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the-monstermash · 3 months ago

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UNBROKEN BETROTHALS

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2,187

> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!

The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.

That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.

"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."

That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.

You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.

Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.

"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."

"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.

Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.

Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.

In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.

His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.

He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.

"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.

You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.

As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.

"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.

"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."

"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."

"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.

"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.

As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.

"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.

Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"I see you've met the Prince."

Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.

"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."

"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."

Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.

Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.

"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"

"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."

"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.

"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.

"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."

You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.

"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.

"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.

"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.

The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.

"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."

"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."

"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."

"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.

"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #unbroken betrothals

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romanarose · 25 days ago

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The Ghost of You

Banner by my dear @commonmisery

Ghost!Joel Miller x fem!reader

TLOU 2 SPOILERS AHEAD! YOU"VE BEEN WARNED!

Join my taglist: Masterlist

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Summary: After moving into Jackson, you're put up in a house that hasn't been lived in for years. Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Can you help Joel move on to the next life to be with his daughter? Or will you keep him here selfishly with you?

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, ghost!sex, mentions of violence and the things Joels done and what happened to him. bittersweet ending. Body marking and blood but it v consensual. It's loving.

A/N: This is my goodbye to writing Joel. I've made a few statements on thi before and if you've followed me for a while you know why. I won't rehash it. But I wanted to write this idea I had talking to @multiversed-daydreamer as my goodbye. i won't say it my last joel forever but it is for along time. all other series are cancelled. I am also just largely essening my writing for p-boys but I'll still be around witing frankie and javi and marcus sometimes. You never know. My main focus rn is logan howlett, triple frontier, and my original content

This is my love letter to the Joel fandom that has given me so much love and friendship

Looking for something similar? Brother by @macfrog is Tommy saying goodbye, and The Devil's Wife is devil!Joel, similar theme of halloween by @noxturnalnymph

8.5 words

It was cold. That was annoying. How you’d wandered your fucking way out to Wyoming, you’ll never understand. One minute you were in Florida complaining about the heat, now you were being treated for frostbite in your toes.

You’d arrived in Jackson last afternoon, nearly frozen to death and had been crashing in the clinic bed ever since. The doctor, a nice older man, took care of you and a few nurses checked in overnight, and today you were cleared to get settled. Word of mouth had told you Jackson was the place to go, a safe haven, a community where people actually take care of each other. Maria Miller, the town founder, had just left your room saying she’d be outside doing paperwork whenever you were ready for the short tour. You’d get the full spiel eventually, but right now the frostbite made walking a little hard. She'd just show you her office, the mess hall, a few quick essentials and then take your to your new home.

That was when you heard shouting outside the door. One voice was Maria, the other you didn’t recognize. It was hard to hear, but you listened in with your ear pressed to the door.

“It’s been 3 years Tommy. I know this is difficult for you but-”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Excuse me? Who was there for you when you drowned your feelings in moonshine for years? Who took care of Walker while you went off on pointless revenge missions!”

“Don’t you bring him into this. Don’t fucking do that shit, Maria, you know I had too.”

A beat of silence. “You had to do whatever you had to do to deal with what happened. We forgive you, we took you back here and the whole town in glad for it. But Tommy… Jackson is growing. We need the space-”

“You never fucking liked him! You never wanted him around! I bet you’re glad-”

The shouting began to overlap each other, voices raising until you were uncomfortable enough with the man’s temper you grabbed your gun and opened the door, pointing it at him.

“Settle down there, cowboy. Ain’t nice to yell at a lady.”

The next few minutes were embarrassing, to say the least. Maria explained that Tommy was her ex-husband. She didn’t go into the argument, but she assured you, not without gratitude, that firstly she could handle herself, and second that Tommy wasn’t a threat.

After Tommy left with a pointed ‘fuck you’ in your direction, you turn back to find Maria rolling her eyes.

“He’s a good man. I promise. Good dad, works hard, takes care of his people. He just gets… well, there’s some sore spots. C’mon let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired.”

Settled into the house that felt way too big for just you, your thoughts drift to the man. He was older, 50’s maybe? Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray and tired lines around his eyes, but handsome. He was so angry, and angry at you. What the hell did you do? You hadn’t even been here a day! Fucking unreal. Men were men no matter where you went, but their temper tantrums never ceased to amaze you.

The house was pretty empty. You’d been given a few furnishings, but the house was stripped of all character, certainly taking apart everything the previous owner had. Had the place been occupied since the world fell apart? Or had someone who lived here died? You wondered how. You wondered if they had family, or if the town was their family.

The kitchen had kindly been stocked up pretty well, and you’d been given some toiletries so after eating, you enjoyed your first warm bath in a long time. Running water, and it was warm? Fantestic. You boiled a pan of water and tossed it into the tub for some extra heat just how you liked it.

In bed that night, that’s when things got weird. You felt a coldness wash over your body, a shiver you didn’t expect under the warm blankets. Then the window unlatched and flew open. You gasp, fearful at first, but then justify that since it’s on springs, the latch must’ve been not done right and just sprung open. No big deal. But then you felt a hand on your cheek and you froze.

It didn’t linger more than a second. The touch was fluid, but not wind, not air. There was a roughness to it, the distinct feeling of a large hand cupping your face… but you weren’t scared. Instead, you felt calmed. Relaxed.

It became routine, after a few weeks, you refused to go to sleep until you felt it, the touch of warmth on your face, and you felt safe. It didn’t take long for you to believe you had a ghost; after the cordyceps, ghosts were never far from disbelief, something you’d always been open to, but the question was who.

That would be answered soon enough. You could just ask, yeah, but you wanted to find out, in their own words. As the days progressed, you’d been given time to recover and adjust before working, so you spent a lot of time settling into your house. This was not without its encounters with the ghost. More and more, they seemed to get stronger, able to do more, communicate more. There were items shuffled around, bigger and bigger until the couch was moved.

“I don’t like it there.” You said out loud, pushing it back a few feet.

They moved it again.

“Come on, you’re being annoying.” You move, just for it to get moved back again.

You throw your hands up in the air. “Fine! At least be useful and carry the chair upstairs.” No response, no movement. “Dick.” A gust of wind through your hair and you giggle.

You scribble together a make-shift ouija board, a circle tied from some guitar string you found in a box the ghost knocked off a shelf that must’ve not been cleaned.

Candles lit, you cross legged on the floor, you try to get information. Requests for the name came up empty, but the string moved to “yes” when asked if they were a man.

“How old are you? Or- were you?”

5. 6.

“Old man.” You chuckle when wind brushes your hair. You’d learned this was his way of teasing.

“How did you die?”

D-o-n-t-g-o-g-o-l-f-i-n-g

“Don’t go golfing? What does that mean?”

No response.

“Was that a joke?”

Yes.

“Well, I don’t get it. You know that, right?”

Yes.

“Fine, don’t wanna talk about death I see. Fair enough, never been there myself but I heard it’s not fun. Uhhhhhh got any kids?”

“Go on.”

2 g-i-r-l-s. 1 d-e-a-d.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… where is the other?”

I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w

“Shit, i’m sorry about that too. Must be confusing.” Not knowing where your daughter is must be hard. “Is your other daughter with you? In the afterlife I mean?”

e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-d-a-r-k

That broke your heart. “Must be scary.”

Yes

Then, the string moved again.

N-e-w-t-o-p-i-c

a-b-o-u-t-y-o-u

For whatever reason, this makes you blush. You spend the evening telling him about yourself, sharing details and asking him the same. He didn’t like talking about his family, refused to answer any more questions. Wouldn’t say his name.

But it was the first time you’d been called beautiful over ouija board, you knew that much.

Even after you began working, every evening you’d run home to spend time with this ghost of a man. The most people saw of you outside your day labor was a pop into the mess hall to take food home or the clinic as they checked you were recovering okay.

“Don’t see much of you.” The doctor commented. “You adjusting okay? I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

You blink in confusion. You were fine. Happy, even. Sure, you didn’t get to know anyone… but why would you? You did your part for the community, then you went home. Hell, you volunteered extra hours sometimes, picking up more than your fair share. You just didn’t want to get close, that’s all. People died, you’d learned that hard lesson early in life, and learned it over and over and over again. There was no point in making friends, falling in love. Not when it was all so fragile.

But you had your ghost man. He had already crossed that barrier, so there was nothing to fear. Nothing to lose.That night, you talked out loud to him about your day as you always did, he made little sounds knocking cabinets together or brushing a breeze on your skin to let you know he was listening. Sometimes winds rustled your hair when he thought you were funny. Then, the wind turned into a gust, and two firm hands pressed you down the hall, the message clear.

“Jesus! I’m going I’m going!” You follow the breeze bushing you. Fuck he was getting more powerful every day. Pushed to the kitchen, you’re face to face with the fridge.

“If this is a fat joke- hey!” Two distinct fingers pinched your cheek and you laughed. “Okay, tell me what you want!” A breeze, and you hear a fluttering between the fridge. When you bend down and dig around the dust bunnies, you find a piece of distinct photograph paper, and pull it out. On it was a picture of a man, 30’s, maybe 40’s if you were pushing it, his arm wrapped around a hung girl holding a trophy. They looked happy.

“Is this you?”

The picture ruffled in your hand.

“And the girl, that your daughter?”

The pictures motion was repeated. This looked like it was from before, from long ago… you assumed the girl was the daughter that died.

“It’s so cute…” You traced the picture of your ghost, having a face but no name still. Your feel warm, a blush creeping around your skin and a deep heat settling in your stomach. He was handsome. You’d never really pictured him,, besides a few wandering thoughts here and there, but nothing stuck. You put his picture on your fridge.

At night, the image of his face danced in your head, unable to sleep. It was weird, this friendship you had with the ghost in your house, but you didn’t really care. There were worse things in this world, darker ways to cope. So what if a dead man made you happy, made you blush and grin and giggle. So what if he was the reason your hand was currently being shoved into your PJ’s.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t touched yourself that first night, but this was the first night you pictured his body on your, his face, that beard…

“Are you watching me?” You asked, panting. That was a first too. You knew there was a possibility he watched, but you didn’t really care. Never had. Now, you hoped he did.

A pause.

Then, the liquid touch of a hand on your face. He was here. He was watching.

“Good.” You assure him, hoping he stays. “Want you to watch.” Your fingers begin to pump in your cunt, and you kick off the covers. So what if it was cold, you wanted him to see you. You thought about what it would be like to feel his face buried between your legs, what his voice sounds like, how he’d touch you-

“You can touch me, if you want. Not just my face.” It was a bold statement. Things with you and him had been friendly, close, a little flirty… but nothing so far had suggested more. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t. Maybe he just watched to watch. Maybe you embarrassed him and he left.

Then his touch landed on your face, slowly trailing down, down, until you could feel hands on your breasts. The slightest brush on lips ghost the shell of your ear, your cheek, and your heart swells. He wants to kiss you.

“You can kiss me. It’s okay.” It wasn’t as strong a touch a his hands, but he ridgid texture of chapped lips touch yours, and ripples of pleasure flow throughout the erogenous zones on your body, far ore reach than two hands ever could. It tickles, and it feels fucking good.

“Wish you were here….” You mumble, still fucking yourself as hips bucked against yoru fingers, sopping wet sounds fill the quiet bedroom. “Never connected to anyone the way I have you.” A squeeze on your leg reassured you, and soon your tits were being messaged in a way clumsy human hands couldn’t do. It was like the rolling ocean crashing and waving and peaking on the tender flesh, a surreal experience to your touch-starved body.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then you hear it, clear as day, sharp and quick against your ear.

“Joel.”

His name. You cry it out as your pussy clenches down on your fingers.

After that, ghost sex was something you and Joel regularly engaged in. He couldn’t really speak much still, usually only getting out one word. Generally it was ordering you to cum, sometimes a single word compliment slipped through with a southern accent.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as you lay in bed, satiated and panting.

He thought you were beautiful when you came.

There was never another reason to go anywhere outside of your home other than to work or get food, and more and more you just got groceries and worked with what you had. You liked cooking with him ,you didn’t want to be away.

Today, as you tried to make soup, you couldn’t help laugh as he managed to speak “More seasoning” and lift a fuck ton of herbs up and into the pot. At least he was a helpful ghost.

“You can just make it next time!”

You expect to feel your hair rustle, but instead his voice speaks.

“Tommy.”

Then a knock on the door. You were so startled (people never visited you) you almost didn’t answer. No one outside that door could be worth time away from Joel, but he pushed you to answer, a desperation in his actions that matched the tone he spoke the name.

When you answered, you would have shut the door if you weren’t curious about Joel’s reaction.

There stood the man who got in a shouting match with Maria. Oh, yeah, Tommy, that’s right. But why was he here? Tommy was tall, but his posture at the moment was sunken, sheepish. When he looked at you, pink dusted his tan skin. “Can I talk t’yuh?”

You narrow your eyes. “Sorry, but the last time we spoke you weren’t exactly polite enough for me to feel like welcoming you inside, and every time I’ve seen you, you give me dirty looks.”

He nods. “I understand, that’s why I uh… wanted t’explain myself. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but I was angry. Ain’t right, still…”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

His eyes were large, brown, and wet. “This was uh… my brother’s house. He died 3 years ago.”

5 Minutes later, Tommy was sitting on the couch with you, cup of soup in hand. You hadn’t felt or heard Joel, but this was your chance. Some answers.

“Funny.” He pats the couch. “This was his. Was right here for years, never moved it.”

“It’s uh… a good spot. Now, I think you had some explaining to do?”

“Right…“ Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “The house has been empty since he died. My wi- ex wife, I guess, kept it empty out of courtesy but she was right. It was time to move on.”

“Did he die in here?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Tommy explained it to you. The revenge that was enacted on his brother for saving the girl, Ellie. You wondered if that was his daughter he mentioned, but Tommy just referred to her as his kid. How the woman and their group killed him, Tommy saw his brother's head bashed in, brain matter on the walls.

The golf joke still didn’t make sense, but you’d figure it out. You learned more about Joel too, that he was from Texas, that his daughter, Tommy niece, died on outbreak day. Joel’s birthday. Joel played the guitar, he liked to swim, was an overbearing brother and loving dad. He was married once. He learned to cook to get Sarah to eat veggies so he was pretty good at it. Was a good man. The best, the way Tommy spoke.

“I know it ain’t right the way I’ve treat’n yuh. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t been handling his death well, you know? Lost my wife, almost lost my son… I ain’t been the man he raised me to be. I now you don’t… do anything. In town. That’s probably my fault and I’m so-”

“You think I stay home because I’m avoiding you?” You nearly bark out a laugh, his eyes growing in confusion. “Brother, I ain’t scared of no man, if I wanted to go to the movie nights I would have!”

Tommy processes this information, sipping on the last of the soup broth. “Oh… I guess I just assumed...”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming. Make’s an ass out of you and me. Here, gimmie.” You take his mug, walking to the kitchen to rinse it and still giggling.

Tommy follows you. “Well I’m sorry! I guess I just figured, the time’n ‘n all.”

You throw a look over your shoulder. “I stay home because I like it here. Because I’ve been alone for years, so I’m fine with it.”

“But why not-” He stops in his tracks. “Where did you get that?”

You follow his line of view and realize your mistake. “Uh. I uh. I found that while cleaning the kitchen, by the fridge. I guess I thought it was nice, so I hung it up… why? Who is it?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke Joel’s name. You had to pretend to be surprised, but even worse, you knew what you needed to do.

“Keep it.” You say, pushing the picture closer to him, breaking you a bit. You had to hide every emotion, because there was no reason for you to have any attachment to it. He didn’t know what you and Joel shared with each other. Who he was to you. It didn’t matter, because Joel was his brother. The girl was his niece. He deserved the picture.

“That’s her. That’s Sarah.” Tommy continued, confirming your suspicions as his finger trailed over the girl.

“She’s adorable.”

“Yeah… she was. Great kid too.”

Tommy helped you wash up the dishes from making soup, you and him talking more. He was nice when he wasn’t yelling. You could understand why he was so upset at the time, and you forgave it.

You told as much as he stood in your doorway. “I don’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He nods, smiling and looking more at ease. “Promise you’ll come to the next movie night, it’s tomorrow. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“What’s playing?‘

“Scream 2!”

You roll your eyes. “Not the first one?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tommy says with a tease. “Is fucking scream 2 at the end of the world not enough for you?”

You shove him out of your door, laughing. “Fine! I’ll fucking come. But only to see Timothy Olyphant.”

You shut the door, and turn around still laughing. But what you see shocks you so bad, you’d have screamed if you didn’t cover your mouth.

It was Joel. Faint. Barely there. A dead eyed stare. Much older than the picture and his hair was longer. But it was him.

“Joel?” You say, tentatively walking towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he was looking at the door, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Your hand passes through him and when his form dissipates, you fall to the ground and cry.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. He was strangely quiet the rest of the day, only a few little touches here and there. No ghost sex that night. When you are getting out of work clothes and putting something warm on for the movie, you bring it up.

“No.”

“Well, you’ve hardly talked to me. Is it because I asked Tommy as those questions about you? I’m sorry, it’s just easier that way and I wanted to know what happened to you-”

“I miss him.”

Three whole words.

“You’re getting stronger. Did you mean to appear to me yesterday?”

“You saw me?”

“Yeah, and I hear you really good now.” You grin. “I can’t believe you’re talking this much. Maybe I’ll skip the movie, I don’t wanna lose-”

“No. Go.” a brief pause. “Please.”

“Joel Miller,” You tease him. “Are you having me check on your baby brother?” He rustles your hair.

So, you started hanging around Tommy more. It started as filling Joel in on his life, but really, you liked being around Tommy. He was easy to talk to.

You lay on your side in bed, trying to picture his face as you’d done every night for months as you talk to him. Joel’s voice was clear, fully communicating with you now. Every now and then you could see a glimpse of him in a mirror or the faint frozen picture of him standing somewhere, usually after Tommy was over.

“Walker is doing really well.” You tell him about his nephew you’ve met a few times. For a few years, Tommy was barely around after Joel’s death, most of the time he was drunk. There was an incident several months ago where Tommy passed out of the couch and Walker tried to start the stove, resulting in a small kitchen fire, and Tommy effectively lost custody of his son. Not that family court existed here, but Tommy knew he couldn’t be there. This was shortly after you moved in, and was the reason Tommy finally got sober. Things were going better now, and he’s repairing that relationship.

“You met him?”

“Yeah, he’s quiet. But he’s very polite.” Tommy said he takes after Joel. Walker and Joel had been very close before he died, Tommy adored the little boy. The little boy in question was now 8, growing up.

He sighs. “Yeah, he was a good kid. I never had a son, figured raise’n Tommy was close enough. But when I was with him… Sometimes I think back to when Sarah died, how hard Tommy fought to keep her alive… yuh know, after she died I was just, I was drowning in my sadness. There was no room for Tommy’s grief, I guess. He’s stronger than I gave him credit for, because he was always there for me. If I had lost Walker… I dunno if I could have been that strong.”

A few days later, you invite Tommy and his son over for dinner, and as you stare at Walker eating his food and laughing you can see Joel. He’s no longer a still picture, he’s moving, and smiling, and laughing too. No one else can see or hear him.

But he looks right at you.

You can see him now, laying on the pillow beside you as the pair of you talk. Sometimes he’s tangible, hands touching your face and you can see his tan skin through your peripheral. Sometimes it’s more faint, like he’s using all his strength to be see and he can’t materialize his touch. You don’t know how it works, but you’re happy to see his face. Joel has kind eyes, a softness in a world of blood and violence.

“You're beautiful.” And it’s your voice whispering it to him, because he is. Every line on his face, the scar on his forehead, the tired darkness under his eyes as if an eternity to sleep wasn’t enough. Every little freckle you could map on his face on days he was more clear. It was perfect. It was him.

A sadness crosses over those pools of brown. “I really don’t deserve you…” When you open your mouth to protest, he continues. “I’ve killed people.”

That wasn’t a shock. Who hasn’t? “I have too.”

But Joel shakes his head, curls staying in place as if gravity is now inconsequential, as if he’s frozen in time with a single lock on his forehead. “No, I’ve killed innocents. A lot. Me ‘n Tommy, before… and protect’n Ellie…”

You thought about this for a while, a chill of cold reminiscent of when he first came to you makes you shiver, but when you look at him, you don’t feel the repulsion you know he expects. “You kill children?”

“No.” He says firmly, a glimmer of sadness crossing his eyes. You didn’t think so, knowing he knew what that loss was. “But that don’t make it much better.”

“Did rape anyone? Kill people for fun? Get off on it?”

Disgust mares his features. “No, never.”

You nod. “You kill any innocent people since coming to Jackson? Settling here?”

Again, a shake of his head doesn’t knock loose a single hair. “No, but before-”

“I’m not worried about before.” You voice is soft, and you tentatively reach a hand out to caress his face. His skin was soft, softer than a man in his 50’s would be, but that’s what happens when you aren’t fully there. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. You deserve a second chance just as much as anyone does. The world out there-” You vaguely whisk your hand around. “Does things to us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not a rapist, didn’t kill kids, not one of those really, really bad people… I think you deserve to leave that all outside the gates of Jackson.”

His eyes soften, affection pooling with something more. “Thank you, darl’n I mean it. I wasn’t always forgiven in that life. Nice to know someone does in this one,”

Your heart aches for him, so you try to ease his pain. “Tommy forgives you, I know it. You heard how he talks about you.”

But he’s still distant. “Maybe. But maybe he just misses me. That’s different. Besides, there’s someone I know hasn’t.”

“Ellie?”

He nods. “She…. well, we just started talk’n, right before I died. Didn’t have the chance to find out if she ever would, you know? Now I never will.”

“She does, Joel. It’s been years, I know she does.”

But he didn’t believe you.

Joel’s words stuck with you, simmering in your head like the soups he helps you make. Today you were on patrol with a fairly quiet partner, so you had nothing left to do but think, think, think. Why did his words affect you so much? He was so stuck on forgiveness, even though he’d never know-

Oh.

That’s why he was trapped here, wasn’t it? Joel’s ghost remained behind because he didn’t have the closure he needed. Tommy and him had made up, but Joel died not knowing if Ellie ever did. Years of estrangement for taking her from the hospital, for saving her, for lying, and he wasn’t sorry, he told you himself. But he needed Ellie’s forgiveness. He needed to know Tommy didn’y hold resentment. He needed to know they were safe, that they were okay.

Joel couldn’t talk to Tommy. For some reason, you could hear him speak when Tommy was around, see him, but Tommy never reacted. Joel couldn’t even move things or create a breeze when he was around…

If Joel got what he needed, the forgiveness, the resolution he longed for, he could move on. You knew it. He was getting stronger every day, his appearance crystal clear, his touch more and more solid, less fluid than before. You wanted little more than to have him like that, as close to a real person as he could get, at your home you shared with him every single day, every hour, sleeping next to him, cooking with him, fucking him… part of your mind told you that you could do it.

But that wasn’t right. He’d be little more than a housewife, a sex doll, a captive. You could keep him there, to be your only friend outside of occasionally seeing his brother, the person who knew you best, someone always there to talk because what other options did he have?

That wasn’t you. The rational part won out, and your knew what you had to do.

Tommy’s face was one of worry when you told him you’d seen the ghost of his brother. You’d spilled it all out, sparing the ghost sex details, but instead of shock, he just asked you if you ere okay.

“Yes! Tommy I’m fine-”

“I dunno, you’re kinda a weird person to begin with, see’n shit wouldn’t be that new-”

“Tommy!” You stand abruptly from his couch, pulling at your hair. “I’m not seeing- I’m not hallucinating him! You don’t understand, I see him, I see him every fucking day that’s why I don’t go anywhere!”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Honey, maybe you’re seeing him because you’re alone every day.”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!!” You shout at him, and he softens.

“I know, I know.” Tommy stands. “Maybe… maybe you should stay here a few days, maybe this is a yellow wallpaper situation, you gotta get fresh air, a new environment-” he reaches for your arm but you yank it away.

“Does the term ‘don’t go golf’n mean anything to you?”

Confusion crosses his face. “Not really, why?”

A deep breath. “He… I asked how he died, with a ouija board i made and he just said don’t go golfing. Never explained.”

Tommy’s skin paled, the freckles on his face a stark contrast against him. His face a deadly calm. “How did you know that.”

You can’t help but groan. “I told you, he-”

“ENOUGH GAMES!” The sudden shout shocks you, and you step back. Tommy must’ve realized he was scaring you, so he calmed down just a bit. “I’m serious. This isn’t fucking funny.”

Tears of frustration and sadness filled your heart, begging him to believe you. You didn’t think Tommy would hurt you, but the distress he was in was clear. “I wouldn’t joke about this… he- he said it was a joke I wouldn’t get, and I don’t. Tommy please, I’m being serious…”

Then, the realization dawned on him, clear as day. He believed you. “Holy shit. You’re telling the truth…”

“I am.” You sob. “Tommy I swear I’m telling the truth. He needs help, he’s trapped here… we need to help him…”

He was shaking. “C-can I see him?”

It broke your heart to say no. He can only appear to me, I think…He’s tired when you are over…“

Dizzy, Tommy sits down. “He was round… whenever I was over, wasn’t he? That’s why I always feel so calm there…”

You nod. “He calms me too. I don’t know how.” You join him on the couch again. “Tommy, what does don't go golfing mean?”

His face is buried in his hands, and you think he’s crying. It’s a lot, you know, it’ a lot to spring on someone, especially that he can’t hear or see him still, his own brother so close and yet so far. But you were doing this for him, so that he could move on, so that he could see his Sarah in the afterlife.

When Tommy finally looked up, his face and hands were soaking wet.

“He was killed with a golf club. We never told anyone about that.”

Joel stood behind you, clear and crystalline, his body practically human. He was cold, but he brought you comfort. “Something on your mind, darl’n?”

You don’t wanna lie to him, but you can’t tell him what’s happening, not yet. You want a few more days without this hanging over you both.

“Tommy left for a few weeks. Just worried.” You didn’t tell him he went to find Ellie, to go back to the farmhouse she lived in with Dina and see if she’s there, if Dina knows where she lives kows anything. To try and convince Ellie that this woman she’s never met his eeing her dad as a ghost and they need to help him move on. But hes gonna try.

A week later, the town was in a ruckus, Tommy returning to Jackson with the prodigal daughter, her girlfriend, and a little boy.

Turns out Ellie went back to Dina, begged for her back on hands and knees, and they’d been living alone out in the country for years raising JJ. They all looked good, healthy, happy… Ellie was skeptical but she agreed to come as a favor to Tommy. Everything was planned for tomorrow, but as you lay in bed with Joel for the last time, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

You wanted one last night.

Joel kissed you, languid and soft, his hands roamed your naked and prone body and for the first time, you noticed something. A tent in his pants. A ghost had gotten an erection for you.

“Joel…” You moan, feeling him rutt against you.

“I know, I feel it too.” His voice is husky against your ear, and chills flow throughout your body as you realize what this means. Joel was firm, his body fully here and he was hard. Joel could fuck you.

He went feral after that, yanking down your PJ shorts so fast your barely had time to lift your hips, but it didn’t matter. You spread your legs to welcome to fingers the plumged into your body, absolutly dripping for the man laid beside you. Joel’s breath was hot, growling and grunting as e finger fucks you open, preparing you to take his cock for the first time.

“You’re always s’fucking wet.” He says between sucking kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he left hickies on you, you were just beyond ecstatic that he was strong enough to leave marks. You wanted him to be with you in some way permanently. “Been wish’n I could feel you since that first day, so sweet, so beautiful, always so ready for my touch.”

You paw at him, groping his body and trying to just get his massive form on top of you. “Need you.” You beg like a needy young thing, like you’d never been fucked properly before, like you needed to be filled and taken and ravaged.

“I got yuh, darl’n…” Joel murmur, rolling over on top of you, his cock heavy- when had his clothes come off?

Knelt before your body, Joel was magnificent. His body was broad, thick, not quick as barrel chested as his brother, he held it more in the shoulders. Down his chest and stomach held scares, fat, and a trail of hair leading down, down, down to where his cock hung thick and leaking and cut. You forgot he was a ghost; he didn’t feel like one, he felt real. He felt here. Tears filled up in your eyes, and Joel leans over, his body covering yours in his cool skin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks in a gentle voice, thumbing away a stray tear. “I hope yuh ain’t scared’a me? Are yuh?”

You’ve never been more sure of saying no in your life. “Ain’t scared.” You whisper. “I just… I love you so much…” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You did love him. But that wasn’t why you were crying, not really anyway. No, you cried because this was goodbye.

Joel’s eyes, black pupils swallowing the beautiful brown with lust, grew wet themselves as he smiles down at you. “I love you too. So damn much.”

Your nails did into his back, relishing in the firm, solid feel of him. This was real. He was real. “Fuck me, please. Make love to me. I want to feel you, really feel you…”

Plush lips kissed you as he slid inside, a wave of calm relaxed your body, allowing you to take his considerable length inside you. He was big, stretching you open slowly while you accommodate him.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me…” He moans in your ear, desperate like he’s falling apart at one stroke. But he doesn’t. When he fucks you, it’s with more vigor, more energy than you’ve ever felt from a living person, a slap of skin from his hips meeting your thighs, his balls heavy and slapping against your ass, his fingers digging, digging digging so deep inside as you wished he’d bruise you, wished he’d cut you open and crawl inside so he could never leave you, two souls as one. To know and to be known at the deepest level. Souls and bodies barred to each other. Nothing left to hide.

He couldn’t do that, so as Joel slammed his cock into you, you begged for something else. “Mark me.” You whimper, getting a reaction of confusion from your lover, so you take his hand and dig his nails into your tender hips. “I need to know this is real. All of it.” The tears come again when you can see him want to deny you. “This isn’t forever, you know this can’t before but I- Joel I need something to be forever! We can’t get married, you can’t leave me pictures or presents or- or kids, Joel, I need to be able to remember you.”

His movements slow. “Oh, pretty baby…” He murmurs lowly. “I’ll give anything if it means you can’t forget me.” he kisses you deeply, sucking in your tongue and before he pulls away he nips your lip. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

But nothing of Joel could be too much.

A shape gasp as he dug into you, left hand bracing himself on the bed as he never stopped fucking you, rolls of pleasure coured your body like it had tha first night, swirling over your clit and dragging you screaming to the edge. And screaming you were.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You shout so loud you don’t care who hears you. Half the town thinks you’re fucking Tommy anyway. Don’t stop fucking you, don’t stop marking you, don’t, don’t, don’t go.

You could keep him to yourself. Tell Ellie and Tommy you lied, or that he went away and you can’t see him any more. Anything so that he doesn’t get what he needs, that he stays with you forever.

He’s impossibly deep inside, but in your leaking, dripping channel and into your hip. The cut of his nails goes further than they should go, but you don’t question it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him marking your flesh, of him making your insides as his as he cums deep in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him as your draw out whatever he’s filling you with, you don’t care. It’s him.

“More, more” You cry into his shoulder, but he’s already slowing his thrusts.

“I’m as deep as I can go, baby…” He stays bottomed out inside you, but his hands withdrawal from your side as you come down. His bloody hand cups your face, dripping with your own warmth.

You sob against his cold skin, Joel wrapping you into a hug as the overwhelming emotion of what happened floods you, and it’s too much. You need more, but it’s not him deeper, not him scaring you, and not him filling you up.

It’s more time.

You wake up with blood on your face and your wounds cleaned and bandaged, with Joel’s body gone, as it usually is in the morning. It took until the afternoon for him to appear again.

“Sorry baby.” He apoligized, hugging you. “I dunno why I can’t control coming better.” He poked your side, and you knew he meant a double entendre but you didn’t have it in you to laugh.

“It’s okay. Last night used a lot. You probably needed to rest.”

“Yeah…” He touched the bandage he’d put on your hip with soft intent. “How you feel’n bout this?”

You smile. “Great. But Joel…” You turn around to face him, his face frowning with worry. “I gotta tell you something… I told Tommy about you…” Before he has a chance to ask questions, you spill it out. “And he went and found Ellie, she’s hear. I think… I think if you reconcile with her, with Tommy, once the air is cleared… you can move on.”

For a long moment, he stares at you, unmoving, unblinking, frozen as the picture that used to hang on your door. Then he speaks. “You know… that means I can’t see you again, right.”

Damn the tears the spring forth, damn the well of emotions overflowing your body, a trickle of a leak in the damn, then it cracks, and it all breaks. You begin to sob in his arms. “I know, I know… but it’s not right for me to keep you here! You- you said it’s dark, and you’re scared.”

“I ain’t scared when I’m with you…”

“But you won’t always be with me! I need to help you move on! It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, you need to be with Sarah, you need to be at peace knowing Sarah and Tommy love you, that they forgive you!”

He lets you cry, holding you close in strong arms as he realized what was happening. He’d see Ellie again. You were willing to give him up just so he could get his happy end.

His voice in your ear.

“Ellie.”

She was skeptical, understandingly. Pretty, short, in her 20’s with brown hair cropped into a pixie and looking annoyed. She sat next to Tommy with her arms crossed and practically glaring at you.

“I’m gonna need more proof than some golf joke.”

“It was enough to get you here, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I owed Tommy for every fucking time he saved my damn life, that’s why I’m here.” She turned to her uncle. “We’re even, by the way.”

“Sure as shit are.” He sighs, then looks at you. “He here?”

You gesture to the couch. “Yeah he’s sitting right- hey!”

Ellie swung her hand over where you said Joel was sitting, doing nothing but annoying Joel who tried in vein to smack her away, telling her to cut the shit.

“I don’t fucking feel anything.”

“That’s not how it works Ellie!” Tommy flicked her arm. “Relax.”

With a huff, she crossed her arms again. “Fine.”

Tommy looked to you, then to Joel, then back to you. “Tell her something only Joel would know.”

When you turn to Joel, he’s looking at Ellie with sadness. She looks different, a lot older, yet she’s still Ellie to him. He doesn’t turn to you. ‘David.’ He instructs, and you turn to her.

“Do you know a David?” And suddenly her skin blanches. Ever so slightly, she’s shaking, but then she turns to Tommy. “Did Joel fucking telling you that!?”

From beyond Tommy’s protests that he doesn’t know who Daivid is, did she mean David Turner, who was a local here, or David Sanchez, who died last month in a raid? Joel insists he’d never tell that to anyone, but Ellie can’t hear him.

You try to calm them. “He says he was someone you met after leaving Jackson the first time, that you did the right thing by killing him.”

“Yeah! I fucking did!”

“He says if he goes to hell, David is the first person he’s finding.”

She stops, information processing in her head that there was no way Joel wold have told whoever David was to Tommy. “David tried to rape me when I was 14.” She grits out. “I stabbed him to death and let his body burn up.”

Tommy turns to her, horrified but doesn’t speak.

You nod. “Good.”

And then, she sinks into the couch. “Whenever I had nightmares… Joel always told me David was the first person he’d find in hell. He was convinced he was going there.”

You chuckle. Yeah that sounds like Joel. “He loves you both very, very much… and the uncertainty is what’s keeping him here. I need to help him move on.”

“So what? You’re some sort of fucking medium?”

“No, I’ve never had anything like this happen before but… He started appearing to me. Little touches, cold spots, breezes… then he started moving things, hearing his voice…. Now I can see him, he’s as clear as you are, honestly.”

Tommy speaks now. “He’s gotta know-” He tries to turn to where you said Joel was, but you can tell he’s struggling to talk to a brown cushion. “You gotta know we love you, don’t know? How can you doubt that?”

‘Tell him I do. But tell him… I don’t know if he forgives me.’

“Joel knows you both love him, but that’s not why he’s stuck. He needs to know you forgive him.”

Ellie is staring sone faced at a wall, but Tommy is looking down at his hands now, this seems easier. “Joel… those things we did… it’s been a long time. I was angry, yeah, I fucking hated you for a while but…” He shakes his head, silver streaks shimmering in the deep brown of his hair. “I got Walker now and… after he was born man, I think I got it. The things we did to survive… you were willing to do some of the worst shit out there, damning your own soul to save me. I’d do the same for my kid, if I needed to.”

‘But I shouldn’t have made you do any of it, Tommy.’

“Joel feels bad that he made you participate.”

“You didn’t make me do fuck’n shit, brother. I was a grown ass man, even if you still thought of me as a reckless teenager. I made my choices, and I understand why you made yours. You lost your baby, I know damn well you couldn’t take lose’n your brother either. I forgive you, but you also gotta forgive yourself, brother.”

Ellie pipes up. “I get it too, Joel. I told you that night, I didn’t know if I could forgive you… telling you I couldn’t… but… UUGHHHH!” She slumps down, covering her face. “Joel I was angry! I was angry and I was stupid but I was a teenager! I was just- just a kid who had these grand schemes of changing the world! But we don’t know if it could’ve worked. But I forgive you, Joel. I was always gonna forgive you, even before you went and fucking left me! I don’t know why I had to do that, why i treated you the way I did-”

‘You were a teenager, that’s normal-’

“But I think about it, every single day I think about it and what I should've said and done better but I get it now. I don’t know what you’ve been told but I got my kid now. I know you’re old man brain is probably trying to work out how two women had a baby-”

Joel laughs, and so does Ellie.

“But it’s Jesse’s. Dina got pregnant before Jesse and her broke up and he… he died. But I’ve been raising him with her the last few years… She took me back… You ask me on the porch that night if she treats me good and Joel…” Ellie sighs, smiling. “She really does.”

‘Tell ‘er I’m glad. That I always liked her, and I wanna know the kids name.’

“Joel says he doesn’t blame you for being mad at him, or how you talked to him. He says he’s glad Dina and you are happy. What’s the babies name?”

Ellie grins, pride in her eyes. “The baby is almost 4 now. His name is JJ. Jesse Joel.”

Tear fill up Joel’s eyes, fatherly love overwhelming him and for a moment, you think how sweet this is, how nice. Then you notice he’s not as clear as he was before.

“Joel!” You rush to his side and take his hand, kneeling at the couch. “Joel, I think it worked… you’re fading…” You try to grip his hand, as if holding on tighter would keep him here with you, keep him ground in this world. Without him, you weren’t sure what you’d do with your life, who you’d talk to or confide in…. But you knew, you knew above all you’d miss him. There would never be another Joel.

‘Please-’ He sounds desperate now, scared even. ‘One more time, tell them I love them, I just- I love them so much fucking much.’

Through your sobs, you relay the message. “He needs you to know how much he loves you guys. He talks about you all the time, he- you’re everything to him.” You see Ellie and Tommy holding hands, Ellie crying and Tommy looking close.

“We love you, Joel. All of us.” Ellie says, to nowhere in particular.

‘And the kids. Walker and- fuck I ain’t never met JJ but I love him too. If, if there’s a heaven I’m gonna…’ His words start to fade, but you know what he’s saying. His strength is going fast, Joel letting go and passing on, but even still his body shook. He was scared. If there was a heaven, Joel was going, but he wasn’t sure about that.

“He says he loves Walker and JJ, he’s gonna watch over them in heaven”

That breaks Tommy, who lets the tears come now as he takes your hand too, squeezing it tight.

You look up at your lover. “I love you, Joel. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna remember you. It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna be alright, we’re doing okay. You can let go now. It’s okay to let go. There’s no one left you need to protect.. we’re safe.”

Even though he’s fading away Joel looks into your eyes. He can’t speak, his strength fading, but it’s all communicated through those eyes that say so much. One last time, he cups your cheek, and the hand that isn’t holding Tommy’s brushes over the cold fingers, feeling liquid and unstable again. There’s fear in his eyes, mixed with that tender love, but then something changes in him.

Joel looks forward, past you, Tommy and Ellie and onto something else, something more. He smiles. ‘I see her’

All his fear his gone, and his face is peaceful.

For the final time, a breeze rustles your hair, and Tommy and Ellie see it.

Joel is gone, and all you can do is sob into his couch.

When it finally subsides you feel numb. Ellie and Tommy have joined you on the floor, the three of you talking about the experience you shared together, something no one will ever believe.

“His last words were, ‘’I see her’....”

Tommy whispers Sarah’s name, and you nod.

“He’s with her now. He’s a peace. I know a better place is a cliche, but…” Ellie wipes her tears. “We all know how much he missed her.”

Everyone nods solemnly, and for a while, you stay there, talking about Joel, memories and his jokes and his cooking. It was nice to share this secret with other, and suddenly you felt less alone in it. They believed your stories of the ghost in your walls, and they liked hearing the knew things he told you. You liked learning more of his past.

Eventually, everyone had to get back to their families. You were alone, but you didn’t feel lovely. Something had shifted, a closeness to Ellie and Tommy that didn’t scare you the way human connection used to. Maybe you would go to the mess hall, see some movies. Your patrol partner was quiet, but nice. Tommy was still around, and Ellie and Dina decided to pack up their things and return, wanting JJ to have friends. It was going to be okay, and as the sun set on the day, somehow you felt it rise on your life. A new, beautiful world of opportunities for friendship and love was out there.

You stared in the mirror, butt naked, feeling strangely open and vulnerable despite being alone for the first time in months.

It all felt surreal, something that seemed impossible, that went against every logical explanation.

But when you took off the bandage on your hip to change it, there they were, clear as day. 4 crescent fingernail cuts deep into your skin, something that would scar forever.

No matter what happened, you’d always carry these with you, proof that Joel and your love for him was real.

I cried pretty good writing tht end, knowing its my goodbye. I want yall to know I love each and every reader so so so so much. You mean the world to me. every kind word lives on in me forever. I hope you'll stay for my other writing, but if not, thats okay! I wih all of you the best.

Please be kinder to each other. the fanfic writers do this for free, they do not deserve the things they've experienced here. It is a beautiful world out there.

Trust me, it feels way better to send anon love rather than anon hate. I wont be writing tlou for a minute but ill return with a tommy series !!!!

follow @romana-after-dark for dark content and @riley-blue-byron for upcoming original works!

So long, and thanks for all the fish <3

reblogs are greatly appriciated, would make a nice send off <3

@princessanglophile @missladym1981 @goodwithcheese @dancinglotusbud @glitterymanboy @koshkaj-blog @sixhours @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @fandxmslxt69 @miraclesabound

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.

like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips

because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.

bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.

and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.

these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?

and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.

in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.

it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.

and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.

"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."

"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."

#it's almost as if you spent your entire life fucking denying us things and then get mad when god forbid #we point out that you've been denying us something #writeblr #almost as if . u ACTUALLY think women dream of being in a male-run society #like dude mostly i dream about not having a tummy ache #love when ppl tell me that men have to deal with more rejection than women do #im like. just say u have never had a hard day in ur fucking life. if u think the most difficult experience is getting turned down at a bar #men: this one movie doesn't suck my entire -#women: yeah so i went to the doctor and was bleeding out of my eyeballs but like the doctor said #it was probably just my time of the month i guess?#anyway so i died there and had to be revived but they think i faked dying bc it was hysterics #so i took 3 advil and now im back at work i guess

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aangarchy · 2 months ago

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Ok but the fact aang is a child. And thinks u have to forgive someone who killed ur family. I bet Monk gyatso and the others were rolling in their graves devastated they can't ever tell Aang the real deal that he would've been told when he got older.

Monk gyatso probably: NO AANG. ITS JUST ABT LETTING GO

Ah, yet another shining example of someone who missed the entire point of the show.

If you think monk Gyatso would be "rolling in his grave" (which he doesn't even have, and i'm pretty sure air nomads don't do graves anyway) to see Aang grant Ozai mercy, you have completely misunderstood what air nomad culture represents. Air is the element of freedom. Yes, it's about letting go, not having any attachments. But not having attachments also means letting go of your feelings of hatred, letting go of grudges, and not letting your feelings consume you. Aang understands that remaining angry and bitter will not bring his people back. All he can do, is try his best to preserve and protect his culture, and part of that culture is an oath of pacifism. Aang choosing to spare Ozai does not mean he forgives him, or his predecessors for what they have done to the world. Instead, he lets go of his anger and hatred towards them so he himself can be free. Maybe eventually Aang will forgive them, but i personally don't believe it's then and there.

If anything, monk Gyatso would be proud of the decision Aang made in the end. It's the ultimate middle finger to the fire nation to show that they failed at destroying the air nation. Aang is not only a symbol of hope for the other remaining nations to end the war, but also for his own culture to prevail, and keep existing in whatever limited form Aang can preserve.

I think what you're referring to is TSR, with "thinks u have to forgive someone who killed ur family", when he tried to teach Katara about letting go and forgiving. Aang wasn't doing that bc he's against Katara getting justice. If anything, he agreed Katara needed to face Yon Rah for her own closure. But he's not trying to teach Katara forgiveness so he can save Yon Rah, he's doing it so he can save Katara. He knew that if Katara went through with this she'd get consumed by hate and anger for the rest of her life. Zuko even admitted in the end that Aang was right about what Katara needed, and it wasn't killing her mother's killer. And Katara did end up forgiving someone at the end of the episode, namely Zuko. Katara still learned and accepted Aang's lesson by the end, when at first she insisted forgiveness was impossible.

Also I think you're forgetting that Air nomads swear a non violence oath. Gyatso swore this oath as well. So again, idk where you're getting this idea that Gyatso would be "rolling in his grave" to see Aang stick to this oath.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar #aang #avatar aang #anon #ask dori

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blackswallowtailbutterfly · 11 months ago

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My nana at 9 years of age was dragged kicking and screaming to school. Her math teacher had been molesting her. She told her parents. They did nothing. Best part? Her father was the principal. So obviously that teacher learned he could get away with anything and started molesting the other girls, who then blamed my nana because...I dunno, little kid logic I guess. It was unlikely their parents were going to be any more helpful than my nana's and he knew it.

My great aunt at the age of 13 was forcibly kissed by a teacher in full view of several witnesses who then gave her shit for seducing an honourable man.

My mom at 12 years of age left her physically abusive father to live with her mother and stepfather, only for her stepfather to molest her. Her mother to this day refuses to believe it.

My best friend had a longterm close male friend who sexually assaulted her in her sleep. Their entire friend group as well as the youth counselor encouraged her to forgive him because it was obviously a misunderstanding and she'd been giving off mixed signals and he'd had a huge crush on her and he wasn't intending to hurt her! So she did forgive him, publicly. And he did it again. And again. And again. And then it was her fault because she kept hanging out with him. If she really didn't want him doing it, why didn't she just abandon her entire friend group? He also got emboldened and went on to sexually assault other girls, so eventually they all started talking and went to the school against him. The youth counselor admonished my friend for going forward against him.

My other best friend decided to be "open-minded" and dated a trans-identified male. He also sexually assaulted her multiple times in her sleep but he framed her as the abuser at their youth support group for not adequately validating his identity.

My stepfather molested me from the ages of 7 to 12 and when I reported him he was dating a new woman at the time. She didn't believe it. They're still together. I can only imagine the number of girls he's been given access to over the years (he didn't go to jail, or get convicted of sexual assault).

I was also sexually assaulted in my sleep at my friend's party once. That guy's friend said I "probably wanted it".

Went to group therapy. All the women there had very different stories, but one theme that kept cropping up: they weren't believed or they were blamed.

I read books about therapy sessions with other victims. And that theme kept up. Not believed or else blamed. One woman told her story, learning to gloss it over before being dismissed out of hand, for decades before a professional finally asked her to elaborate and put her in touch with a sexual assault crisis centre. Another thing that came up in those books: knowing how hard it was for victims to come forward, and all the discouragement from people in their lives, many women must take it to the grave.

But hey, it's fine. Men have it worse. I mean we all watched a rich abusive man successfully publicly humiliate his victim while everyone said he was the victim and she was the abuser. And actually it's super common for abusive men to claim to be the victim, and police and family believe it! And it can take multiple women to come forward against one man for anything to be done, and often even that's not enough. But never mind that, men have it worse. We know this because they so--no, no, don't pay attention to hospital records or homicides or child marriages, or--Men. Say. They. Have it worse! So they do. Everything a man says is truth. That's why you must believe whatever a man says and accept every observation he makes as objective. No, there's no irony here, no historical precedent, no global trend.

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villifix · 7 months ago

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fairy wings and bloody knees ♡ | daryl dixon

word count: 1.9k

A/N: this is really just daryl and reader's daughter. reader is mentioned but not seen during this fic. eventually i will get around to making a part 2 with daryl x reader! this idea was inspired by @louifaith and i included a piece of artwork by @vaebun at the end of the story that is absolutely ADORABLE. please take a moment to view both of their blogs for great content! ♡ also i didn't do much proofreading so forgive meee

"I like your fairy wings."

It took a moment to register the words before Daryl realized they were directed at him, and another moment for him to realize that - shit - so was a pair of big brown eyes. His boots came to a slow stop as he regarded the child. The girl couldn't have been older than six, a tiny little thing with unruly curls and scabbed knees, gripping a piece of pink sidewalk chalk in one hand. Her curls fell into her face as she leaned to try and look behind him, clearly wanting another glance at the wings on his vest.

The fuck?

"Ain't no fairy." Daryl muttered gruffly, unsure of what to make of the girl. A lock of hair clung to the corner of her mouth and she pushed it away, smearing pink chalk over her cheek in the process. He let her walk behind him as he quickly scanned the area, looking for any sign of a guardian but it seemed the girl was just out playing on her own; it was strange to him, to be in a place where someone would feel safe enough to let their child outside without being right behind them. It reminded him a bit of his youth, before his mother died, when she'd send him out to ride on his bike and tell him to be back when the streetlights came on. Different times. Now, that sort of thing felt too irresponsible. Too risky - even with walls.

He felt a pressure against his back and jumped, turning to look at the little girl as she grinned up at him. Her hand was still raised in the air, fingers outstretched and tinted pink. Daryl had half a mind to tell her to quit it, to go find her mom or pops and leave him be, but a little giggle tumbled past the girl's lips and he found himself short of words. Not a moment later she turned and bounded, leaving Daryl alone. For the remainder of the day, he was entirely unaware of the little pink handprint lingering on the back of his vest.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The following day, Carol was the first to notice that Daryl had managed to acquire a shadow. She met Daryl’s eye as Aaron led him and Abraham down the road and the archer found himself pausing at the hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “What?” Daryl questioned, eyes narrowing at the amusement painting his friend’s features. Ahead of him, Aaron and Abraham noticed him hanging back and came to a stop, waiting. “Spit it out.” “Just think you’ve got an admirer, that’s all.” Carol teased, looking past him with a knowing smile. Frowning, Daryl turned to follow her line of sight just in time to see a familiar mop of curls duck behind a mailbox. Daryl let out a quiet huff, shoulders relaxing minutely. The girl wasn’t any good at hiding - not with the way her whole body could still be seen behind the base; she’d clearly dressed herself that day, too - floral overalls clashing with a bright, striped shirt. It didn’t look like she had any chalk that he’d have to be on the lookout for, at least. He could still hear Rick’s chuckles from the night before when he’d pointed out the handprint on his vest. With a dismissive shake of his head, Daryl turned back, moving to continue on with Aaron and Abraham. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a kid.” “Look at you, already a hit with the ladies!” Abraham chaffed, earning a pointed scowl.

“Stop.” Aaron glanced between the two men with a relaxed smile, sparing a glance towards where the girl peeked her head out from behind the mailbox, watching from a distance. Aaron offered a little wave, to which the girl returned a cheeky smile, pressing a finger to her lips as if her presence was a secret between the two of them. “That’s Remy.” “Remy?” Daryl echoed, unamused. “Yeah, Remy. Short for Remington, but for your own safety just call her Remy.” “Remington?” Abraham cut in, unable to contain the amusement in his tone. “Like the rifles?” “I think so. I’m pretty sure her dad picked it.” Aaron told them, motioning for them to follow as he continued down the road. He’d mentioned wanting to introduce Abraham to one of the community members that ran the construction projects for Alexandria, and planned on taking Daryl to speak with Deanna after; she was still figuring him out, trying to decide which job would suit him best. He might’ve had time to brew on how much he couldn’t stand Deanna’s attempts to categorize him if his thoughts weren’t still stuck on the girl - Remy. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, just enough to notice that she was trailing behind as they walked, eyes downcast and focusing hard as she balanced on the curb of the street while she followed. “She always just out here on ‘er own?” “Not exactly,” Aaron explained, considering his words before adding, “mostly just in the afternoons when she doesn't feel like sitting in class with the other kids. She's usually with her mom whenever she isn’t helping in the infirmary. Actually, I've been meaning to take you all by there - have you met (Y/N) yet?” “Nah.” Daryl muttered, finding no recollection of the name. “What about ‘er dad? He dead?" “Well, no. That’s, uh… a bit more complicated.” A brief silence fell over the them, and when Aaron peeked from the side of his eye to see that Abraham and Daryl were both still waiting for an answer, he let out an uncomfortable sigh. After looking back to ensure Remy was far enough that his words wouldn’t carry, he continued in a softer tone. “Her dad is around but not really around. It’s a long story - and really, not mine to tell - but... alright, they have an arrangement that Deanna settled between them. He gives Remy half of his rations every week, outside of what he hunts for the pantry, and (Y/N)... well, I guess you can say she has 'custody'. Like I said... it's complicated.” While Daryl’s lip twitched with irritation, Abraham let out a low whistle. “Well, ain’t that 'bout a bitch. Whole world goes to shit and you still can’t get outta child support.” It took a solid few seconds for the redhead to register that Daryl and Aaron were both staring at him, deadpanned, before he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just sayin’!” Daryl didn’t find any of it funny in the slightest. It was bad enough that a kid had to grow up in a world like they were living in, but to have a deadbeat dad on top of it? And the Alexandrians, they just let it slide - let him give her some food and throw the rest of his duties as a parent aside.

Bullshit. This place, these people, this attempt at 'normal' life. A bunch of bullshit.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Talking to Deanna left him in the same spot he was in before. For whatever reason, she couldn't seem to figure out what to do with him even though he already knew the answer was obvious. He didn't belong in these walls, wasn't built for playing house and acting like there weren't monsters lingering around dark corners beyond the streets of Alexandria. It wasn't the dead that really bothered him, not after Terminus... not after the Claimers or Grady Memorial.

There were people out there that would come across a place like this and do the unthinkable and it wouldn't matter how nice their houses were or what casseroles they could make - they would suffer because they were weak and unprepared. He wasn't built to sit back and be vulnerable. He needed to be out there, hunting or scavenging or making sure the people that would hurt them stayed far enough away.

He thought going out and catching some game could clear his mind some. So, after stopping by and checking out his crossbow, Daryl headed towards the gate without much of a plan except to get out of the walls. But of course, it wouldn't never be so easy.

If he hadn't been so on edge in this new place, he wouldn't have heard the sniffle. It didn't take very long to find the source of it - Remy, pressed up against the trunk of a maple tree, blood trailing from her knees down to her ankles. She'd had to have fallen, tearing open scabs that were still healing. Though her knees were bloody and raw, cheeks wet with fresh tears, she didn't seem to pay them any mind.

Following her gaze to where she stared off in the distance longingly, Daryl quickly pieced together what was really upsetting her. Lingering by the front gate, in conversation with one of the other Alexandrian men, was a man with a hunting rifle strapped onto his back. A Remington rifle. That was her dad. Her dad, getting ready to go out on a hunt while she sat here with torn knees and a yearning heart. Well... he'd be damned if he were going to walk away from that.

"Must be clumsy." His own voice sounded foreign to him as he took a step into her view, trying hard to sound casual though he wasn't entirely sure how to approach the situation. Those big puppy-dog eyes looked up at him and he could have sworn he felt like somebody kicked him in the gut.

"Clumsy?" Remy echoed, confused, and sniffled again as she reached up and swiped her nose with the back of her arm.

"Means ya fall a lot." Daryl explained.

"My daddy's leaving." Remy blurted, lower lip quivering a bit as she looked past Daryl to see the man finally stepping out the gate, pushing it shut behind him.

Daryl looked over his shoulder towards the gate, acknowledging the man's departure with a sideways glance. "He come tell you goodbye?" Remy merely shook her head in response and Daryl hummed, unsurprised. He looked down to her knees, considering, before pulling a rag from his pack and kneeling down beside her. "Here, lemme see."

Remy extended one leg as Daryl gently reached for her ankle, watching with a pout as he wiped the blood from her shin before switching to the next leg and doing the same. Her knees were still bleeding a bit, but her legs weren't dripping blood anymore, at least. When he dropped her second leg, Remy blinked up at him through watery lashes. "I want Mommy."

Daryl met those doe eyes of hers, thinking back to the conversation with Aaron earlier that day. He'd mentioned Remy's mom - (Y/N) - helping in the infirmary. Seemed the girl probably needed to get some gravel cleaned out of her knees, anyways...

"C'mon. Let's go find yer ma." Daryl told her, pushing himself back to his feet and holding out a hand for her to grab onto to. As soon as Remy pulled herself up, though, she tried to take a step and limped, whining loudly. Not a second later, Daryl was instinctively scooping her up, resting her on his hip; and Remy, instinctively, reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her towards the infirmary to see you. Her messy curls tickled his stubble as she tucked her head against his neck, and if it weren't for that alone, then surely it was when he walked into the infirmary and laid eyes on you for the first time that Daryl Dixon knew one thing for certain...

He was so fucked.

artwork by @vaebun !! ♡

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #twd fic #twd imagine #remy oc

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ashlynlovestlou · 9 months ago

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leeching (ellie x reader)

lil ellie blurb that just came to me. hope u enjoy.

cw: super fluffy

masterlist

you and ellie have been dating for almost a year now. she was your first everything. first kiss, first girlfriend, first time. she'd seen every part of you, whether it be sweating, bleeding, crying, no makeup, just woken up, hair messy. and there wasn't a single part of you that she didn't absolutely adore.

the first time you and ellie had an argument, she had a very... different way of getting you to apologize. it was this little thing she called "leeching." she would hug you after an argument.

and she wouldn't let go until you forgave her.

which, in the long run, ended up working. the first argument the two of you had was about her careless tendencies while she was on patrol. she would come home hurt all the time, and it worried you sick. so, she latched onto you. it only lasted an hour before you finally gave in, and she let go.

today was a little different. the two of you argued for what felt like hours, until eventually ellie gave up and started hugging you. her muscular arms were too tight to escape, and boy was ellie stubborn. she wouldn't let you go until you forgave her.

"m' sorry, baby. please forgive me." she mumbles into the crook of your neck. she was laying on top of you on the couch, caging you in tightly between her firm arms.

you had refused to give in to her this time, but it was getting harder by the second. you were starting to sweat, your body sticking to hers.

what made it even worse was that she was peppering slow and tender kisses all over your neck, mumbling "i'm sorrys" into your skin.

"ellieee." you whine, trying to push her off. "i'm hot."

"i love you, and i won't stop until you forgive me." she says, kissing all over your neck and collarbone.

"ellie!" you announce again, trying to push her off. yet still, she didn't budge a centimeter. your clothes were so hot that they were sticking to your skin.

it was clear she wasn't giving up anytime soon.

you contemplate it for a moment before finally giving in with a sigh of defeat, "okay! okay, fine, i forgive you. now get off, i'm hot as balls."

you hear her smug little snicker against your shoulder before she climbs off you and soothes out her crinkled clothes.

"thanks, sweetheart. i promise ill make it up to you. for real this time." she winks before giving you the little bit of space you so desperately craved.

#lynnielovestlou #lesbian #the last of us #queer #fanfiction #fanfic #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #tlou #tlou 2 #the last of us fanfiction #sapphic #sapphic fanfic #lesbian fanfic #ellie fluff #fanfic fluff #fluff

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stevesbipanic · 10 months ago

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@steddiemicrofic prompt: edge, WC: 509, rating: T

Eddie arrived home to a quiet house, which wasn't completely unusual for the Harrington home to be quiet but usually Eddie found his boyfriend moving around the kitchen making dinner, softly singing along to the radio.

"Steve?" He called out but was met with more silence. Strange, but Steve could be up in bed, maybe he had a migraine. Eddie checked quickly upstairs but found their bed cold and empty too. He'd seen Steve's car in the driveway so he hadn't left, and Robin didn't have her licence yet so she couldn't have picked him up, plus he'd have left a note.

Eddie went back downstairs checking the loving room hoping maybe Steve had just fallen asleep on the couch. Still, he was nowhere to be found. He went back to the kitchen ready to start calling around hoping maybe Steve was just visiting someone and forgot to leave a note. He was halfway through dialling the Hendersons when a shadow in the backyard caught his eye.

"Oh sweetheart," he mumbled to himself as he hung up the phone. Eddie grabbed a blanket off the couch and opened to sliding door to the back deck. Steve didn't flinch at the sound, eyes staying ahead. Sighing, Eddie wrapped the blanket around Steve's shoulders and joined him sitting at the edge of the pool.

The two boys sat silent for a few moments, Eddie knew better to just wait for Steve to talk, he'd made his presence known and that's what Steve needed right now. He wouldn't always talk, sometimes choosing to simply sit before they went back inside and curled up in bed. Sometimes Steve wanted touch, sometimes he'd just want to know Eddie was there.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Steve spoke. "It's been five years and I can't look at this pool and not see her." Eddie knew who they were talking about, after all only one girl had drowned in this pool. "She should be at college with, Nance, she should get to have a grave with a body in it, she should be here instead of," Steve choked out a sob instead of finishing that thought. Even though it ripped Eddie's heart to shreds, and wanted nothing more than to tell Steve he's loved and that it's not his fault, he knew Steve didn't want that, he'd said those words a million times before, Steve knew so Eddie waited.

Steve tilted his body until he lent against Eddie's side and Eddie let out a breathe as he was finally allowed to comfort his boy, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. He sat there with Steve crying softly in his arms until they slowed to a stop, it was time for bed.

Eddie took his hand leading him back into the house and upstairs, curling him into his chest and reminding him he was there, that he'd always be there.

"I think it's time to move, Steve."

"Do you think she'd forgive me?"

"I know she already has," and that was enough.

#another month another microfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #barb holland #past trauma #grief #dealing with grief #letting go of the past

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vivwritesfics · 5 months ago

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Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Eight - Charles

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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Series Masterlist

Arthur dragged her back to the apartment building. No matter how much she begged, he knew he had to tell his brother. What Charles did from there was out of his hands.

She'd forgive him, he knew. It would take a while, but she would eventually forgive him. Once she realised just how dangerous Max was, she'd forgive him.

"Arthur, I love him," she said as they took the elevator up to their floor.

"No, you don't," he quickly answered. "Bunny, you don't know him, you don't know the things he's done."

"Then tell me!"

But Arthur wouldn't. As soon as the elevator doors open, he dragged her out and dragged her to Charles's apartment.

Pushing open the door, Arthur dragged her inside. She let out a cry, but it was superficial, his grip not tight enough to injure her in any way. "Charles, I got her," he called as he sat her down on the sofa.

Charles emerged from his bathroom. He stared down at her with so much anger written on his face, it had her shivering. "Where the fuck did you go, Bunny?" He spat, not moving from the doorway of the bathroom.

Arthur went to answer, but Charles held up his hand, stopping him. "I'm not speaking to you," he spat at his brother, and Arthur shut his mouth, eyes on the ground.

Charles turned back to Bunny. "Tell me where the fuck you went or so help me, Bun." He marched towards her and she visibly recoiled.

It had guilt shooting through him, but he ignored it. "Tell me!" He roared.

She swallowed, but she couldn't answer him, couldn't force the words out of her mouth.

A sigh left Charles's lips. He turned towards Arthur and gestured for him to speak. "She was with Mad Max, says she loves him," he answered quickly. "I saw them together."

Charles turned back to Bunny. "Is this true?" He asked, and she nodded. The noise he let out was so damn angry, it had her recoiling.

He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. "'thur, keep her here and don't let her use that goddamn phone," he said.

Suddenly she was up from the sofa and running towards him. "Cha, where are you going?" She cried as she grabbed him.

He breathed in deep and looked down at her. Pulling her close, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "Doesn't matter, Bun," he mumbled. "I'm gonna fix this." And then he was disappearing out of the apartment.

Before she could follow, Arthur had a hold of her. He locked the door and pocketed the key, trapping her in the apartment with him.

Reluctantly, she sat back on the sofa and pulled her knees up to her chest. "He's going to tell my father, isn't he?" She asked, eyes welling up with tears.

"I think so, Bun." He went to sit next to her, but she turned away from him.

Charles was doing exactly as she had guessed. He climbed into the car and drove out of Monaco, heading to the Dupont estate in France. No soft piano music played from the speaker, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

For all these years trying to protect her, and Charles had let her fall into the clutches of Mad Max Verstappen. Max didn't know how to love. He certainly didn't know how to love a sweet girl like Bunny Dupont.

If Max was gonna do anything, he was going to get her killed.

The drive flew by and, before he knew it, Charles was pulling up outside of the Dupont house. He parked up beside the fountain and climbed out of his car.

Maybe Dupont would kill him. He hadn't done his job, the one thing he had to do. He hadn't kept her protected like he was meant to. If Dupont wanted to kill him, Charles couldn't be mad. He deserved it. He deserved to meet his end at Dupont's hand.

He walked through the house, past staff members he had grown up around. This had the potential to be the last time he ever saw them. His steps faltered as he walked up the stairs to Dupont's office. Fuck, he had never been this scared before.

At the door, he hesitated. All he had to do was knock. All he had to do was raise his fist and tap it against the door a couple of times. It didn't have to be this hard.

The minute he knocked, Dupont was calling him into his office. Charles sucked in a breath, pushed open the door, and strode in.

"Charles, my boy!" Dupont called as he sat back in his chair. He looked around Charles, obviously looking for his daughter. "What can I help you with?"

Charles didn't sit, no until he was told to. "Sir, I have news about Bunny," he said.

Dupont furrowed his brows and leaned forward. "What about my daughter?" He asked. He reached towards his pen pot and pulled out a knife.

His hand shook against the chair he was leaning against. "Sir," he began. "She - she and Max Verstappen..." But he couldn't find it in himself to finish the sentence.

But Dupont relaxed. He sat back in his seat and casually played with the knife in his hands. "My Bunny and Mad Max," he said and let out a cackling laugh. "This comes as no surprise to me, Charles. She and Mad Max weren't very covert about their... operations."

A breath released from Charles's lips. "What should we do about it?"

"Nothing," Dupont answered with a shrug. "Let her fool around with Verstappen's boy. We can play that to our advantage."

"But I can't guarantee her safety when she's with Verstappen."

The blade of Dupont's knife sank into the wood of his desk. "Take her to go and see him. Let him know you mean business. We mean business."

Dupont dismissed him after that. He waved Charles off and returned to what he was doing before Charles arrived.

The drive back to Monaco was still in silence. He felt physically sick and pulled over more than once to dry heave on the side of the road. All his life he was meant to protect Bunny Dupont, and now he was going to be the one to feed her to the wolves.

As he drove, Charles called his brother. He waited as the phone dialled, waited for Arthur to pick up.

It didn't take very long. "How did it go?" Arthur asked the moment he picked up.

Charles simply grunted. "Where is she?"

"Asleep in your room," Arthur answered.

Charles's stomach dropped. "Go and make sure she's still in there," he said quickly.

There was a moment where Arthur rushed around his apartment. He listened as Arthur marched from the kitchen and threw open the bedroom door. There was a pause before the door clicked shut again. "She's still in there," Arthur answered and Charles let out a breath.

Good, Charles thought as he drove through Monaco. He could put off throwing her to the wolves if she was sleeping.

He pulled into the garage beneath the apartment building and killed the engine. His head hit the steering wheel and he sucked in a shuddering breath. He felt so damn sick as he sat there, in the dark of the parking garage.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

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cynarisgayass · 4 months ago

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Sorry for lack of post, work has been absolutely kicking my ass, so I'll drop these little low effort headcannons I came up with after doing the newest genshin event. GN fairy reader. Slight spoilers??

Also to the person who sent in your Zzz request I promise I will work on it soon. Forgive me.

Wanderer:

He's very much the type of guy who even though he thinks of you as the gorgeous forest fairy, he's not gonna say it to your face. He will show up when you need help and act all reluctant about doing things for you even though he enjoys them. Then one day out of nowhere he will be staring at you and just accidentally blurt out what he's feeling like, "You're beautiful sunshine."

Then we all die.

Navia:

Girl literally calls you her partner and would die for you, so to say she'd be the type to compliment you with no shame is a understatement. The two of you would be walking through the paper woods and she would just go, "By the way, I just thought I'd tell you how much I appreciate you and all you have done for me. You truly have my heart, partner." And then she'd wink at you as your face turned bright red.

Kazuha:

Why's he here? Cause I like him shush. Anyways, forest fairies are a great source of inspiration for poems yeah, but he'd also want to draw you as well. Combine both his word building of your powers and beauty along with a image that he says could never truly capture the wonder that you are, but give those who look at it a glimpse. Then he'd ask if you wanted to sit under a paper tree and share bulle fruits with the flying squirrels.

Diluc:

Lets be honest, he wouldn't believe you at first. Forest fairy? Not real. Then he'd look around him, see the paper forest and probably have a little mini panic attack without moving a single muscle or looking any different on the outside. He'd eventually loosen up after you explain things and I don't know why, but I totally see him dancing with a fairy reader. If it helps the forest...he will oblige, albeit reluctantly.

Alhaitham:

Wouldn't be fazed in the slightest. Couldn't actually care less that he's in a different world, he's read fairytales before, he's seen what visions can do so it's no shock to him. You however, kinda surprise him. Normally he's always nonchalant about others, but you...he doesn't mind letting you sit with him while he reads. He doesn't even mind helping you when you need him too, his ways of romancing are subtle, but sweet.

Damn, actually wrote alot of these. I wanna do this again with more time and I'm also hungering to write some smut too so whenever I'm not struggling to stay awake after work I'll be posting more~

#𓍊damushroomguy𓍊 #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer x reader #navia x reader #navia fluff #kazuha fluff #kazuha x reader #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff

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lucozadehulahoop · 1 year ago

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A question of time (Astarion x fem! tav/reader) part 1/?

Summary: Cazador gets his hands on the daughter (tav) of the Elven goddess Sehanine and a common mortal, hoping to manipulate the girl over time and obtain the favor of her protection while he prepares for his Ascension, during which he plans to sacrifice her to gain more power than any devil could ever promise him.

Unfortunately, as the plans for his Ascension become more and more concrete, his ward is summoned every night by the sweet cries of the most tortured out of all his slaves, and she cannot bear to leave his side.

Meanwhile, it has become increasingly obvious to Astarion that his Master does in fact have a weakness, a certain someone he keeps locked away and safe... there is nothing Astarion wants more than to snuff that little light out of Cazador's eyes, no matter if it's the last thing he ever does.

tags and TW pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)

Part 2 here ! Part 3 Part 4

I'll take you under my wing, Somebody should

-A Question of Time, Depeche Mode

Astarion had come to the conclusion that the excruciating torture Cazador imposed on him every night was becoming unbearable to the point he was now hallucinating.

It had happened three times now, always when he felt at his lowest. When he was so desperate and alone in his suffering, that he could only wish for someone to drag him out in the early dawn and leave him to burn alive, she would appear.

A clear figment of his imagination. A soul so ethereal yet warm, soft, and real. It made no sense for a creature like that to be down in the dungeons with the likes of him, her silk dress soaked from his own blood. Cazador was never really done with him until the entire floor was soaked in the thick red liquid.

Astarion had been afraid at first. He had never even seen her enter the room. She was just there, at his side. He'd made a feeble attempt to back away when she'd attempted to reach out for him. She had stopped herself in her tracks, and spoken to him softly. Astarion hadn't understood a word. He only knew this was another trick, another evil sent to punish him.

He'd passed out soon after.

The following night he'd realised he didn’t feel as weak as he usually did after a beating. He'd been healed. Somehow he'd even been granted a lavish pillow to rest his head on instead of the cold hard ground he was used to.

Alarmed, Astarion immediately did his best to hide it, using all of his strength to stuff the pillow behind a loose set of bricks in the walls of the dungeon. His master would not have been very forgiving if he thought one of his spawn had been stealing from him.

..☆..

A few weeks passed before the hallucination presented itself again.

It had been another terrible night and Cazador had decided Astarion needed to be sealed up in a coffin again.

Astarion cried like a babe. He begged his Master, promised to do anything for him, to give him anything he wanted. At some point he even attempted to convince Cazador to simply kill him once and for all. But it was no use, and soon he was sealed back into the darkness.

Astarion wondered how long he'd be left to rot this time. Another year? Two? What if this time Cazador simply... forgot about him? Left him to suffer his bloodlust and paranoia for all of eternity?

The world would move on, new cities would be built above his head and no one would be able to hear his cries—

Astarion almost jumped out of his bones in fear when the coffin was being opened up again. He was more than happy to take this little mercy from his Master in exchange of whatever other punishment he chose.

But it was not Cazador's face he ended up facing in the dark.

It was his angel, once again there to save him. Or more likely , as Astarion had been beginning to suspect, to lead him on to the next life.

This time he could see her more clearly. At first glance she might have been any other noble young lady from the city, the kind that had an array of suitors waiting outside her door. She looked like the type to make someone go mad from love or heartbreak, and Astarion was certain there were many out there already dedicating songs and sonnets to her beauty.

Yet her regal attire, while exquisite and fashionable, did not suit her. In fact, it seemed as if she were completely out of place wearing something so mundane. Something told him she wasn't exactly human, or elven for that matter. Her wide eyes were reading him like an open book, yet she did not say a word.

"Now, I don't know who you are..." Astarion warned, barely finding the strength to speak after an almost constant state of screaming and crying. "...or what you want with me... but I can tell you're not his. Because, if you were... you would know how dead we're both going to be when he catches you trying to get me out of here."

She attempted to speak, reaching out for a cut on Astarion's cheek. "You're —"

"You better get the fuck out of here, if you know what's good for you—" Astarion growled, snatching her wrist and squeezing it so tight, if she had been human it would have snapped in his hand like a twig. "And I trust you know how to board up this coffin again since you've been capable of roaming around a den of starving vampire spawn and making it out alive. Twice."

She gave out a wail of pain and Astarion finally let her go. He wasn't about to rot even longer than he had to in a coffin because of yet another reason that was completely out of his control.

The young woman stood there in front of him, undecided on what to do.

"I can't." She said, finally.

"But you will!" Astarion, roared, panicking about the very real possibility of Cazador assuming he'd managed to break out of his confinements himself. "By the hells! Put me back the way you found me and be on your way—"

"But you were crying—" She interjected.

"E-excuse you?" Astarion smiled uneasily, tilting his head to the side. What did this silly little girl think she knew about him?

"I heard you." The odd little thing in front of him answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You were calling out for help. You said, anything but the dark-"

Astarion's eyes burned with rage and hot tears. Suddenly he was stumbling out of the coffin, grabbing the woman by her frilly bloodstained clothes, and pinning her up against a wall. "You're here to doom me, is that it? You're some kind of faerie pulling a cruel joke on me, are you? Trying to give him even more excuses to hurt me. Is that it?" He panted frantically, straining his ears to pick up any signs of Cazador's return. "Here to feed on my suffering, are you?" Astarion attempted to grill answers out of her.

The supposed faerie did not seem concerned with the fact an unstable bloodthirsty creature currently had her trapped with no way of escape. She slowly reached for a huge gaping wound on Astarion's abdomen, and for a few moments he was transfixed by how quickly the flesh healed itself back together under his very eyes.

"I do not wish to bring you harm." She explained calmly. "I thought you would enjoy the freedom. He is away. And I promise to put you back as you were before his return."

Astarion shook his head and laughed maniacally. Freedom. His prayers had somehow been answered but he didn't trust the situation one bit. "Is that right, princess?" He taunted her. "And who just might you be to know the comings and goings of the Master of this house better than his own spawn?"

"He calls me his daughter."

..☆..

The revelation never left Astarion's head, even in the days that followed. Cazador... his heartless captor, his psychotic jailor, had a weakness. Initially, he'd thought about what it would have been like to take the life of Cazador's precious daughter right there and then, damned by the consequences.

But that would have been too easy. No, Astarion had finally stumbled upon something that gave him an edge over his Master, and his revenge was going to be carefully thought out. Sweet as can be.

Cazador had never mentioned his daughter to any of them so Astarion had no rules or commandments looming over his head. She was the perfect way to get revenge after almost two centuries of suffering. He just needed to be clever about it. He could not squander an opportunity like this.

The prospect of hurting Cazador made the torture much more barerable during the coming weeks. In fact, Astarion didn't know whether he was delirious or if all of that suffering was just feeding the fire burning inside of him more and more.

Once he'd been finally freed to go out and bring a new victim for Cazador to feast on, his plan he been set into action. Going out on a limb, Astarion assumed Cazador had tucked his daughter in the highest room of the tallest tower of his castle, where none could get to her and where she could never see the true horror of who her father truly was.

Under the cover of night, he scaled the side of the castle walls with nothing but some climbing tools and his own blessed agility. And as he did so, his mind was flooded with the same questions he'd been plagued with since the last night he'd seen the young woman. How was it possible that Cazdor had sired a daughter? What was the nature of her powers? They did not seem to have sliver of relation between them. And why, oh why, was she so determined to care for Astarion of all people?

Had Cazador set her on it? Was it all some sick game? Only one thing was for sure. Cazador had hidden the girl from everything and everyone, so at some fundamental level he must have cared for her.

That was all that mattered to Astarion. It was worth risking Cazador's eternal wrath just to see even a tiny sliver of pain in his eyes. A crack in his armor. And there was no doubt in his mind that would soon be true, just as soon as he found his daughter's lifeless body and her blood splattered all across the castle walls on his return.

"Are you stuck?" Her voice called out to him from her bedroom window as she looked down at him. Yes, Astarion had been slightly stalled by his thoughts. He looked up at her. Well, there went the element of surprise. He certainly was not planning on underestimating her. The girl had true power coursing through her veins.

Yet, he had not anticipated the scenario and now he was at a loss for words. A first for him. "No I was just, well I was—"

"Just close the window when you come up, okay? It's getting cold in here." She admonished him, before disappearing back inside. Astarion was a little taken aback. Had she known he was coming?

When he finally stepped into her chambers, he got a full understanding of just how capable Cazador was of spoiling and pampering someone he cared about. The room was lavish and spacious, almost every single item worth more than the average working person in Baldur's Gate could make in their entire lifetimes.

She was there, simply brushing her hair in front of the fireplace, almost completely uncaring about the fact a stranger had just invaded her private quarters.

Astarion let a dagger slip out of his sleeve, and only then did she turn around to look at him. He hated it, wishing he could have gotten the chance to kill her in her sleep or with a stab to the back, so he wouldn't have had to stare into those mesmerizing pools again.

"You won't hurt me, Astarion." She simply stated.

Astarion ground his teeth in anger. It really wasn't fair how perfect his name sounded on her tongue.

"I see his brat is not only spoiled, but entitled too. What makes you think you'll get out of this?" Astarion marched over towards her. "What makes you think your life will be spared against the countless others I've dragged to the grave in your father's name?" He snarled drawing his blade up to her perfect neck.

The sound of her pulse was enchanting and exhilarating at the same time. If he only could have, he would have gorged himself with her blood, sunk his teeth into her perfect flesh.

"Because... you're afraid the next time you call for help you'll be alone. For good." She answered honestly, seeing right through him as if he were made of glass.

The young woman had meant no offense, but Astarion took it nonetheless. In one swift move, he had a dagger to her throat, tears brimming in his eyes. He hated that she was right, but he was going to prove her wrong nonetheless.

"You think you're so smart, don't you love?" He sneered. "What? Were you so bored all couped up in your tower, you thought you could just have a little fun with one of your daddy's toys? That bastard's going to get what's coming to him—"

Suddenly, she was placing a hand over Astarion's mouth and cutting him off mid-speech. For the first time ever, Astarion saw the strange girl display concern in her features. No... it was genuine fear in her eyes.

"He's... he's down the hall." She whispered, more concerned with her father's arrival than the blade at her throat. Astarion dropped the weapon and froze, completely incapable of doing anything except await for his punishment in silence.

"What are you doing?" She fretted over him. "You need to leave!" The girl tried to put some sense into him but it was useless. Her attempts to drag him towards her closet were also fruitless.

Astarion was frozen, his eyes on the door and his ears keenly listening to Cazador's steps as they drew nearer.

___

AN: Let me know if you'd like part 2, comments are appreciated 🤧🥺

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bg3 astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

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From Day One

Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: your FBI partner and secret crush Agent Marcus Pike has only you to lean on after his breakup with Teresa Lisbon. You offer him something to take away his heartache..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, friends to lovers, pining, angst, fluff, confessions of love, oral (m & f receiving), 69ing, unprotected p in v sex

Author's Note: this was a fic posted on AO3 right around Valentine's Day but there's not much talk about the holiday itself except a couple brief mentions. Didn't feel like waiting 8 months to post it here 🙂‍↔️

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You’ve loved Agent Marcus Pike from the moment you were introduced. Your first day at the Austin FBI field office was a chaotic one, being thrown onto a case with him immediately. Your transfer from out of state was sudden, but your skills were sought after by this particular department and you soon became an asset.

You also became close with Marcus himself, partnering with him on several high-profile cases. Spending all that time together, you felt sparks. It was easy to be with him. He seemed to genuinely care about the cases, and in getting to know him you found out he was not only handsome, but sweet and compassionate. Everything you looked for in a man.

And then Teresa Lisbon came into the picture.

One day you were bringing Marcus a coffee and bagel from your favorite place downtown when you walked into the office and saw him laughing with her. You froze, but your smile completely disappeared when she kissed him. Right in front of you. You swore your heart stopped beating.

Marcus noticed you and introduced you to his new girlfriend, an agent you'd seen around and probably nodded politely to in passing. To save face you welcomed her. When they were gone you dumped the extra coffee down the sink.

Your working relationship with Marcus grew somewhat distant. You remained cordial with him, but you kept yourself less accessible than you used to be. You refrained from calling him or even joking with him. He definitely took notice, but his relationship with Teresa took over everything else in his life. Upon hearing that after only months of dating they were engaged, you put in a request for reassignment, which was promptly rejected. You were essential to the department, and honestly quitting wasn't an option for you, so you just had to eat your heart out, watching those two lovebirds. He planned on taking her to DC with him on his transfer anyway, so you figured it would be good riddance to both after all.

And one day, a day that starts out like any other. Marcus doesn't show up for work. And there's gossip around the office that he was dumped by Teresa. You know better than to put too much faith in rumors, but at the end of the day you share an elevator going down with Teresa herself, and her face says it all. She looks guilty and can't even look you in the eye.

In your car you immediately call Marcus but get his voicemail. You drive by his house and see his car there. Banging on the door you refuse to leave until you know he's okay. "Marcus open this damn door!"

He does open it eventually and he looks like a shell of his former self. His eyes are bleary and red. He's been crying but refuses to show it.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, and without a second thought you embrace him. Your body is warm as he hugs you back.

"I can't believe she'd do that! What a bitch!" you exclaim, sitting on the sofa with him as he reveals the details of his breakup with Teresa.

"She's not a bitch," he softly replies. "She just wants someone else."

"Okay then, she's an idiot." You refuse to let her off the hook for hurting someone you'd fallen for long ago. "Are you still going to DC?"

He nods. "I made a commitment and I'm still seeing it through."

"Unlike her," you mutter.

"I wasn't a good friend to you while I was with her," he confesses, his puppy dog eyes conveying his regret. "Can you forgive me?"

This confession shocks you. You hadn't expected Marcus to be aware of what you were going through. You hadn't even made your feelings for him known. "It's fine, Marcus.. I was hurt, I'm not going to lie.. but you were in love. I know what it's like to lose yourself in someone." You cast a look at him that is filled with longing.

"I'd been planning this move to DC months in advance," he says. "Way before I met Teresa. And honestly, my first choice was to bring you with me."

This takes you by surprise. "What?"

He smiles. "You're my partner.. it was only right that I bring you with me, if of course you wanted to. Then things changed, and.." he trails off and you can tell he's fighting off another round of tears thinking about Teresa. "Would you still want to come with me? The DC branch is still expecting two agents. We'd have to figure out a living situation, but.. I'd love for you to come. I'll understand if you don't."

"Absolutely," you say before he's even finished his sentence.

"Really?" He smiles for the first time and it lights up his face.

You smile back. "Only an idiot could say no to you, Marcus Pike.."

DC is so much more fast-paced than you expected, but you and Marcus keep busy, working on new, more prominent cases. It's like the good old days, before he had his heart stomped on by Teresa. You've been careful with him, giving him his space to heal while you've also become acclimated to this new city.

You share a two-bedroom loft in the heart of the city, and it's been an easier transition than you'd thought. Being with him is so natural, so easy. Even the holidays are spent in a kind of quiet reminiscence. But then Valentine's Day rolls around, and just as you think Marcus is finally getting to a good place, you see him somber, his sparkle dulled. He must be thinking of Teresa, and how they'd be starting a life together now..

Even though nothing has been discussed regarding the obvious chemistry between you, you decide it's time to show him what he's been missing out on. Valentine's night, you suggest staying in and watching a movie. You stream "My Best Friend's Wedding", a film you both love, and settle in with some snacks. It's a comfortable evening as you relax on the sofa, your head on his shoulder. You're both in comfy clothes: Marcus in a white tee and sweatpants, you in a tank top and sleep shorts.

You decide to test the waters by resting your arm across his chest, hand on his shoulder. and he subconsciously places his hand on your elbow. You smile, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his neck. He tenses ever so slightly but doesn't pull away, in fact he sighs and that makes you smile. You whisper his name as your lips lightly brush his ear. You feel his pulse start to race, his eyes half-lidded as he falls under your spell. Your lips skim across the scruffy beard he's grown since his breakup, pressing to his cheek.

Without warning he grabs you and puts you in his lap, straddling him, and pulls you in for a scorching kiss. He holds the back of your head while his other hand strokes your back. The kiss is a synergy of lips and tongues, and you pull him closer to you while you feel him growing hard beneath you. You joyfully rub yourself against him, seeking the friction that will bring you together, making yourself absolutely drenched and knowing he can feel it through his sweatpants. Jesus, you could come right now just from the friction alone.

But he pauses, doesn't necessarily stop, putting a small bit of distance from your kiss as his gaze searches yours. "What are we doing?" he whispers, seemingly awestruck as he brushes a tendril of hair away from your face.

"I'm making my best friend feel better," you answer.

“Just your friend?” He crooks an eyebrow. Your stomach flutters with anticipation.

“Maybe more than a friend..”

He pulls you in for another kiss, removing your tank top. You delight in the feel of his fingertips on your bare flesh. A high pitched gasp passes your lips as his lips graze your neck, tease their way down your chest until he takes a pert nipple in his mouth, slowly sucking and lavishing attention with his tongue. You press your body against him, an offering. His mouth slips further down until suddenly he flips you over with ease, making you gasp. He’s now kneeling before you, big brown eyes hopeful as his fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts.

“Marcus.. tonight’s supposed to be about you,” you tell him, voice trembling with excitement.

“You first,” he whispers as you brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “It should’ve been you from the start,” he says, admiring how your hips arch as he removes your shorts and panties together. “I know that now, and I.. I’m glad you made the first move tonight.. if I’d tried something and you rejected me I don’t know what I’d do..”

You brush your fingers through his hair and mentally damn TL for leaving him so broken. “I’m not going anywhere Marcus.. I’ve wanted you from day one..”

He exhales loudly, hooking your knees under his arms and pulling you to the edge of the sofa. In the soft glow of the table side lamp he takes in the sight of your pussy, sees how soaked you are for him. He looks up at you as his tongue delves into your folds, causing your hips to buck against him. He holds your thighs firmly, flicking his tongue inside you, scooping your sweet nectar, falling in love with the taste of you, watching each reaction. Fucking you with his tongue makes you sit upright, gently cupping the back of his head, and sweeping his tongue over your throbbing clit is what makes you cry out his name, hips rising up to offer more to his hungry mouth as your body stretches out, thighs threatening to clamp down around his head.

“Please, Marcus please,” you moan. “I want to suck your cock.. it’s all I’ve been thinking about all night,” you beg.

He’s touched by this: even when you’re so close to coming you’re still thinking about his needs, putting him first.

“Ride my face,” he says, taking over when he sees how vulnerable you are. After stripping off his clothes he lays naked on the sofa and you gingerly place yourself over his mouth, the heat of his breath warming your cunt. Marcus wastes no time getting back to work, licking and sucking, pressing his lips to your clit and gently murmuring, the vibrations making your pleasured nerve endings ricochet and send you into overdrive. You lean forward taking hold of his cock, your breath stills at the deliciously thick length, more girth towards the head, which is also perfectly shaped. Just as you've imagined all along, Marcus Pike has a beautiful cock.

You take him into your mouth with gusto, keeping one hand on the base and stroking as you suck him. You take your time, delicately tonguing his sensitive, swollen head of his cock, brushing your tongue across the slit that's already leaking precum. His salty essence is lapped up by your greedy tongue as you hear him moan behind you, and he buries his face into your cunt, sending a rush of heat and electricity throughout your body. He laps at you vehemently, intent on making you cum as many times as possible. He uses his fingers to find your G-spot, pressing harder upon the spongy tissue until you see stars behind your eyes, and give forth a cry of sweet release, coming hard around his invading fingers. "There you go," Marcus soothes, his touch becoming softer as you come down from your peak. "Baby, I want to drink from this pussy every day," he says, and his eyes light up when you give a low, wicked laugh.

"You haven't even come yet," you tell him, continuing to stroke him. You get on your knees before him but he sits up and brings you into his lap again.

"I want to be inside you when I come," he tells you, positioning you over him. "It's a fantasy I've had for so long."

"For how long?"

"Probably since that first day.."

"Oh Marcus," your rapid heartbeat resounds throughout your entire being. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I wasn't so sure I wanted to lose our friendship.. but I think we might have more to gain now, if you're willing.."

This is all you've ever wanted to hear from him. Your every hope is coming true tonight, of all nights, on Valentine's Day. "I think I look pretty willing to you, don't you think?" you smirk, taking hold of his still-swollen cock and taking him so deep within you, a little at a time. The look on his face speaks volumes and he thrusts up the last few inches, eliciting a languishing moan as you take him up to the hilt.

You start slow at first, savoring the feeling of finally being one with him. His hands roam everywhere: your hips, your breasts, your thighs, as if he doesn't know where to start. He's like a kid in a candy store.

"I'm yours, Marcus," you tell him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. "I'm only yours." The pain that he went through with her he'll never have to experience again. "I'm going to make you forget anyone else ever existed for you.."

He kisses you, your bodies pressed together as intimately as any two people can be, rocking your hips in tandem, discovering the feel of each other. He watches your body as you make your own rhythm, moving sensually over him, and he wonders how he could have ever even looked at anyone else. It’s a joy to him to absorb the view of you commanding your pleasure on him, knowing he's the one making you feel this way. If there's anyone on this earth who can make him forget his heartbreak it's you.

"You're my beautiful girl," he mutters, his thumb tracing the softness of your lips. You press down harder, grinding against him and he encourages it, fucking you just as you're fucking him until you're a sighing, moaning, gasping pair. Your orgasm only spurs on his own, your walls clenching around him possessively, claiming him, drawing him towards his own completion and when he fills you you swear it's the most pristine, most natural thing you've ever felt. You belong to each other now.

And later, when you're laying side by side on the sofa, covered with a throw blanket, attempting to finish the movie, watching Julia Roberts run after a man who's marrying someone else, you sigh contentedly as he wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you in closer, a smile graces your lips and you're pretty sure it'll never leave your face. "You haven't even asked me to be your valentine," you tease him.

"Oh? I thought my actions spoke volumes." His smile lights up the semi-darkness.

"You might have to repeat some of those actions.. in case I need to be reminded.." you scoot back against him, gleefully finding him already hard again.

He chuckles and his lips brush lightly against your ear as he takes your hips in his hands and, in a sure and determined thrust, thrusts into you from behind, causing you both to cry out in bliss.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike smut #friends to lovers #love and smut #the mentalist #ao3 fanfic #valentines day #pedro boys #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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messedupfan · 5 months ago

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Chapter 20

Summary: The kids school is having it's annual end of year fundraiser, an adult only event for the parents of the school to make donations to the school fun. You bring Nebula as your date. Wanda gets a little help from Agatha. Jean and Anna decide to separate for sometime.

Dedicated to: Orange Anon 🧃 (HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY!!!)

Warning: Some smut, a masterbation scene with fantasizing 18+

A/n: Hello!!! I have been dying to write this chapter since December!!! Glad to finally be here. Although, I haven't been able to edit much since I've been busy so major apologies for errors. Can't wait to see the comments for this one. Hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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With summer break approaching, the school is constantly informing, or rather aggressively reminding parents about their end-of-year fundraiser. Wanda avoided the event last year because she was still deep in her depression and consumed by grief. The last thing she wanted to do was attend the same event her ex-husband and his beautiful young wife were at, especially at a time when she could barely get the motivation to get dressed up. Agatha tried to get her to come but she eventually gave up. Now that it's coming up, she can't help but think about the difference the possibility of meeting you sooner would have affected her life. Not knowing that you also avoided attending the event last year as well.

“Mom!” The boys cheer as they run up to her at pick up. They give her tight hugs. It's not her week with them but Vision called her during his lunch to explain that things are tense at home and the boys have been asking to stay with her. She held back from commenting on his pattern of cheating and creating hostile environments in his own home. She doesn't need to fight with him or try to involve herself in his personal life again. All she needs to do is worry about her children. It's something that her therapist suggested and it's been helpful in these past several months.

“Ugh, I hope you boys never grow up!” She grins as she holds them tightly. She doesn't want to see them tall and ignoring her as teenagers. She doesn't think she can handle the rejection. She likes them small and adoring her.

“Ms. Wanda!” Rachel runs towards them instead of her mom who is standing a few feet away. She joins in on the hug. “Is Tommy and Billy's daddy on a trip again?” She says as she looks up at Wanda.

Wanda laughs, “Something like that. Where's your mom?” She looks around the playground until she finds Jean walking towards them.

“Hey! It's been a while since I've seen you,” she greets happily. Wanda has to pretend like she doesn't know the stunt that Jean tried to pull several months ago. The last thing she heard about your situation with your ex-wife was that things were getting better since the two of you started to focus on Rachel. Wanda thought that it was great that the two of you were getting along again, but she wasn’t quick to forgive what Jean tried to do to you.

“Hey, Jean! It has been too long,” Wanda greets politely. Rachel steps away from Wanda and greets her mom with a hug that is just as tight. “How is everything?”

“Oh I'm sure Y/n keeps you well informed,” Jean replies. It was true for the months that you were single and a couple of months after you found out about the weirdest kidnapping she'd ever heard of. But it hasn't been true for some time. Wanda is lucky if she can get an update on your life as it is. You have been occupying most of your time with Nebula. If it weren't for a couple of orders coming in from your online shop, she wouldn't see you at all.

Unfortunately, even though you're working in her backyard on the weekends, the two of you don't talk much. She isn't sure if it's you pulling away or her but it hurt either way.

“Not really,” Wanda says without her expression wavering.

“Oh! Um, I've been doing well. How-How have you been?” She asks as she runs her fingers through Rachel's hair.

“I've been really great lately, yeah,” Wanda looks down at the boys with a soft smile. “I keep getting extra time with my boys which is fantastic.” She looks up at Jean again. Her eyes do a small scan of the woman. She is in her work attire but there is a coffee stain on her shirt that is poking out of her blazer. She has dark circles under her eyes. She looks tired even with a smile on her face. “We should catch up sometime,” Wanda says politely. Jean looks like she could use a friend. Thinking of it now, other than you, Wanda isn't sure that she's heard of Jean having friends. Maybe she has friends with her wife? She isn't sure. And right now, you're not in the best position to be her friend.

“I'd like that a lot,” Jean replies. Her smartwatch starts to buzz and she sighs. “Work is calling. I have to get going. Come on love bug,” she takes Rachel's hand and starts walking towards the parking lot.

“Are you guys ready to go home?” Wanda asks her kids and they both nod. She guides them out to her car in the parking lot.

You are sitting alone on your couch on a Friday night thinking about Wanda. You've been doing everything that you can to give yourself some space from her. Nebula eventually asked about your friendship with Wanda during one of your dates with her months ago. The two of you were eating gelaties, a flavored Italian ice with frozen custard on top. You were enjoying the sweet flavors of mango ice combined with vanilla custard as well as the smooth textures of the treat. There wasn't a treat quite like it. Nebula was enjoying their blue raspberry ice topped with cotton candy-flavored custard.

“So, are you and Wanda just friends?” She asked seemingly out of the blue. You weren't sure where the question was coming from. At the moment, you ran through every conversation you'd had with Nebula until that point to see if you mentioned Wanda more than you should have. But you can't come up with a number.

“Truthfully?” You asked as you mixed the vanilla custard further into the mango ice.

“No, lie to me,” she quipped with a slight smirk.

“Okay, fair enough,” you took a deep breath. “I've considered becoming more than friends with her. But it was complicated. Then she made it less complicated when she rejected me.” You didn't want to lie to her the way that you were lying to Daisy. It nearly killed you during that time.

Nebula got quiet and her smirk disappeared. Even with the shop being busy with other customers ordering. Chats happened at the surrounding tables. Everything felt still in her silence. Everyone seemed to vanish completely, leaving only the two of you, sitting in an empty Rita’s alone.

You watched her as you swirled your spoon around in your cup. She seemed to be in deep thought. You felt a slight panic tighten your chest and churn your stomach.

“Is that a problem?” You finally asked.

Nebula’s distinctive eyes connected with yours again. “No,” she answered.

You couldn't tell if she was being honest or not. But you didn't question her. You just made a promise to yourself that you weren't going to allow your feelings to continue to grow for Wanda. A task that was easier said than done.

You started small. Ignoring a text from her here and there. Well, not completely ignoring them. You just wouldn't respond as fast as you normally would. Then you stopped going by as much. Rachel's therapy appointments made it easier to stay away from Wanda’s for some time. But eventually, you began to miss her. You would call her whenever you got a chance to check-in. Then you fell asleep talking to her on the phone one night and you had to pull back on that as well.

As fate would have it, you received two custom orders which meant you had to spend time at Wanda’s. She was excited when you told her that you had two projects to work on. The two of you embraced each other tightly. You closed your eyes and breathed her in. You missed her scent. You missed the way her body felt against yours. You missed her laugh. You missed her smile.

You had to build more boundaries. Whenever you came to work in the shed in the backyard, you never went through the house. Even if you had Rachel with you. She would walk through the front door and you would slip in through the gate on the side of the house. You’d bring lunch and you'd leave before dinner. Wanda never bothered you. She seemed to understand that the two of you needed time apart from each other.

The more you pushed yourself away from her. The more she invaded your every thought. You swore you could feel something pulling you towards her. It made nights like these difficult. Shortly after your conversation with her about Wanda, Nebula stated that the two of you were dating and non-exclusive. You were a little thrown off because you thought that she only wanted to see you. But you had to face the fact that she wasn't the only person you wanted to see. So you didn't get upset or argue. You accepted the status of the relationship. Nebula is on a date right now and all you want to do is be with Wanda. You wonder how much of her time Nebula is going to continue to waste on you.

You open and close your phone multiple times. Hoping for a message from someone, anyone, so that you can get your mind to stop thinking about Wanda and what she might be doing tonight. That's when your mind gets stuck on the idea that she also might be on a date with someone. To your knowledge, she doesn't have the kids this week so she's available.

You start to imagine her sitting in front of someone with her smile and it hurts. You don't want her to be with anyone else. But you do want her to be happy. You shake your head turn on the television and scroll through the streaming channels. You don't know what you're in the mood to watch.

You throw on a movie you've heard about for years but never got around to watching. Your stomach rumbles so you get up and go to the kitchen to make something. As you start cooking, you imagine Wanda coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. It's so real you can feel it. Then you try to picture anyone else but you can't. You've had moments like that with Jean and with Daisy. But you couldn't visually remember them. You close your eyes for a second and sigh as you think about Wanda leaning her head against your back. You think about how you would lift your arm to get her to slip under and rest her head on your chest. You think about how you would kiss her as she hugged you from the side.

The aroma of your food cooking snaps you out of the fantasy. You focus on cooking so that you don’t burn the building down daydreaming about your friend. As you sit in front of the television you realize that you left the movie playing so you start it from the beginning and pay attention while you eat.

As you watch the movie, you start to imagine Wanda curled up next to you watching the movie with you. When you try to get rid of that image and focus on the movie, your mind wanders back to what she is doing tonight. Who is she with? Is she seeing anyone? Is she back to hooking up with random people?

What if she was hooking up with you? You wonder.

As the couple in the movie confess their feelings to each other you stop paying attention and start to think about being in Wanda's house. The both of you a bit tipsy from the Sokovian vodka. Her favorite because it reminds her of her parents and their culture. You're making her laugh because she gets your sense of humor. Then there's a moment when her eyes connect with yours. And nothing is holding either of you back.

You kiss her and she holds your face to keep you close. You crawl closer to her and she falls back. You try to hover over her as you continue to kiss her but she pulls you on top of her because she wants you as close to her as possible. She needs you as close to her as possible.

You look down at your hands as you imagine what her breasts would feel like. How firm is it? How soft? Would she prefer that you squeeze it roughly or would she like a gentle massage? You lick your lips as you imagine her nipples. How hard they would be. You think about tracing them with your tongue. You wonder what her sweat would taste like.

You shove your hand in your pants to touch yourself as your mind continues to torture you with images of her. Your lips on her abdomen. The way her face would contort from the pleasure. Seeing how she might bite her lips to stifle her sighs. Your senses don't stop there. You start to hear her sighs. Her soft moans. Maybe she’d call out your name when you're doing something wrong. Or she'll beg you for more. You swear you can smell her now. Then finally, as you start to reach your climax, you imagine what her juices tastes like. You think about how you'd perform cunnilingus right then and there. Because there are no kids to worry about. No one to interrupt. It's just you and Wanda.

You reach your orgasm and breathe heavily as you come down from your high. The image of Wanda fades from your mind. You sit there for a moment. Reminding yourself of where you are. Then you feel disgusting. How could you think of your friend like that? She is your friend and nothing more. You quickly get up and go to your bathroom to wash your hands. You change your underwear and replace your jeans with sweatpants.

There wasn't a mess on the couch but you feel guilty for getting off on the couch your daughter watches her cartoons on and remove the covers on the cushions to throw in the wash. The movie’s credits roll and you flip on a random sitcom to try and lighten your mood. You sit on the single chair that matches your couch as you wait for the washer to be done.

You sigh as you think about what you need to change in your life. Then there is a knock on your door. You check your watch as you frown. It's pretty late. You rack your brain as you consider the possibilities of people on the other side of the door. There's another knock, this one a little more rapid. You get up and shut off the television. You peer through the peephole in the door before quickly opening it.

“Jean, what's wrong?” You ask as you let her and Rachel inside.

“Anna and I got in a really big argument and we just couldn't stay there,” Jean says as she walks through the door.

“Hey bug,” you smile at your confused and sleepy daughter. It was way past her bedtime and she was in her pajamas. You lift her in your arms and carry her to her bedroom. You tuck her into bed and close the door to her room. You look down at the door handle and sigh. You shake your head. You really hope this doesn't affect the progress that has been made over the last couple of months. You're going to contact her therapist in the morning after you get all of the details from Jean.

“What happened to your couch?” Jean asks as she takes your spot in the chair. She has makeup all over her face. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are puffy. You scan her face to look for any signs of a slap or worse. You don't see any and you hope, for your daughter's sanity, that Jean didn't strike Anna. She might not be as understanding of something like that.

“I spilled something on it and threw the covers in the wash,” you sit on the coffee table in front of her. You try to keep your gaze soft and stay patient. But you really needed to know what happened and why Jean thought it was a good idea to not only leave her home in the middle of an argument with her wife but stay at her ex’s for the night. Disrupting your daughter's sleep in the process.

She keeps her eyes locked on the stripped cushions on the couch. The corner of her mouth lifts. “Remember when we bought our first couch?” She starts softly and you can tell that her vocal chords are exhausted. You wonder how long she was in a screaming match with Anna. “It was white because it just had to be. It was the first big purchase we made with my discount at the store. Your grandma told us to wrap it in plastic and neither of us listened. We could hardly afford it at the time, but she offered to loan her set until we could.”

You nod as you remember exactly what memory she is thinking of. “I remember,” you say softly. “You refused because you thought it looked tacky. But Rachel was two and constantly walking and running around. That sofa was covered in so many different colors of food stains before the end of the year, it became an entirely new couch.” You start to laugh as you're reminded of how horrible the smell was. “Gosh it took us months to get rid of the smell even after we tossed the damn thing out.”

“Oh gosh,” Jean covers her face as she starts to laugh. “Don't remind me, I still sometimes think the smell is lingering in the house.” She moves her fingers through her hair and takes a deep breath. “Anna isn't so sure that she wants to be part of this family anymore,” Jean finally admits.

“I'm sure the two of you will work it out,” you say to comfort her. There isn't much else you can say to her about it. This isn't the first time that Anna has expressed wanting to leave Jean. A few weeks before their wedding, Anna had even disappeared for two days after an argument then came back as if nothing had happened. “Come on, I'll get you set up in my room. I'll take the couch,” you say as you offer her your hand while you stand up from the coffee table. Jean takes your hand with a small thank you.

“The argument was really bad. I know I shouldn't have left and I shouldn't have woken Rachel up but,” tears start to stream down Jean's cheeks again. “I just had to get out of there.” You nod and once you're in your room, you pull her in for a warm embrace.

“Jean, did you stop taking your medication when you decided you wanted a baby?” You ask softly as you continue to hold her. You don't want her to blow up at you for asking the question, so it's better to have her restrained in your arms.

She doesn't react the way you expect. She doesn't take offense to the question. She doesn't accuse you of trying to call her a bad mother. She doesn't deny having an episode. Jean breaks down into heavy sobs in your arms as she admits that both her and Anna decided to stop taking their medications just in case you came around to the idea. You hold her until she stops crying and leave her tucked into your bed. When the cushion covers are done washing, you throw them in the dryer and watch TV until they're done so that you don't have to worry about fixing up the cushions in the morning.

You pull out the bed that's in the couch and make it nice for yourself to sleep on. When everything is fixed up the way you like it, you shut off the TV and turn off the lights. You check the lock on the door before climbing into bed. You look at your phone one last time before you officially call it a night. No new messages. You sigh and scroll through social media for a little bit. When you land on a video you find funny, you send it to Wanda first. Then you send it to Nebula.

In the morning, you wake up to two notifications, one from Nebula being critical about the video you sent her and the other from Wanda thanking you for the laugh. You respond to Nebula first and ask why she didn’t find it funny and a few minutes later you’re reading a novel of reasons why the video is offensive. You don’t have any idea what to respond with so you decide to make coffee in hopes that it will help you come up with something.

But as you make coffee, Jean wakes up and joins you for a cup. You talk to her about the fight she had with her wife and she breaks down as she reveals that last night was the biggest fight but that there have been many over the months since they can't afford the other options to have a kid. You get even more side tracked when Rachel wakes up and you help Jean make breakfast for everyone. It reminds you of the past. Being a small family of three when the most drama in your life was being a young parent and spouse.

Rachel doesn't say much about last night. Just that she was confused when she woke up in this bed and not the bed at her other home. “Hey Rachel guess what,” you say with a little smirk and you watch her take a bite of her toast. Her eyes widen as the both of you rush to say, “I love you,” first. She spits toast crumbs as she does, some land on the table and some splatter on her mom.

“Gross!” Jean complains as she uses napkins to wipe her arm. “You did that on purpose, Y/n.” You and Rachel share a laugh. It was a little game that started when she was a toddler and learning how to speak. It began because whenever Jean was feeling affectionate, she would come up to you and say, “Guess what?” You would pretend to be clueless because you wanted to hear her say it and she would say, “I love you, you idiot.”

Rachel began to pick up on it and she would start to say, “Baba, guess what?” In her little voice. You would smile and respond with, “I love you,” at the same time as she would. Eventually it became a competition of who could say it faster. It was endearing to hear your baby girl get frustrated while telling you that she loved you.

It has survived all of these years and you fear the day that she rolls her eyes and reminds you that she's not a kid anymore.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you say to Jean as you help clean up the crumbs from the table.

“Whatever,” she shakes her head with a light laugh. She looks at her plate of food and smiles as she is thrown back into so many good memories of being a family. “I'm sad that I forgot about that,” she admits as she looks over at Rachel who is completely focused on her breakfast now. Jean starts to comb her fingers through her daughter’s soft red hair. She recalls how excited she was when her daughter's hair started to grow out as red as her own. Rachel took after her for the most part but there is still a lot of you in her. Her smile is yours. Her nose is yours. Her ears are all you. As much as you try to pin those on Jean.

“It's not really your game,” you say from the kitchen where you're tossing the used napkins into the trash bin. “I’d have been surprised if you did remember it.” You say as you return to your seat to finish your breakfast.

Jean rests her elbow on the table and sets her chin on the palm of her hand as she watches you. She can't help but feel a little regretful for not working harder on the marriage she had with you. As you eat, you become aware of her gaze on you. With a confused frown you look at her and she gives you an apologetic expression before she clears her throat and goes back to eating her food. You ignore it.

Anna is sitting in her kitchen all alone, slowly sipping her tea. She ia taking the time alone to consider if this is what she wants. She did this before her wedding day. She was getting anxious about fully commiting herself to Jean and to becoming a stepmom and figuring out where she fits into this family that she joined. So she took a weekend to run off and get a hotel room. She sat in her hotel room alone for the most part.

At some point, she went to the indoor pool to people watch. There were little kids that needed more parental supervision than they had. She nearly had a heart attack watching a toddler fall into the deep end of the pool. She quickly swooped the little guy into her arms and returned him to the fearful mother. The woman thanked her profusely but Anna waved her off and found herself saying, “I’m a mom too. I would hope that someone wouldn't watch and let my daughter drown.” The woman got excited and wanted to hear more about the daughter that Anna wasn't sure she should commit to. Anna happily talked and bragged about Rachel and realized how easy it was. Then the woman's husband pulled her away because they had plans to get to.

Anna was left alone again. She sat on one of the chairs and continued to watch people. There were two girls that were being bothered by a single guy. The girls themselves were single but weren't interested in him. Anna looked down at her engagement ring and knew she didn't want to be single anymore.

Anna looks at her rings now. She still doesn't want to be single. Her chest feels heavy not having Rachel bounce around the kitchen waiting for breakfast. She misses hearing the cartoons on the television. She misses her wife's presence. She doesn't know why she is pushing away her family as much as she has been. She just feels like she didn't understand what she was signing up for. She buzzes air past her lips as she thinks about how everyone has told her that the first year of marriage is the hardest.

She never wanted to believe them but everyone was right. Even Jean said it. Anna would just roll her eyes and remind Jean that she was a lot longer the first time around.

As a test, she removes her rings and sets them on the counter space in front of her. She looks at her naked hand and considers leaving them off. But she quickly shoves the rings back on and grabs her keys. She needed advice and the person she sought advice from the most was her mom.

Wanda is sitting with Agatha as they meet for brunch with their boys running around Agatha’s house. “Are you planning on going to that fundraiser?” Wanda asks as she takes a sip of her orange juice.

Agatha rolls her eyes at being reminded of the event, “As much fun as it would be to remind everyone who the life of the party is. I was planning on going but then my mother called. She fell and sprained her wrist.” Wanda shows her concern and Agatha waves her off. “She'll be fine. She sprained her wrist years ago and when she's lonely she throws the brace back on and calls me in a panic.” She drinks her apple juice. “I don't always go but she wants to see Nick before he gets shipped off to that summer camp that his father found. So I'm going to drive up and spend that week with them.”

“Damn, I was hoping that we could go together,” Wanda frowns as she picks at the paint chipping from her finger nails.

“You wanted to go this year? Even with Vision and his child bride attending?” Agatha leans in, intrigued as she looks her friend up and down. “I see, you want an excuse to see Y/n.”

“Or maybe make them jealous,” Wanda says shyly as she moves the scraps around her plate. It’s becoming apparent to her that no matter what, she wants to be with you. She made the mistake of guarding her heart and telling you to find someone else. She wasn't ready to accept that someone as genuine as you exists. In the back of her mind, she couldn't trust that you are good. She was afraid that you wouldn’t stay good once you were in a relationship with her. She was afraid that you would change the way that Vision did.

When Wanda realized that Vision was never good, she was able to stop putting that fear in you. She was able to see the light and see that the only thing keeping her from her happiness is herself.

“Oh? Please elaborate on that,” Agatha scoots closer to Wanda.

The brunette shrugs, “I don't know. I was thinking about showing up in some stunning dress. Maybe get my hair done. Kind of go all out.”

“Were you thinking about getting a date? You have to have a date,” Agatha suggests as she gets excited about the idea.

“I don't know, would that be too much?” Wanda drinks her orange juice as she considers the idea.

“Honey, Y/n will probably be there with that Nebula girl, right?” Agatha reminds her. “Why should you show up alone?”

“I don't know, Agatha, that feels… I don't know… so high school,” Wanda resists.

Agatha picks up her phone as she goes through her contact list. “Babe, I'm serious. I'm going to get you some serious arm candy. There's this new guy at work that just moved here from New York. He's blind, but he's cute enough. Definitely someone that will have Y/n-”

“Hold on, did you just say he's cute enough for a blind guy?” Wanda scoffs, a little shocked by her friend's insensitivity.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “No, he's cute enough to get the job done and he's blind. Just, don't worry about a thing. I will set up the blind date. But I'll make sure he's not blind to the setup.” Agatha snickers a bit, proud of her puns and Wanda shakes her head as she finishes her orange juice.

On the night of the fundraiser you leave Rachel with Jean who was still staying at your apartment while she worked things out with Anna. They have talked since their big fight but they agreed to spend some more time separated from each other. You don't know why Jean and Rachel couldn't stay at the house. It was their house first. But Anna doesn't have anywhere to go so you dealt with it. Under the condition that Jean started her medication again. To your knowledge, she is taking them. You don't check under her tongue or anything but she does make a point to show you that she is taking them in the morning and at night.

Because of this, you haven't been able to see Nebula since Rachel doesn't know that you're dating again and you don't want her knowing about Nebula yet since it was a big deal with Daisy. But she knows about tonight’s event. Thanks to her school, you're able to go on a date with Nebula.

You knock on the door with a single flower in your hand. “Wow,” you say as you admire her beauty and her outfit. She is beautiful. “You look fantastic,” you compliment as you hold out the flower to her.

She smiles as she smells it. “Thank you,” she sets it in her key bowl by the table. “I’ll put it in a vase later. It's supposed to rain soon.” As if on cue a loud clap of thunder rings out while she locks her door.

“Wow, I had no idea,” you say as you walk her to your car. “I didn't see that in the forecast earlier,” I frown as I check my phone before starting the car. Sure enough gray clouds with lightning bolts and cartoon rain appear on the weather app for the next few hours. “Huh, I guess you do have to check it more than once.”

“I told you,” Nebula says with a smile. She kisses your cheek as you start the car. “I’ve missed you these past couple of weeks.”

“I missed you too,” you aren't lying, you're simply omitting the small detail that you've missed Wanda more. “It's been so weird living with Jean again. I can honestly say, I don't miss being married to her and actually be certain of that for once.”

Nebula laughs and connects her phone to the Bluetooth in the car to play her music. The two of you sing along to the songs the entire drive to the venue. It starts to sprinkle a bit as you get closer to the event.

Wanda is pacing back and forth in her underwear on a three way video call with Carol and Agatha. Her room is a mess of dresses, pant suits, and shoes. She hasn't even made it as far as accessories. “I don't know! I thought the dress I bought last week was the revenge dress but it's hideous! Y/n would never like something like that!”

Carol puts her face in her hands and groans. “Wanda we know how to make you look hot for anyone. We don't know how to make you look specifically hot for Y/n. We like them but neither of us have tried to get in their pants.”

“Speak for yourself,” Agatha quips.

“Agatha!” Wanda and Carol scold her.

“What? I have eyes don't I? Besides, that was before I knew Wanda was serious about them. Y/n turned me down every time, relax,” Agatha says. “Why don't you try the purple dress? The one you wore to that one thing that one time.”

“Because that's helpful,” Carol mutters.

“Oh yeah! The booby one, okay I'll be right back, one of you add someone who might know what Y/n will find attractive.” Wanda says as she runs off to her walk-in closet to find the purple dress.

“How? How do you do it Agatha? I swear I sent her pictures and she still couldn't remember the dresses I suggested! You say that one you wore that one time and she gets it!”

“I'm just that good,” Agatha says.

“I only have one purple dress because Agatha got it for me for Christmas,” Wanda shouts from her closet.

“That too,” Agatha says.

“Who can we add?” Carol says as she thinks about who they know that knows Y/n best.

“Jean?” Agatha suggests.

“Ew, no,” Wanda says as she steps out of the closet in the dress. “I don't want to ask her to make me look hot for her ex.”

“I'm just saying, they've known each other their whole lives,” Agatha reminds her friends.

“I don't think she'd be much help because based on the stories they've told, Jean didn't have to do much for Y/n’s attention,” Carol adds.

“Hmm, that's true,” Agatha ponders. “What about Darcy? Didn't they try dating at one point?” She suggests next.

“They did?” Wanda and Carol say in unison.

“You ladies are so full of yourselves sometimes. You know, you girls could benefit from paying attention when people speak,” Agatha shakes her head. “Screw it, I'm adding her to the call.”

“Wait,” Wanda tries to stop her but the call is already going through. Darcy answers in her pitch black bedroom.

“Who the hell is - oh hi guys! What the hell is wrong with you? It's one in the morning!” Darcy groans as she turns on the lamp on her nightstand. The bright light reveals more of her setting and more of her than anyone expected to see when she turned on the light.

“Uh Darcy, nip slip,” Carol says as she points at the screen. Darcy pulls her sheets further up and a deeper groan follows as a man's back appears in the background. “Oh, my, who is that?” Carol asks with a laugh.

“It's your fault you called me at one in the morning on a Friday night,” Darcy defends herself.

“In our defense, you didn't have to answer,” Agatha points out.

“Ladies! Focus! My escort is supposed to arrive here in thirty minutes!” Wanda tries to keep everyone in line.

“Right, Darcy! We need your help making Wanda look good for Y/n,” Carol informs Darcy of the reason they disrupted her sleep.

“Oh, I know what could make Wanda look good,” Darcy starts, “she could find a time machine, then go back to the night she rejected Y/n and not do that.”

“Oh come on,” Agatha says.

“Low blow,” Carol says.

“This was a bad idea,” Wanda falls onto the front of her bed.

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought that I had to but I didn't,” Darcy says as she sits up and yawns. “What can I do to help?”

“There's a fundraiser for the kids' school and I want to wow Y/n into leaving with me instead of Nebula,” Wanda explains. “But I don't know what kind of outfit will do that!”

“Y/n is very simple to please, if you showed up in just one of their shirts and nothing else, they'd marry you on the spot,” Darcy says as if it's obvious that you're not a difficult person.

“Yeah, like Wanda has one of Y/n’s shirts,” Agatha laughs. Wanda gets quiet and looks at the corner of her room where a shirt she kept is lying on the floor. She had been wearing it to bed lately and it no longer smells like you. But she wasn't willing to let it go yet. “Wanda! Are you serious?” Agatha shouts into the phone.

“Calm down, I didn't steal it. I just didn't return it when I found it. But that's besides the point. I'm not showing up to a school event in a T-shirt. We have to do better than that ladies!” Wanda says as she stands up and lets the dress fall to the floor.

“Wow so my nipples are a problem but we're getting the whole show from Wanda and no one is saying anything?” Darcy gripes.

Carol rolls her eyes, “We're far past that by now Lewis.”

“Whatever, do you have any black dresses?” Darcy asks.

“Like a million of them,” Agatha moans, shaking her head, exhausted by this conversation.

“Y/n appreciates a little black dress. I bet you anything that Nebula is wearing a red dress,” Darcy defends her suggestion.

“No, my connection at the school sent me a picture of when they arrived. Nebula is wearing blue,” Agatha says with her phone close to her face as she sends the image to the group.

“Wait!” Darcy says a little too loud, disturbing the man in her bed. “Shut up you big baby,” she rolls her eyes at him. “Look, do you see Y/n’s tie?” Darcy asks with her phone close to her face and the camera at a bad angle again.

“Yeah, what about it?” Agatha questions, not really concerned about the tie as much as she should be.

“Wait, I want to see,” Carol's view changes as well and Wanda is standing and staring at the worst angles of her friends as they look at the image on their phones. “Oh I see,” Carol says.

“I get it now,” Agatha agrees.

“What?” Wanda asks, growing annoyed with her friends.

“Wanda, grab the velvet suit from the back of the closet. The one you wore to that holiday party at my work three years ago,” Agatha directs Wanda. “You're going to show up ready to match Y/n. If that suit doesn't work, then it's their loss. That suit almost turned me.”

“I agree, that suit is magic on you,” Carol says as she remembers seeing pictures of her friend in that suit.

“Carol, stop drooling over Wanda and get ready for dinner with my parents,” Valkyrie says in the background.

“Alright,” Carol sighs, she's not very fond of her fiancee’s conservative family. “Y’all heard the misses. I've got to go. Good luck Maximoff,” she bids everyone goodbye before ending the call.

“I should go too, I have an early morning,” Darcy says before she hangs up.

The screen is just Agatha with Wanda in the corner of her phone. “I should go too so that you're not distracted. Have a good night Wanda. I want all of the dirty details tomorrow,” she ends the conversation altogether leaving Wanda on her own to finish getting ready.

It's not too long before there's a knock on Wanda's door. She opens it and is surprised by the man that stands before her. He is more than she expected, she feels a little speechless. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I'm in the right place. Are you Wanda Maximoff?” The handsome stranger with the red tinted glasses asks.

“Uh, um, yes, that's me. Sorry, hi. You're,” Wanda is spacing on his name for a moment then remembers Agatha making a doormat joke about him. She clears her throat to clear her stutter. “I'm assuming that you're Matt, correct.”

He smiles and Wanda can't help but blush at his charming grin. “Yes I am,” he says. “I'm assuming that I'm not what you expected?” His tone is sweet as he steps back from the front door. Anticipating for Wanda to walk with him to the waiting car.

“Honestly? Not really,” Wanda replies as she locks her front door. Agatha really downplayed Matt’s good looks.

“Ah, I see. Is it safe to assume that Agatha forgot to mention the detail that I am blind?” He extends his elbow to her when he feels her get close to him and Wanda accepts it, wrapping her hands at the crook of his elbow. She walks him towards the car while he holds his folded up guide stick in his hand.

“No, I knew that part. She mentioned that right away. But she didn't mention how handsome you were, she said something along the lines of ‘he’s not bad looking for a blind guy.’ Plus all of the ‘blind date’ puns that she was able to work with.” Matt laughs, humored and flattered by the story about his abrasive co-worker.

“Ah, that's interesting. I don't think I've ever exceeded expectations in that department before. I would have thought she asked me to be your fake date because of my charms and looks.” The two enter the car. “She paid for this ride by the way, she wanted me to stress that.”

“I owe her big time,” Wanda says as she lets go of Matt's arm. This was going to be an interesting night for her.

At the fundraiser, you walk around a biding table with Nebula. You can't donate much since you're still paying off Rachel's medical bills and the apartment complex you live in is trying to raise your rent. You're under negotiations but it's looking like no matter what, it's still going to cost you. There isn't much else that you can do other than make it look like you're going to give this school money when they hardly wanted to do anything for your daughter in her time of need.

Nebula quickly pulls you over to the food as the line shortens and the pair of you fill your plates with as much food as they can handle. There aren't many parents that you know at the school because your daughter only hangs out with Billy and Tommy outside of school. At least to your knowledge. That left you finding a random and unclaimed table to stand at with Nebula as you tried to make the most out of the evening.

As the band played covers of popular songs you kept your focus on the woman with you as she became the most entertaining person in the room. That was until something made your eyes subtly scan the room where they inevitably land on Wanda walking in with a man attached to her arm. She's dating? Is your first thought. Your second thought is, That is one hell of a suit.

You quickly return your attention to Nebula but you can't focus on her. She is beautiful, of course, but Wanda is stunning. You can't help but search for her again and feel entirely captivated by her gaze as her eyes meet yours. It takes all of your strength to break the contact.

“We can go say hi,” Nebula says as she pushes around the food on her plate that she didn't like.

“I'm sorry, it's just been so awkward walking around here not knowing anyone,” you say to cover up the fact that you want to switch places with the man that arrived with Wanda. She's never mentioned the guy and she shows up in an outfit matching his glasses. It's unbelievable. It's infuriating.

Wanda’s heart races nervously as she catches your gaze for a moment. She clenches her jaw when you kiss Nebula on the lips. Her pink lipstick stains your lips and she has to clean it off with her thumb. That should be Wanda smiling and removing her lipstick from your lips. She should be the one holding your hand as you walk towards her. Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes that you're walking towards her.

“So what were you telling me about your friend again?” Wanda asks as she tries to strike up a conversation so that it doesn't look obvious that she's here on a mission.

“Are they walking towards us?” Matt asks with an amused smirk.

“Yeah,” Wanda shamelessly admits. She has nothing to hide from Matt. He knows what he's here for. They talked about it at length in the car because she really didn't want to take advantage of him. Matt assured her that really didn't mind.

“So I was telling my friend, Foggy, that just because I can't see doesn't mean I can't-”

“Hey Wanda,” you make a point to interrupt their conversation. “Who is this?” You ask as you move your hand from holding Nebula's to holding her hip.

“Matthew Murdock,” he holds his hand out and you give him a polite shake. “Most people call me Matt. And behind my back some call me Blind Matt,” he jokes and you try to refrain from reacting to his disability. You didn't realize that he was visually impaired. Then you see his guide stick and instantly feel guilty for mentally villainizing him.

“People tend to call me Queer Y/n when I tell them my preferred pronouns,” you retort to get a laugh out of him. “Although, Wanda made it obvious to everyone when I lost a bet and she chose to cut my hair into a mullet,” you continue and this makes Matt laugh.

“I haven't thought about a mullet since my accident. And there's not much that I don't miss the sight of but that has to be one of the things I don't miss seeing, no offense,” he says, making the three of you laugh.

“None taken, I was really happy when she finally gave me the okay to get my haircut again,” you say as you run your fingers through your short hair.

“That's funny, I didn't know you had to wait for her permission,” Nebula says as she sizes up Wanda.

“It was her prize from the bet,” you shrug as if the reason was obvious. “Of course I have to ask for permission.”

“You didn't have to,” Wanda clarifies as she reaches out and squeezes your shoulder with a laugh, “I appreciate that you did but you're just that kind of person.” She looks over at Nebula with what you interpret as a warm smile. “You're very lucky to be dating someone like, Y/n,” she says.

The song starts to slow down and the singer invites the couples to slow dance on the dance floor since they're all here to enjoy a night off from the kids. Nebula starts to pull you away claiming to love the song that's being performed. You look back at Wanda as you follow Nebula to the dance floor. Her expression looks a little funny to you at first. You lose sight of her as people get in the way and remind yourself that you came here with Nebula. She has your undivided attention.

Wanda is hit with a pang of jealousy as Nebula pulls you away for a dance. She stops one of the waiters walking past her with a tray full of champagne flutes and she grabs two. She downs both of them and sets them on a nearby table. “How good are you at slow dancing?” She asks Matt.

“Let's go,” he says as he extends his arm out to her. They make their way to the dance floor and Wanda manages to find a spot where she can watch you. When she notices that she has caught your eye, she smiles at Matt.

You try not to show your jealousy as you lean back to gaze into Nebula's eyes. She does have very pretty eyes. You smile and she smiles back up at you. The next slow song plays and you recognize it almost immediately. It's one that your daughter likes to play in the car a lot. Your eyes find Wanda who is holding Matt close to her.

You can't focus on the pain that small act of intimacy is causing you. It's not fair to Nebula. It's not fair to Wanda, who seems very happy. It's not fair to yourself. But you can't tear your eyes away from her. Matt whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. Even through the loud music and the crowd, her laugh spreads a warmth in your chest.

Wanda lets Matt spin her around during the song as she allows herself to focus on having fun with him instead. Tonight isn't the night to play games and hope that you ditch your date to be with her. She's an adult and she doesn't need to act like a child. She can have her moment with you another day. Tonight, she's going to have fun with someone that she has no ties to because Matt seems like a really great guy.

As the second song comes to an end, Wanda ends up facing your direction because of the way Matt spun her and her heart stops. You and Nebula are sharing a kiss but it's different. Your eyes are open and looking for Wanda. Are you playing a game too? She can't do this anymore. She starts to feel overwhelmed under your intense gaze. She wants you to look at her that way but not under these circumstances. She doesn't want to be playing these kinds of games. Not with you. Everything between the two of you hasn't felt as childish as it does right now.

“I'm sorry, Matt. I need some air,” Wanda says as she lets go of him. She helps him get off of the dance floor before she leaves the building.

You watch Wanda run out of the event without her date and you stop kissing Nebula. The woman in your arms pulls out the red handkerchief from the breast pocket of your jacket. She wipes your lips and sighs. “Go to her,” she says as she fixes your handkerchief.

“Nebula I-”

“Y/n, don't apologize. Go after her. She's your person. It's okay, I knew it was never me. This was fun while it lasted.” She gives you a kind smile as she pats your chest and dusts off your shoulders.

“You're amazing, you know that?” You say to her, at a loss for words. Not knowing how else to thank her for not making this difficult for you.

“I do, now go!” She turns you towards the direction of the exit and gives you a small shove. You laugh as you take her advice and start running toward the exit to try and catch Wanda before she gets too far away.

You look for her in the lobby but it's completely empty. Then you see her at the corner of the street waiting to cross. It's pouring outside but you can't care about that right now. You push the glass door open and run outside. “Wanda!” You call out to her just as a loud clap of thunder overpowers your voice. “Wanda! Wait!” You shout as you run to get closer but the cross signal has given her the go ahead to cross the street. You push yourself to run faster as the storm rages on.

The street is empty. There are no cars waiting for her to cross. There is no one outside on the sidewalks. This time it is just you and Wanda. So you don't hesitate when you stop her in the middle of the crosswalk and grab her wrist. You spin her so that her body crashes against yours. Neither of you have a moment to process before you press your lips against hers. As you kiss Wanda, you feel her melt in your arms. You feel as though everything in the world is falling into place. You feel a little dizzy kissing her, losing yourself completely in the way her lips collide against yours. Surrendering to the emotions that you’ve been repressing for too long. You love this woman and you can't deny it anymore.

The kiss breaks when both of you need to come up for air and a car honks at the pair of you. Wanda pulls you onto the sidewalk, across the street from the venue. “What was that?” Wanda shouts once the two of you are safe on the concrete. The rain is still coming down hard and it's not easy to hear without a raised volume.

“I’ve tried so hard to see you as just a friend,” you shout back, “but I can’t!” Wanda opens her mouth to say something but you don't want her to reject you again. “Before you say anything. Please let me finish. I’ve tried to be with other people. You’ve seen that! But you are the only person I want to be with. I love you, Wanda. I can’t- I won’t take it back this time.”

“Then don't,” Wanda says as she puts your hand on the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. You excitedly swoop her in your arms and spin her around as you kiss her on the side walk in the pouring rain.

She giggles as you set her back down and lean your forehead against hers. “Can I take you home?” You ask her feeling a rush of emotions that you can't express out here. You want to be alone with her in a dry setting.

“Please,” she answers as she smiles up at you.

Hand in hand, the two of you run across the street to grab your car from the valet. As you wait in the lobby you watch Nebula escorting Matt out and you feel relieved about not having to worry about either of them. When you get into the car with Wanda, she kisses you on the lips again before you can start the engine. You can't believe this is real. But you don't ask her to pinch you. If this is a fantasy, you want to live in it forever.

Every red light that you hit on the way to her house, the two of you take the moment to kiss. As you drive, you have your hand on her thigh. Wanda almost regrets not wearing a dress so that she could tease you with more exposed skin. But she's also glad that she didn't because with the outfit she did wear, she managed to draw only your attention and not unwanted attention from others. That's what was most important to her.

It wasn't about being the hottest person in the room for her. It was about being the person that you wanted to leave with.

As the two of you stumble into her home, swept up in the heightened emotions of it all, she starts to get into her head a bit. The two of you fall onto her sofa with you on top. She wants this to work with you. She doesn't want this to end before it begins. As you kiss her neck she almost gives in and allows the two of you to release months of built up tension. But she can't get out of her head now.

“Wait,” she says as she pushes you back. “Wait, I can't do this right now.” She says between breaths. She hadn't realized how breathless she was until she could hardly catch her breath. She slips her body out from under yours and sits on the couch.

“I'm sorry,” you say as you pant and back away. “I shouldn't have gotten so carried away I thought-” you say as you stand up to leave.

“No wait,” Wanda quickly grabs your hand and tugs on your arm. “Stay, let me… let me collect my thoughts and we can talk.” Her big apologetic eyes pull you in and remove the fear and doubt from your mind. You sit next to her and wait for her to start. You give her the space to think about what she wants to communicate with you. She deserves to have this time. You can wait to hear her out as you sit by her with your fingers laced with hers. Both of you are still soaked from the rain. Her hair isn't as neat as when she arrived to the event and you're certain that you don't look nearly as put together as when you left your apartment.

“I love you too,” Wanda states first. “I'm in love with you,” her voice waivers this time and you can see tears building up. She clears her throat. “I want to be clear about that first. And I want you to stay with me tonight. I just don't think tonight is the night that we take things all the way.”

You nod, “Of course,” you say as you release your hand from hers and put your arm around her body. You press the side of your head to the top of hers and take a deep breath as she leans into your side. “Although, I will argue that spending the night would've been made easier if you got me out of these wet clothes. That's all I'm saying,” you jokingly point out and it makes Wanda laugh.

“That's right,” she looks down at her wet clothes and then at yours. She bites her lips as she thinks of a possible solution but she’s slightly scared of the answer. “Do you have anything in your car?”

“I didn't pack an overnight bag because my intention was to go home after,” you tell her and kiss her cheek. “How about this,” you start as you pull away to face her as you speak, “I get naked — hold on stay with me now — I get naked. Put the nice stuff on some hangers to air dry and I toss the things I can wear to bed in the dryer. And I hop in the shower so that you're not tempted by me until they're done.” Wanda laughs and rolls her eyes. Your tone is very light and humorous but it's a good suggestion.

“Okay,” Wanda nods in agreement.

“So I can sleep in my underwear?” You ask, just to take the extra step in getting her consent.

“Yes, you can sleep in your underwear,” she stands up from the couch and pulls you up with her. The two of you are giddy and giggle as you climb the stairs together. Neither of you tried to cross a line, you undress in her bathroom with the door shut and she waits until you announce that you're in the shower to collect your clothes. She starts with putting the white under shirt and your boxers into the dryer first before she focuses on properly hanging your clothing. She gets changed into dry clothes and hangs her wet clothing as well.

When the dryer is done she grabs a towel for you and neatly folds everything before she takes it to the bathroom. She announces that it's there for you when she leaves it. When you step out of the bathroom, she kisses you as she passes you so that she can shower and properly clean her face with her products.

You text Jean that you're not coming home tonight but you don't tell her who you're with and let her continue to assume that you're with Nebula as you wait for Wanda in her bed. Jean sends you a winking gif then some gifs with innuendos that make you laugh. You set your phone to charge next to Wanda's and settle into the bed that you've missed sleeping in.

When she joins you, she starts by laying on top of you to kiss you on the lips again. You're happy to respond to the kiss and hold back on growing too eager to turn it into anything more. “I love you,” Wanda says with a bright grin.

“I love you,” you say while wrapping her in your arms. You close your eyes and sigh. “I'm going to be really mad if this is all a dream,” you mutter, which makes Wanda laugh.

She looks down at you as her smile slowly drops and not because her happiness has faded but because she wants you to believe her. She wants you to understand that she is serious when she tells you that this isn't a fantasy. “Y/n,” she calls softly, you open your eyes and connect with her loving gaze, “this is real.”

Chapter 21

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