to deal with price check requests and customers arguing over expired coupons.  (Though, honestly? That was a pretty valid reason to turn evil.) “Alright,” he said, placing his baton on his back and stepping beside Ladybug. He squinted at the store. “So, what’s the move?” Ladybug finally lowered her binoculars and clipped them to her belt. “A stakeout.” Chat Noir glanced around the rooftop. “Here?” “Nope. Inside.” He blinked. “Inside the store?” “Yep.” Chat Noir hummed in thought. “Not that I doubt your judgment, my Lady, but… won’t people find that strange? Two superheroes casually strolling the supermarket?” “We’re going to wear disguises.” “Like what?” “You’ll see,” Ladybug said.  “I—okay.” He sighed. “So we’re just going to hang out in the supermarket? All day?” “No, silly,” she giggled. “We’re going to hide, of course!” “Where are we even going to hide?” Ladybug grinned. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

Continue reading on ao3 ➡️

this is the silliest thing ive ever written. i don't even know what it is. i wrote it almost entirely at work today. enjoy (??)

[nonagesimus]

OC Kiss Week Day 1 - Desperate

another ficlet for day one with my Shadow Dragon Rose Mercar, and @willofthewolf's Rowan Mercar.

-

“So, things could be going worse.”

Rose glanced over to where Rowan had pressed themself up against the same wall as her for cover. It surrounded a garden at the edge of the plaza that was usually bordering on idyllic, somewhere Rose liked to sit if she needed to think something through, or eat lunch when she just wanted nice afternoon. Somewhere the pair of them met sometimes. Rose liked associating it with that, with good things, but right at that moment it felt like the entire city was screaming on the other side.

“How d’you reckon?” she asked, trying not to sound completely exhausted.

“Well,” Rowan’s fingers were plucking absently at their bowstring, familiar little sparks dancing off it with each movement, “The dragon could be completely immune to fire.”

Rose muffled a snort, flipped her spellblade back and forth in her hand. The Shadow Dragons were doing their best, but it felt like the ground was about to crumble out from beneath her. She did her best work up close, but even if they managed to force the dragon to the ground; it was a still a dragon.

Not even counting those boils on its front legs. Whatever it had been spewing out of its mouth—A few darkspawn in the catacombs weren’t going to be the last of their problems, Rose thought.

If they survived to see any more.

There was an echoing screech as the beast swooped overhead, the wind from its wings buffeting down, but it was swooping to the east. Not good for the east side of the city, but it gave the two of them some time to catch their breath properly. Rose looked over at Rowan, who’d also slumped down a little against the wall. She shifted closer to them, enough to press their shoulders together.

“Well,” Rowan said. “A blaze of glory isn’t a bad way to go out.” They wrapped their arm around Rose’s shoulder to pull her even further into them.

“How about this,” Rose countered, twisting to face them, “If we make it out of this, we take an actual vacation?”

“You’ll never follow through,” Rowan teased, but there was a vicious edge to their grin that Rose loved.

She reached up her free hand, traced the tattoo down the side of Rowan’s face, and said, “So, you’ll just have to stay alive and make me.”

Rowan’s arm tightened around her shoulders, pulled her into a firm kiss. Rose cupped her cheek, and kissed back, half of her screaming that if it was their final kiss she’d better make it count, half that there was no way in all the hells she was letting it be their last. Wind rushed over them again and they broke apart, looking up to see the dragon swooping back over them.

“Alright,” Rowan said, meeting her eyes again, “So, that’s a deal?”

“I don’t break my word,” Rose said.

“Then let’s go figure out how to get that fucker to land.”

[jazz-writer]

The Jersey Debate

this just a short one shot I wrote because the idea is just so cute!! Enjoy!!

summary: James and regulus fighting over whose jersey will y/n wear

Requests are open btw!!! please please send in some ideas

It was a typical Saturday morning in the Gryffindor common room, and as usual, a familiar argument was going between you, James and Regulus .

"You're wearing mine today," James said, flashing you a mischievous grin as he tossed a worn-out, but well-loved, Quidditch jersey in your direction.

You shot a look toward Regulus, who was lounging on the arm of the couch, arms crossed, staring at you like he was already considering how best to claim victory in the battle of the jerseys.

"No, she's wearing mine," Regulus interjected smoothly, holding up his own sleek, black-and-silver Quidditch jersey. "It's more… refined."

You rolled your eyes and held up both jerseys, considering your options. "I’m not a walking billboard for either of your houses, thank you very much. I’ll wear whatever I want."

James chuckled, leaning forward. "Yeah, but you look good in mine."

"You said that last time," you replied back, rolling your eyes. "It’s not even a good fit, Potter. It’s too big on me."

"You’re supposed to look like you’re wearing a boyfriend’s jersey. It’s the whole point," James teased, giving you a cheeky wink.

"More like an oversized boyfriend’s jersey," Regulus muttered under his breath, earning a pointed glare from James.

Before you could respond, you reached for your coffee mug and took a sip, trying to ignore the growing tension between the two boys.

James, , was determined. "Just wear mine today. Come on, it'll make your day so much easier."

You opened your mouth to respond, but that’s when disaster struck.

In the process of getting your cofffee, your elbow knocked the mug in your hand, sending the hot coffee splashing all over Regulus’s Quidditch jersey.

Regulus froze, his eyes narrowing at the coffee stain spreading across his jersey.

"Are you serious?" he hissed, staring down at the dark spot with absolute horror.

"Ugh!" You groaned, quickly grabbingfor a napkin to try to salvage the damage, but the coffee had already seeped into the fabric. "I— I’m so sorry!"

Regulus’s face was almost comically dramatic as he stood up, holding his jersey out in front of him like it was a precious artifact ruined . "Do you have any idea what this is worth, Y/N? This was a limited edition!"

"Guess you won’t be wearing it today," James snickered, watching Regulus’s reaction with barely contained amusement.

You sighed, flopping back into your seat. "Great. Now I have to pick between two equally obnoxious jerseys."

Regulus glared at James, who was clearly enjoying himself. "This is why you should’ve just let me pick," Regulus muttered.

James smirked. "What? You mean, let you dictate the entire day? I don't think so. You are just a huge meanie.”

You finally stood up, holding the two jerseys. "Well, now I have no choice. Since I ruined yours, Reg, kI guess I’m wearing James’s today."

James’s grin widened, and he leaned back, clearly satisfied with the turn of events. "I’m always happy to help out."

Regulus shot him a look, frustration evident in his eyes. "You better not get too comfortable, Potter. This won’t be the last time we fight over her jersey."

James raised an eyebrow, teasingly. "Oh, I think I’m winning the jersey war, Black. Don’t worry, she’ll wear mine every time from now on."

Regulus crossed his arms, stepping back. "We’ll see about that, Potter. This isn’t over."

You shook your head at the two of them, "Alright, alright, I’ll wear your jersey, James. But you’re both ridiculous."

James winked at you and threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a playful side hug. "Come on, we both know who you’ll be rooting for today."

[inkspiredwriting]

Candlelight Confessions

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sudden flicker and then the complete darkness caught Five Hargreeves and Y/n off guard as they were finishing dinner in their cozy home. The hum of the refrigerator died, and the glow of the overhead lights vanished, leaving them in a silence only broken by the rustling of leaves outside and the distant roll of thunder.

Five groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like the storm knocked the power out.”

Y/n, her eyes sparkling even in the dim light, shrugged playfully. “Well, it’s not the first time we’ve dealt with a blackout.”

Five smirked, reaching for a candle on the table. “When we ended up dancing together without music, just a room full of candles and the two of us.”

Y/n giggled, nodding. “Exactly. You have to admit, you’re quite the dancer when you want to be.”

As Five fumbled for the lighter, Y/n found her phone and used the flashlight to help him light the candles scattered around their home. Soon, a warm, flickering glow filled the room, casting long shadows on the walls and giving the space an intimate ambiance.

“See?” Y/n said, setting her phone down. “This is kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

Five grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Leave it to you to make a power outage romantic.”

They settled on the couch, a soft blanket draped over their laps, the candles flickering around them like tiny stars. Five glanced at the window, the rain tapping gently against the glass.

“So, what should we do to pass the time?” he asked, leaning back and stretching his legs out.

Y/n tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “How about we tell each other stories? Childhood memories, maybe. Things we haven’t shared before.”

Five raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want to dive into the nostalgia pool, huh? Alright, you start.”

Y/n smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay, let’s see. When I was six, my family took a trip to the beach. I remember building this huge sandcastle. I spent the entire day working on it, imagining it as a grand fortress.”

Five’s eyes softened as he watched her, captivated by the glow of the candlelight on her face. “What happened to the sandcastle?”

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “A big wave came and swept it all away. I was devastated at first, but then my dad helped me build another one. He said, ‘Sometimes things get washed away, but that just means you get to start fresh and make something even better.’”

Five nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

“He is,” Y/n said softly. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something from your childhood.”

Five sighed, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling as he thought. “Alright. When I was around eight, before I got pulled into the apocalypse mess, I used to sneak into Reginald’s study. He had all these old books about time travel and science. I’d sit there for hours, just reading and imagining all the places I could go.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you were into time travel even back then.”

Five chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I was always fascinated by the idea of bending time to my will. But the funny part is, I once tried to build a time machine out of cardboard boxes and kitchen utensils. I was convinced it would work.”

Y/n laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wish I could’ve seen that. Did it work?”

Five shook his head, grinning. “Not even close. But it taught me to keep experimenting, to never give up on the things that intrigued me.”

They shared more stories, each memory painting a picture of who they were and how far they had come. As the evening wore on, the flickering candles casting a soft glow around them, they found themselves inching closer, the warmth of their shared history wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.

After a particularly funny story about Five trying to impress a girl at Griddy's Doughnuts with a poorly executed magic trick that Klaus had taught him, Y/n leaned in, her laughter fading into a tender smile. “You know, Five, I love hearing these stories about you. It makes me feel even closer to you.”

Five reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles. “I feel the same way. It’s like we’re weaving our pasts together, creating something even stronger.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and she squeezed his hand. “Promise me something, Five.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Through every blackout, every storm, every unexpected twist in our lives.”

Five’s gaze locked onto hers, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. “I promise, Y/n. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll love you through every moment, no matter how dark or challenging.”

Y/n’s smile was radiant, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, the warmth of his lips grounding her in the promise they had made. “And I promise to always stand by you, Five. No matter where time takes us.”

They sat in the quiet glow of the candlelight, their hands intertwined, feeling the strength of their bond deepen with every shared story and whispered promise. As the storm outside began to wane and the first hints of power flickered back to life, Five and Y/n remained on the couch, wrapped in the glow of their memories and the certainty of their love, ready to face every blackout together.

[cactusnymph]

heal me

Shadowheart is trying to keep her head down and her thoughts away from Lae’zel. It’s shameful enough that they’ve kissed twice now and that Shadowheart can’t stop her subconscious from cooking up all these unwanted dreams about Lae’zel—she really doesn’t need more reminders of her slipping sanity. Perhaps the worm in her brain is making her act unwise after all. None of the symptoms Lae’zel previously explained have surfaced, but theirs seems to be a special case. According to Lae’zel, they should not have survived for so long with a tadpole in their brain, and yet here they all are, walking around as if there’s not a disgusting parasite wiggling through their grey matter.

The last few days have been blessedly peaceful—which is to say, Lae’zel-free—as they’re trudging through the Shadow-Cursed-Lands. None of her other traveling companions find this peaceful, but Shadowheart doesn’t mind the darkness. What kind of cleric to Shar would she be if a few shadows bothered her? Astarion, of course, has been complaining the entire time. And Wyll, who is terribly smitten by him, indulges his whining instead of shutting it down like he should, so Shadowheart is left to tune both of them out and share a few, efficient and relevant comments with Tav who seems to be set on getting this done as quickly as possible and at least doesn’t whine the entire time.

Yes, Shadowheart could do without all the weird family members of the Thorm family constantly turning up and dragging them into their terrible and macabre little hobbies and obsessions, but even those abominations are preferable to her traitorous brain drifting back to a certain someone she doesn’t want to think about. Or being near her.

For all Shadowheart cares Lae’zel can return to the stars and leave Shadowheart in peace forever and a day.

“You’re grinding your teeth”, Astarion complains to her left and pulls Shadowheart out of her thoughts. “Stop it. We have to deal with enough terrible sounds in this godforsaken landscape, you don’t have to add to it.”

She hadn’t even realized that she’d done it.

Shadowheart refuses to grace Astarion’s complain with a witty comeback, instead focusing on unclenching her jaw. Now that she stopped thinking about Lae’zel she realizes that she has a slight headache. Typical. Lae’zel even causes her bother when she’s not within a hundred feet of her, giving Shadowheart a headache and making her teeth grind because she’s so terribly annoyed.

“Hey, back off, alright? We’re all stressed out”, Tav mumbles.

Shadowheart is not stressed. She’s annoyed. There’s a difference.

“You must miss her”, Wyll says. “Excuse me?”, she says and turns her head to stare at Wyll who is walking beside her. His artificial eyes shimmers slightly in the soft light of the small bell they’re carrying around with them so the other three don’t get hurt by the curse.

“Lae’zel, I mean. You two have gotten close these past few weeks, have you not? I assumed your separation was causing you anxiety.”

Shadowheart ignores Astarion’s judgmental snort and stares at Wyll. For a full fifteen seconds she considers pushing him off the path and into the shadows just for saying something this offensive to her face without shame or remorse. And he doesn’t even look as if he’s joking, no. There’s only the regular honest smile and open expression that Shadowheart finds pitiful on a good day and annoying on a bad day.

“You must be joking”, she says flippantly, hoping that the dismissal and contempt in her voice bleeds through as much as possible.

“I was not, but I can see that I hit a nerve”, Wyll says, raising his hands in surrender. He looks apologetic and takes a step to the side, no doubt to escape the risk of being throttled by Shadowheart. She can’t deny that she’s contemplating it.

“You hit nothing, much like you didn’t hit anything in that last fight”, she snaps. Astarion’s chuckle is badly disguised as a cough and accompanied by a soft sigh coming from Tav.

“Alright. I request five minutes of silence”, Tav says and Shadowheart is glad that both Wyll and Astarion fall silent so she can seethe in peace. As if she would ever be anxious about not having Lae’zel around. That is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard in her entire life.

It takes them five days before they return to camp—five days in which Shadowheart is still grappling with the fact that her entire world has been turned upside down. Betrayed by her goddess, her order, shaken to her core and still she has to deal with bickering companions, with a squirming tadpole in her brain and disgusting shadow creatures attacking them at every corner.

She’s tired, she’s exhausted, she feels as if her entire life has been chewed up and spit out and in addition to all of that there is still that nagging, annoying feeling between her ribs whenever she thinks about Lae’zel.

In the grand scheme of things Lae’zel shouldn’t matter. Except that Shadowheart can’t shake the feelings. And after leaving her mistress Shadowheart doesn’t even have the soothing promise of her memory getting wiped again.

The truth of the matter—however much Shadowheart wants to deny it—is that no one understands her feelings about Shar except Lae’zel. It’s ridiculous. Someone she’s regarded as an enemy from the very beginning is now supposed to be the one person who can relate to how Shadowheart feels.

Gods be damned.

When they finally get close to their camp Shadowheart finds herself walking faster. All she wants is a good night’s sleep and some sweet, sweet oblivion. No more thinking, no more anxious spiraling. Just a big, black void of delicious unconsciousness.

As they approach camp Shadowheart watches Karlach rush up to greet all of them excitedly. Shadowheart ignores the worried looks and whispered questions as she moves past all of them towards her tent and without talking to anyone just crawls into it and rolls her body into the smallest shape she can manage.

Maybe Tav talked to everyone, or maybe the others just know what’s good for them, but no one disturbs her and Shadowheart is allowed to fall asleep. As it turns out though, she is not allowed to stay asleep for longer than what feels like mere seconds, before she’s shaken awake by a calloused hand on her shoulder.

Despite having turned her back on Shar, Shadowheart cannot so easily dismiss her training, so her automatic reaction is to lash out at whoever dares approach her in her vulnerable state. The dagger she sleeps with under her pillow doesn’t connect with anything but her wrist is pinned before she can so much as blink and as she finally wakes up enough to take in her surroundings she recognizes Lae’zel kneeling over her, her cat-like eyes staring down at Shadowheart furiously.

“Pathetic”, she hisses. Shadowheart lets go of her dagger and spits out a curse.

“What do you want?”

There’s an almost haunted look in Lae’zel’s eyes and Shadowheart realizes that her body is reacting to the position she finds herself in right now without her brain having caught up entirely. The last time they were this close they kissed and Shadowheart might have wanted things to go further in the heat of the moment, before they were interrupted by Gale.

“You have been gone for five days and eleven hours”, Lae’zel growls. Shadowheart blinks.

“Good. So you can count up to eleven”, she says. Lae’zel hisses again.

“Tsk’va! You are the most infuriating person on this godforsaken rock!”

Shadowheart manages a smirk as she tries her best to get her body back under control. The rapid heartbeat can easily be explained by the sudden nightly ambush, but there’s something else nesting inside her rib-cage that she cannot quite pinpoint.

“I take that as a compliment”, Shadowheart says and tries to wiggle her wrist free. It doesn’t budge even slightly. That definitely doesn’t make her pulse quicken even further.

“I need you to heal me”, Lae’zel proclaims and the way she says it sounds like an order, as pretty much everything she says does. Shadowheart furrows her brow and looks Lae’zel over as much as she can in their current position. She doesn’t seem to be hurt.

“You seem fine”, Shadowheart says and Lae’zel finally lets go of her wrist and sits up. Only now does Shadowheart note the haunted look in her eyes and the nervous pinch of her lips.

“I am not fine. I am experiencing physical symptoms of some sort of cursed Faerûn malady! You must heal me!”

Shadow sits up and rubs at her eyes.

“What are those supposed symptoms?”, she says and leans forward slightly, reaching up a hand to feel Lae’zel’s forehead. Lae’zel looks as if she’s ready to leap backwards like a cat sprayed with water.

“There is a painful pull in my chest”, she says. “I barely slept for days and my pulse is quickened even when I am not engaged in battle or sexual activity.”

Shadowheart raises an eyebrow.

“Sounds like anxiety. Are you saying you’ve been worried about me?”, she teases. Lae’zel flinches back as if Shadowheart slapped her in the face.

“Ridiculous”, she hisses.

It is entirely ridiculous. Much like Wyll asking whether Shadowheart missed Lae’zel.

A painful pull in her chest.

Shadowheart tilts her head and reaches out a hand, placing it just below the collarbone.

“So? Do you feel the painful pull in your chest right now?”, she asks. Lae’zel opens her mouth as if to insult her, but she closes it again and seems to listen to her own body for a few seconds before furrowing her brow.

“What is this? Have you healed me already? If this is supposed to be one of your jokes—“

“Not a joke. Just something Wyll said”, Shadowheart mumbles and pulls her tingling fingers back.

Gods be damned, this cannot be happening.

“And what about the other symptoms?”, Shadowheart asks, even though she’s already sure of the answer.

“There is—there is nothing”, Lae’zel says. She puts her hand over the space where Shadowheart’s fingers were just moments ago. It’s almost cute.

“Well then, I must be quite the healer, to cure you with just my presence”, she says and raises one eyebrow. There is a moment of silence that stretches and stretches as Lae’zel stares at her, the wheels in her mind turning.

“You say that I was experiencing these symptoms because of your absence”, Lae’zel says. Shadowheart shrugs, but her heart stumbles in her chest. She wants to make a witty comment and shoo Lae’zel out of her tent so she can finally go back to sleep, but something inside her makes it hard to speak.

Lae’zel mumbles “Tsk” and then, before Shadowheart can say anything, she lies down next to Shadowheart’s bedroll and curls up as if to sleep.

“What are you doing?”, she asks slowly.

“What does it look like?”, Lae’zel grumbles. “If you are correct, then to cure my sleeplessness I must remain in your presence. Shut up and go back to sleep.”

Shadowheart sits there in stunned silence as her blood rushes in her ears and she stares at Lae’zel’s back. She really is going insane.

As she lies back down on her bedroll and pulls her blanket over herself she realizes that she does feel calmer. Thankfully she’s tired enough to not have to think about that any further and instead Shadowheart closes her eyes and goes back to sleep to the sound of Lae’zel’s evened out breathing.

[booplesnotts-art]

So I heard we like hb…

Naturally, I had to draw her again cause everyone who interacted with my previous post was just the sweetest; thank you all so much for your kindness🖤

I drew her pretty quickly today and I still haven’t decided if I particularly liked this drawing enough to post; but alas, we could always use more hb

[hana-bobo-finch]

I fucking hate miya I fucking hate miya I fucking hate miya I FUCKING HATE HER SO MUCH I HATE HER SO FUCKINH MUCH someone is gonna have to sedate me before I EXPLODE

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad, 18+ mdni! 

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

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

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[kashverse]

uncle gogo = gojo, for those confused

career day at the sukuna household is not for the weak.

at the tender age of five, your daughter is no longer just a visitor at her father’s company. no. today, she is there for work. she arrives at the office in her best outfit—tiny blazer, tiny briefcase, tiny attitude—ready to take on the corporate world. sukuna, ever the supportive father, plays along.

"alright, kid," he says as they step into his office, adjusting the little lanyard around her neck that says junior executive (custom-made, obviously). "first day on the job. you ready?"

"mm-hmm." she nods seriously, clutching her briefcase like it holds state secrets. "good," sukuna smirks, ruffling her hair. "first order of business—don’t let the idiots boss you around."

"idiots like uncle gogo?" she asks.

"especially uncle gogo."

things go smoothly at first. your daughter sits in sukuna’s big chair, scribbling on documents (coloring books), occasionally nodding as if she understands corporate jargon. employees pop in to say hello, bringing little gifts—stickers, snacks, an absurdly large teddy bear that now sits beside her like an honorary executive.

but then, he arrives. a mid-level manager with a smile just a little too fake, eyes that linger just a little too long. your daughter, ever perceptive, immediately stiffens. the man kneels beside her chair, trying to look friendly. "and who is this little boss?" he asks, voice dripping with condescension. your daughter stares him down, face blank.

"…weird man," she declares.

the entire office goes silent. sukuna, who had been checking emails, slowly looks up.

"what?"

his daughter turns to him, completely unbothered.

"i don’t like weird man."

the manager laughs awkwardly. "kids, huh? always saying the darndest things." sukuna barely spares him a glance. "yeah. they do."

your daughter, meanwhile, has already moved on, humming as she arranges her teddy bear like it’s the new CFO. sukuna doesn’t think much of it at first. kids have weird instincts. but a few hours later—

"boss," one of his executives says, looking grim. "we have a problem." sukuna doesn’t look up from his laptop. "when don’t we?"

"it’s about him."

the name that follows is the same weird man his daughter had called out earlier. sukuna finally looks up.

"what about him?"

"he’s been embezzling funds. we just caught the discrepancies in the accounts—tens of thousands missing. and, uh..." the executive hesitates. "he’s also been at the center of multiple employee harassment complaints. HR covered it up, but—"

CRACK.

everyone in the office flinches. sukuna has broken his pen in half.

by the end of the day, weird man is ex-employee weird man. security drags him out kicking and screaming, and the company lawyers are already preparing a case. sukuna, meanwhile, sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he watches his daughter—his psychic daughter—methodically stacking staplers like it’s part of an intricate business strategy.

"so," he says, tapping his fingers against the desk. "you got anything else for me, little oracle?"

she looks up at him, blinking.

"uncle gogo steals candy from your office."

sukuna sighs. "of course he does."

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Tag Team (Deadpool/Wolverine)

Description: Wade is distracted during a mission so afterwards all 3 of them fuck in the Honda.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,773k

Request:

IM OBSESSED WITH WADE AND LOGAN AS A TEAM... May I request a smut where both of them fuck fem!Reader?

Idk reader could also be a hero and it happens during a mission, I trust your writing!!!

Wade had been distracted the entire mission. It was to the point that Logan was getting annoyed with him even more than usual. Y/N had no clue what they were fighting about but was also annoyed with both of them. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She growled at them. They both stopped arguing and looked at her, “Can you stop being so hot?” Wade asked. She rolled her eyes and put her finger to her mouth to shush him. “Yes mommy.” Logan looked at him with disgust.

Wade was a kinky son of a bitch but Logan never got used to it. They were trying to kill bad guys but Wade was about to ruin it. Y/N had been so into the mission she had failed to see both of them checking her out. She did have blood all over her but what was new? Wade and Logan both had it bad for the girl but Y/N was oblivious. Before Wade could say anything else the bad guys appeared and they had to kill.

Y/N shot at them, never missing. Logan clawed them up and managed to get more blood on them than before. Wade? Well he was still distracted and barely did anything, “WHAT THE FUCK, WADE?” Y/N yelled at him. She pulled him right out of his dirty thoughts. “Y/N and I just did all the work.” Logan added. “Well my bad that I can’t stop thinking about taking you both to a whole new world of pleasure.” Y/N stared at him with a blank look.

She was really tired of him acting like this, especially on a mission. “Well next time don’t come.” She said and walked away from him. Logan followed but not before growling at him. “Oh come on! You guys act like this isn’t hot as fuck.” He whined, catching up to them. “What’s hot about killing people, Wade?” “EVERYTHING!!” Y/N sighed and stopped walking. “Wade, I’m very flattered but now is not the time.” She said to him. “Wait so there’s a time?” He asked. She sighed and started walking again. 

The Honda Odyssey was the only “bed” that they had which sucked ass but it had to work. They all reeked of blood and guts but Wade couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Y/N in it. “So about earlier, is now the time?” He asked. Logan rolled his eyes and Y/N sighed. She sat up in the backseat and stared at him.

He was still wearing his mask and Logan took his off. “Wade, don’t you wanna fuck in a bed?” She asked, looking around the car. “Honey, I would fuck you in a volcano.” Yeah cuz that was a turn on. She looked at Logan, “What about you?” She asked him. He opened his eyes to look at her, “I wouldn’t fuck you in a volcano but this is all we have.” She laughed at his words and put her weapons on the floor.

“Alright guys. Let’s have some fun.” Wade was out of the car and to the backseat before she could finish her sentence. Logan got on the other side of her and she looked between them, “I’m not sure how this will wo-” Both of them attached their mouths to her neck. She gasped at the sudden action of them and she never noticed that Wade lifted his mask. Their lips moved sloppily on her neck, leaving marks. She gripped both of their necks and pulled them closer. They both placed a hand on her upper thigh and she leaned back against the seat, taking them with her.

Her eyes were closed as they marked her neck until she had purple spots. Logan moved down to her cleavage and Wade’s hand brushed against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling of both of them. Logan kissed and sucked the top of boob while Wade managed to get his fingers in her body suit to her bare pussy, “Holy shit.” She breathed out and he chuckled. “Ya like that princess?” Wade asked as his fingers rubbed her clit.

She was soaked and had been for a few hours now. Logan moved from her tit to the floor and spread her legs. “Move your fingers you Merc.” Logan said to Wade. Wade whined but did anyway so Logan could feast on her pussy. “Take this off.” He demanded her. She undid her body suit and Logan helped her get it off until she was fully naked in nothing but gloves and her boots. Logan chuckled as he looked at her wet pussy.

He sniffed her and sighed, “Fuck darling you smell delicious.” He told her and licked up her clit. She threw her head back and moaned. Wade watched as Logan ate her out and got even harder. He looked at Y/N who had her eyes closed and her breathing was harder. He leaned back too and turned her head towards him and kissed her. She weakly kissed back and moaned into his mouth. Logan was eating her out like an animal eating its first meal.

It was everything. Her hands gripped his hair making him moan into her pussy. The vibration made her whine and Wade stuck his tongue in her mouth. She let his tongue explore her mouth and Logan’s explored her pussy. Her hips bucked into his mouth and she shuddered at how close she was, “I’m gonna cum!” She whined into the kiss. “Cum on his beautiful face.” Wade told her and that did it. She fucked her hips up into his face and came all over. Wade praised her as she rode her sweet orgasm.

Logan flattened his tongue as she did all the work until the pleasure was gone. He pulled away from her pussy and smirked at her. She loved the sight of him covered in her cum. Wade did as well, “Damn wish that was me.” Logan got back onto the seat next to her and kissed her, giving her a taste. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck that’s so hot.” Wade said. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and moved to kiss Wade giving him a taste as well. While they were kissing she took his mask off and threw it on the ground. Wade was never insecure around them.

They made him feel loved. She broke the kiss and moved in between his legs. He looked down in shock as she pulled out his dick. “Kiss.” She told them and without protest they did. She smirked as she watched for a second before running her pretty fingers over Wade’s cock. He gasped into the kiss. She wrapped her hand around him and jerked him off a few times before taking him into her mouth. Her mouth was the best thing to fuck.

It was wet and warm and felt so good. She placed her hands on his thighs and gave him the best blow job of his life. Wade was the loudest one out of the three of them. He fucked up into her mouth as the car rocked. The windows steamed up as they kissed and she gave him the best blow job ever. “Fuck. Your mouth is amazing, baby.” He moaned.

Logan watched as his dick went in and out of her mouth. Sure her mouth was good but her pussy was even better. Logan and Wade stopped kissing once Wade got really close. He threw his head back and cried out as he came in her throat. She pulled off of him and pulled Logan down for a kiss. She let Wade’s cum travel into Logan’s mouth and he swallowed. Wade gasped as he had never seen anything like that before.

Y/N smirked at him and got back in between them. “So I want all or nothing. You both have to be inside of me at the same time.” She says and they both nod before getting naked. She got on the center console of the car and they both managed to get their dicks in her at the same time. Their car was small but it managed to work. Y/N gasped at both of them penetrating her at the same time. Logan tried to let her adjust to the size but Wade didn’t care and started thrusting.

Her moans were loud inside the car and it felt very hot. Her jaw was dropped and her bloody hair was wet with sweat as well. Wade laid his head on the head of the carseat and groaned out. Logan who had more stanamia than both of them was fucking her fast and hard. Wade tried to keep up but it felt better this way.

“Shit you both are so fucking good.” She whined as one dick would hit her spot and then the other would right after. “You’re one to talk princess, your pussy is so perfect.” Wade groaned. Her moans turned to screams as she started thrusting back on them. The perfect rhythm began and all 3 of them were making loud noises. The heat of the car made things more intense.

Logan’s hand that was gripping one side of her hip was squeezing to the point of bruises. Y/N wished more than anything that she could see how fucked out they both looked but that was the con with doggy style. Especially in a small car. Wade groaned as he felt her pussy squeeze them, “Fuck princess, I’m about to cum.” He announced.

Y/N smirked before moaning as she squeezed them tighter cuz a loud moan to release from Logan. He barely moaned but when he did it was amazing and hot. “Fuck sweetheart, If you do that again I’m gonna cum too.” “That’s the plan.” She whimpered and squeezed them. “Where do ya want it, pretty girl?” “Inside of me. Both of you.” She cried as she too felt closer to the edge.

Wade groaned loudly as he came hard inside of her pretty pussy. Logan was a few seconds later and stilled behind her as he came. Y/N helped them ride it out as she came next screaming their names. The car smelled of sweat and sex as they both pulled out of her. Wade collapsed back against the seat and sighed, “Man I do love a good tag team after a crazy mission.” He said. Logan glared at him, “You didn’t even help.” Y/N turned around to look at the two. “Boys don’t start.” She warned and got in the middle of them. “Maybe if you guys are good we can go for round 2.” She smirked and brought them both in for a kiss.