#for whatever reason this is my favorite day yet

[syndrossi]

went to check your tumblr to see if there was new content or to reread my favorite au content and saw the post of one follower being sick… and it made me laugh because i too am sick

this made me realize that it is Syn’s utmost duty to provide us (pretty please with cherries on top) with bullet points and or a paragraph as to how Daemon would take care of the boys when/if they get sick with like the common cold. and interestingly enough, how the boys will respond to it (pretty please and thank you)

Bullet points? A measly paragraph! Pah! So many people suffering through being sick merits 4.1K words of sick!fic. Also, for those of us in the US it sure was, uh, a day.

So warm up some soup or a hot beverage of your choice and settle in! This ficlet is set in a hand-wavy time period 2 months or so from present-day Resonant. We'll call this sickness a particularly nasty cold...

Sick Days

It was not often that Daemon was summoned by his sons, though he vastly preferred such summons to any other, and yet that was how he found himself following Ser Arryk to the training yard.

“Nothing is amiss?” he asked, because all the Kingsguard had uttered was that Rhaegar had requested his presence at the yard. Though if either had been injured, he was certain that Arryk would have stated such immediately.

“The princes were in disagreement,” the knight said after a moment, “and Prince Rhaegar decided that your intervention was necessary.”

Daemon frowned, further mystified. His sons rarely found themselves at odds, though it warmed him that Rhaegar trusted him to settle the matter. It did occur to him that his younger son might simply believe that Daemon was easier to convince than Jon, but he decided that the reason did not matter.

Both were at the edge of the yard, Jon with his arms crossed and mouth drawn into a scowl that was all the more ferocious beside his brother’s calm poise. Daemon gave Ser Perkins a curt nod of acknowledgement and ignored Cole entirely. His nephews were locked in some contest, but clearly distracted by both his arrival and whatever was troubling his sons.

Jon’s shoulders slumped when he caught sight of Daemon, as though his very presence signalled defeat, and he turned back to his brother with clear outrage. “You sent for our father?”

“You were being unreasonable,” Rhaegar said.

Daemon leaned to drop a kiss on the crown of each head, regretting as always the waning years he would have to do so before his sons grew too tall. “Am I so unwelcome?”

“It is unnecessary,” Jon insisted.

The words were not intended to sting, yet they did so nonetheless. So much of their days were spent apart: his sons at their lessons, and Daemon attending to the upcoming Stepstones campaign. He should be teaching them the sword, rather than relying on others to do so.

Rhaegar fixed him with a plaintive look. “Jon is ill. He needs rest, but he insists on training.”

“Ill?” Daemon turned to his other son, alarmed. He had not seemed out of sorts at breakfast, but as he studied him now, the flush to his face was not one of anger or exertion, and there was a glassiness to his eyes. He reached for both of his sons’ foreheads, and Jon’s was notably warmer.

“I feel fine,” Jon protested, ducking out of his hand.

“I bested you in all five of our bouts,” Rhaegar said. “And you had to lean against the fence after each!”

“Bed,” Daemon said firmly, moving behind his son to undo the straps of his practice armor. “What else ails you?”

“It is only a fever.” Jon sounded sullen at even admitting that much, which likely meant there was more to it.

Daemon slung Jon’s armor over the fence, then turned to his other son. Whenever Viserys had fallen ill as a child, Daemon had usually followed soon after. “You as well.” Rhaegar glanced at his brother, his concern plain, and let Daemon remove his armor without complaint.

Back at their apartments, Daemon had them bathe and change, though he did not force Rhaegar to rest. Instead, his son set Rolen to the task of securing cloths and ice water for a cold compress while Daemon settled anxiously beside Jon’s bed, noting his shivers beneath the blankets.

He tested his forehead again, not certain if it was worse, and wondered whether to fetch the maester. It hardly seemed worth it, given that Mellos would likely prescribe a leeching. My brother has not once improved under his care.

Daemon stared at Jon for a time, until Rhaegar appeared to drape a cool cloth over his forehead, which heightened his son’s shivering. He could not recall if that was better or worse, so he absently sent Rhaegar for another blanket just in case.

A book was placed into his lap instead, the Valyrian children’s tales that he had read to his sons before. Jon’s gaze was fixed upon the ceiling, stoic in his misery, and Daemon read until his son’s eyelids drooped, stopping only once to change his compress, and the shivering slowly abated as sleep took him.

Then Daemon watched him, book open on his lap. The sight of his son resting should have set him at ease, but each stab of fear grew sharper still. Everything that had threatened his children thus far had come from without, enemies that could be cut and bled and held at bay with enough swords.

They could die. Somehow that had never occurred to him before. His sons could be stolen, yes, and hurt by people like Allard Royce and Marten Crayne. But he had stolen them back before, and could do it again.

He could not steal them back from the clutches of death.

The evening hours crept by without him noticing until Rhaegar gently prodded him to eat supper, and he realized he had been ignoring his other son, who would be equally in need of reassurance. They ate together, and Daemon asked him about his lessons, letting his son’s voice wash over him without comprehending, then resumed his vigil.

The next day, he barely moved from Jon’s bedside, overseeing his meals with growing anxiety at his decreased appetite. His son’s fierceness from the day before had been stolen by exhaustion and fever, dulled to listlessness. Even so, rest seemed to elude him, as coughing joined the parade of misery.

Rhaegar must have made excuses for his absence to king and court, for no one came knocking at the door in summons. He did not realize that his son had taken up the task of parenting him until late in the day, which was the same time that he noticed a telltale flush in Rhaegar’s cheeks as well.

“You did not tell me you were feverish,” Daemon said, unable to keep the sharpness from his voice and regretting it when his son’s expression blanked. He kissed his cheek in apology, finding it warm to the touch, and then his forehead, which was hotter still. “To bed.”

I should have noticed sooner. His son had barely eaten at breakfast, and been much quieter today.

Rhaegar’s fever worsened with the onset of night, accompanied by the same violent shivering that had plagued Jon the day before, and Jon could barely go more than a minute without coughing or telling Daemon that he should tend to Rhaegar instead, both of which were equally upsetting. He could feel their misery like it was his own, worsened by his helplessness.

Once they had both finally drifted into sleep, Daemon left their room, ignoring the tray of supper that Rolen had set out at the table, or the steaming bath meant to tempt him into washing, and instead stumbled into the hallway, feet taking him nearly all the way to Rhaenyra’s apartments before he remembered himself and continued slightly past, to Laenor’s.

His cousin had started his evening with some drinking, judging by his befuddled expression upon seeing him. “Daemon?”

“I must speak with Rhaenyra,” he said.

Laenor’s mouth opened, then closed, as though he had meant to say something then thought better of it. “And you require a chaperone.” His cousin sighed. “Very well. A moment.”

The moment took forever by Daemon’s reckoning, the time spent away from his sick children weighing heavier by the minute, but at last he emerged. “What is it? You look terrible.”

Daemon did not answer, turning back toward Rhaenyra’s apartments and lengthening his stride, hearing Laenor mutter under his breath before trotting to keep pace. The Kingsguard guarding her door, Ser Steffon, stepped aside after announcing them, and the door opened barely a second later.

Rhaenyra had not yet retired for the night, though she had exchanged court dress for something more suitable for lounging within the privacy of her apartments. Her stare at him was not unlike Laenor’s and he wondered just how terrible he looked. He could not recall if he had even changed out of his clothing for bed the previous night.

“Daemon,” she said, her polite nod one of perfect propriety, followed by a smile at her husband. “Laenor. Come in.” Once the door had shut, she ushered them to the hearth, then stepped over to the boys’ room, opening its door to reveal Jace. She kissed his cheek, then shooed him. “Back to bed, dragonling.”

She then settled on the couch beside Laenor, regarding Daemon with a concern so sweet that his heart clenched. “You look frightful, what’s wrong?”

“What if they die?”

It was not what he had meant to say, and even saying it aloud felt like speaking the possibility into being. His hands ached for a weapon to wield against the unbearable uncertainty, but he could only clasp them in his lap and feel his blood thrum.

Laenor’s brow remained furrowed in confusion, while Rhaenyra’s softened in understanding. “Your boys?”

“They are sick with fever, and I—” Had never considered the possibility. Had not prepared for it. “I do not know what to do, or how to know what help they need, or if—”

He was gently shushed and then peppered with questions. Could they speak sensibly. Could they move. Were they eating. Did they need help to the chamberpot. How were their hatchlings.

“I did not think to check,” Daemon said to the last, lurching to his feet. It seemed so obvious in hindsight. At the very least, their hatchlings’ presence should be a comfort.

“If they are eating and sleeping and speaking, then it is not necessary to fetch their hatchlings at this very moment, Daemon,” Rhaenyra said, with an authority that kept him from moving to the door. “Children sicken. They will be sick again, and you will be brought low by their illness more often than not. That is the nature of being a parent.”

“My aunt Daenerys died of sickness,” Daemon said, remembering how even decades later, his grandmother could not speak of her first daughter without pain. He had not understood why at the time when it had been so long ago, but after knowing his sons for a mere three moons, it seemed impossible that he might survive losing either. “How can you be certain that any illness might not take your child?”

“The Shivers were deadly to nearly all who were afflicted, but they have not been seen within the realm since. Such illnesses tend to reach the smallfolk first, so we will have warning should it ever return.” He must not have looked reassured, because she added, “She did not have a dragon, I recall my father saying. The king sent for a hatchling, but it was too late. Your sons and mine are dragonriders.”

“My father was a dragonrider,” Daemon said, gripping the back of the chair he had vacated. “And yet sickness took him in his prime.”

Rhaenyra rose with a soft sigh and met him on the other side of the chair to set her hands atop his. “There are grave illnesses and mild. Some claim the young and frail, and others the hale and hearty. The maesters are trained to know the signs of those that can be deadly. Has Mellos tended to them?”

“No,” Daemon said. His jaw clenched. “I will not trust their health to a bloodsucker.”

The corner of her mouth twitched downward briefly, her stare growing distant. They had both spoken before about the man’s treatments for Viserys, and he knew that she shared some of his opinion. “Would you like me to see them? My own sons have weathered over a dozen illnesses apiece.”

Daemon’s grip loosened, relief filling him. “Yes.”

“And if I find cause for worry, either Laenor or myself can fetch Maester Gerardys from Dragonstone. He is most capable and does not rely upon leeching.”

Daemon remembered the maester from his own youth, from various scrapes earned when visiting his uncle’s family. The maester had been much younger then, but with gentle hands and a patience for questions, even from a child.

“Why don’t I fetch him right now?” Laenor offered. “I have been itching for a good ride while the weather is still warm.”

“I would be most grateful,” Daemon said, feeling his nerves begin to settle with the outline of a plan.

Rhaenyra lifted his hands from the chair and squeezed. “Then let us go.”

Ser Steffon remained behind to guard Rhaenyra’s sons within, and Daemon counted himself lucky that he had negotiated with his brother to only require the company of Sers Arryk or Erryk when outside of the holdfast. Even so, he invited the knight outside of the door to his apartments within. Hightower was more eager than ever to find suggestions of impropriety between him and his niece.

His sons were both asleep, and Rolen informed him that he had changed their compresses ten minutes before. Neither were shivering, though their cheeks were still warm to the touch. Rhaenyra repeated his test with a kiss to their cheeks, and Rhaegar stirred to sleepily mumble, “Muña?”

Daemon tried not to look as though he had been punched in the gut, but Rhaenyra’s glance toward him was one of knowing. It hurt to think that he alone might not be enough for his children, or that he could not give them a mother who would love them as Rhaenyra would.

And even then, would she ever love them as much as sons of her own blood?

It was an unkind thought, but that did not make it untrue. Were Daemon ever forced to choose between the lives of her sons or his, he knew his heart. He was not ashamed of it; he could no more be ashamed of the need to breathe.

They are mine and I hold no life above theirs.

Rhaegar seemed to recognize Rhaenyra at last, and his face fell as he uttered a stricken apology that she shushed, stroking the hair from his forehead. The noise woke Jon, who sat up with an urgency that Daemon did not understand until the front of his tunic was splattered with sick that dripped down to the floor.

The smell was awful. Daemon reminded himself that he had endured far worse on the battlefield, and Jon looked so horrified, blurting apologies of his own, that he could not be annoyed for more than half a second.

“It is not the worst fluid I have been sprayed with,” Daemon assured him, and despite Rhaenyra’s dubious reaction on the other side of the bed, a ghost of a smile appeared on Jon’s face.

Rolen appeared to help him out of his soiled clothing, and then to tend to the mess on the floor. Once finished, his servant brought a clean chamberpot and set it upon the small bedside table for future spells of nausea.

Jon accepted a cup of water, and when Daemon mentioned that he would bring their hatchlings for company, Rhaegar offered to summon them himself from the Red Keep’s enclosure, an ability that he still found perplexing. Caraxes often seemed to know to find him, especially in dire moments, but Daemon had never tried calling his dragon with the expectation of him heeding.

Within minutes, however, the hatchlings were shrieking at the door to be let in, and Daemon caught Shadow mid-inhale of a gout of dragonflame. “Kelītīs!” he hastily commanded, and the hatchling coughed, only a tiny flicker escaping his mouth.

Daemon offered his shoulder, which Qelebrys took gladly while Shadow zipped past him. It was only a matter of time, he mused, until the hatchlings were forbidden from the holdfast if they could not learn to restrain their enthusiasm with their newfound dragonflame. A matter to discuss with his sons when they were feeling better. Scholarly and martial lessons had their place, but dragonriders needed lessons of their own. For all his duties, he could not neglect that aspect.

His sons seemed cheered by their dragons’ company, which granted them what seemed an extra vitality, and Daemon felt a fresh impatience with himself for not thinking of it before.

He watched them play with their hatchlings, showing off their impressive command to Rhaenyra at her prompting. As ever, Jon seemed to hold himself at a distance from her, demonstrating a deference that still puzzled Daemon, because his son had a natural command that he did not hesitate to apply even to the king.

Rhaegar, who possessed a similar command, albeit one that tended to rankle fewer men with excessive pride, was the opposite. Though he afforded Rhaenyra the respect she was due as the king’s heir, he treated her almost as an equal.

They are most certainly your sons, Rhaenys had remarked to Daemon more than once.

The play tired his sons quickly, however, and they did not even need the aid of a story to drift back to sleep.

“I do not think it is anything to worry about,” Rhaenyra said once they had re-entered the main chamber. “It seems very like the minor ills that plague my sons on occasion. Once the fever goes, it will be sniffles and prodigious quantities of snot.”

Daemon rubbed at his eyes, fatigue setting in. “Thank you.” His earlier terror had eased to a more manageable fretfulness over the course of Rhaenyra’s visit. He did not think he could shed it entirely, but he might actually sleep that night.

“And they will likely become crankier once they begin feeling better,” she added.

He nodded politely, not voicing his skepticism. Raging fits and whining seemed to afflict his nephews quite often, and even Rhaenyra’s sons were not immune, but his own were far more composed. He doubted he would face more than a few half-hearted attempts from them to win free of bed.

“Get some sleep, Daemon,” Rhaenyra said, holding herself to a nod in the presence of the household knight.

Daemon nodded back, feeling the distance between them particularly keenly tonight. “I shall.”

Her lips quirked. “You will find yourself in need of it soon enough.”

x~x~x

His sons were in fact capable of impressive crankiness, Daemon quickly learned, expressed in myriad creative ways. Jon seemed to view being sick as a personal insult, and that extended to being treated as sick. He complained incessantly about being forced to rest, insisting that he required fresh air and generally implying that he knew better than Daemon and Maester Gerardys.

On the third night, after Jon’s fever was mostly gone, Daemon’s refusal to allow his son to take a walk within the walls of the holdfast seemed to stretch him past his limits. A screaming fit ensued wherein his son accused Daemon of treating him like an infant to make amends for the years they had spent as orphans.

Daemon held himself together long enough to reiterate his decision, and then he locked himself in his chamber, vacillating between tears of heartache and tears of rage. It proved not enough, and he sought Caraxes’s company instead, finding an isolated copse of trees a short distance from King’s Landing to burn to charcoal and ash.

His son was contrite when he returned, assuring Daemon that he knew that he would have come for them sooner if he could have, and took the peace offer of a story.

Rhaegar meanwhile was an exercise in patience and understanding. Where the nigh-mortal blow of Jon’s words had not been meant to wound him so badly, his other son exhibited a flair for cutting his heart to ribbons with calculated precision. Every accusation and taunt seemed designed to provoke fury or sorrow, depending on how tired his son was, and being denied the former only further upset his son.

Daemon learned at last that where it was kinder to spare Jon the signs of his upset, Rhaegar somehow needed his tears and frustration in order to release his own, at which point he accepted Daemon’s hugs with hiccuping apologies.

In all, Daemon was vomited on three times, reduced to tears a dozen times, driven to burn four separate groves of trees, and restrained himself from regicide by way of fratricide while on the receiving end of smug superiority from Viserys twice, as though his brother even knew when one of his own sniveling brats was sick, much less tended to them.

This would be easier if they had a mother, Viserys had even dared suggest at one point, and Daemon had smashed a vase in front of him in lieu of punching him.

His sons�� misery eventually eased, especially once Daemon started letting them chase one another through the halls of the holdfast, or recruiting an unlucky Kingsguard to be in the role of chaser. As Rhaenyra had predicted, the snot ran freely along with his sons, but with their energy spent, their mood improved dramatically.

When Daemon himself fell ill at last, he let them order him around to their hearts’ content. He was deemed confined to bed, where each of them traded turns changing his own compress as they debated what soup he should have from the kitchens, with Rhaegar pointing out that they needn’t rely upon what the kitchen had already made and could order whatever they saw fit.

The days of fever were unpleasant and somewhat hazy, the accompanying aches and shivering occupying most of his attention. Through it, he remembered the worry on their faces as they tended to him, and it was a far more powerful balm than any soup.

He had weathered sickness on the Stepstones before, but Corlys’s worry had been first and foremost for his dragonrider, not for Daemon himself. At Runestone, his wife had viewed his illnesses as brief respites of her own—perhaps even hoping that one might free her of him entirely. The last time someone had tended to him as his sons did now would have been when he had caught a bad fever at fifteen. Despite his grandfather’s protests, his father had remained by his side throughout.

Jon read to him in Valyrian, struggling only a little with some of the bigger words, and Rhaegar sang lullabies to him that evoked a hazy memory of his mother’s face, and voice rather less sweet. Qelebrys watched him from the foot of his bed, while Shadow performed tricks at Jon’s command. Visitors were turned away, except for Rhaenyra and Viserys, and somehow his sons had secured the two differing plans for the proposed holdfast at Bloodstone that the heads of the masons and builders had been squabbling about for the past fortnight and negotiated an agreement between them.

“You should let us assist you more often,” Jon said matter-of-factly. “It is more interesting than our daytime lessons.”

His fever gave way to a truly irritating stuffiness that made it difficult to rest, and equally difficult not to hate everything. His complaints seemed to amuse his sons, and although that should itself have been irritating, their good humor took the worst of the edges off.

“I have read that dragonriding can clear one’s breathing,” Rhaegar informed him once he felt well enough to take supper with them at the table. His hopeful expression was only partly out of a love of flying, Daemon knew, as his sons were also still afflicted by sniffles.

They tested it together, finding the adage to be true during the flight itself, and for a short time after, but the stuffiness did creep back with each passing hour. At supper, they composed lists of their preferred soups, and found that none of them liked the sweet carrot soup. He and Rhaegar shared a favorite in chicken and mushroom in broth, while soups with broccoli edged that out for Jon.

His sons belatedly “permitted” him hallway privileges, bestowing upon him the honor of chasing them through the halls, and though his chases ended with some light coughing, their delighted grins made the effort worth it.

It wasn’t until he felt almost completely better that he allowed them to sleep in his bed, a habit that had gone from every night for a long stretch to something they requested only on occasion. As he neared sleep, he felt Jon shift beside him, and he opened his eyes to find his son staring at him with upset.

“What is it?” he whispered, shifting his arm to lay a hand on his hair.

“You cannot die,” his son whispered back. “You must promise.”

Daemon shifted to press a kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”

[starwarskawaii]

Annoyance and Empanadas

A Miguel O'Hara fic

Alright, here's that Miguel fic. Dedicated to Lan ( @chaithetics ) for always believing in and encouraging me. Proofread by my husband, @kitsunot . So if I made a mistake, blame him.

A/N: This is self-serving, reader is HEAVILY based on me. No word count because I am lazy.

Edit: possible part 2 if you guys like this one. So make sure to let me know!

CW: disabled reader, possible slightly ooc Miguel, mentions of Miguel's *gestures at his life*, no use of Y/N, second person voice, mentions of mobility aids, disability is not specified but is highly based on my experiences with fibromyalgia, female reader, mentions of brain fog, mentions of safe foods, reader is slightly implied to be autistic, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING

You were annoying. Not annoying like Peter B, who always had a quip and lacked boundaries. Not annoying like Miles, who questioned Miguel constantly. Not even annoying like Hobie, although you were a bit of an anarchist. The first thing you had ever said to Miguel was, "I support women's rights and women's wrongs. I do not, however, support men's rights OR men's wrongs, so I hope you've improved." No, you weren't annoying like any of them. You were annoying like Lyla. You were annoying because you knew him. You knew him entirely too well. Which was quite possibly the worst kind of annoying you could be.

You sauntered in on your purple forearm crutches, thinking of what you could say to piss Miguel off. As much as you'd like to pretend you were a quick thinker, the brain fog made it near impossible to come up with anything on the fly. So as you sauntered in, you thought of what you could do to make those veins pop on his neck and forehead. You liked those veins.

Miguel heard you coming. How could he not? Mobility aids are not stealthy. Not in the least. Miguel knew what was coming, and he braced himself for whatever quip you had up your sleeve. Your quips were worse than a Peter Parker's; you had studied him. You came from a universe Miguel stumbled on accidentally. A world where he and all the other Spiders were just characters in comics and movies. And you happened to be Miguel O'Hara's number one fan (and biggest hater, somehow simultaneously). You had made tons of posts analyzing him on some site, tumbling, maybe? He couldn't remember. He brought you on for a few reasons, but mainly to help the algorithms predict events in the Spider's lives.

"Ohhh, Miiiiiggy!" Came your voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What? I'm a bit busy, you know, " came his reply.

"Too busy for me, Migs?" You pouted and batted your lashes. You knew he couldn't resist that.

Miguel was surprised. No quips yet. That's a first.

"Too busy brooding to listen to your favorite right-hand woman?" There it was. There was the jibe at him. You loved doing that. You were probably worse than Lyla.

Lyla popped up and snickered "He was just brooding, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Migs, my love, would you care to tell me why the caf has no empanadas?"

"Aye, you came here to interrupt my ensuring the fate of the Arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse over an empanda?"

"They're your recipe, we all know they're the best in the multiverse" you reasoned with him.

"They're my mother's recipe, technically, and I'll make you some when I take you home." Miguel always took you home. You had a lot of issues with the stupid 2099 high-tech stuff, and it also required use of at least one hand, something you rarely had the luxury of, unless it was a no mobility aid or a wheelchair day. So Miguel made sure you were safe.

"Fine, fine. When are you taking me home, speaking of? Should I just wait here, or should I try to navigate the awful upside down maze you created while I wait for your self-imposed penance for the day to end?" Man you were annoying. Man you knew him well.

"I'll finish up soon. Wait here," his face softened as he looked over at you. You were making yourself comfortable on a chair, placing your aids to the side and getting into that position you liked to sit in. The one that seemed uncomfortable, but you swore was best for your hypermobile joints.

You reminded him a lot of Lyla. Lyla, who Xina had programmed to heckle him. Lyla, who he never had the heart to reprogram. You knew all his buttons. Just like Lyla. Just like Xina... You were also like Gwen. He had initially seen you as much more like Gwen. You had a baby face, so he had assumed you were younger. You had half-shaved hair, which you had actually gotten done because of some singer in your dimension, the year before Spiderverse came out. You had always loved Gwen Stacy, though. It wasn't hard to see why. You were smart, you liked nerds, you were incredibly confident, you were kind of punk, but also hilariously materialistic, not in a fancy clothes way but in a "I have to have this figure or I will cry" way. You were a lot like the Gwen of 120703. You loved that Gwen.

You were very different from all of them, though. He remembered stumbling upon your dimension by accident. A dimension where there were no heroes. A dimension where there were somehow still supervillains. A dimension where, even when faced with a lack of heroes, some people still had hope. You were one of them. He had initially infantalized you. Your mobility aids, your interests, the baby face, the fact that you clearly needed a caregiver, but stubbornly lived on your own all made him see you as younger than you were. You had had many arguments before he finally realized how capable you are. That you're tougher than most Spiders are, save for Sun Spider, who has EDS (you LOVED Sun Spider). That you deal with 24/7 full body pain, work a full-time job, and somehow manage to take care of yourself.

You had shown him so much. Like punk versions of him that you thought were hot. He hated them. He hated that you found that attractive. It made him question for a moment if his appearance was alright. Of course, you would like piercings and tattoos. You had multiple of each. He never really thought much of it before. You had shown him art of him pregnant. You both hated that one. He had learned so much about you. In a way, he had become the caregiver you needed. He made sure you ate, he popped into your dimension to help with your laundry, he helped you on low mobility days, he cooked for you, he helped you set up appointments and refill meds when your brain just wouldn't cooperate. He admired you. He thought you were incredibly strong. He made you empanadas because they're a safe food for you. He secretly loved the way you loved his cooking.

You cared for him. Really, truly, deeply cared. You had listened to his pain and felt it like it was your own. You were so empathetic. He realized that your disabilities and baby face and your being a few years younger didn't matter at all. You were more mature than he was. You knew pain, you lived with pain, you had lost so much and had dealt with it a long time ago. You helped him pick apart his mind, healing what had been broken by grief. He had spent so many nights sitting on the floor of your apartment, next to your couch, pouring his heart out to you. The girl who had fan art of him up on her walls. He was pretty sure he loved you, but too worried he was confusing gratefulness for that painful emotion he hadn't felt in so long that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. You were in love. How could you not be? He let you see him so vulnerable. He was also 6'9, built like a tank, perfect dark skin and hair, newly emotionally open, and had clearly come to genuinely respect you, in a way you struggled to find as a disabled woman. You were much less subtle about your feelings than he was. You flirted constantly. But he was as dense as his muscles.

"Alright, I'm done, cariño," Miguel said. "Time to go back to your dimension, and get you some food. Did you actually eat today?"

"Uhhhh, what answer do you want to that?" You said, only half joking, with a nervous laugh.

"You'll be the death of me, hermosa"

He was used to the quips. He was used to the forgetting to eat. He was used to it all, and he hoped it could stay that way. Miguel O'Hara loved how you annoyed him. And he hoped you would continue to, for at least as long as Lyla has.

[bizarrelittlemew]

UPDATED DECEMBER 2024 (old version)

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I've received a lot of good suggestions for more variants but can't keep up with them all, so here are some resources to make it easier to make your own.

PSD for easily editable text (there is a color fill layer for adding a bit of white where the stroke doesn't cover small holes. I recommend cropping excess empty space out before exporting as PNG)

and here are PNGs of the kudos button for any other editing needs, with and without white stroke:

I currently use postimages.org as image host, but use your favorite. Copy the direct image link, insert it between the quotation marks in the code, add alt text, and you're ready!

<img src="[DIRECT IMAGE LINK]" alt="[ALT TEXT]">

(you can add any image or gif to a comment like this as long as you have the direct image link btw)

if you post your kudos images, I'd be grateful if you'd link back to this post so other people can find the resources too 💗

When you paste into the AO3 comment box, make sure the quotation marks are straight:

NOT curly:

simply deleting and re-typing them in the ao3 comment box should fix this!

Many of the old image links from the original post are broken. I cannot fix them. Please use the new codes going forward ❤️

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/HxNNFqKH/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/hPVSbszh/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

Chapter kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/GtZZTWJz/Chapter-kudos.png" alt="Chapter kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/vZ7pDS1L/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/QMdhDr6W/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

ALL the kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/25rNwfpK/all-the-kudos.png" alt="ALL the kudos">

elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/tC60Ggpc/elevenses-kudos.png" alt="elevenses kudos">

Heaps of kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/zvRQNdZh/heaps-of-kudos.png" alt="Heaps of kudos">

Kisses your forehead kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/W1cBNP41/kisses-your-forehead.png" alt="Kisses your forehead kudos">

Reading in public kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/nLHNmYB8/reading-in-public.png" alt="Reading in public kudos">

re-read kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/wB0ZQyQ1/re-read-kudos.png" alt="re-read kudos">

This is the sole reason my sleep schedule is being ruined kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/sXx86jTw/ruined-sleep-schedule-kudos.png" alt="This is the sole reason my sleep schedule is being ruined kudos">

Should be sleeping kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/G9w5mkd5/should-be-sleeping-kudos.png" alt="Should be sleeping kudos">

Should be working kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/jqwqCtRH/should-be-working.png" alt="Should be working kudos">

Read the whole fic in one go kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/L4c91wsr/the-whole-fic.png" alt="Read the whole fic in one go kudos">

Ungodly hour kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/wjH9WNL2/ungodly-hour.png" alt="Ungodly hour kudos">

what about elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/SxrkHKGh/what-about-elevenses.png" alt="what about elevenses kudos">

You've already left kudos here!: <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/9fgVFNSg/you-already-left-kudos-here.png" alt="You've already left kudos here!">

You have already left kudos here. :) (red AO3 box): <img src="https://i.postimg.cc/85FGFmgp/you-already-left-kudos-here-2.png" alt="You have already left kudos here. :)">

Other links

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[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?” 

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?" 

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip. 

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick. 

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji." 

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” 

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good. 

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.” 

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you. 

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading. 

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!” 

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time. 

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[mercy-burning]

…I Wonder

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader becomes a full-time nanny to three-year-old Benjamin, but what she doesn’t realize is just how hard the job will be— not because of the child, but rather her growing attraction to his father. Category: Mature (18+) Content: adults with age gap, drinking, dry humping, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, “little girl” nickname, cum play, praise Word Count: 11k (idk how this keeps happening lol)

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This fic is titled after and loosely inspired by "Pony" by Ashley Monroe. It's not required listening, but obviously I recommend the song. It's been a favorite of mine since I was a teenager obsessed with Dean Winchester, so... that probably explains a lot about why I am the way I am... LMAO anyway, enjoy <3 I had a blast writing this one!!

———

ACT I: If I Had A Baby...

The first job I ever had also happened to be the best job I ever had. I was twenty years old, and I found an ad in the paper searching for a full-time nanny to a little boy. I didn't think anything of it, other than I desperately needed the money and I didn't mind babysitting. A few years out of school with no plans to attend college and no solid idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I wasn't sure if I'd even get hired. I was almost certain that no one would want a college-aged kid with no stable ambitions or previous job experience, but I was desperate. And CPR-certified.

It was a start. A shot in the dark.

By some miracle, Spencer Reid apparently was also desperate enough to be willing to take a chance on me.

He explained over the phone that he was away more than he'd like to be, and even if he tried to work from home, doing FBI work and raising a toddler alone at the same time was nearly impossible. I agreed to an interview, absolutely elated that I had a foot in the door and the bright beacon of hope for some sort of routine. Something to occupy my time and something to care about, to care for.

I was expecting the work to be... not hard, necessarily, but I wasn't naive enough to believe that taking care of a child was a walk in the park. There would surely be tantrums or bouts of "I miss Daddy!" or refusal to eat what I made him for lunch... I knew going into these interviews that I would be signing up for a major responsibility that meant a lot, not only to Spencer but also to his child. I had to prove that I could do my job and do it well. That alone was a challenge, but one I was willing to work with. I was ready for it.

What I wasn't ready for, however, was the betrayal I felt when my brain failed to warn me of the possibility that he was not only a single father, but a hot one.

The second I showed up at his door and he opened the barrier between us, I swear it felt like the sun swallowed me whole and burnt me to a crisp. He smiled brightly and introduced himself, and I was done for.

"You must be Y/N! Hi, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid."

Doctor? So he was smart, then, too. Perfect. The Trifecta of Peak Hotness had been achieved. That instantly made this new job ten-times harder than I anticipated, and I hadn't even started yet.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it at first, but the more we talked, the more I relaxed, and I felt sympathy for him. He was a genuinely kind and loving parent who wanted the best for his son, a three-year-old named Benjamin who loved dinosaurs and airplanes and Cheeto Puffs. I didn't get to meet him that day, since he was with his Aunt JJ (who, the way Spencer told it, was most likely feeding his Cheeto Puff addiction as we spoke), but if the interview went well, I'd get to meet him in the next week.

I mulled over my options and almost decided not to show up for the next interview; to call and tell him I'd changed my mind or something, but it pained me to even imagine the disappointment in his voice had he asked me why. For whatever reason, the vivid image of a toddler pouting and crying to his father because he had to leave, and that no one wanted to care for him burned itself into my soul until I relented and just took the job anyway.

It was fair to at least meet the kid first, right?

Benny was insanely talkative— but not really conversational. Most of the time I tried to keep up, but his mouth was moving a mile a minute, and the conversation always ended up falling flat on my end, so I pretty quickly decided to give up and enthusiastically let him carry it.

He had his father's brains as well. For hours that first meeting, he sat there and read me passages of aircraft encyclopedias, and in between two random sections I politely requested that we move on to dinosaurs (which were infinitely cooler). And then, in that adorable toddler voice that made it impossible to be irritated, he looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I read all my dinosaur books last week. This week is for airplanes."

Spencer looked like he was going to divert the conversation entirely, perhaps suggest that Benny do something else while we talked some more, but who was I to interrupt the kid's routine and crush his dreams? If I was going to be his nanny, then I was going to have to make him like me. Right?

So, I nodded like I'd never considered it and encouraged him to keep going. To which he did, very happily.

Spencer seemed happy, too. He was always delighted to see Benny when he came home from work, but there was something about the way he relaxed and perked up all the same at my first interactions with his son that twisted my gut. What that man was filled with at the sight of me wasn't just joy, but hope, too, and regardless of where that joy and hope came from, it was an incredibly dangerous thing to notice as a young woman.

It was way too easy to fall into daydream territory. I was alert and attentive when watching Benny, of course, but the second Spencer walked in and completely knocked the wind out of me with that joy and relief radiating from his perfect smile, it was like a screw came loose in my brain and turned me into a feral, horny beast. And then I would return home, alone with my thoughts, and I couldn't divert them from the wild direction they took.

At first it was just your standard wet dream, a girl lusting over the older man she nannied for. It was purely pornographic and provided nothing but short-term relief until I saw him in person again, which frustrated me.

I almost thought about quitting, or saying I was looking into schooling so I could cut down on my hours, but...

That wasn't fair to Benny. He and I had actually formed a pretty stellar routine, if I do say so myself.

And every time I thought about leaving, I couldn't help but think about what I would tell him. Would I even tell him anything at all, or would Spencer just omit me from his life completely and give him an explanation in my place? Who would watch over him after I left? Someone old and mean who made him eat vegetables instead of Cheeto Puffs, and demanded he read to them about dinosaurs instead of airplanes, not giving him the option to develop his curiosity in whatever way he chose? Who would tuck him into bed on the nights his father was late or out of town, and would they sleep on the couch soundly and happily like I did?

I hated even thinking about it.

And then there was the first paycheck.

Truth be told, I hadn't even thought about the money, not after I met the boys and introduced them into my daily routine. I remembered Spencer telling me after my first day alone with Benny that he wouldn't get a paycheck to me until the start of the next month, and I was okay with it. Really, I was just focusing on trying not to drool for the entire conversation, but I digress.

Payment completely slipped my mind.

And then I showed up to do my job, and Benny was nowhere in sight.

"Where's the little guy?" I inquired, looking around and hearing nothing either. "He's usually waiting at the door for me like a dog."

Spencer laughed and concealed something behind his back. "He does really enjoy his nights with you... He's actually staying with JJ and her kids tonight, though. Our schedules opened up and she offered to take him for the night. I was going to call and tell you, but I wanted to give you this, anyway."

He handed me an envelope, folded over but not sealed. I took it with an, "Oh," unsure of what it was until I saw the corner of the check. It felt rude somehow to open it in front of him, but his presence was so overwhelming anyway, especially being alone with him, that I needed something to occupy my hands and my thoughts and just about everything else I had in my possession.

At first, I thought it was a joke. A prank. It was too good to be true; He was just messing with me and would hand me a fifty-dollar bill on my way out for my trouble. Surely, if not that, then it was a mistake.

I didn't know how long I'd stood there, staring at the paper with whatever expression was all over my face, but it must have been too long and too concerning because Spencer sounded worried when he asked, "Is there something wrong?"

I blinked for a moment, then finally had the courage to look him in the eye, my mouth completely dry. "You are not giving me five-thousand dollars right now."

"Well... No, technically, I'm giving you a check for five-thousand dollars. What you do with it and when is completely up to you, but... You deserve it. Y/N, you've been a Godsend, and Benny and I are lucky to have you around. Thank you. Very much."

I didn't even think about it. It was an insanely kind gesture, and I was in such a state of shock and gratitude and mind-numbing attraction to him in that moment that I leapt forward and flung my arms around his neck, tears stinging my eyes.

He hugged me back tightly and laughed, allowing me to cry my thanks into his shoulder as we nearly tumbled into the coffee table.

ACT II: If I Was A Lady...

The months flew by, and before I knew it, it was Benny's fourth birthday.

Spencer and his friends heavily involved me in the planning process, a gesture that surprised me, but that I obviously would never be thankful enough for. It's not like I hadn't ever known a loving family or anything, but they were all so warm and welcoming; it was like I'd been friends with them my whole life. My chest bloomed brightly with every laugh and every hug, and I don't think I could have been any happier. I felt like I belonged there.

It was a day, and night, I would never forget.

Everyone had left, and Benny was fast asleep in his bed. Spencer and I looked down at him with smiles so bright, if they'd actually radiated any light the poor boy would have woken up.

"Ah, the cake coma," I laughed quietly, Spencer guiding me out of the bedroom. I couldn't stop giggling even as we walked—Admittedly, I was a little buzzed on champagne. Still, Spencer laughed with me, and we sat down on the couch. I could tell he was exhausted, but happy.

"I still have to clean all of this up..." It was more of an amused I'll-do-it-tomorrow statement, but I had this drunken simmering need to please him so badly that I shook my head and hit his arm.

"No. That's my job. I'll take care of it, you just take your beautiful ass right to bed, you hear me?"

He raised an eyebrow but laughed at me anyway, clearly amused by my banter. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed the underage drinking after all..."

"Oh, please. I'm not even drunk, just a little loose. Besides, I'll be twenty-one in a couple of months anyway."

"Mmmm."

I hadn't realized how much closer we'd gotten until just then, when he hummed and looked me over. I could feel his breath on my face, and our limbs were just barely touching. Suddenly it was like my entire body was numb, sizzling everywhere we touched, and the champagne had become a part of my bloodstream. The fizz was all I knew, all I was.

Spencer's eyes found mine, and they didn't look away. They pulled me in slowly. I was powerless to stop it, not that I'd ever want to...

In fact, I very eagerly melted into him the second our lips found each other. My head swam, my fingers started tingling, and I was very aware of every movement we made. I straddled his lap, and he welcomed me with open arms, pulling me flush against him as his tongue darted out swiftly to taste mine.

I couldn't believe it was actually happening. Every few seconds I kept thinking to myself, this feels like a dream... It has to be a dream... Between the pent-up attraction I'd been accumulating for him over the last few months and the alcohol that loosened me up and dissolved any ounce of common sense I possessed, I felt like I was in a different world entirely.

He hardened underneath me and my nerves went nuclear, instinctively forcing my body to roll over his. I ground my hips, aching to feel that sweet friction that I'd only felt once before with another man— so long ago and so unbelievably dull in comparison to the sensations I was feeling in Spencer's lap. I was only barely experienced with sex, but I was experienced enough to know that I didn't have anything to be nervous about; This man would take good care of me. I felt it in my bones.

The thought alone sent my body into overdrive. I whined and rolled my hips relentlessly, wishing I was completely bare and feeling him so deep inside me that his absence would leave me haunted. I wanted to feel him forever. I wanted him to ruin my life and claim me as his own, until there was absolutely nothing left of me.

His hands cradled my head reverently as he continued to kiss me deep and slow, raising his hips up to meet mine and aid in getting me off. The gentle tugs of his fingers through my hair and the warm hums of encouragement he offered to my mouth as I climbed higher and higher towards that precipice of pleasure made me weak. I felt so fragile in his arms, like I was meant to be right there, allowing him to guide me wherever. I would have done anything for him, anything so long as he kept holding me and making me sigh—making me glow.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," I exclaimed in a broken whisper, breaking apart from his mouth to bury my face in his hair. He brought his hands down to my hips then, groaning as quietly as he could into my neck as he helped me rock back and forth across his lap.

It wasn't an earth-shattering intense orgasm by any means; there wasn't nearly enough stimulation for that. But I was so wet and aroused that even the low, quick and burning pleasure that shot through my core for a few seconds was enough to satisfy me. I wasn't in any position to complain.

That was, of course, until I reached down to touch Spencer's belt, and he pushed me away. Not aggressively, but his hands—which had been so gentle and welcoming just moments before—had gone rigid. Frozen and firm, like he'd just been scared half to death.

He scrambled out from my reach and put so much distance between us that I went cold. My name tumbled from his lips in a regretful sigh, and it stung.

"We can't ever do that again."

"Okay," was all I could manage to say. I was still tingling all over, like my whole body had fallen numb and was now just warming up to the idea of having senses again.

"That was irresponsible. And I'm too old for you."

"M-hm," I agreed absentmindedly.

"You should go home."

"Okay."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Thank you."

I went home that night with a deep twist in my gut that wouldn't go away. The rejection hurt. It scared me, too, wondering if I'd still have a job when I woke up in the morning. Was that the last time I would ever see Spencer? And Benny? Had I really just screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me?

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on Spencer's couch, getting myself off in his lap and reveling in his embrace. I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, hating myself for being so reckless, and even more so for not regretting it a single bit.

After I was finally able to get a solid couple of hours of sleep, I had a text message from Spencer waiting for me when I woke up.

I sincerely apologize for last night. The job is still yours, but I also understand if you don't want it anymore. Take a few days, whatever time you need, and let me know.

I was relieved, of course, but also deeply curious to know how we would keep things professional after something like that. I guess I was just mostly surprised that he was willing to, considering he seemed pretty rattled by it.

Still, If he was willing to try, then so was I.

I'm sorry, too. I wouldn't give up you and Benjamin for the world. All is well?

He texted back almost immediately; All is well.

It only clicked into place a few months later, once the initial shock of our "escapade" had faded away and we could return to business as normal. Because, really, the truth was we couldn't return to business as normal. We tried, but he never looked me in the eye for longer than a second at a time, he refused to touch me in any way, careful not to even brush my hand as he handed me my monthly check, and his small talk was even more painful than it had been previously.

Still, I continued to be Benny's nanny—and best friend, according to Auntie Penelope, much to her dismay. I still loved that kid more than anything in the world, and I still, unfortunately, wanted his father to kiss me again.

I was willing to let it all go, though, to admit that it was a silly stupid crush that could never come to anything and just deal with it like an adult, and then I had to overhear the motherfucker when he came home one night. I was resting on the couch, about to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but then I heard a voice that wasn't Spencer's. It was his friend, Luke.

Spencer cut him off then. "Quiet, please."

There was shuffling, keys being set down, and then a small laugh as they got closer to me. I didn't move a muscle, focusing only on my breathing. "Right. Don't wake the hot nanny, got it."

"She's right there," Spencer hissed, and I tried not to laugh. My insides flared to life as he added, "And I asked you not to bring that up..."

"Oh, come on, Reid. You have the hots for her; big deal. It's normal."

"So? I'm... I'm technically her boss, and she's far too young for me. It's not right, and you know that."

"Whatever. You do what you think is right, man, but I'm telling you; Ignoring it is only going to make you more stressed."

Spencer mumbled something incoherent, and the two shuffled off into the kitchen for God-knows-what. All I could think about was that he wanted me. It was probably killing him just as badly as it was killing me not to give into each other again. My mind was racing, my heart beat violently in my chest, and I knew then that I had to pretend to wake up or else I'd sit there and burst into flames.

I had to leave. I had to do something; What, I didn't know, but this revelation had me reeling and feeling a myriad of things, and I needed to sit with them, preferably alone so I wasn't tempted to just jump him on the spot.

"Did we wake you? I'm sorry." Spencer's kind voice warmed me from the inside out as I shuffled into the kitchen to say goodbye.

I quickly gathered my things and avoided his gaze. "Oh. No, you didn't. If you're back for the night though, I'm gonna go home. I'm exhausted."

"Little guy was that rambunctious, huh?" Luke joked.

I smiled and gave him a wink. "Oh, no. He was an absolute angel, as always. His daddy raised him well. Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Doctor Reid?"

He cleared his throat, rasping out, "Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Night."

I tried not to run mischievously out the door, willing my legs to be normal. But the second there was a tangible barrier between us, I bolted to my car, high on adrenaline and unable to wipe the smile from my face; I was wide awake.

Eventually, though, I realized it would be absolutely stupid to do anything about it. Did it boost my ego and my mood? Absolutely. It also softened the blow of his avoidance and his initial rejection that night; All of his behavior made much more sense. Sure, I was a little disappointed that he wouldn't entertain our mutual desire, but as long as it was there... It couldn't be that bad, right?

Wrong.

I'd gotten a text from him earlier in the day, asking if I could come over last minute to watch Benny. I wasn't going to say no, obviously, but when I got there to see him dressed up, I shot up an eyebrow.

"A little fancy for work, yeah?" I told him, hanging my keys up and listening for Benny.

"Oh, I'm... not going to work, actually. I, uh... I have a date."

I froze. I panicked. I didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to react. Naturally my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario—visions of Spencer sleeping with another woman, someone older and not a nanny. Someone who was distinguished and well-read and smart, someone like himself. Someone who was more inherently right for him. It... made me sad.

Admittedly, I felt stupid even thinking that way. It wasn't my right to dictate his dating life, no matter how badly I wanted him; I knew what he tasted like, knew how it felt to come undone in his embrace, and yet I wasn't entitled to him solely based on that.

Still. It doesn't mean I had to like it.

"Oh... Um... Good for you," I told him, nodding and turning away in case he tried to profile me. "Have fun."

He said goodbye to Benny a few minutes later, and then gave me a polite, transactional wave on his way out the door. It shut, and it felt like my chest was collapsing.

But I was only able to wallow for a few seconds. Benny tugged on my sleeve and looked up at me quizzically.

"Auntie Y/N, are you sad?"

His sweet face lifted my spirits like it always did, and I didn't have the energy to think about the other emotions that were swimming around in my chest anyway. So I smiled at him and picked him up, shaking my head. "Not anymore, kiddo; I get to hang out with my favorite person!"

We spent all night munching on Cheeto Puffs and building Lego sets, and it was unsurprising to me that by the time I'd finished one, Benny had finished three. Still, our sets combined to make a larger one, and then we were able to give the people names and backstories and adventures.

Either time passed very quickly, or Spencer didn't last very long on his date, because the front door opened and I was surprised he was home before I could put Benny to bed.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, running and dropping his half-eaten Cheeto Puff in my lap. I laughed and tossed it in the trash can on my way to the door, greeting Spencer, who was hugging his son tightly and making him giggle profusely.

"You're home early," I observed as he set him down.

"Had to make it home before curfew, of course." A joke. He was deflecting. I kind of hated that I felt relief at the insinuation.

"Of course," I agreed.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

Benny jumped and grabbed his father's hand. "Auntie Y/N and I made a whole Lego village! It has a library!"

"It does?" Spencer asked bending down to his level and positively beaming. The sight made my chest tighten.

"It really does! Do you want to come see?"

"Oh, absolutely. I just have to talk to Auntie Y/N first, and I'll be right in, is that okay?" He nodded and Spencer ruffled his hair. "Okay. Say goodnight."

Benny turned and ran to me then, and I squatted down to hug him. "Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Thank you for building with me."

"Oh, you're welcome, kiddo. You're an excellent building partner; The best in the business."

He laughed and scampered off to his bedroom, and as I stood up, I felt Spencer's eyes on me. I couldn't decipher what the feeling was on his end, but regardless, it burned a hole through me and made my heart pound in my ears.

"How'd it go?" I asked casually, dusting Cheeto off my jeans. Did you do it just to forget about how much you want me? Did it work?

He shrugged and leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. He almost looked exhausted. "I'd have much rather liked to be at home with my boy and his best friend to tell you the truth."

My heart was racing, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was getting at. Was he fucking with me? Or was he simply telling the honest, innocent truth, while I was letting my lust take the drivers' seat and go searching for some insane imaginary intention to help along my hot-single-father/nanny fantasy?

Suddenly, I was the one who felt exhausted, and Spencer could tell. He shifted and continued talking. "Thank you again for staying with him on such short notice."

"Oh, anytime. It's what I'm here for. In fact, feel free to go on all the bad dates you want."

I don't know why it came out of my mouth, but I was glad that Spencer laughed. Still, I scrambled to get my keys and walked past him to leave, kind of embarrassed by the verbalized impulsive thought regardless.

His hand grabbed my arm gently before I could leave, and my heart caught in my throat. I dared to look up at him and immediately felt that familiar heat return to my core, suddenly very fragile under the weight of his gaze.

He studied me for a moment before he let go of my arm and cleared his throat. "Goodnight."

I couldn't help the feeling that he wanted to tell me something else. He did say he wanted to talk to me before putting Benny to bed, after all... So, what? That was it?

It was stupid, and I should have just told him, "Goodnight," back, but those damned impulsive thoughts kept dancing on my tongue with reckless abandon, and I couldn't stop them from escaping. So, without another thought, I tilted my head and asked him instead, "Was she my age?"

Spencer stared at me, something darkening in his eyes when he responded, "No."

I threw back one of his considering hums, glancing down at his lips before looking him directly in the eye and giving him a firm, "Oh." There were plenty more things I could have told him, none of them appropriate. But I figured I'd already had enough pushing my luck for the night, and reached for the doorknob instead of dragging it out. The night would end like it always did, with a formal, professional farewell.

I was about to finally tell him, "Goodnight," but his hand came down very gently over mine and rendered me silent. Our eyes met once more, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"Even if she had been, she wouldn't have been you."

And then he opened the door for me, and I walked out without another word, my head spinning and my heart threatening to give out on me. He hadn't even kissed me, but he might as well have; I was just as breathless.

ACT III: He Is Nice, But He Looks So Mean.

I was actually littered with nerves walking in the door the next time I came over to watch Benny.

I hadn't heard anything from Spencer for a week, until he called and asked me to come over for the night to watch him while he went to work. I was going to do it with no questions asked, obviously, but because that insane confession was echoing in my mind on a continuous loop since it happened, I couldn't even bring myself to think about seeing him again and knowing... I had no idea what reaction my body was going to have to being in his presence again.

It scared me, but also deeply excited me.

Once my body had enough courage to step through the doorway, my heart rate sped up exponentially, and then upon seeing what was in front of me, it stuttered with a terrifying halt.

Warmth flooded my veins and brought a smile to my face when the four-year-old boy I nannied for and loved more than anything threw his hands in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Happy Birthday!"

He ran up to me and nearly toppled me to the ground, and on instinct, my arms reached out to pick him up as he hugged my neck and listed off the things he did to celebrate.

"Daddy said your birthday was yesterday, but we wanted to give you a party just like you did for my birthday! So we went to the store and got you ingredients for your cake, and we made it just for you!"

"You did?" I exclaimed, setting him down and letting him lead me to the kitchen where the cake was sitting out on the table, clearly homemade by two boys who didn't know the first thing about baking or decorating anything. Spencer was standing across the kitchen table with a proud, albeit I-know-it's-not-much-to-look-at smile, but I barely had time to thank him before Benny told me about the process, step-by-step.

As he went on, I nodded and admired the cake, complimenting the purple and green swirls of frosting (his favorite color and mine, he explained), and the trail of assorted candies in the shape of a stegosaurus in the middle (my favorite dinosaur).

"Do you love it, Auntie Y/N?"

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. I tried not to actually cry, but the tugging at the back of my throat and the blurring of my eyes was extremely difficult to push away. I realized then, as Spencer watched me with his son and looked like he might have been ready to cry himself, that it wasn't worth trying to hide. I was extremely moved and even happier in that moment than I think I'd ever been. I loved that man and his child more than anything I'd ever known.

So, I blinked hard and let the tears silently descend down my cheeks, kissing the side of Benny's head as I told him, "I love it so much. And I love you so much. Thank you."

I looked up at Spencer and said it again. "Thank you."

He nodded, reaching for the star-shaped candle next to the cake. "You're very welcome. Benny, do you want to help Auntie Y/N light the birthday candle?"

The boy squirmed in my arms and I let him down with a laugh as he excitedly reminded us, "That's my favorite part of birthdays!"

"I apologize if you find an eggshell," Spencer warned a few minutes later, slicing the cake after the song had been sung and the candle had been blown out. He slid my plate over and handed me a fork. "Benny and I did our best to fish them all out, but it's... surprisingly harder than it looks."

As Benny nodded in agreement, I looked down at him and took a forkful of cake. "Oh, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm sure you two are excellent eggshell fishermen."

The four-year-old giggled, but his father sighed as if to say, Don't say I didn't warn you...

To no one's surprise but Spencer's, the cake was delicious. I may have played it up for dramatic effect, putting on a whole show as I chewed and considered every bite, playing as if I was unsure and really critiquing the dessert. I set my fork down and looked at Spencer with squinted eyes, then slowly to his son. The suspense was obviously killing him, his small limbs bouncing with anticipation and a smile that suggested he was going to urge the verdict out of me if I didn't announce it very soon.

I decided to spare him the wait.

"Benjamin Reid... That might just be the best cake I've ever had."

"Really? No eggshells?"

I laughed, reaching to give him a high-five as he beamed up at me with sparkling eyes and a wide-open smile. "Not a single one. You should be very proud of yourself. You and your dad, both."

Benny hugged me again, and I glanced over to Spencer, who was slicing another piece of cake and staring at me with that intense look in his eyes, a satisfied half-smile adorning his face. A rush of heat came surging through my bloodstream like a tidal wave, and I had to look away from him or I was afraid I'd collapse on the spot.

Benny didn't know it, but he was saving my life in that very moment, as the three of us ate cake together. I refused to look at his father. I needed literally anything else to keep me from even glancing his way, and my four-year-old best friend's rambling habits were the perfect focus.

He told me more about his process for decorating the cake, and while I was genuinely a little surprised at how much thought there really could have been with the task, with an ever-moving mind like Benny's, it was actually quite clear by the end of it. It charmed me to no end and filled me with pride to know that I'd had enough of an impact on him to trigger this level of detail and consideration. Again, it's not like I'd never had people who cared about me before, but when it came to the Reids, my heart sang a tune I'd never heard, and it was the most beautiful, brightly vivid sound I'd ever had the pleasure to hear—to feel.

I was thinking too much about it, letting the song swallow me whole as tears stung in the back of my eyes and threatened to fall again, when Spencer's phone buzzed on the table. The sound grounded and intrigued me, even more so when he glanced up at me for a moment, right before directing his words to his son.

"Benny, Uncle Will is outside. Is your bag ready?"

He jumped from his seat and nodded. "In my room."

"Okay. Before you grab it, say goodnight to Auntie Y/N."

I felt the toddler's arms hugging my legs, and turned all my attention to him, refusing once again to look at the man whose eyes I could feel burning me alive with something deeply ravenous, begging to be unfettered. I had a feeling, creeping over my senses like a thick blanket of ivy, that I wasn't making it up and letting my desire for him take the wheel, either; Just as the loving, family-friendly song in my heart had been—bright and vivid—this feeling was just as much the same in its intensity, only echoed with a sound that felt very much like those dark, low hums Spencer always emitted alone in my presence. I felt it all around me and hoped to God that I wasn't about to leave this place feeling like a hopeful, stupid idiot.

"Goodnight, Auntie Y/N. Did you like your birthday?"

"I did, Benny," I answered in earnest, ruffling his hair. "You're very thoughtful and kind. Thank you so much."

"I love you, Auntie Y/N."

I squeezed him tight and made sure he understood every word as truth when I told him, "I love you, too."

ACT IV: When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be Your Girl.

The apartment was quiet when Spencer took Benny outside to meet with Will. I did my best to keep myself busy, cleaning up forks and plates, and wiping down the counter tops while simultaneously ignoring the hammering of my heart against my chest. The organ wouldn't calm down, even as I hummed to myself. It's like those nerves that I had walking through the front door that night never actually went away— only subsided for a little while in favor of wholesome celebration.

Part of me wanted to flee, but I knew it wasn't an option. Not really. I had to at least talk to Spencer and thank him for the effort. Perhaps I was good enough of an actress that I could pretend to have been ignorant of his glances all night, or at least that they didn't affect me like he maybe wanted them to.

Catching myself in the act of overthinking again, I grunted and slammed a glass of water, willing the fresh liquid to wash away any insanity. There was no use going through all the possible scenarios in my head, not when there wasn't much time before Spencer returned. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to be prepared for it.

I certainly wasn't prepared for the way my heart practically leapt out of my chest when he returned, softly opening and closing the door. It took everything I had not to turn around and allow him to see how nervous I was. I kept my back turned, hoping and praying I wasn't visibly shaking as heavily as I felt. I was warm all over.

His presence behind me was dense and ever-present― almost suffocating. I took my time drying off the plates and forks I'd washed while he was away, hearing him rustle around without a word or acknowledgement of me, and then he finally spoke. I almost dropped a fork.

"Why are you doing my dishes, Birthday Girl?"

"My birthday was yesterday..."

He laughed and came up behind me, a gentle hand on my lower back as the other reached around and took the silverware from my grip. I relented, feeling myself numb at his touch and trying to steady my breathing.

"Yes, but we're celebrating today. In my household at least, that means you're not allowed to do any work."

I turned around to face him as he set the fork down on the counter, his other hand still hovering over my back. It returned to his side, disappearing into the pocket of his pants as I crossed my arms and looked up at him. Thankfully, despite the constant whirring of nerves and desire coursing through my entire being, I was able to hold a conversation without hesitation.

"You're not my dad."

Another amused grin. "No, I'm not. But I am your boss. And as your boss, I'm asking you to take the night off and enjoy yourself."

The way he was staring down at me seemingly punctuated his words with a gentle seduction that made me ache with need. I was getting stronger and bolder by the second, leaning forward just enough to be toe-to-toe with him.

"Okay, then, Boss... Tell me, are there any restrictions to enjoying myself in your household? Because..."

The second I heard that familiar hum rumble from his chest, I knew I was in danger― glorious, beautiful danger. His eyes glanced down at my mouth for a second before returning to my own, his body leaning into mine and his free hand reaching out to trap me against the counter.

I tilted my head and brought my fingers up to toy with the tie hanging from his neck. "I am all grown up now, after all..."

"And I suppose you know exactly what you want..."

"Mm-hmm," I drawled, pulling him in closer by the tie. Our lips were barely touching by that point, and I felt my head start to pulse with anticipation as he urged me to go on.

"Well?"

"I want to be yours."

He hummed again, pushing his body to mine and bringing the pocketed hand up to hold the side of my head. "Mmm, Darling, you always have been."

And then he kissed me.

He tasted like sugar, but his intentions were anything but sweet. His mouth devoured mine with a fire that threatened to turn me to ash. Every sense I had was alight, engulfing me in a heat so intense that it was all I was sure to know for the rest of my life. It's all I wanted and all I needed.

I met his intensity with eager hands, exploring the planes of his body as his tongue did wicked things to my own. This time I didn't even need the champagne; I was dizzy on Spencer alone. The fizz boiled me from the inside out and urged my limbs to cling to him like it was my life's purpose. Hell, for all I knew, it was my life's purpose― to burn for him and let him consume me. To revel in his dancing flame and allow it to become my life force. I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything.

And I was sure to let him know that, too, refusing to hold back the string of whines and moans that escaped me every now and again. The hand that had been resting on the counter behind me came down to grip and hike up my thigh, our hips colliding just as beautifully this time as they had the last. The memory caused another wanton sound to tumble from my mouth, and Spencer caught it greedily, pulling back for air long enough to squeeze my thigh and sing me a praise of his own.

"God, I love the sounds you make..."

His lips were on mine again before I could respond, but I didn't even need to. Not verbally, anyway; I guided his hand down the side of my face and over my chest, pushing my body into him and feeling his fingers tighten. His kisses grew hungrier, and suddenly I was starving.

I was finally able to break away from his mouth in favor of tasting the skin and stubble along his jaw. Then, I buried my face in his neck and reached for his belt, praying he wouldn't jump away like last time.

Thankfully, he didn't. His grip on both my breast and my thigh tightened again, but he didn't pull away from me. His breath didn't even hitch.

I took that as a good sign and slowly undid his belt. The sound alone was enough to send a jolt of excitement between my thighs, though the visions dancing behind my eyelids of what I planned to do in just a few moments helped my pleasure immensely. I dragged my tongue softly along Spencer's neck before freeing the belt and sinking to the ground alongside it. His hands fell away from my body and chose to root in my hair instead. The gentle tugging at my scalp admittedly made me stumble, but not out of discomfort; I was actually quite surprised at how much I liked the feeling.

Spencer noticed, humming again with amusement as I went back to tugging down his pants. Still, he said nothing, instead watching me intently as I continued my journey.

I didn't hide the desire I felt as I palmed the length of him through his underwear. In fact, I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my sight leveled or to angle it up at him, because it was a damn good sight either way; The sensual nature of my fingers gently caressing him, knowing what was resting beyond that thin layer of fabric and imagining how it probably felt to him, or the thick and domineering air between his face and mine, his gaze committing every movement I made to wicked memory...

With a sigh, I opted to lean forward, ignoring the sharp bruising on my knees and putting all my focus into the task at large.

Spencer seemed to tell I was thinking too much, gently massaging my scalp and cooing, "Have you ever done this before?"

Yes, but... "Not with anyone I've actually wanted this badly..."

"Mmm, that does make a difference..." he observed. "Whatever it is that you need to be comfortable, Y/N― tell me. Okay? Promise me you won't hurt yourself in any way just to please me."

A surge of heat exploded through me at the intensity of it all. He was sincere, and by the sound of things, sympathetic to my overthinking. It was another show of just how much I wanted him to guide me, to hold me in his comforting, knowing embrace and show me exactly how life should be lived. Every life experience there was to know, I wanted to know it with him.

"I promise," I told him firmly, not breaking eye contact as I tugged at the cotton between us.

His eyes struggled to stay open when I finally gripped his cock, feeling the weight of it in my hand and bringing it to my mouth. I glanced down then, taking in every ridge as it disappeared slowly down the length of my tongue. I reveled in the taste, in the fullness I felt the deeper it went, and once it hit the back of my throat and caused me to choke and pull back, I angled my eyes back up at his face to find the most heavenly sight I'd ever seen.

Spencer watched me all the time. I was no stranger to his intense gazes. But when I looked up at him that time, his mouth open and eyes so deeply darkened with need that they could have drowned me, I truly thought I might have died and entered the afterlife. Perhaps that was dramatic, but there was no other possible way for me to describe the feeling that coursed through me in that moment. Suddenly I was chasing it, longing to be in that state of euphoria forever, and my mouth eagerly went to work in pursuit of it.

I took my time, exploring the ways he could fit in my mouth and the ways my tongue could cover the length of him. I went in search of any pleasure point I could find, occasionally looking up to gauge his reaction and finding nothing but those beautiful, salacious pools of liquid gold.

Eventually, I was brave enough to take him to the back of the throat again, holding him there and seeing how long it would take before I felt the air leave my lungs. I repeated the process a few times, stroking him with my hand in between gasps of air and shivering at the way he tugged my hair. My vision was starting to blur, but I persisted, aching to know what he tasted like as he came undone.

Unfortunately, it wasn't in the cards for me to find out that night.

I whined as he held my head away from him, praying he wasn't backing out.

"Stand up, please," he asked softly. It sounded like he'd been breathless, and maybe he had. The thought that I had that effect on him calmed my nerves and made me dizzy as I stood, and his hands cradled my head once again.

"You are so good," he whispered, kissing me deeply. I melted into him, only for him to pull back and continue his praises. "So beautiful..." Another toe-curling kiss, and then, "So perfect."

My eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my pulse-point. "My good, sweet girl," he murmured, and the words caused me to clench around nothing.

"Please."

The word fell out of me with a whimper and at its urgency, Spencer's mouth attacked my neck with a gentle, hungry bite that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Follow me."

And I did. I always would.

As much as I would have loved the opportunity to look around his bedroom and make banter about what I discovered on any normal day, my brain was so overwhelmed and numb with desire that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Not that I would have had the time to think about it anyway; He was on me the moment my legs touched the edge of the bed, devouring my mouth once more and pulling me into his atmosphere with fervor. Willing myself to get even closer to him, I brought my fingers up to thread through his hair and was rewarded with another gentle tug of my own.

Suddenly I was extremely hot, squirmy and anxious to break free from the confines of clothing, and Spencer could tell.

He broke apart with a laugh, bringing a hand down to trace the collar of my shirt. "Have you no patience?"

"You're the one sucking my face like it's the end of the fucking world," I breathed when he shifted the collar and exposed more of my skin to the air, earning me another low grumble of a laugh.

"You're not complaining are you?"

"God, no."

"Mmm, good," he hummed into my cheek, reaching down and tugging my shirt over my head. The fabric caught on his nose for a second, bringing a laugh to the surface of my tongue before he swallowed it with another kiss and tossed the shirt to the ground.

Warm, nimble fingers spanned my bare stomach and thoroughly explored the surface area of me, up and up until they slipped under the backside of my bra.

"Is this okay?"

I pushed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip. "Yes, Doctor."

Goosebumps littered my arms as he deftly unhooked the bra and slid it off my body, and I barely had time to take a breath before he was kissing me again, pawing at my chest and slipping me his eager tongue. My senses were on overload, that hot pang of need pulsating between my legs as I then fell backwards, letting him lay me down and settle himself between them. His kisses traveled lower, tongue darting out to flick over my peaked nipple, and I involuntarily arched up into him.

No one had ever paid this much careful attention to my body before—It was always a quick pleasantry to get out of the way before the main course. But the way Spencer held and touched and tasted me felt like a crash course in intimacy. He was still hungry for me, obviously, but he made it feel like it wasn't just about the destination. He savored each and every second of the moment in all its pent-up, beautiful glory.

Which is why, when he finally slipped a hand down the front of my pants, he seemed delighted to find that I was practically soaked through my panties already.

His middle finger pressed firmly at my clothed heat, and I sighed into his mouth.

"Look at what I've done to you... Poor thing. You're just aching to be filled, aren't you?"

My head had no choice but to arch backwards as I moaned into the open air at his words, my legs clamping around his hand. "God, Spencer, please..."

"So I'm not wrong, then?" he mused, teasing me some more and just barely pushing the fabric aside. I squirmed and lifted my hips, trying to guide him in the right place, but he pulled away from me then, leaving me cold.

Only a second later did the heat return; Spencer stood at the foot of the bed and gently helped me scoot to the edge. He removed the rest of my clothes and stared down at my bare figure as he unbuttoned his shirt, debauchery settling in his eyes as they raked over me. With careful consideration, once his shirt was on the floor with the rest of my clothes, he came down and caressed my inner thigh, slowly spreading my legs apart.

"You're so wet and needy, I'm willing to bet you don't even need me to prep you..."

All it took was one lithe finger to prove his theory correct. It slid into me with ease, and I whined out at the contact. One finger swiftly became two, and after a few slow pumps with no resistance, he seemed satisfied. "Mmm, that's what I thought... You've been ready for me for a long time, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh," was all I could manage under the circumstances. Every word and every touch was rendering me incapable of anything more complex.

He removed his fingers from me then, and leaned down to nudge my nose with his own. "How are you feeling?" he asked me in a whisper, fluttering a gentle kiss over my lips as his cock barely teased my entrance. It was such a simple question, but it only deepened the desire I felt for him— It was gentle and attentive and intimate...

"Never better," I responded earnestly.

"Yeah?" he cooed. He pushed into me slowly then, and I gasped at the pressure. "Are you ready to take it?"

"Uh-huh," I stuttered once more, crying out silently when he finally bottomed out and ground his hips in a slow circle against my own.

"Tell me what you want, little girl," he begged sweetly against my lips. "Please, I need to hear you say it."

I gripped his shoulders and pulled back a little to hold his gaze, almost gasping out again at the way his hips pinned me down. It was difficult to form the perfect sentence, but I figured I didn't really need to say much at all― only the whimper-y, pathetic truth, which was, "I want you so bad..."

"As you wish."

The words barely left his lips before he began to move, hooking my legs around his forearms and spreading me apart further. He fucked me deeply, and with a steady pace that knocked the wind from my lungs and already had me seeing stars. That had never happened before.

Spencer could tell, a grin forming on his face as he freed one of his hands and softly traced my jaw. "Better than you thought?"

Absolutely. But there was something about that cocky grin on his face and the lilt in his voice that made me want to be difficult. I struggled to talk through heavy breathing, but I managed to choke out, "Don't... flatter yourself."

I don't quite know what I expected, but it was a bit of a shock to me when he hooked his thumb into my mouth and pressed down gently on my tongue, quickening his pace inside me and making me gasp out again.

"Aw... Are you not enjoying yourself?" he pouted without a single hint of sincerity; He knew I was.

I cried out and involuntarily closed my mouth around his thumb, my insides burning alive at all the sensations coursing through me. My cunt clenched around him, and he cried out himself, laughing softly as he did so. "That's what I thought..."

I wanted to watch him the way he watched me, to study his features and his movements and take it all in with reverence, but he was too fucking good at this. He was so skilled in the art of rendering me senseless, all I could do was lay there and take it. He gave himself to me in the most intimate, soul-crushing way, and I wanted to bask in it forever.

His other hand snaked along the inside of my thigh and held me open for him as he looked down, watching himself fuck me. I barely caught glimpses of his wandering gaze, wondering how he could be so focused when it was taking everything I had to stay cognizant. I blamed it on my lack of experience with good sex, and silently vowed to myself that one day I would return the favor.

Until then, I would lay at Spencer's mercy and take pleasure in the simple fact that he was willing to give me this― to give me a piece of himself that would no doubt ruin any other partner. He was setting the standard and exceeding it simultaneously. He was kind and caring and considerate. He was thorough and thoughtful.

And he was making me come. Hard.

The orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my body stuttering in quick, pulsing flashes of pleasure that got stronger and stronger each second. Spencer fucked me through it with ease, never missing a beat. His thumb slid out from my mouth and down my chin, allowing me to cry out for him all I wanted, which, seemingly was his goal.

"That's my good girl," he breathed, his voice tight. Perhaps he wasn't as put together as I thought. "Let it all out for me... Please..."

Please... God, that word sounded so good falling from his lips. It echoed in my mind as I gave him what he wanted, though not from choice. It was like his movements and his words were designed specifically to draw the sounds from my body. I would have given them to him anyway, but I didn't have to try, and that was the magic of it all. He knew exactly what would keep me mewling through the most intense pleasure of my life, and I was more than happy to allow him the pleasantry.

His orgasm came at the tail-end of mine, and though I was steadily growing tired at the exertion, I found the strength to clench around him again, recalling how he'd reacted before. I reached for his hand and allowed him to lace our fingers together as he came with a loud shuddering sigh.

Finally, I was able to focus, another chill running its course through my nervous system as Spencer pulsated inside me. His movements faltered as he spilled over, filling me so deep that I had no choice but to gasp again. My name sounded heavenly on his tongue as it danced in the air behind curses and sighs, and suddenly I understood why he enjoyed hearing my sounds so much. The warmth that bloomed in my chest as I watched and felt and heard him come undone above me delivered me to the most prideful of feelings.

I watched as his face relaxed, felt as his body eased and fell away from mine, and before I had time to even think of what to say, he was moving, kneeling at the end of the bed and spreading my legs again.

Oh, my God...

I couldn't even tell if I said the expression out loud, but I certainly felt its gravity in my bones, low and reverberating as Spencer inspected his work.

His fingers barely caught what had leaked out, and then his tongue followed suit, licking a gentle hot stripe up the seam of me. My fingers clutched at the comforter underneath me, searching for any sign of stability as my senses started to lose control once more.

"Darling," he praised, kissing the inside of my thigh, "you took me so well..."

I was halfway through telling him, "Thank you," when he started licking at my clit, making me stutter. He took his time, tasting me thoroughly while filling me with his fingers. Between drowning in the residual pleasure of my previous orgasm and also in the sounds he was making below me, it wasn't long before another one approached. It was sharp and quick, making my back arch up off the mattress as Spencer sucked my clit into oblivion.

Rather than incoherent cries of pleasure, the only thing that dared to leave my mouth at the sensation was a very loud, very appropriate, "Fuck!" to the evening air.

The curse tumbled out over and over again as the orgasm rocked through me, and he pulled himself away from me at the end of it with a shit-eating grin. "Such a dirty mouth..."

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath, shivering as he climbed back up on the bed and laid beside me. "You're one to talk, Doctor."

"I guess I'm a poor influence. Sorry."

It was mostly a joke, but I could tell that he believed there was some truth to his words. I did my best to reassure him, not only because he was my boss and I needed to reinstate the idea that we both made the decision to sleep together, not just him, but also because I secretly hoped he wouldn't regret the decision at all— regret me. Selfishly, I wanted to know if he'd consider keeping me around as more than just a nanny. I wanted to know if there was even a slight chance that this wouldn't end in total emotional disaster.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... Nothing..."

Spencer studied me for a moment, something settling in his eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it felt... warm. It was a different warmth than the searing heat that his gazes had radiated before. Perhaps it was wishful, foolish thinking, but I almost imagined it feeling akin to the realization that you were falling in love— the type of warmth that terrified yet excited you all the same, that triggered your nerves and also gave you hope.

It reminded me of that dangerous, beautiful hope that lingered in his smile every time he'd come home from a long day at work to see me and Benny safe and sound in the comfort of his home.

His hand gently brushed mine, I laced our fingers together, and that's when he finally responded.

"Neither do you, you know... I meant what I said. Every word." His fingers tightened in mine, and I felt myself become breathless again. "You're perfect. And I'm lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because it's my birthday," I joked, trying to keep myself from crying in front of him. I didn't know why that was so important to me, especially considering just a few hours ago I'd decided not to hide the truth from him, no matter how emotional and teary of a truth it was.

Spencer pressed his forehead to mine, sighing my name through a smile. "You are... the best thing that has happened to me since Benny. I was afraid to admit it at the start, but... You're so good to him, and so good to me... I genuinely don't ever want to know what life would be like without you."

I couldn't help it then. My vision was suddenly obscured by tears, and I was blinking them away, letting him capture my lips in a tender kiss that rivaled any other.

I prayed in that very moment that there would be more like them in the future.

CODA: All My Rings Will Be Made of Gold.

Turns out, there had been plenty more, and then some.

It's hard to choose a favorite, though obviously I'm quite biased when it comes to my boys. So, I suppose it's easy for me to recall the night I got engaged as my favorite.

I wasn't nannying for Benny anymore; He was in school during the day (Kindergarten! I cried dropping him off on his first day, and Spencer had to console me with kisses and ice cream), and by that point I'd been moved into the apartment for almost a year.

I was out grocery shopping, and when I came home, there were flowers all over the floor, bright colors scattered in an obvious trail that led to the bedrooms. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but my heart still hammered in my chest, unable to shake that feeling of warmth and hope.

"Boys? What are you up to?" I called, dropping the bags off in the kitchen and following the flowers.

They were both kneeling on the floor of Benny's bedroom, Spencer with an open ring box in his hand, and Benny with a piece of paper in his.

"Will you be my mom?"

Really, how could I have said no? There isn't a world in which I ever would have, but even still. Benny was unable to sit still, waiting for me to answer him, and I remembered the night they presented me with that first birthday cake of many for years to come. He was the same way then, happier than ever to surprise me, and meanwhile all I wanted to do was burst into tears over how much love I was feeling.

Unlike that night, however, I was simply unable to tease him with the anticipation of an answer. I couldn't even pretend to consider it, not for a moment. It was the easiest answer I'd ever given. To this day, it still is.

Benny ran up and hugged me the tightest he ever had before, and Spencer got up from the ground to meet us, slipping a thin gold band on my finger as I repeated the word to him through the tenderest of kisses.

"Yes."

THE END.

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[oceantornadoo]

ch1 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

-

“Yer gettin’ married next week.”

You scoff at your brother staring at his Scotch whisky like it holds the answers to the universe.

“And you’re the king of Egypt. Funny, Simon.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he glances at Johnny, his husband and right-hand man. The two have a silent conversation, a head twitch followed by a pursing of lips. Johnny’s lips are cracked and split, something you can’t imagine your brother is attracted to. Superb mental health does not run in your family.

Johnny rises out of his chair, a wooden thing that creaks with effort, and takes his leave. He ruffles your hair on the way out while you try, for the thirtieth time, to shove his side. You are, yet again, unsuccessful. He’s built like a tank.

“M serious, love. ‘Ve been in negotiations the past month. It’s happenin’ next Saturday, St Etheldreda's Church.” You run through a list of churches in your head. St. Ethledreda’s is not in Manchester. In fact, you’re pretty sure it’s not in your territory. Which means…

“Why’re you naming a church in London?” Simon’s quiet as his eyes bore holes into yours. This is one of his favorite tactics to use on his men - staying silent until they find the answer themselves. You hate when he uses it on you like you’re under his command and not his younger sister. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“We need an alliance an’ they offered.”

“Then write a fuckin’ treaty! Not a marriage certificate.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s the 21st century.”

“Not in this family.”

That’s something you can’t argue against. Most people outside of your immediate circle don’t even know Simon’s married to Johnny, let alone into men. When he first came to power, you created a sob story for him - early marriage to his (female) childhood sweetheart, then fast-spreading cancer, ending with a man struck by grief. It allowed him a known reason for turning down arranged marriages while making him seem more human than your shared father. No one paid enough attention to you two as children to know the story wasn’t real, and fake certificates of marriage and death are a dime a dozen. Everyone knows he’s close with Johnny, his right-hand man, and that’s that.

“What about my bookstore?” It’s your pride and joy, plus it’s 95% legal. Mostly. 

“There’s bookstores in London.” London. Only 200 miles away, but it’s like another world. Another world where you can’t walk down the street where every single storefront owner knows who you are. Where the cops are on your family’s payroll and don’t blink an eye at the gun strapped to your hip. It doesn’t matter if you were raised away in your formative years, losing your accent and most concepts of slang that baffle you. It doesn’t matter if you only share a father with Simon, that your mother was a Riley employee and not Mrs. Riley. Manchester is your home. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you have a choice, mainly because you know you don’t. The firm, or mafia, gang, or whatever you want to call it, still operates as if women are objects to be traded and bought. Marriages are merely political agreements. Getting to run a bookstore, or cash-cleaning business, as a woman is almost unheard of where you’re from. Others might call you lucky, but it’s more like being a bird in a gilded cage. A glimpse of what a true, normal life might look like. Living in a flat above your store, hosting local book clubs, setting out free cookie samples - all to be ruined when Johnny stumbles through with a gunshot or the newest recruits are sent to grab more bullets from the basement. Every other week, you snap back from your daydream and remember that you’re a mafia princess at the end of the day, though duchess seems more adequate since the Rileys don’t have that big of a territory.

“And who is my husband-to-be in London?”

“John Price.”

“I’d rather marry Nikolai. In fact, I might just go elope.” Simon glares and you glare back. “I’m not marrying John Price.” You clarify, for emphasis. Simon leans forward in his office chair, looming over his desk like a puppet master. You’re in the chair across from him, crossing your legs casually like you’re not discussing your arranged marriage and potential future. “Contract’s done, love. Jus’ waitin’ on yer signature.” Your signature, the one change from the barbaric practices of old England. You could say no, but then Simon would have no choice but to cut you off. It would be a sign of weakness to the other families if he let a delinquent bastard half-sister run his decisions.

“I want to negotiate the contract.” It’s the closest your brother has ever been to rolling his eyes. They twitch with restraint, blonde lashes flickering. “This isn’t a TV show, kid. Yer not negotiatin’ yer bloody contract.” You uncross your legs, hands on your armrest like you’re about to leave. “Fine. Let me go call up the NCA, tell them all about my brother and his scary gang.” He sighs deeply, then pulls out his phone. “Bloody hell. Can’t wait t’ marry you off, fuckin’ arsehole.” You grab the bright pink stress ball on his desk, a stocking stuffer you gave him as a joke, and throw it at him. He doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, huffing as the ball hits the side of his head. 

“Here.” He tosses you the phone that’s already ringing. There’s no contact name, just initials. JP. “Riley. Got a problem?” A smooth baritone emits from the phone’s tinny speakers. “Hope you’re not busy this weekend, future hubby. I can’t wait to see you.” Simon sighs at the consequences of his own actions. John’s silent on the other end, processing your words. Bit thick, that one.

“An’ why’s that, sweetheart?” It’s a term of endearment but he laces it with vitriol. “We’re having tea on Saturday at my store. Bring your contract and favorite lawyers. See you then!” You hang up before he can answer, tossing the phone back to Simon. He shakes his head at you.

“Smile, Simon. It’ll be nice to bond with your brother-in-law.”

This is going to be a very long marriage.

If you even get down the aisle.

-

Why does reader hate John? Why is she also a little shit? All will be revealed :)

[moonlight-prose]

HEART MADE OF GLASS

a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.

The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.

He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.

Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.

"Bub?"

You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."

A frown etched onto his face at your quick apology—your eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."

Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.

You never explained why it occurred.

This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your body—your mind—chose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each night—keeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.

But this wasn't that.

This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surface—waiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.

"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.

What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.

The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.

You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.

His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.

Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.

"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."

"I can finish–"

His glare was devastating.

Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.

Give him the chance to put you first.

He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."

But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don't–"

"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."

There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.

He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.

With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.

"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.

A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.

You grinned nonetheless.

"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"

He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."

"I'm sure it does."

"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.

Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.

"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.

He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.

"'M gonna order a pizza."

Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha. 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time. 

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now. 

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet. 

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to. 

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his. 

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway? 

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel. 

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance. 

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not. 

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying. 

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest. 

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable. 

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside. 

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head. 

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something. 

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated? 

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.” 

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor. 

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting. 

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness. 

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck. 

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch. 

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp. 

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek. 

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

[james-bucky-barnackle]

I mean?

Synopsis: On a press tour with your co-star Sebastian Stan, the interviewer asks you a question about another film he did and the answer surprises him.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Actress!Y/N

Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count.

A/N: Bro I am on a resurgence. Might just fuck around and continue writing more fanfics or whatever.

It’s another busy day promoting your new movie with Sebastian, The Road Trip. It's a funny romcom about two best friends going on a long trip to see another friend who your character is dating. Interestingly enough, the guy who plays him is Chris Evans. The interviews are currently being done in pairs, and you're with Sebastian.

You've always been candid, speaking your mind without feeling shy. Deep down, you're a bit of a pessimist, accepting things as they are. When you first heard from your agent that you were cast in The Road Trip alongside Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans, you laughed hysterically. The idea that you, an unconventional beauty, were chosen to be on screen with those two seemed surreal. You never really think about dating co-stars, which helps with acting in general. The media is impressed with how chill you are around A-list actors, and even though it hasn’t fully sunk in yet, the industry has started promoting you to that list.

The interview has been going on for about 15 minutes when another journalist joins, mostly asking about the experience of working with the cast.

“It’s my first romcom, can you believe it?” you say.

“First?!” Sebastian stares in mock disbelief.

“I know, right?!” You feign surprise.

The interviewer continues, “How does it feel to do something lighter and a bit comedic for once?”

“You mean, a movie where no one dies?” Sebastian covers his mouth at your response.

“I mean essentially,” the interviewer laughs. “Wait, no one dies?!” They nudge you playfully.

“I mean, I’m not sure, no spoilers,” you say, breaking the fourth wall and looking into the camera. Sebastian cackles. “It’s definitely refreshing. It feels like going to school for some reason. Like I don’t want to miss a class just because I might miss something wild happening.”

“What?” Sebastian glares. “What school did you go to?”

“I mean, aside from the learning stuff…” You grimace. “It’s fun, honestly. I’d love to do more romcoms. It’s very down-to-earth and just resonates with you so much. I don’t wanna get too cheesy, but I’m such a hopeless romantic—this is my jam.”

“Sebastian, how’s your experience working with Chris again, this time outside of the Marvel universe?”

“Wait, this isn’t in the Marvel Universe?!” you butt in. Sebastian again, fakes a loud gasp. You two laugh. This interview feels like it’s going nowhere.

“It’s totally fun, as Y/N mentioned—it really is like going to class. But most of my scenes are with Y/N, so she’s like the lab partner I’ve never had. Chris was always texting us, checking which location we’re going to be at, making sure we’re scheduled on the same day. It’s fun when we’re both on set.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got a good rhythm going. It’s like having a little family on set. Plus, Chris is always the one who brings snacks, so that’s a bonus.”

Sebastian laughs. “Oh, absolutely. Chris and his endless supply of trail mix.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Sounds like you all have a great dynamic. Was there a favorite scene you both enjoyed filming together?”

You think for a moment. “I really loved the scene where we’re stuck in the car during that rainstorm. It was so chaotic, but we had a blast improvising and just playing off each other.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a good one. The rain machine was going full blast, and we were just trying not to crack up the entire time.”

The interviewer smiles. “It sounds like it was a lot of fun. And the chemistry definitely shows on screen. Speaking of different roles, Y/N, Sebastian’s been in the movie Fresh where he plays a sociopathic killer who preys on lonely women pretending to be a genuine guy.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you say, laughing, as Sebastian shakes his head.

“Would you, like Noa, fall prey to Steve’s antics?” This question gets a louder laugh from Sebastian as your face shows pure shock. You hold him back with your hand and say,

“I’ve thought about this, to be honest,” you start, looking at Sebastian as he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Oh, you have?”

You laugh and continue, patting his thigh and looking back at the interviewer. “Me and my friend talked about it a while back. And it’s frightening because I would’ve probably ended up on a chopping block.”

“Noooo!” Sebastian shouts, “I was rooting for you.”

“No! But, like, you are incredibly good-looking and charismatic. It would be hard not to give my number at the grocery aisle.”

He tilts his head at your response. “Surely not good enough to get yourself killed?!”

“You’d be surprised how far I’d even go,” you say, as the interviewer laughs with you both. “Oh god, I need to call my therapist,” you add, ending the topic with the three of you gagging.

“Might just have to talk to mine too, after hearing that.”

You can already feel TikTok saving this clip and turning it into a meme.

You notice, after you call Sebastian good-looking, he’s been eyeing you sideways and biting his lip. As if he’s suddenly gone bashful. You can’t help but feel a boost in your ego. Could it be that Stan is shy? You make it a point to tease him for the remainder of the interview.

“What’s something funny or unexpected that happened on set?”

“Oh, there were so many moments,” you start. “One time, we were filming this really serious scene, and out of nowhere, a bird flew into the set and landed right on Sebastian’s shoulder.”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, I had no idea what to do. I just froze, and then Y/N started making bird noises to try and get it to fly away.”

You laugh, nodding. “It took a good ten minutes to get back into character after that. Everyone was cracking up.”

The interviewer grins. “That sounds hilarious. It’s great to hear that you all had such a good time. Speaking of moments on set, were there any funny or awkward moments while filming the more romantic or intimate scenes?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, plenty. Like the time we were shooting that kiss scene in the rain, and Y/N kept slipping on the wet pavement.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Hey, it was slippery! You were the one who can’t stop laughing during takes.”

Sebastian laughs. “True, true. But come on, we both know it was because you were so nervous about kissing me.” You notice him biting back.

You gasp in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was not nervous! I was just...distracted by how ridiculously good-looking you are. It’s hard to concentrate when you have that face right in front of you.” He smiles uncontrollably again, feeling defeated by your nonchalance. He wonders, how are you so good at this?

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “So, who do you think had the hardest time keeping a straight face during those scenes?”

You both point at each other simultaneously, then laugh.

Sebastian leans back, shaking his head. “Definitely Y/N. There was this one scene where we were supposed to be having this deep, romantic conversation, and she just couldn’t stop giggling.”

You nudge him playfully. “Well, you weren’t helping with all your ad-libs! You kept whispering things like, ‘Is that your stomach growling or are you just happy to see me?’”

Sebastian laughs. “Hey, I was trying to lighten the mood! And let’s not forget the scene where we had to stare into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. I swear, Y/N, you blink more than anyone I know.”

You smirk. “Only because I was trying to avoid getting lost in those baby blues of yours.” At this point, Sebastian was laughing hard, but feeling nervous at your jokes. He secretly wished it were all real, his ears were red and hot. He’s already thinking of how to approach you after the interview and get himself out of the friend zone which he didn’t even thought he’d be in, having found a new interest in you. 

The interviewer looks between the two of you, amused. “It sounds like you both had a lot of fun with it. Do you think all that chemistry will translate to the screen?”

Sebastian nods. “Oh, definitely. I think our off-screen dynamic really helped make the on-screen relationship feel more genuine. Plus, Y/N here is an amazing actress. She made it easy.”

You smile, feeling a bit bashful. “Well, Sebastian’s not too bad himself. It’s hard not to enjoy working with someone who’s so talented and, let’s be honest, ridiculously attractive.” 

Here she goes again .Sebastian grins. “Right back at you. But let’s be real, we’re both just incredibly good-looking people trying to make a movie here.” The internet is gonna have a field day.

The interviewer laughs. “Sounds like a tough job! Any last funny or romantic moments you’d like to share?”

You think for a moment. “There was this one scene where we had to dance together. Neither of us are professional dancers, so there were a lot of missteps and toe-stepping. But it ended up being one of the sweetest scenes because it felt so real and unpolished.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a great scene. It was supposed to be this perfectly choreographed dance, but it turned into us just goofing around and having fun. I think it really captured the essence of our characters' relationship.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly delighted by your stories. “Well, thank you both for sharing these wonderful moments. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.”

As you and Sebastian leave the interview room, you head towards the lobby where a few other cast members are mingling. The energy is still high from the fun and laughter of the interview. Sebastian nudges you playfully as you walk.

“Hey, remember in the interview when you called me incredibly good-looking and charismatic?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Oh, come on. Don’t let it go to your head, Stan.”

He chuckles. “Too late. I’m pretty sure I’m going to bring that up every chance I get now.”

“You would,” you laugh, shaking your head. “ It’s not like I was lying.”

Sebastian stops walking, turning to face you. “Well, thank you. And for the record, you’re pretty incredible yourself. Both on screen and off.”

You feel a warm blush creeping up your cheeks, putting a palm to your chest as if to continue the gag. “Thanks, Seb. That means a lot.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “No, really, it’s been really great working with you. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“I think so too,” you agree, feeling a flutter in your stomach, you realize he’s actually serious now. There’s a moment of silence as you both just look at each other, the playful teasing from earlier now replaced with something more tender.

Sebastian breaks the silence first. “So, what do you say we celebrate wrapping up the promotion tour? Maybe dinner tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, teasingly. “Is this your way of asking me out, Stan?”

He grins, a little sheepishly. “Maybe it is. What do you think?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, then nod. “I think it sounds like a great idea.”

“Perfect,” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Eight it is."

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[kuronekonerochan]

The fans still waiting...

"After all this time?..."

Given it’s almost been a year wouldn’t it be super neat if someone pulled an IQIYI with The Spirealm and accidentally released all the episodes for Priest’s MoDu/Justice In The Dark for an hour and then removed it.

[wstviewvidal]

valerie- w. maximoff

summary: cupid is actually a four year old with a pink sequins backpack

pairing: rich!wanda x r

a/n: this one was fun to write lol

minors do not interact

“are you ready, bubba?” you yell out to your niece who’s sat at your couch watching another episode of her favorite cartoon.

you can hear a muffled reply in response as you walk into the living room where valerie is sat with a small zip lock bag full of cookies. you give her a pointed look, one she acknowledges in embarrassment as she puts the cookies away that you’d told her not to eat yet.

it’s been a week since the company dinner you’d accompanied wanda to. after the slight altercation with the woman who tried to insult you, wanda decided it was time to leave shortly after. she then made it a point to remind you that she was going to take both you and valerie out— which happened to be today.

wanda apologized profusely after the event, the guilt of putting you in an uncomfortable weighed heavily on her conscience. she sent you a bouquet of flowers the day after.

you got over the whole ordeal that same night, but seeing wanda act so caring and soft towards you was the reason you allowed it.

“when is auntie wanda coming?” valerie asks, going through her pink sequins backpack that she brought specifically for the aquarium.

you’d told her on numerous occasions that wanda was just your friend and nothing else, but you’re always met with a smug look on valerie’s face and a, “whatever you say.”

as soon as valerie says that, you both are met with wanda’s black car pulling into your driveway and her walking to your front door.

you move towards the front door to let wanda in, but you’re beat by the four year old in pigtails running to open it for wanda.

“my valerie!” wanda exclaims, immediately crouching down to hug the little girl, “how are you? i missed you!”

the little girl squeals and giggles as wanda presses a kiss to her cheek, “good! i’m excited for the aquarium!”

valerie had been gushing about going to the aquarium with her aunties for the past few days.

wanda nods and lets go of your niece, then standing up to her normal height as she smiles at you warmly, “hi.”

laughing at her bashfulness, you greet wanda with a twinkle in your eye, leaning on one hip, “hi, maximoff.”

valerie watches the two of you with a giggle, finding it amusing how the two of you got nervous just saying hi.

“we should head out,” wanda says when she’s brought back to earth my valerie’s snicker, “we can get lunch after the aquarium.”

the two of you head out in wanda’s car, valerie blabbering about how she’d missed wanda and updating her with what’s new in her class.

you look over at wanda, who meets your gaze with a subtle smirk. you can tell she’s amused by the whole situation— it all seeming very domestic to her.

arriving at the aquarium, you hold valerie’s hand as wanda falls into the routine of holding the door open for the both of you. you thank her as you pass by, brushing your hand along her waist as you past in front of her.

with your back to her, wanda silently groaned and shut her eyes as you did so, internally freaking out. she follows behind you trying to suppress a flushed smile with the pre-bought tickets in hand to scan.

“you pretty ladies ready?” wanda asks as she leads the both of you toward the doorway to get into the actual exhibits.

valerie nods enthusiastically as she rushes in front of you, shoving her pink sequins backpack into your hands as she runs off to look at the glass tunnel of fish.

wanda laughs as she watches the interaction play out, seeing valerie’s wide toothed grin as her brown curls bounce as she takes off past the two of you. you roll your eyes at wanda, “it’s not funny, wands.”

wanda playfully nods, reaching for the backpack in your hands, “you’re right, it’s not funny at all,” she puts her arms through valerie’s backpack and pulls you forward with her so neither of you lose sight of the girl.

you take in wanda’s casual outfit, not used to seeing her outside of her normal business attire. the light blue denim and white t-shirt making her look comfortably put together.

noticing your gaze on her, she raises her eyebrows, silently asking what’s going on.

shaking your head and turning away from her, “i just think you look pretty,” you say smugly as you walk a few steps ahead of her in hopes of not showing your flushed face at being caught gawking.

wanda watches you waltz off, her lips pursed in amusement, “oh, do you now?” she calls after you, her tone teasing.

she can tell that you have a thing for subtly catching her off guard and leaving her palms sweaty. she runs a hand through her hair, biting back a smile as she watches you walk ahead of her.

glancing back, “don’t get used to it, maximoff. im just being honest.”

catching up to you, wanda walks on your right side and points out all of the different fish. you somehow found yourself absentmindedly holding onto her arm as you two walked through the botanical garden that you followed valerie into.

wanda tensed subtly at the contact, but easing almost immediately as she watched your side profile with a gaze of adoration.

“i’m not that used to people being honest,” she says after a few minutes of silence, sitting on a nearby bench while valerie watched butterflies, “nor have i had anyone tell me i look good in denim.”

looking over at her with a head tilt, “then i think you’ve been around the wrong people.” your tone carries a bit of a playful edge, one that carries a bit more weight than intended.

wanda’s smile tells you she acknowledges the weight, it faltering just a bit but enough to recognize something softer about her.

in attempts to break the tension, wanda pulls you gently to a section, “look, these are my favorite,” as she points at hibiscus flowers.

you can tell she’s grasping for a change in topic and you decide to humor her. nodding along, you turn to her, “i’ll make a mental note of that.”

your small world is interrupted by valerie’s squeals echoed in the garden.

letting out a slight sigh, you nod towards valerie who’s now running full speed to the waterfall, “come on, before she tries to climb something she shouldn’t.”

the little girl’s giggles echo throughout the garden, and she tugs you both to an empty bench and pointing at the butterflies and flowers, “look, they’re so pretty!”

wanda nods, agreeing with valerie’s excitement, “they are, aren’t they?”

leaning back on your hands as you sit at the bench, you admire the two— how they easily fit into each other’s world. the way valerie easily has wanda wrapped around her finger and how wanda goes with whatever valerie says. you smile to yourself at how wanda carries valerie on her hip and points around the exhibit with a smile on her face.

after putting valerie down to do her own exploring, she joins you on the bench. your legs brushing against each other— neither one of you pulling away.

clearing your throat in hopes of not sounding nervous, “you’ve got competition now. val thinks the butterflies are prettier than you.”

with a mock offended face, “that’s so mean!”

shrugging playfully and lifting your chin, “what can i say, you’ll just have to work on impressing her even more.”

“i’ll let it slide for today, but,” smirking just the smallest bit, wanda moves in closer to you, “i hope you don’t think i’ve given up on try on to impress you.”

your heart stutters and your face immediately goes red— you’re caught off guard by her bold words. wanda chuckles a bit before walking off to valerie and leaving you behind on the bench to collect yourself.

wanda walks with valerie around the aquarium, her small hand fit into wanda’s. the young girl points at different fish and listens to wanda spill facts about them.

the two laugh with each other, wanda adopting a caring attitude for the small girl. walking across a bridge, valerie tugs on wanda’s hand with a furrowed brow, “wanda..”

recognizing the slight waver in her voice, she immediately looks down to her and cups her cheek, “what’s wrong, bubba?”

valerie pouts and with a small voice, “jesse’s here,” she reaches up for wanda to hold her.

immediately pulling the girl onto her hip, “is that a friend from school?” wanda questions gently, not caught up to speed with who this person is.

shaking her head and playing with wanda’s necklace, “she’s my aunties old girlfriend.”

wanda’s steps halt, immediately looking in the direction valerie was looking. spotting a dark haired girl walking with someone. she watches her carefully, her bottom lip being tugged between her teeth in deep thought.

“i didn’t like her very much,” valerie speaks softly, as if she didn’t know if she should be speaking her opinion, “auntie used to cry a lot when they were together.”

upon hearing this, wanda’s heart clenched and she couldn’t help but let out a sigh. nodding, she held valerie a bit tighter. wanda’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes followed the ex with a sharp, deliberate focus.

wanda didn’t glare— she’s not the glaring type, but she studied with a silent steel expression.

adjusting her hold on valerie, she walked back to the bench where you were sat— intending to get the both of you out of there before you had to come into contact with your ex.

however, there you were— conversing with your ex.

her breath hitched slightly, her steps faltering for just a second as she processed the picture in front of her. she took in your expression, the forced polite smile and the way your arms were crossed.

and then there was jesse— standing far too close for comfort, her head tilted in a way that seemed too smug.

whispering into valerie’s ear, “is that her, bubs?”

the small girl nodded into wanda’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around wanda’s neck, “yeah.”

she adjusted her posture and stood as tall as possible while she made her way closer. she walked with purpose, her steps not faltering— her presence unmistakable.

you turn around at the sound of steps coming closer, a genuine smile and breath of relief escaping your lips as you take in the sight of wanda with valerie in her arms.

“hi,” you say through a wide grin, pushing a piece of hair from valerie’s face.

“hey,” wanda greeted, her voice laced with warmth when she directed it to you, but her eyes flickered with something a bit cold when she looked over at jesse.

you noticed the subtle expression, but knew not to say anything of it.

even valerie noticed it, “auntie..” she whispered, her voice broke you out of your moment, her little arms reaching for you.

pulling her into you, you look over at wanda, “what’s going on?” a flicker of confusion in your expression.

her hands settling into her back pockets, a polite smile graced her face, “baby saw someone she recognized.”

wanda subtly glanced over at jesse, whose lips were still holding the smug smile— one wanda wished she could wipe off.

jesse raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit as she looked at wanda, “and you are?”

wanda tilted her head, her expression alarmingly calm, “i’m wanda.”

she offered no further elaboration, just a quiet gaze that somehow felt like a challenge.

glancing nervously between the two of them, you feel the weight of the air around you but are unsure of how to break it— and you know valerie feels it too.

“uh, jesse, this is wanda,” you hesitate, swallowing hard, “wanda, this is jesse.”

wanda’s smile didn’t falter, in fact, it somehow became even more alarmingly polite. there was a flicker of something in her eyes— something almost protective, territorial even, as she gave jesse a once over.

“nice to meet you,” wanda extended a hand out of her.

jesse meets her hand, her grip lasting a second too long, “likewise.”

turning back to you with a gentle voice, “the baby said she was hungry already. i think we should head out to eat.”

turning your full attention back to wanda after witnessing the tense moment, you nod and agree, “let’s go.”

you give a quick goodbye to jesse, not even intending to continue whatever conversation you were having before wanda swooped in.

“take care,” wanda nods to jesse as she guides you out with a hand on the small of your back.

you don’t even turn back to know that jesse is watching the three of you. you allowed wanda to take the lead, trusting her instinct to leave, even if you couldn’t explain why.

“are you okay?” she asks as you three are in the car, looking over at you as you’re stopped at a red light. you seem to be lost in thought, wanda’s eyebrows furrow the slightest bit.

you nod, looking over at her with a polite smile, “thank you.”

part of you wonders why wanda acted the way she did, but the other part of you knows that wanda is perceptive— and the fact that valerie probably told her something.

valerie gasps as wanda pulls into the parking lot lot, “pizza!”

the three of you are sat in a corner booth,

except this time valerie is sat with wanda rather than you— not that you mind. in fact, you prefer to admire the way wanda colors with valerie on her kid’s menu and the way she wipes valerie’s mouth when she smears marinara sauce on her face.

your head is tilted slightly, chin in your hand as you watch the two of them intently. you find yourself smiling without even realizing, laughing at the two of them in their own world.

your chest is warm and you can’t help but trace the lines on wanda’s face. the smile that’s painted on her lips, the way her hair falls over her shoulders, the way her voice is gentler when she speaks to valerie.

giggling softly at the sight, “you’re cute.”

valerie doesn’t look up from the drawing, but wanda does. she nods in agreement, assuming you’re talking about your niece.

with a playful roll of your eyes, “i’m talking about you, maximoff.”

wanda’s eyes widen slightly, a flush creeping up her neck as the two of you hold eye contact. she clears her throat, trying to keep some semblance of composure, but the way you are looking at her so intently has her falling off her seat.

her voice is soft, like she’s trying to keep it as steady as possible, “well, coming from you that means a lot,” she tries her best to seem confident, but you can see you got her nervous by the way she’s fiddling with the ring on her finger.

from the corner of your eye, you can see valerie smiling at the two of you.

you know your niece well enough to know she’s been plotting this whole time. for a four year old, she’s incredibly aware of the people around her— which in your case may be a good thing.

“auntie,” she begins.

you hold in a breath, afraid of what she may say, “yeah, bubba?”

“i like wanda a lot better than your old girlfriend,” she states matter-of-factly, “she’s nice to you and buys me food.”

does valerie know that you and wanda aren’t actually dating? or is she up to something?

that doesn’t matter though because now wanda’s laughing at your nieces words. she’s laughing and you can’t even be bothered to correct valerie because wanda is grinning from ear to ear and that’s the only thing that matters right now.

sighing, you decide it’s best to keep quiet, “don’t be mean, val.”

the little girl just shrugs and turns to wanda with a hushed voice, “you’re a lot nicer to my auntie. you better stay around.”

wanda just nods and holds out her pinky to valerie, “i pinky promise ill do whatever it takes.”

a giggle escapes valerie’s voice as she laces her tiny pinky around wanda’s, the two of them smiling at one another’s promise.

wanda finally brings you two back home, the sun setting. wanda stares out the windshield as she realizes the day spent with you is now over, her heart feeling heavy.

“i loved being with you and val today,” she says as she looks over at you, her hand tracing the gearshift out of nervous habit.

you nod, placing your hand on top of hers without a second thought, “thank you for thinking of us.”

wanda looks at your hand on top of hers, wondering if she should turn it around and interlace your fingers. the gears turn in her head, wondering if that’s too much too soon.

“i’ll see you soon?” you ask, brushing your fingers across the back of her hand in a soothing manner. you don’t mean for it to come off flirty, but you can see how it causes wanda to force back a smile.

she nods, finally looking you in your eyes after watching you trace lines on her hand, “of course.”

valerie makes her way out of the car on her own, grabbing one of her outdoor toys she kept stashed in your rose bush.

you scoff, not even knowing she’d hidden it there, “can you believe that girl? half the time i’m not even aware she’s plotting something.”

but wanda wasn’t listening, she was more focused on the way the sunset was making your eye color pop out, how your smile seemed even more beautiful now that she had her full attention on you.

she nods absentmindedly, her body facing toward you as you speak.

“i want to see you again,” she says, her voice just barely above a whisper, “please?”

the subtle pleading tone in her voice causes you to face her. you’re met with a smiling wanda who looks nothing but awestruck as she watches you.

you giggle softly at how soft she looks right now, “you will.”

a small pout adorns her lips at how you don’t give a solid answer as to when she’ll see you again, but she nods knowing that your schedules don’t always align.

as valerie plays in the background, the moment between you and wanda is quiet but charged. you two take time gazing at each other, smiles lingering.

“good,” her voice is low.

you can tell she wants to say more, but instead she chooses to continue gazing at you— studying the details of your face.

the weight of her stare is settling into your chest, and you know you need to get out of the car soon.

“let me know when you get home,” you say, placing a hand on wanda’s forearm, giving a gentle squeeze.

as wanda’s car pulls off, you stand there for a moment longer, watching until the taillights of her car disappear.

valerie calls from the yard, her voice light and playful, “you’re smiling again.”

you glance over at her, rolling your eyes a bit, but she’s not wrong.

[cthulhus-curse]

Neighborly Support

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 5,241

Warnings: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blood, Darkfic, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Mommy Kink, Murder, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Smut, Somnophilia, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Wanda goes ballistic with an ax that’s all you really need to know, this is a formal apology to Nat and Maria my babies ily btw, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You hadn’t looked back ever since you moved away from Westview, but an offer for dinner with the neighbors draws you back in just for you to fall once again for one Wanda Maximoff. Only this time you get more than you bargained for.

Family dinners were never something you looked forward to. Living in the city gave you the freedom to decline them, to come up with whatever excuse you could muster in a matter of seconds and get out of them. Although your parent’s house was less than an hour away, you had been able to avoid any reunions in months. You loved them, you really did, but the grievances they threw at you for living so far away, for not surrounding yourself with those who loved you and instead drowning yourself in work after having graduated college were far too much for you to deal with. 

Well, that was until you didn’t allow yourself to escape the tight grasp a family dinner had on you. Especially not once your mother called you to let you know a neighbor would be joining you – Wanda Maximoff. 

During your college years you had gotten to merely see her from far away. She had recently moved in once you were a freshman. Although you lived away from your family in that period of your life, you were thrilled to return home for breaks and within whatever free time you could find. Seeing Wanda waltzing around the neighborhood and small town of Westview was only a bonus. 

She had two kids and although the entirety of the population seemed to despise her, she was still a high-standing citizen – president of the PTA, a devoted housewife, and the true image of perfection in the familial sense. Her family was her life, twins being the light in Wanda’s dark days while her husband, Vision, was kind without a fault. 

As soon as your mother let it slip through the phone that Wanda and her family would be joining your family dinner, you accepted. 

Returning home was always a bittersweet moment. You dreaded the way in which your parents would bombard you with pleas to move back for the sole purpose of helping your father’s plumbing business. It’s what your brother had done, but then again, Tony had always been the favorite. They weren’t too fond of you running around an alien city by yourself. Control had always been something you sought, especially from your family, and yet that all changed as you sat across the table from your neighbor. 

It didn’t surprise you to see the red hair still sitting only centimeters from her shoulders. Wanda had never dared change her appearance. She always kept her mane short enough to give off the appearance of a truly devoted mother, her outfits mirroring that very same image. At times you had seen her wear small buns in the past, her hair entirely up as she tended to her flowers in the front yard as you watched from the second-floor window in your room. As wrong as you knew it to be, you always had difficulty tearing your eyes away from the older woman. 

Sitting back and relaxing, you listened on to the neighbor. 

“I’ve never met a pair of more imcompetent individuals in my life. Can you believe they didn’t want to give me what I purchased? I spent almost an hour trying to explain myself so it would get through the manager’s thick skull,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head as she took another bite of the pasta your parents had crafted. “It was all in the receipt too. I never got what I ordered. My poor boys had to share their food because I refused to give that wretched place a single extra cent. Idiots.”

One of the reasons why she was so infamous along the town was her propensity to forever be right. Wanda was nothing if not a confident woman who lacked self-awareness or even a smidge of care for those around her except her children – at times her husband. She could never find it in her to be wrong. The controlling nature which she exuded across the table, her twin boys sitting by one of her sides as Vision took the other, was one that spoke to you. Perhaps you’d give her off all the control if only she asked. 

Dinner went on without any major issues. Given the presence of what your brother deemed as strangers, your parents never spoke about your life in the city. Instead they chatted highly of you and Tony to the Maximoffs, prompting Wanda to spare you glances here and there that she never gave your brother. For a moment your eyes even came in contact with her own. You swore that green forest that lay beneath them could swallow you whole unprompted. And you’d, of course, let it. 

Towards the end of it your face was hot and red. You had to excuse yourself before the neighbors left, mumbling something about how your head was throbbing with pain given the long drive – a lie – and that you would be slithering into your old bedroom and sleeping until the morning – another lie. 

As though you had counted your stars, after having washed your dirty dishes, Wanda rose to her feet and left for the bathroom. Walking in the same direction, the halls empty all across from you as the woman skidded behind you, making you attempt to swallow the knot in your throat and ignore her. Both were failed exercises when strong arms grabbed you roughly and pushed you against the nearest wall. Given how far away you were from the dining room, you were lucky no one else heard your whimper as twinkling viridescent orbs shot through your soul. 

“I don’t think you have a clue of how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Wanda husked out, her voice low and dangerous in a manner you had yet to witness before. Her head was tilted as she dug her nails deep into your shoulders. “I have done all the things a wife is supposed to do. House. Kids. The meals.” Each little word she mumbled, leg drifting up to press her knee where you were already dripping, made you shudder. “I’m very attracted to you. Would you be interested in having an affair?”

As difficult as it was to breathe in that moment, there came no hesitation when you nodded and mustered out a small ‘yes’. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Wanda was unfiltered, you quickly learned. Whatever she said, she meant. Perhaps it should’ve driven you away when she first casually suggested the taboo arrangement, and yet you found yourself doing as she said. She carried all of the control you had slowly collected when moving away simply to hold it all over your head and make you hers with it. 

Sneaking around was always a rather difficult issue to resolve. At first all you had were little moments where Wanda pressed her body against yours while your back touched the back of her front door. Her lips were the ones to take all the power, dancing over your own and being led around without putting up a fight. She was devouring you with all she had. Taking claim of what she deemed as rightfully hers ever since she saw you for the first time years before. 

What wasn’t difficult was when she made excuses to visit you in the city. Vision would never dare question his wife. At times you felt bad for him, bad for the fact that you took advantage of the kindness he always offered to secretly rub it in his face and be with his wife. It’s not like Wanda cared though. So long as she brushed it off, you didn’t deem it as a problem. 

The first time the two of you got longer than twenty minutes together in secrecy was when your parents took a day trip to the beach along with your younger brother. You were left alone prancing across the house, phone in hand as you quickly shot off a text to Wanda. The excitement you felt was indescribable. Never had you gotten such a thrill with any of your past partners. Wanda was truly one of a kind. 

When she arrived all serene and calm, her head held up high, the redhead didn’t waste time shooting off orders. “Bedroom, now. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly, and lay on the bed. Don’t you dare do anything else unless I give you permission. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the automatic response.

You were the well-behaved pet that Wanda had never gotten to play with. She could use you however she wanted. Her deeply sick and twisted mind ran rampant given all the ideas she carried along. Perhaps she could give you a cute collar to tug at with a leash, or maybe a muzzle to keep your needy whimpers at bay as she used and abused all of your holes. She could use several toys to correct any behavior needed. The possibilities were endless. 

Wanda was pleased to see you had followed her instructions. She took her sweet time making her way up the stairs in her tight yellow shirt and blue jeans. Her eyebrows were raised, mouth a thin line with raised ends, when she first got a sight of your nude body. Perfection couldn’t even begin to describe you. You were so much more than that, a wondrous angel who fell from heaven just to bring her the utmost joy in life, the thrills she had never gotten beside her husband. 

“Hmmm good,” Wanda mumbled as she aimlessly stared at the nudity exposed. She could feel a tingling sensation between her legs, a shiver running down her back that she had yet to experience. “Such an obedient little doll. I like it.”

She wasted no time undressing herself, putting her folded clothes beside yours over the dresser. The way in which you carelessly followed her orders, not daring to think about anything beside them made her proud as ever. As she crawled over the bed with an animalistic sense overtaking her being, Wanda was ready to devour her prey. 

Kisses across your skin made you see the stars. She spent ages merely running her fingernails over your body which she cut short awaiting the blissful moment. Markings were left in her wake. Wanda’s possession over you had begun. She wanted, no, needed to make you hers entirely. To free your mind and soul from the confines of your own control and have them be hers forever.  

“Needy whore,” Wanda muttered as she cupped your cunt with a hand as the other supported her over you. Her breath was hot against your neck, tongue trailing across your skin before she peppered kisses all over your jaw and made her way to your mouth. “You’re fucking dripping for me. I bet you’re so tight, huh? You haven’t been properly fucked by anyone and need mommy’s help?”

That was new to say the least, but in your deeply hazy state of mind, your eyesight blurry with need, you couldn’t care less. 

“Please, Wanda. I need you so fucking bad,” you replied breathlessly. Your hips had a mind of their own as they began moving back and forth only to get your cunt to rub against the palm of her hand. “Touch me. I promise I’ll be so good for you, I’ll obey. Just please…mommy…”

“As I said: needy fucking whore.”

Wanda slapped her hand over your pussy harshly. She was sober up until you moaned loudly, your desperate noises giving her the push she so deeply needed. It was enough to get the older woman all drunk with you. Her hand smacked you over and over, not caring to stop even as you drew wetter than before, your slick juices running down your inner thighs and dripping onto the bed sheets you’d surely have to clean up. 

Fingers rubbed up and down your slit. They were lazy at first, moving without a true purpose as they teased your entrance and swirled over your swollen clint. You were throbbing by then, sobbing harshly with a tear-stricken red face while Wanda kept worshiping your frame and putting her focus between your legs. With the way her erect nipples slid up and down your body, at times grazing against your own, you weren’t sure you’d make it for long enough. 

When she finally eased herself in, you had to hold onto the woman so as to not fall apart. 

Those digits were long and slender, all coated with juices of yours as they inched inside your tight hole. Two at once were bearable. Wanda was sure to take her time allowing you to grow used to her, pumping her tips in you before moving them deeper. Velvety walls clung to her for dear life. You could only hear her low grunts from above you along with your own lewd sounds and the wet noises from your pussy. 

“Do you like being fucked like this, sweetheart? Your pussy all used by mommy. It’s fucking pathetic how desperate you are,” Wanda said as she drove her fingers into your depths and curled them up. The way in which you cried out of pain and pleasure made her smirk. “This is all mine. This dirty and hungry cunt is mommy’s property and you better fucking remember. Nobody else will ever touch you like I do.”

“I understand. I- ah!” She thumbed at your clit and you nearly came then and there. “I’ll be the best girl for you, mommy. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You spent what felt like eons lying on your childhood bedroom bed with Wanda on top of you. She pumped her fingers harshly in and out of your pussy, groaning at the way you were stretched out relentlessly. Her admiration with her hand all covered in your wetness was immersive. Green eyes flickered all over your body, mostly focused on your fucked cunt, but also paying mind to your nipples that she took with her mouth when leaning in. 

Holding her sadistic nature back was nearly impossible. Wanda wanted to break you, to slap her hands over your skin and leave you filled up with tears and bruises, perhaps gushing with red. Breaking you would be a delight. Taking your body and abusing every single inch of it, face buried between your legs as she scratched up your inner thighs until you bled. She could spend hours cleaning such beautiful red drops with her tongue if allowed to. 

Wanda didn’t stop fucking you widly. She was set on not just bringing you to your climax, but having you enjoy the trip there. Her mouth was all over the place in an instant – your chest, sucking on your nipples lightly, your neck, your face, and making its way down your body only to go up once again as a tease. Fingers were curling themselves up and thrusting in and out. Given all the erotic stimulation exerted over you, it wasn’t long until you came. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Never had you felt such an intense wave of pleasure overtake your being. Your eyes were wide, arms wrapped around the back of Wanda’s neck pulling her closer as your legs did the same. With an arched back, you got to press your own tits against her own. Her digits were still ramming into you without relent as your orgasm shook you apart, leaving you a hungry, and loud mess as Wanda smiled smugly. 

You remained all quiet and blissed out let alone for your breathless mannerism and little sounds of pleasure. 

“‘Slut’ seems fitting for you,” Wanda commented as she sat back with her fingers still deep in you. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet. Mommy still wants to play with your pretty pussy, honey. And you’ll let me do it whether you like it or not. Well…” she drifted off only to tilt her head and speak quietly. “That is unless mommy’s whore wants a punishment. That can always be arranged, my sweet babylove. I am very good at hurting people. You’ll get to see that firsthand.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Her insistence to own you entirely was something you adored. Wanda didn’t once hide it. You were hers, she told you many times. There were moments when you’d lay with her front pressed against your back, a toy nestled deep inside you that was strapped around her waist. She would use her nails to scratch your skin, leaving faded marks of her initials on you. 

Although in secrecy, she’d never leave you to forget about who your true owner was. Whether it was with small touches when your families met every once in a while or glances shared from across the street as she tended to her garden and you simultaneously picked up the mail. Each day you spent at your hometown working from there remotely rather than the city you found it much more difficult to even humor leaving. 

Your parents had been thrilled that you spent more time back home. Unbeknownst to them, you were sneaking out to meet Wanda at various motels, at times visiting her home while her husband was at work and her children at school. Never had your life carried such an adrenaline kick to it. 

Wanda had invited you and your brother to join her family once on a trip to a nearby amusement park. While Vision, Tony, and the twins went on to explore all the roller coasters, you stayed behind with the redhead. She would make casual conversation, at times brushing her hand against your own to be a tease. That night she had punished you for having forced her into going on a rather nerve-racking ride where she screamed her head off, getting off all humiliated and mumbling something about how you were a bad girl for mommy. You got fifteen spankings for your trouble, but it was well worth it when in the end you got a picture of a frightened Wanda on the roller coaster. 

For a moment you found it difficult to conclude where you stood with Wanda. Surely she told you about her unhappy and unfulfilling marriage, about how the spark had disappeared, and yet she was cold-hearted when you attempted to give her affection during certain moments. Regardless, you knew she craved you on some level at the very least. Both were content with that as it was enough for you. 

She wasn’t as happy when you found yourself cornered by another neighbor at the annual town fair. Given the size of Westview, it wasn’t a truly packed event. At most you found peers who you knew since childhood, neighbors, shop owners, past teachers – of course one of them being one Maria Hill. 

Unlike Wanda, Maria wasn’t so discreet when it came to her advances. She had a wife and children, and yet for some reason came onto you at the fair. It only made matters worse when you found Natasha chatting amicably with Wanda from across the event, feeling bad for the other redhead as your secret lover met your gaze and stared daggers at the tall woman hovering in your personal space. 

When a hand touched down upon your waist, Maria mumbling something about how no one has to know, it was enough to prompt Wanda to rush towards you as a saving grace. She pretended to need help finding the twins and as loyal as ever, you agreed while throwing the brunette a quick glance. 

“Did she touch you?” Wanda had snarled out. As angry as you knew she was, there was a surprising hint of worry in her voice. 

When you nodded, her face scrunched up with both fury and sadness. You were far too anxious about being left alone for Wanda to act on her wrath, so instead she nestled you close and brought you with her to find something sweet to feed you, letting you have the cotton candy she had previously rolled her eyes at, mumbling on about how her little girl would get cavities. 

That morning Wanda had dressed you up, sneaking into your house while your family was already off at the fair. She picked out your clothes – a beautiful short pink skirt, a white sleeveless blouse, thigh-high socks, and Converse shoes. The golden necklace which hung around your neck with a small heart was given to you. Mommy was elated to see her princess donning an outfit which made you seem like a doll. It was all she wanted at times, to take her pretty dolly and play house with you, to use you as though there was not a thought behind your eyes which, to be fair, was the truth when you were surrounded by Wanda. You were a doll and she was your master. 

Holding onto those memories of the earlier day was the only way you got through the fair. 

As soon as you got home, you ignored the way your parents told you they’d spend the night with your cousin across town, leaving alongside Tony who found your silence odd, but shrugged it off and left. Not caring about much, all you did was shrug off your clothes, put on an oversized shirt, and throw yourself over the bed to forget about Maria’s advances. 

Wanda was far too busy on her own. After having sent off a text wishing you a good night’s rest, she went ahead to tuck her children in and say goodnight to her husband, promising to be back soon given she forgot to buy milk for the following day. Only instead of rushing to the store, she went to the Romanoff residence along with an ax. 

It was the last night Maria ever shared with her wife and kids before being knocked unconscious and dragged to the edge of town where she was taught a lesson. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

You were asleep when a mysterious figure slipped into your room. Her breathing was ragged, drops of red falling onto your hardwood floor as she made her way closer to you. Darkness was prominent along your surroundings, leaving her hidden away as she crawled onto your bed. Hands tugged at her clothes, pulling it all off and, rather than pristinely folding the black dress, throwing it to the side of the bed. 

All that lay beneath were drops that fell from her face onto her nude skin and a strap-on attached to her waist. 

Wanda threw her phone to your side while unlocked and ready to play a video. Even in the dusk around her, she could make out the silhouette of your body as you lay on your stomach all sprawled over the bed. Such a perfect and innocent thing, she thought while sneaking a hand beneath your large shirt only to come in contact with nothing but your nudity beneath. 

“I see you’ve been waiting for me,” Wanda muttered as she shook her head with amusement. “Naughty girl. So ready and needy for mommy already.”

After pulling up your shirt just enough, the woman shifted over you. She grabbed the dildo and ran the tip against your already slick cunt after you went to sleep with vivid images of Wanda in your mind. At the lewd sounds your body made once the toy was swirled up and down your folds, parting them in the process, Wanda grunted. After the adrenaline rush she had experienced, you were there to bring her back down. 

At the feeling of something wet entering you, you frowned. You were barely conscious at the time, hazy eyes opening only slightly to see black let alone from the light of a phone by your side. Thinking it was yours, you grabbed it mindlessly, groaning as desperation fueled you. 

“Hi there, sleeping beauty. Did you miss me?”

It was the unmistakable voice of Wanda which calmed you down as you had slowly begun trying to get out of the bed but were forced to remain in place. You didn’t dare give much thought to the idea that although you could be in danger, one word mustered by your lover was enough to get your breathing to normalize once again. 

But alas, you basked in confusion. You reached out for the bedside table to click on the light, frowning before you turned around to face Wanda. “Wan- what are you doing?”

“Shhh I’m just making it all better,” she replied. Even from that you could sense an unhinged tone behind her words trying to make its way out. “We’ve talked about this, honey. I thought you wanted mommy to surprise you with her cock one night. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yes but…” you had wanted it, of course you did, but not with Wanda’s face covered with what you deduced was blood. At that you truly began freaking out. “Wanda what the fuck?! Are you okay?”

Your attempt to move away so you could take a better look at the woman failed. Instead, you were pressed down over the bed, your head stuck in place as you wiggled around. “Stop squirming, pet. Let mommy give you a little treat. You need it so bad after today, huh? Just a reminder of who owns you?”

Her jealousy was not something you were unaware of. Many times Wanda’s green monster came out to play, its tint similar to that of her eyes. You could barely hold a conversation with one of the other neighbors, although older ones, without feeling someone boring their eyes at you – that someone being Wanda who huffed and puffed up until you finished your conversation. Seeing others be able to chat so casually with you in public without anyone growing suspicious was something she desperately craved. 

She completely ignored your worries and began inching deeper inside of you. It was a deep red toy you knew so well, its ridges deliciously ghosting against your pussy and stretching it out even more. It was thick, girthy enough to make you scream at the feeling of it laying in your depths. 

“You’re so tight, little one. It looks like mommy has to take care of this hungry pussy with her cock once again. You are so desperate. It’s fucking adorable, slut,” Wanda breathed out. She held you close to her body which shivered at the feeling of cool blood against it. “Here, baby. Grab mommy’s phone. I have a little surprise to show you.”

“Um…” you did as you were told, but were profusely confused. “Yes, mommy. I- fuck that feels so good.”

Wanda thrust her hips forth and basked on the sound of your skins slapping together. “I know, whore, but you have to be good and do as you’re told,” she tilted her head and watched how the faux light accentuated the way your cunt swallowed her toy. “Hmm you take cock so well. Such a precious tiny angel. Now play the video. I want you to see how good mommy is at protecting her property.”

When doing as you were told, everything stopped. You wouldn’t dare question Wanda about her blood-stricken face nor did you need to after the sight in front of you. The video showed Wanda standing over a fallen Maria, ax in hand that she kept swinging up and down. Blood pooled underneath the brunette’s body each time she got hit.

43 cuts is what your lover counted in the video before she grew tired and her adrenaline fuel ceased. She was breathless, eyeing the camera with a smile before taking a break to go again. Her resentment with Maria was not left behind at the party. Not only had the woman touched the redhead’s property, but she also made discomfort grow within you. The punishment she received was Wanda being reasonable. 

“Watch it, baby. Come on. Be a good girl and keep your eyes open.” Wanda’s voice was sickly sweet as she grunted above you. She couldn’t stop herself from focusing on how glorious the wet sounds of your pussy were as you were fucked nice and slow with her strap. “That’s what happens when people try to take what’s mine. You’re mommy’s little bitch in heat, no one else’s.” 

It was wrong. Oh so wrong.

And yet you were unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, watching intently as Wanda began swinging the ax over and over until even a drop of blood dripped down the foggy lense of the phone’s camera. Her arms flexed as the black dress she had worn at the fair earlier that day became stained with red. As maniacal and psychotic as she seemed, your cunt throbbed at the image. 

“Mommy protects what is hers. No one dares take my property,” Wanda moaned as she grabbed your cheeks, throwing her head back as she thrust in you roughly. “My fucking pussy. Every fucking inch of yours is mine, Y/N. And you’ll move back home and it’ll stay that way, right? You’ll do that just for mommy?”

She slapped a hand over your ass and for a moment you could barely process the words. Your brain was filled with images of Wanda taking Maria’s life, the woman motionless beneath the redhead who giggled with each hit she gave. Seeing the possession she had over you, getting to the point she wouldn’t let such horrid behavior against you slide easily, made your heart flutter.

“Come on, baby. Cum.” Wanda kept spanking your backside until it was all red and sore, the crackling sound becoming an orchestra for your ears. Her cock remained nestled in you, being pulled in and out of your gaping cunt that swallowed it whole. “Do it for mommy, honey. Show me what a good little slut you are, how much you fucking love it when I kill for you.”

It was enough to bring you over the edge. For a moment you had no thoughts in your mind, Wanda using a free hand to grab a fistful of your hair and pull at it harshly. She wanted your eyes on the phone that displayed the flashing images of her taking care of Maria, leaving her all bloody, battered, and filled with cuts. You were to know what she could do if you dared misbehave. Wanda wouldn’t allow you to leave whether you liked it or not. There was always room in her backyard for you to take your eternal nap if so. 

Once you came down from your orgasm, Wanda kissed your back all over. She was consumed by your presence, all drunk with your being. You were the drug she quickly became addicted to. Her status, her marriage, and even her children meant nothing when she was by your side. 

“Such a good puppy,” Wanda mumbled. “So good, baby. You did so well for mommy. I’m very proud of you for being good today, for obeying me as you should.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

“Hmm of course, sweetheart. I have to reward good behavior,” she said. “We should really clean your bed sheets and floor up before the morning. I wouldn’t imagine your parents are keen on seeing a bloody mess in your room…or me.”

The following day not a member of Wanda’s family dared question her as she rolled a rather intriguing piece of meat through the meat grinder. She wondered if Maria’s spouse would like a slice of her famous lasagna. Perhaps then she'll stop looking at you with such desire. After unknowingly getting a taste of her wife, Natasha would surely leave you alone.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Mortgage Payments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You have spent way too much time on TikTok and want to do the latest trend with your husband when you tell him that the mortgage won't be paid on your mansion this month

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Sitting down on the couch in the living room you turned on Netflix as you patiently waited for your husband to return from practice to once again do a little prank on him. The latest thing that you had seen on TikTok was wives pranking their husbands and saying that they couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage for the current month while the husbands look confused since they are the ones who pay for it.

And you thought that this one might be the best yet.

Joe never let you lift a finger no matter how much you might protest about it.

More often than not, you’ll wake up to see him gone with a note being left on the bedside table for you about him setting up nail appointments, hair appointments, spa days and etc. and telling you the location and the time that you need to be there.

That was one thing that you never took for granted and always told him how appreciative you were.

You already had your phone set up to record the entire interaction between the both of you as soon as he walked through the door and it was at that moment that you heard the key enter the lock and turn.

Once he fully stepped into the house and locked the door behind him, he called out for you.

“Princess?”

“I'm in here babe.” You responded as he followed the sound of your voice.

Once his eyes landed on you, he smiled and leaned down to give you several kisses before sitting next to you.

“I didn't get to see my favorite person all day. I missed you.”

“I definitely missed you more, it’s not my fault you woke up at the ass crack of dawn.” You replied as he pulled you onto his lap.

“I doubt it and trust me if I could stay laying in bed next to you, I would.”

“You are literally obsessed with me.” You said while teasing him and all he did was smirk.

“If a man is not obsessed with his wife then something is wrong.” He explained as he leaned over to kiss your forehead.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments when you decided to break it.

“I have to tell you something, but you have to promise to not get mad.” You said as you took his hand in yours. Joe was now confused since you had an upset look on your face.

“What is it? What's that look for? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

“Um, I spent too much money when I went shopping and I can't pay the mortgage this month.” You quietly said and Joe instantly had a look of confusion on his face.

“Wait, what? Baby, what are you talking about?”

“I don't have enough money to pay the mortgage this particular month and it's your birthday month and Christmas is coming. You aren't mad, right?”

“You don't pay the mortgage any month…. Let's start there.”

“I just spent too much when I had gone out. If I hadn’t done that then I would have it.”

“But…. You never do because that's not your responsibility. It's mine. You have literally never paid for it. I'm not sure you even know how to do it.” Joe questioned it as he was not thinking out loud.

“I just feel so bad. Do you still love me?” You asked and Joe got an annoyed look on his face.

“Don’t ask me dumb questions. Do I still love you? seriously? And feel bad about what? I am literally so confused. You know that I take care of you and there is literally nothing on this earth you can ask me for and I will tell you no. Well, within reason. When you asked for an elephant, I had to shut that down IMMEDIATELY.”

“But they're my favorite animal! You can get me a small one!” You pleaded as Joe shook his head at you.

“I… baby stay on topic. And no. You do realize that a small one turns into a big one?”

“Are they going to kick us out? We can move in with Ja’Marr. He won't mind. I can call him right now. Gives me an excuse to use all of his expensive skin products like he used to do to me.” You asked, completely ignoring his question.

“Kick us out of where?! Baby, I literally paid for it already this month. Now, did you want another house? Is that the mortgage you're referring to? We can start looking this weekend if you want.”

“Well no. But I can't pay the car note either.”

“I… I literally paid for your car in full so what in the world are you talking about!? You literally don't have a car note. I take care of you including all of the bills in this house. You do not ever have to worry about paying a mortgage or anything for that matter. You know what you're responsible for?”

“What?”

“Going upstairs and making sure every piece of clothing you're wearing right now ends up on the floor.”

“BABY!”

“Getting bent over the kitchen counter.” He replied as he kissed you.

“Oh my gosh…”

“All day, all night, missionary, cowgirl, reverse, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways...” Three more kisses.

“Um, I get it, you can stop now.”

“Upside down, in the bed, on the floor, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, against the full-length window, against the door, in the shower…” Now his hands started to sneak under your shirt as you were desperately trying to pull it back down and making faces at the camera.

“Are you seriously still going?!” You asked in disbelief as you started to laugh at him because at this point in time he had to be dead serious.

“Until your legs give out and the neighbors know my name. That's what you're responsible for. Do I make myself clear?” He asked you giving you one more series of kisses and you simply nodded as you lightly bit down on your lip.

“Good, glad we had this talk.”

“Who knew a TikTok prank would get me hot and bothered like this?” You muttered and Joe did a double take as he looked at you.

“Wait…. Did you record that?!”

“Mm hmm. I got everything your nasty ass said on camera.”

“I don't remember hearing any complaints from you when I'm knee deep in your guts either.”

“Babe! The camera is still on!”

“And I do not give one flying fuck. Turn the camera off and do what I told you. Lose these clothes. Now.” Joe said as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

[adieutristana]

Hiiii, i have request for a fem r x jinx, so like r and jinx have known each other alll their lives, maybe r is like sevika's niece or smth close, then when jinx gets adopted by silco, they ontinue to grow close until they become lovers, now you can do whatever you want here, just req that somehow r gets seperated with jinx and joins ekko and the professor breaking into the lab, which led to r joining then in the alt uni, the same time as ekko or maybe earlier, then au!jinx(she's alr r's gf in that au) suddenly gets worried or jealous cause ekko and r suddenly without any reason becomes close and starts spending time together, you can end it however u want, just give us a happy ending!! That's it rllyyy, thank you for reading this req, and it's ok if you can't do it, no pressureee

of course!! thank you for the request <3

this one is pretty long, sorry ^^; i just wanted to include everything and do your request justice

summary; sevika’s niece, jinx’s childhood best friend becomes jinx’s girlfriend. they get separated in the alternate universe, and powder grows jealous.

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, idk if sevika has living relatives but we're making up a sibling for the story, mentions of death, arguing, mentions of drinking and smoking, jealous powder

men dni.

sevika has never been great with children. the day you were born, your small form writhing in her brother's arms as you cried, and cried, and cried, sevika didn't know what to do with herself. this was family. sevika was loyal to family. but she just... couldn't deal.

yet as you grew older, she grew used to it. whenever you went to auntie sev's, she pulled out whatever non-alcoholic drink she had for you, pouring it in a stained glass and sitting down opposite you at her table. she'd teach you to play card games- ones appropriate for children, of course. war, go fish, the like. nothing like the blackjack or poker that gave her a thrill under dim lights, but it was honestly... nice, to have this company. even if you were small and still struggling to speak for yourself.

she found herself growing comfortable with you. she had always loved you, had always cared for you. you were her niece. but the fact that you were still learning to navigate the world, learning how to be a person, scared sevika- especially considering the state of the undercity. how was a child supposed to thrive in such a troubled city? how were sevika and her brother supposed to protect you from the harm that inevitably comes everyone's way?

and then, you found a friend. a little girl, no more than a few months older than you, with turquoise hair and warm, sky-blue eyes. powder was her name. a playful, friendly girl who would play tag with you in the alleyways of the lanes. she showed you all of her contraptions, little bombs with scribbled drawings of various animals for faces. handmade. your young mind found this incredible. how could one girl have this much talent?

each day, after your lessons, you'd go to a specific place close to a boarded up, abandoned home in the outskirts of zaun. it became yours and your friend's designated spot. a spot where powder would train, punching and kicking at the air with a wide grin, you sitting and observing. a spot where she’d sit down and whistle her favorite songs painfully out of tune. a spot where you shared secrets, talked about her adventures with her siblings, and you shared your frustrations about stupid homework. you'd brag about how cool your auntie sevika was.

"she's just so strong! and she can fight off anyone. she plays games with me, and she helps me with my reading work. even if it's hard."

powder's eyes would widen, and she'd nod enthusiastically.

"really? she sounds awesome! maybe i'll get to fight like her one day..."

"why can't you?"

and then powder would grumble, her eyes flickering down as she folded her hands in her lap.

"my sister doesn't think i'm ready. she says i'm not experienced enough."

she makes air quotes when she says 'experienced enough,' huffing and rolling her eyes. you'd reach out to squeeze her shoulder, trying to give any kind of comfort. you weren't the best at offering consolation, but you could at least do this for her.

when powder came to that same spot a mere few weeks later, she was bursting at the seams with excitement. she couldn't stay still, and as soon as the girl saw you, she bolted in your direction. throwing her arms around you and squealing. you were confused- but powder was clearly happy, possibly the happiest you'd ever seen her. so you wrapped your arms around her in return. she pulled her face back, blue eyes sparkling.

"vi finally said i'm ready. i'm going on a job, tomorrow! topside! it's gonna be a good one."

powder was positively beaming, and you could only smile. you tried to find the words for a moment, although you were ecstatic for her.

"really? that's awesome!"

"mhm! she said she's gonna take me with the others, and i can help!"

powder heard violet's voice calling for her from the end of the alley, seemingly having searched for her. she looked back at you.

"i'll see you soon, okay?"

then, radio silence.

you visited your usual spot a few times after that, your heart wrenching in your chest upon seeing the spot powder usually occupied empty. you had heard rumors swirling around of powder being caught after her job, her sister growing angry. yet, you didn't want to believe it. powder was your best friend, she was amazing! there was nothing the girl couldn't do.

but it was true. your best friend, powder, didn't pull it off. an arrest. an explosion. what caused it? what happened to powder?

it was driving your mind wild, pulling you in different directions and eating at your insides. you asked around, other children of zaun, but each one ignored you, shook their head, shrugged, muttered a quiet 'i don't know.' it was killing you.

that was, until the next time you visited your aunt. you sat down at her dining table, cheap leather peeling off of the seat. uneven legs, heightening your fear of toppling over any time you shifted. sevika brewed coffee instead of lighting her usual cigar, her back turned to you as she slowly moved through the kitchen.

"hey, aunt sev?"

you asked, voice unsure. shaking.

"huh?"

she responded, her back still turned to you.

"you know my friend, powder. you've met her, haven't you?" you saw sevika pause, leaning over to brace her hands on the edge of the counter. "she's kinda... missing. do you know what happened?"

"i do."

she responded, tone blunt with a sharp edge. you winced at this, you knew just how scary your aunt could be if provoked. but you cared too much for powder, this was too important-

"she's with silco and i. he took her in. she's a problem."

"a problem?"

your heart sunk in your chest. god, how could your best friend be a problem?

"yes. she's distracting silco, but he insists that she'll be an asset."

"please, sev, tell me m-"

the woman turned her back and slammed an empty mug onto the table.

"i'm not talking about this anymore."

✧.*

the day after your seventeenth birthday was when you found powder- ‘jinx,’ they now called her. a dark alleyway in the outermost of zaun, not far off from your spot just a few years prior. you’d begun taking morning walks to clear your head of all the bullshit that came with being a young girl in the middle of a troubled city- one with a close relative who worked for silco of all people. to get the swirling anxiety, political unrest, friends disappearing left and right, all of it- out of your damn mind.

you’d experimented with walking routes, going through the lanes, through some of the highest roads in zaun, but none were quite as… peaceful as the outskirts. much more nature, less people, more tranquil than any other area. your head hung low, hands in your pocket, gaze on the ground. whistling.

you would recognize that sound anywhere. the same song powder used to always whistle, you heard it again. the tone was a bit deeper, a bit more raspy, but god, it had to be her. your head shot up, eyes darting around for the source of the song. busted windows, trash cans… blue braids.

your feet moved quicker than your mind could. you ran to the girl, breathless, throwing your arms around her.

and then she pushed you off of her, your back hitting the ground.

“powder- powder, what the fuck?! you don’t remember me?”

she stood over you, breath heaving, blue eyes boring directly through you. searching for any sign of danger or betrayal, studying your features…

“oh. oh.”

“powder, please-”

the girl yanked you up by your shoulders and got onto her knees, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. long nails dug into the fabric of your top.

“it’s jinx now.”

oh. oh god. you’d heard that name before. the name of a master criminal in the making, under the watchful eye of silco. his prodégé, his daughter. she had been powder, this entire time? under your nose for years, and you had no idea?

you wrapped your arms back around her, tentative, so scared to break her. the way she flinched told you all you needed to know.

“po-jinx, it’s okay… you’re okay…”

she only held you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"a lot has changed."

"i know. but it's okay." you pause. "are you busy?"

jinx has her hands resting on your shoulders, pulling back the same way that she did the day before her job.

"no... no, not right now. why?"

the corner of your lips tug into a gentle smile.

"we have some catching up to do."

✧.*

the first thing jinx did was drag you around her newfound hideout. slim floors of metal with a seemingly endless drop below them, and a lack of railings. anxiety peaked as you walked through her home, but it was... charming. black lights paired with bright, colorful graffiti enhancing each surface. her face lit up as she showed you each of her handmade weapons.

you remembered the young powder with a single braid and defected color bombs, but these..? these were fully functioning explosives and assault weapons. god, where did she learn to do this?

"hey, whatcha thinking about?"

you're pulled out of your thoughts by one of jinx's fingers poking at your forehead. her blue eyes fixed on you...

"nothing. just... this is different."

jinx swings a leg over her seat at her workbench, picking up... a blowtorch?

"well, yeah. i told you things changed."

she quips, so nonchalant. how could she be so calm about her new lifestyle? it was such a drastic change, yet you couldn't help but... admire it. the environment surrounding you was a direct reflection of the person your friend had become. pilties feared her, zaunites revered her. to be able to make such a name for herself and have the unwavering sense of justice jinx had at such a young age was incredible to you.

god, jinx. she had really been staring you in the face for all of these years.

"tell me more.”

you said, slowly settling down beside her, bracing your elbows on the cold metal.

“oh, where to start?” she grinned. “well, right now i’m doing a lot in the way of enforcers and firelights. inventing, and all that. blowing stuff up.”

she giggled, not looking at you for a second. her thin hands held one of the very blue crystals a young powder held as if a precious amulet.

“and what about silco?”

“silco? he’s great! he’s always believed in me, said i’m smart and i can do whatever i put my mind to. he thinks i’m perfect.”

she hums, continuing to tinker away. your heart sinks the slightest bit. although silco was definitely a symbol of the undercity, he was feared. it just didn’t sit right with you. for him to have somebody like jinx in his grasp was frightening, but if she turned out relatively okay in the end, it was fine… right?

“oh, and sevika’s an ass.”

“my aunt?”

jinx turns to you suddenly, lifting her goggles off her face.

“since when is sevika your aunt?”

“…since i was born?”

you reply, raising an eyebrow… the same way sevika does with jinx. she folds over in a fit of laughter, her forehead on the workbench-

“oh, oh gods! that’s too good. how did i not know?”

✧.*

october 10.

jinx’s birthday.

jinx’s eighteenth birthday.

being slightly younger than her, you didn’t know exactly what was appropriate for an eighteenth birthday celebration. you were never good at birthdays to begin with. but you had to think, think. this is for jinx.

you’d grown accustomed to her new lifestyle, the mischief that followed her everywhere she went. whether she always found trouble or trouble always found her, you were unsure, but one thing was for certain: she had grown into one of the most badass women you’ve ever met. becoming close with her again, stepping into her shoes and experiencing a taste of jinx’s world, it was almost as if nothing had changed. in terms of your friendship, at least. she would still talk about her sister (although their relationship was less than ideal now), show you her contraptions, and whistle her favorite songs.

except for when you noticed your affections for jinx becoming something more than what was appropriate for friends.

curse you, curse you for falling for your childhood best friend. that was what you kept telling yourself. how could you fall for someone you had considered your best friend for so long? the thought of losing jinx again over something as trivial as a crush made your heart ache.

so you repressed it.

you repressed the way that your heart skipped a beat when she inched closer to you on her workbench.

you repressed the way her smile brought a swarm of butterflies to your stomach.

you repressed the way you wished to call her late at night just to hear her voice.

you repressed the way those blue eyes could make you give in to anything.

but that’s not important. no. what’s important is decorating jinx’s hideout while she’s out on a job for her birthday and throwing together a cake. pink and blue banners, big balloons with the number ‘18,’ crude paper-mache iterations of her monkey bombs, and making a gift.

you were hunched over your desk for hours trying to make her a charm bracelet, representative of your history. scrap metal from crushed cans, pliers, discarded chains, and acrylic paint could take you further than you expected. a mouse, for mouser. a blue ball, for her crystals. a can of spray paint. a bomb. a monkey. all little charms representative of what made jinx jinx.

did you burn yourself? yes. did you have to bandage yourself from getting cut by thin metal? also yes. but it was for her.

and a card. you decided in the days leading up to jinx’s birthday that you had to tell her somehow how you felt. it was eating up at you from the inside out.

when jinx arrived to her hideout, kicking the door open, it took a moment for her to notice that anything was different. somehow the streamers, candles, and smell of cake didn’t give it away, but she quickly strode over to you with the same jump in her step as always.

“heya t-”

and she finally noticed. glancing around at the handmade decorations on her workbench and the balloons, the pink and blue icing on her cake…

“oh. oh wow.”

she chuckled, in mild disbelief.

“wow, all of this for little ol’ me?”

you nodded, body tense with anticipation and anxiety. you knew the second she opened that card, everything would change. she sighed in that playful way she always did, and put her hands on her hips.

“okay. where to start?”

she glanced over the workbench. the cake, card, and small wrapped gift.

“well, it’s only right to start with the card.”

she sat down, and unceremoniously began tearing the envelope open at the top with her fingernails. not even using the flap in the back. you should’ve expected as much. she finally gets through to the card and looks at the front- a drawing of the two of you sat side by side.

“oh, this is cute!”

she beamed, and eagerly flipped the card open, and that’s when you saw blue eyes beginning to scan over the words inside.

“powder, rather jinx, i’m sorry that this is so sudden. eighteen is a big feat. you’re grown! and i’m proud of everything you’ve done. all the progress you’ve made for zaun, and all of the things you’ve come over. you’re a strong, smart, wonderful girl. but i need you to know that i’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and i can’t keep ignoring them. meeting you again and getting to know the person you’ve become has been one of the best experiences of my life. i wish i could spend those days alongside you as your girlfriend.

if you want to throw this card away and forget about it, i won’t be mad. just think about what i said.

-your best friend.”

her eyes scanned over the paper. again, and again, and again. did she really have to read it so many times? her brows furrowed, then raised, then furrowed again, before she glanced up at you.

“you… mean this?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“of course i mean it, jinx.”

you then felt thin, yet strong arms thrown around you and a head buried into your chest.

“i thought i was crazy…”

she murmurs, voice muffled by the thick fabric of your top. her tone is softer than usual, a side of her you’ve grown to realize is reserved for you only.

“crazy how?”

“crazy because i feel the same way.”

did the world stop?

was time hanging over your head?

“oh, god- jinx, you’re serious?”

you laughed, returning her embrace with tears pricking at your eyes. she squeezed you even tighter to her, beginning to pepper little kisses all over your face- no doubt leaving stains in their wake.

“ah! you still have a gift to open, jinx!”

you were mockingly protesting. in truth, you felt like you were floating.

“don’t care!”

✧.*

shortly after jinx’s own, your nineteenth birthday came and passed with jinx clinging to your arm. a day of being dragged through zaun tagging walls together, your girlfriend presenting you with a barely-edible cake, and rushed kisses on her couch.

which sevika walked in on.

regardless, you woke up to the sound of jinx’s deep breathing, close to your ear. still sleeping, her ear right up against the left side of your chest. you’d noticed she liked listening to your heartbeat, especially during late nights together. the first and only time you asked about it, she just said, ‘it’s relaxing.’ if anything could relax jinx, you’d do it.

you couldn’t move, not yet. you could only look down at the sleeping girl on top of you, snoring like an old man. if it were anybody else, you’d have stopped sharing a bed a long time ago. but jinx was kind of… endearing.

“mm… what time is it, toots?”

you heard her grumble.

“uh…” you moved your wrist from under her to glance at your wristwatch. “11:20.”

“ugh… it’s too early.”

“too early?”

“yes! i need to sleep more… five more minutes.”

one of jinx’s classic lies. but you let her, regardless, because who were you to deny a little longer of the girl you loved clinging to you? your free hand came to her lower back, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over soft skin.

“okay. then while you’re here, i need to tell you something.”

“mm… go ‘head.”

there was no easy way to put this, but you had to spit it out.

"i'm going to topside later. going to jayce's lab with ekko and the professor. they said there was something... important i needed to see. something about hextech."

with this, jinx's eyes fluttered open, looking up at you. thick brows furrowed.

"why?"

"something about hextech."

you repeated yourself. she grumbled.

"why d'you have to be the one to do it?"

your eyes widened for a moment. damn. you weren't sure how to answer this question, exactly. why did it have to be you? clearly, jinx wasn't asked about it if this is the first time she's hearing about it. but you knew it was important enough if you, a relatively ordinary citizen of zaun were asked to accompany heimerdinger and his newest student.

"i... i don't know. but it's important enough. i'll be a few hours tops, okay? a few hours, then i'll come back and be right here when you're ready to sleep. we can be just like-"

you pointed to her head still laying directly over your heart,

"this, again tonight."

jinx grumbled, slowly pulling herself away from your chest, bringing herself to loom over you. unkempt blue braids on either side of your face, rosy eyes locked on yours.

"fine. but you better be back when you say you'll be."

you reached up to place your hands on pale cheeks, tracing your thumbs underneath her eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"i'll be back before you know it, baby. it'll be like i never even left."

✧.*

the lab. the lab.

that's the last place you can remember being before waking up with a gasp. you felt as if you got a punch directly to the stomach, body reeling with the aftershocks of... something. all you could do was heave, pant, use your hands to brace yourself against a... bedside table? desperately trying to find some kind of support.

you slowly gain your composure. your breath coming to you in short gasps, as your eyes finally manage to scan your surroundings. a bedside table, a full-sized bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf with various travel guides and science textbooks scattered about. a corkboard on the wall, with photos of... you? and somebody else.

you stumble over the corkboard, slowly lifting your gaze. photo strips from photo booths hang on the board, as well as post-it notes with scribbled drawings. the pictures are of you, and a girl. a girl who, upon closer inspection, looks almost exactly like jinx. but not quite. her eyes didn't have those bags you'd grown accustomed to, and her face seemed fuller. she had a wide grin or silly expression plastered onto her face in almost every picture. the jinx you knew hated her picture being taken.

this girl's hair also was chopped to her shoulders. jinx kept her hair so long she had learned how to not trip over it. a gentle breeze sweeps the room, and the air is... more clear. not as overwhelming as the usual pollution of zaun. you think you can manage a deep breath in without feeling any side effects.

"there you are, silly!"

you hear from behind you. you snap your head over your shoulder with a gasp, and it's the girl from the pictures. oh, god.

she sets down a box on the bed, a few bolts spilling out from the cushion of the mattress.

"heh, whoops."

she chuckles, placing both hands on her hips. she really does look exactly like jinx. blue hair strung up into messy space buns and a little pink streak. that's new. you glance around at the room once again, noticing the corkboard. a drawing of you and the girl on a yellow post-it, with "POWDER" scribbled beneath it.

powder?

"what... what is this?"

you manage to breathe out. the girl- powder, strides over to you and wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind.

"only materials for my next big project! i told you about this. remember?"

she giggles, voice playing directly next to your ear. a chaste kiss to your cheek and a bubbly girl holding you. you raise an eyebrow, looking back at her. your shoulders tense, eyes blown wide. how could this have happened? didn't powder adopt the identity of jinx after that job?

"this is what happens when you pull a double two days in a row. i know you need the extra time, babe, but you're exhausted."

powder pinches your cheek between her forefinger and thumb. that same playful smile unwavering.

"come on, we've still got a lot to do today. we're talking some stuff over with benzo, remember?"

benzo? the benzo whose corpse you saw?

"i... okay. just give me a minute to freshen up."

you make your way down the hall to a bathroom. this place was set up like a goddamned labyrinth, but you managed. you look at yourself in the mirror.. your clothes seemed nicer. more tailor-fit. your skin was more clear, almost no blemishes or scars. your hair was a bit longer, you still had split ends- guess you could never be bothered to trim those in any world. but... this was different. you huff, deciding to cut your losses and just go to this meeting you apparently had planned.

as soon as you arrive to the last drop, it's like being flashbanged. your eyes widen at how much more bright the place seems. new booths and tables, it seems as if it's been recently renovated for the sake of modernity. and then you noticed vander.

you knew how much vander's loss affected jinx. she talked fondly of him often, but you could tell the fact that he was no longer here was killing jinx, no matter how much time had passed since that day. yet, here he was in the flesh, chatting away with a customer behind the bar as if nothing had happened. had anything happened?

"oh, oh my god. you're here. do you know what happened?"

your body jutted forward and you snapped your head around, your first instinct being to shove whoever was behind you. but you didn't thankfully. ekko.

"you're here too? shit, i don't know, i just- i woke up, and i was here, and everything's different, and everyone is acting different."

you muttered, beginning to pace around. the boy in front of you seemed stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"you don't know anything?"

"i'm just as confused as you are, ekko."

"sorry! ran a little late. you know how the streets get this time of day."

you heard from behind you, powder carrying a brown messenger bag.

"...jinx?"

powder just quirked an eyebrow, one of her signature confused expressions. she shakes her head, brushing off the fact and makes her way toward the bar. benzo's sat on one of the stools, waiting.

you shoot a glance in ekko's direction, mouthing 'sorry.'

✧.*

the second the meeting is over, you grab ekko by the arm and pull him into an alleyway behind the last drop. you sigh, letting his arm go, and he's visibly peeved.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm sorry, ekko, i just... this is all so weird. apparently powder never became jinx, and benzo is alive, and so are vander and silco and things just seem so... nice. i keep telling myself it isn't real, but i'm not waking up from whatever the fuck this is."

ekko looks down, his hand pressing into the spot below his eyebrows. he shakes his head.

"i talked to heimerdinger earlier. he said this is some kind of parallel universe. no hextech, so there's not a good chance of us getting back."

you swore you could've felt your stomach drop. oh no.

"how is there no hextech? are you serious?"

"i wouldn't lie about this."

"fuck. fuck."

you're tangling your hands in your hair, once again finding yourself pacing back and forth. the alleyway is clear aside from a few palettes and trash cans, yourself and ekko being the only occupying presence.

"we're trying to figure something out, together. but it's going to take a while."

your feet still, and you take a deep breath in. your lips press into a thin line. you don't exactly have it in you to be patient right now, but did you have another option?

"shit. okay. it's not like i've got any better ideas."

ekko sighs, his shoulders dropping. you glance over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an effort to reassure him.

"i'll try and think of something, too. just keep me updated, okay?"

ekko gives you a small grin and nods.

"i will. it'll be alright- let's hope, at least."

your eyes wander over to the last drop's back door, and it's cracked open, with powder looking out.

shit. how long has she been there?

you walked to your apartment side-by-side with powder, but she seemed so... tense. she didn't look at you much during the walk back, which made you a bit fearful. she was so chipper just an hour or two ago, what happened?

you swung open the door after taking a few tries to find the correct key, something powder also noticed. thankfully, she didn't mention it, or you'd have a difficult time explaining.

you stepped in, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the arm of a leather couch. one that wasn't peeling.

"so, when did you and ekko get so close again?"

she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. this may not be jinx, but she has the same facial expressions. she thinks you're hiding something.

"huh? we've always been friends."

"you guys fell out two weeks ago and you swore you'd never talk to him again."

oh shit.

"you don't remember? i mean... i guess it makes sense, i thought it was just a misunderstanding. you're usually the one to talk things out."

huh? you and ekko were never particularly close, but you'd never had a falling out. shit, everything really was different here.

"yeah... uh, yeah. we made up."

you say, hoping to whatever was out there that she wouldn't catch onto the fact you didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about.

"huh."

she huffs, clearly unconvinced.

"what, powder? come on, you've gotta talk to me."

"ugh- that doesn't explain why you were touching him like that!"

she snaps, her voice raising, yet not quite yelling. the look in her eyes, she looks as if she's genuinely been betrayed.

"i.. what? i was touching his shoulder, powder."

"yeah, and yesterday you were resting against it. what next, you'll be kissing his neck?"

were you really? god dammit, you had no way of knowing what this other version of you was doing before-

"no! powder, no. i... i'm sorry. but you have to believe me, we're friends. we were discussing something important to us."

she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot against the ground.

"come on. i respect your privacy, i trust you to not cheat, but you've got to ease up on him. rather, he has to ease up on you."

"powder, nothing's happening."

she sighs, her head hanging down in defeat.

"you promise?"

"i promise you."

powder slowly steps closer to you, shaky hands slowly coming to cup both of your cheeks.

"i just don't want anything to happen between us, okay? things are good."

"they are. but nothing will happen."

as... unfamiliar as this is, this version of powder, this supposed life of yours, you couldn't deny that it was welcoming. in some ways, it was a lot better than the world you came from. the overrun streets of zaun, the political unrest of piltover, thousands addicted to shimmer and more friends dead than alive. you could get used to this, but you wouldn't.

you suppose it wouldn't be so bad to indulge yourself until ekko figured something out, though.

"hey. you still like wearing braids in your hair, don't you?"

powder hums, pursing her lips.

"uh... i haven't worn one since i was a kid, but sure."

you sigh, and gently take both of her hands in yours.

"come on. i'll do some twin braids on you, braid pink ribbon into your hair. does that sound alright?"

powder seems to perk up at this, blue eyes going wide.

"ribbons?"

"yeah. you've got that pink streak going on."

"oh... okay. sure. knock yourself out."

she squeezes your hands, smiling.

[ghostfacd]

LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!

author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭

installment of this au | read for context

ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)

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jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie

➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭

user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR

user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae

➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀

➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER

➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer

user5 @/user4 bye

tomblyth amazing film

➥ ynuser thanks

➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth

➥ ynuser @/user6 who?

user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is

➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..

➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭

rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕

➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️

tomblyth who am I? well now you know

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user10 oh he’s so fine

user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are

user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig

➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..

ynuser sure. now i know

➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down

ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!

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tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?

➥ user15 HELLO???

user16 enemies to lovers era ?

user17 pls lord get these two together

jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak

➥ ynuser 🤨🤨

➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please

user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship

ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!

ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day

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user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…

➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭

user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her

user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows

jackchampion splendid way to spend the day

➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL

➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho

➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.

Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio

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user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers

user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me

user28 so they inlove or what

user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US

user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN

tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?

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ynuser nice pic send me it

user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..

user32 hold awn..

user33 is this confirmation they’re dating

➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.

➥ rachelzegler yet.

➥ user34 RACHEL???

rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role

➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER

jennaortega take care of my gf 😽