#he was so shocked he addressed her by name

[nodulemodule]

I am so very tired

[controld3vil]

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole. 

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead. 

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle. 

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one. 

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification. 

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that. 

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts. 

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother. 

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding. 

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often. 

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper. 

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you. 

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes. 

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!” 

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.” 

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb. 

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially. 

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality. 

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob. 

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds. 

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?” 

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,” 

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy. 

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned. 

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier. 

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered. 

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you. 

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze. 

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage. 

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish. 

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are. 

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle. 

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential. 

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced. 

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies. 

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses. 

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship. 

“No,” 

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply. 

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying? 

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects. 

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,” 

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly. 

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.” 

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover. 

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen. 

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city. 

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another. 

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face. 

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king. 

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure.  You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this. 

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself. 

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire. 

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome. 

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.” 

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes. 

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you. 

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

[haggishlyhagging]

In 1847 the stereotypes for male and female writers were very rigid. Critics expected from a male writer strength, passion, and intellect, and from a woman writer they expected tact, refinement, and piety. They depended on these stereotypes so much, in fact, that they really didn't know how to proceed, what to say, or what to look for in a book if they were unsure of the author's sex.

So Jane Eyre created a tremendous sensation, and it was a problem for the Brontës. The name Currer Bell could be that of either a man or a woman and the narrator of Jane Eyre is Jane herself. The book is told as an autobiography. These things suggested that the author might have been a woman. On the other hand, the novel was considered to be excellent, strong, intelligent and, most of all, passionate. And therefore, the critics reasoned, it could not be written by a woman, and if it turned out that it was written by a woman, she had to be unnatural and perverted.

The reason for this is that the Victorians believed that decent women had no sexual feelings whatsoever—that they had sexual anesthesia. Therefore, when Jane says about Rochester that his touch "made her veins run fire, and her heart beat faster than she could count its throbs," the critics assumed this was a man writing about his sexual fantasies. If a woman was the author, then presumably she was writing from her own experience, and that was disgusting. In this case we can clearly see how women were not permitted the authority of their own experience if it happened to contradict the cultural stereotype.

But even more shocking than this to the Victorians was Jane's reply to Rochester, a very famous passage in the novel. He has told her he is going to marry another woman, an heiress, but that she can stay on as a servant. Jane answers him thus:

"I tell you I must go," I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton, a machine without feeling and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I'm soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you and full as much heart. And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should've made it as hard for you to leave me as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionality, nor even of mortal flesh. It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed through the grave and we stood at God's feet equal—as we are."

This splendid assertion violated not only the standards of sexual submission, which were believed to be women's duty and their punishment for Eve's crime, but it also went against standards of class submission, and obviously against religion. And this sort of rebellion was not feminine at all.

The reviews of Jane Eyre in 1847 and 1848 show how confused the critics were. Some of them said Currer Bell was a man. Some of them, including Thackeray, said a woman. One man, an American critic named Edgar Percy Whipple, said the Bells were a team, that Currer Bell was a woman who did the dainty parts of the book and brother Acton the rough parts. All kinds of circumstantial evidence were adduced to solve this problem, such as the details of housekeeping. Harriet Martineau said the book had to be the work of a woman or an upholsterer. And Lady Eastlake, who was a reviewer for one of the most prestigious journals, said it couldn't be a woman because no woman would dress her heroines in such outlandish clothes.

Eventually Charlotte Brontë revealed her identity, and then these attacks which had been general became personal. People introduced her as the author of a naughty book; they gossiped that she was Thackeray's mistress. They speculated on the causes of what they called "her alien and sour perspective on women." She felt during her entire short life that she was judged always on the basis of what was becoming in femininity and not as an artist.

-Elaine Showalter, ‘Women Writers and the Female Experience’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[rafecameronssl4t]

thinking about actress!reader who’s very much giving loewe it girl and her mysterious bf from her hometown obx until they hard launch during awards season when she walks in with a massive rock on her finger….(giving zendaya walking in the globes left hand first lmao)

just loveeee the idea of ceo!rafe & actress!reader being this hot power couple & everyone trying to figure out how long they’ve been together

Hard launch || CEO!Rafe Cameron x actress!reader

A/n: wait I acc love the concept of ceo!rafe x actress!reader 😃😃😃

Warnings: none!

Word count: 1,382

MASTERLIST (CEO!Rafe au masterlist)

The whispers had always been there. Fans speculated endlessly, dissecting blurry photos and random sightings. But no one could confirm anything—until now. The Golden Globes red carpet was abuzz with excitement, cameras flashing furiously as the biggest stars in Hollywood arrived in their finest attire.

Stepping out of the sleek, black Rolls-Royce, you radiated elegance in a custom Valentino gown, the fabric catching the light with every step. The crowd gasped as cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every detail. You offered your signature soft smile and a delicate wave, but it wasn’t just the gown or your effortlessly chic updo that set the internet ablaze.

It was the massive, glittering diamond perched on your left ring finger—a ring so large it seemed to have its own gravitational pull. The internet exploded. Social media was flooded with posts: "Is that an engagement ring on Y/N’s finger?!" "Who is the lucky guy?!" And most importantly, "How did she keep this a secret?!"

You walked the carpet with an effortless air, offering soft smiles and waves to the fans—the diamond unapologetically on display—sopping for a few brief interviews, but sidestepping every question about the ring with a cryptic smile. The mystery lingered, though, as you didn’t arrive with a date—or so they thought.

~

Inside the venue, the buzz only grew. You were seated near the front, your polished demeanour giving no indication of the chaos unfolding online. When your name was called for Best Actress in a Leading Role, the applause was thunderous. Rising gracefully, you glided toward the stage, your diamond catching the light with every step. As you accepted the golden statue, your voice was steady, heartfelt.

You thanked your director, your co-stars, and your team. But then your tone shifted, becoming softer, almost intimate. “And lastly,” you said, your eyes scanning the crowd before landing on someone just out of the camera’s reach, “to my fiancé, Rafe, for being my greatest support and my home. I love you.” The reaction was immediate. Gasps rippled through the audience, and the cameras frantically searched for this mysterious “Rafe.”

When they finally found him, the room fell silent in disbelief. Rafe Cameron, CEO of Cameron Development and a notoriously private multi-millionaire, sat composed in the front row, his tailored tuxedo impeccable and his expression calm. His sharp features softened as he looked at you, his piercing blue eyes radiating pride. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he offered you a subtle nod of approval.

The crowd’s shock only deepened when he lifted his hand, casually blowing you a kiss. The gesture, so unexpected and tender, made you laugh softly, a sound that carried through the microphone and caused the room to erupt in soft, charmed laughter. Even the most stoic faces couldn’t help but smile at the moment, the chemistry between you and Rafe palpable even from afar.

~

A week later, seated on a sleek morning show set, you addressed the world’s curiosity with grace. “First of all, congratulations on your Golden Globes win—and, of course, on your engagement!” the interviewer gushed, leaning forward with obvious excitement. “The internet is absolutely losing it over this. No one even knew you were dating someone, let alone Rafe Cameron. How did you pull this off?”

You laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “I’ve always been a very private person when it comes to my personal life. Rafe is the same way, which made it easier to keep things low-key. We weren’t hiding—we just chose to keep it to ourselves.” “Understandable, but we need to talk about this ring,” the interviewer said, motioning dramatically toward your hand. “It’s stunning. Did Rafe pick it out himself?”

Your smile turned fond as you glanced down at the enormous diamond. “He did,” you said, your voice softening. “He worked with a designer for months to make sure it was exactly what I’d love. He knows I’m not into anything too flashy, but he told me this one had to be special—and it is. It’s perfect.”

The interviewer tilted their head, their curiosity palpable. “So, how long have you two been together?” “A little over two years,” you revealed, your tone steady but warm. “We met at a charity gala. He was there on behalf of his company, and I was presenting. We started talking, and it just… clicked. We became friends first, and over time, it grew into something more.”

“Rafe Cameron is one of the most private figures in the business world. What’s it like dating someone outside of Hollywood?” You smiled, pausing thoughtfully before answering. “It’s refreshing, honestly. His world is so different from mine, and it helps keep me grounded. He’s incredibly driven but also the most supportive person I’ve ever known. He’s my biggest cheerleader, but he also keeps me humble.”

“And what do you think about all this attention now? Everyone’s calling you two the ultimate power couple.” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s flattering, but at the end of the day, we’re just two people who love each other. That’s what matters most to us.” The interviewer leaned in, clearly intrigued. “And where is Rafe right now? Surely he’s tuned in to watch this interview?” You laughed softly, a warm glint in your eyes.

“He’s probably watching this on his way to the airport for a business trip,” you revealed, a hint of amusement in your tone. “He’s always on the move, but he’s still incredibly present in our relationship. Whether it’s a quick FaceTime call before a meeting or sending me random pictures of his coffee because he knows I’d critique it, he’s always finding little ways to stay connected.” The interviewer raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly.

“So, this private romance you’ve shared—do you feel it’s been easier to navigate without the world watching?” “Absolutely,” you said, your voice steady but reflective. “Being private gave us the space to focus on each other without any outside pressure or distractions. In our world, it’s easy for relationships to become more about public perception than the people involved. We wanted to make sure we were solid before sharing it with everyone else.”

“And now that the everyone knows?” the interviewer pressed, their tone light but curious. You shrugged with a graceful smile. “We’re ready. The Golden Globes felt like the right moment—it wasn’t planned or calculated. I wanted to celebrate him as much as he celebrates me, and that felt like the perfect way to do it.” The interviewer smiled, nodding.

“It was such a genuine, beautiful moment. The internet is still recovering from the shock, though. People are obsessed with this pairing—Hollywood starlet and business mogul. What’s it like being in the spotlight together?” “It’s definitely new,” you admitted, your fingers instinctively grazing the diamond ring. “Rafe is used to being behind the scenes, so all this attention is a bit of an adjustment for him. But he’s handling it well—he’s pragmatic about most things. And we’ve always been a team, so we’re taking it one step at a time.”

“Well, you two seem to have a rock-solid foundation,” the interviewer said with a smile. “And judging by the fan reactions, I think people are already rooting for you as much as they root for your movies.” You chuckled, a hint of blush rising to your cheeks. “That’s sweet to hear. Honestly, we’re just two people trying to figure it all out like anyone else. But I’m grateful for all the love and support—it means a lot to both of us.”

As the segment wrapped up, the interviewer smiled warmly. “Thank you for sharing this part of your life with us. Congratulations again on your engagement and your win. We can’t wait to see what’s next for you—and for you and Rafe!” You nodded, your eyes glowing. “Thank you. It means so much to be able to share this moment. And I have a feeling there’s a lot more to come.”

The camera panned out as the show transitioned to commercial, leaving the audience captivated by your elegance and the sheer mystique of your love story. Online, the clip was already going viral, with fans dissecting every detail of your relationship and praising the unexpected yet perfect union of Hollywood’s understated it girl and the world’s most enigmatic bachelor.

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 8

Summary: It's Thanksgiving, your first official holiday with Wanda. Someone stops by to create a little havoc.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

All the houses look the same, at least to him. The navigation system in his rental car isn’t any better.

Or maybe his sister gave him a fake address just to mess with him.

After a while, he decides it’s enough, pulling over when he sees someone jogging around the neighborhood.

“Excuse me”

“Hey” the woman says, stopping. Her smile is wide, and Pietro’s taken aback by how friendly she seems with a stranger.

“I’m looking for an address, can you help me out?”

“Sure”

“It’s Hill Drive 216”

“Right, well all you have to do is drive straight ahead for five blocks. Then turn right and then left” the woman says, leaning over the car window. As she’s giving directions, he can’t help but stare at her toned legs in full display.

“I really appreciate it. Maybe I can buy you some coffee to thank you?”

“Sure. See ya around” she says with a smirk, running in the opposite direction. Pietro didn’t get her number, but he figures she might know Wanda. So they’ll meet again.

In no time, he finds Wanda’s house. The woman is already sitting in the porch, as if she can feel her twin brother coming.

“This was supposed to be a surprise. You don’t look surprised”

“You asked my neighbor for my address. She called to know if you were a creep so she’d call the cops on you”

“What? She was so nice. And she’s very hot. You should have told me you had hot neighbors”

Wanda gives him a cryptic smile, but he doesn’t have time to ask the meaning behind it, as Tommy and Billy come running down the stairs.

“Uncle Pietro!”

“Bratan” he says, allowing the boys to tackle him to the ground. “You’re so big! What is your mom feeding you two?”

The boys laugh, pulling him inside so they can tell him all about school, soccer and their videogames.

A half hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it” he volunteers. To his surprise, the girl he spoke to earlier is on the other side. She’s now wearing jeans and a long sleeved sweater.

“Hey, Pietro”

“I didn’t… tell you my name”

But before he can connect the dots, Wanda walks past him, standing on her toes to kiss the woman.

“Hey, baby. Apparently you already met Pietro”

“Oh, yeah. Heard he was hoping to get a hot date out of some simple directions”

At that, his sister and her girlfriend let out a laugh, and he groans, hiding his face in his hands.

—

It was totally worth it, to see Pietro’s face as realization hit him. You were Wanda’s girlfriend.

He looks shocked, and embarrassed as you walk past him, Wanda’s hand in yours.

“At least the Maximoffs have consistency in their taste” you comment, making Wanda laugh and Pietro blushes.

“She never sent me a picture of you, ok? How was I to know?”

“I didn’t send it because I knew you’d fall for her and she is all mine” Wanda rolls her eyes, arms around your waist. You kiss her temple, smiling.

“Are you staying for Thanksgiving?” you ask, curious about his plans for the holidays.

“That’s the idea”

“You’re little buddy Rogers isn’t joining us?” you glare, so he knows you know what he tried to do.

“Oh, yeah. Heard you felt threatened by him. Still jealous, Y/N?”

“Jealous? I’m a Trauma surgeon, for goodness sake. What is your job, by the way? Snowboarding? Or do you call it snow? You know, like Ken in the Barbie movie”

“It gets me all the girl’s phone numbers” he arches an eyebrow.

“You certainly didn’t get mine”

“Stop it” Wanda laughs it off to ease the tension, standing between you two. “It’s Thanksgiving. The holidays. A time to forgive and enjoy”

“Fine,” he agrees. “Truce?”

“Not until you take the kids for a movie so we have an afternoon to ourselves” you say, because now that you’re back to work it’s been harder to get alone time with your girlfriend.

“Alright”

—

“It’s very important to me” Wanda says, stuttering lightly as you kiss down her neck.

“Of course, baby” you say, holding her hips as she tries to continue the conversation. She’s saying something against your lips, so you roll her nipple between your fingers, which makes her quiet for a few minutes.

Then, you’re between her legs when she starts talking again.

“He’s my brother, we’ve known each other our whole lives. I really want him to get to know you”

“Wanda” you sigh, defeated. You look up, with a smile at her disheveled state. “Can we not talk about your brother when I’m eating you out?”

“Sorry”

You kiss her thighs, going up to lie next to her.

“Or am I that bad at giving you head these days, baby?”

“It’s not that” she rushes to say, straddling your lap. Wanda pecks your lips to appease you, hands going up and down your arms. You squeeze her hips, encouraging her to continue. “But I mean it, I want you to get along”

“I was joking before. Mostly”

“Y/N” she whines and you smile.

“Ok, I just feel… the last time we almost broke up because he was trying to test me using Steve, right? I’m a bit butthurt about it, you know I’m proud and petty like that. And I’m not… I’ve never met someone’s family. I told you I’m not good with this relationship stuff”

“All you have to do is try” she says, leaning down to kiss you. “And absolutely nothing will break us apart, my love”

“Promise?”

“Swear” she says against your lips. You kiss her again, hands going down to her ass.

“Can I carry on now or would you like to talk about more family members?”

“Carry on” Wanda giggles when you flip her on her back, but those turn to moans pretty soon, feeling how your tongue works through her folds.

—

“Ok, guys, just like we practiced” Pietro says as he parks in the street, looking at the twins. They nod, staying inside the car while their uncle walks to the door.

“Hey, sestra… ah, seriously?!”

All he sees as he walks in is his sister’s head thrown back on the couch, and he can guess where you are.

“I thought you locked the door” Wanda reprimands you, but you just smirk, getting dressed. You make sure that only Pietro is within earshot when you smack Wanda’s ass, and she yelps.

The man is glaring when Wanda opens the door, her hair a mess and your shirt all wrinkled.

“Where are the kids? Why are they waiting in the car?”

In that moment, the twins open the car door, and you can see they are carrying a small, white dog. You want to cackle, because Pietro is so dead. But you keep a neutral expression, staying behind Wanda.

“You idiot” Wanda says, followed by a string of curses in Sokovian. You’ve never seen her this upset and it’s kinda hot.

“Come on, kids. Let’s go back to my place and bathe this little dude”

“No, please don’t leave me alone with her” Pietro pleads as Wanda pulls him by the ear.

“Sorry, I don’t want to be a witness to whatever it is she’ll do to you” you give him finger guns, hurrying back to take the kids to your place. It’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t appreciate you using her bathtub to take care of the pup.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?” you say once you’re in the bathroom.

“Well, we found Sparky outside the cinema. He was looking for food in the garbage and was so sad and alone”

“Do you think Mom will let us keep him?” Tommy says.

“Let’s take him to the vet tomorrow. Maybe he escaped home and his owners are looking for him”

The boys remain silent as you rinse the soap from Sparky’s fur. Of course, he shakes as soon as you’re done, drops of water flying everywhere. Billy and Tommy laugh, which makes you smile.

They had never brought up the subject of pets, but you have a feeling that it’s because Wanda had told them that the answer was going to be no, no matter what.

You use an old t-shirt and your blow dryer to get him all fluffy. He is a cute dog, that’s for sure.

“Come on, let’s get back home” you tell the kids, letting Tommy carry Sparky.

Pietro is in the porch, hand on his cheek as he sulks around the stairs. His ear is so red from all the pulling that Wanda did and you almost want to laugh.

“She won’t talk to me” he mumbles like a grumpy teenager.

“Jeez, I wonder why”

You walk inside, going straight to Wanda’s room. Still, you knock and let her know it’s you.

“Hey, love. Woah” as soon as you open the door she’s hugging you, and you don’t know if her tears are from anger or sadness. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Pietro is so… immature! Why would he think it’s a good idea to bring a dog into my home? He is always like this. Now, I’ll have to tell the kids we can’t keep him and they will hate me”

“Wanda, they won’t hate you. Breathe for me” you run your hands up and down her back. “Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow I will drive with the kids to the vet, they’ll check for a microchip or anything else that tells us if he has a family”

“They always wanted a pet and I just couldn’t do it, it was too much work for one person and I…”

“And you are not alone anymore, ok? You have me. And as it happens, my family’s always had dogs. Don’t stress, leave it to me” you say, kissing her temple.

“Thank you. I’m staying here. Can you make sure the kids have dinner?”

“Of course, baby”

You make a couple of sandwiches and let the kids eat in the living room, while Sparky walks around and smells everything. It’s a good sign that he’s not peeing in every surface of the house.

Once the kids have dinner, you take the dog to the backyard, noticing the wooden fence needs some work, or Sparky will be able to escape.

Another thing on your list.

“Is Mom mad at us?” Billy asks when you’re upstairs, tucking them in. Sparky is in the corner, sleeping between Tommy’s shoes.

“Not at all, kiddo. She’s just not sure we can take care of Sparky. Dogs can be a lot of work, ya know?”

“Did you have dogs?” Tommy says from his bed and you nod.

“Yeah, we had all kinds of dogs. Big ones, small like Sparky. You have to walk them, feed them, take them to the doctor…”

“Maybe it is a lot of work” Billy says, dropping his shoulders.

“Hey, no worries, we will figure it out. Just make sure you’re nice to your mom. She just wants the best for everyone. Rest now. And Sparky doesn’t sleep on anyone’s bed, got it?”

The kids giggle at that, and you roll your eyes, knowing they’ll probably break that rule.

—

“We’re home” you announce.

“How did it go?” Wanda says, while Pietro is in the living room, pretending to read.

“No microchip. But he did get blood work and everything seems fine, we also got him dewormed and he can start with vaccination in two weeks”

“You know a lot about dogs” Pietro says, but shuts his mouth the minute Wanda turns to glare.

“So, yeah. We could call a shelter and ask if they can take him”

“But he would be in one of those cages, alone” Wanda says, sounding sad.

“I guess”

“Let’s just keep him until we figure something out” she decides, looking as the kids play with the dog in the front yard.

“Yeah, ok. We got him some kibble, plates, a new leash and a bed, so he’s all set. I’ll just have to fix the fence”

“Oh? Will you wear your tool belt?” she says, biting her lip. Pietro gags from his place in the couch. Wanda turns to scold him. “Keep it up and you’re staying in a hotel”

“Bossy. And mean. I love it” you say, pulling her closer. You share a quick, but passionate kiss.

“I could fix the fence” Pietro offers.

“You don’t even know how to drive a nail,” Wanda argues.

“I’m trying to do something nice, sestra”

“You’ve done enough”

They begin to argue like a couple of teenagers so you have to step between them, raising your hands.

“Enough. Pietro can help me when I fix the fence. We all win. Isn’t that great? Two of your favorite people working together” you say.

“Only one” Wanda says and Pietro is ready to fight when you snap your fingers.

“To your corner, Pietro” you warn him, dragging Wanda to the kitchen. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Mmm?” she melts when you rub that spot in her lower back that always relaxes her.

“I don’t think Pietro meant to do any harm with this. At most, he thought you’d end up loving Sparky more than me” Wanda laughs, and she leans against you. “He’s visiting and you’re always talking about how much you miss him, so try to forgive him”

“You’re right”

“You sound surprised,” you joke, kissing her softly. “I have work. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t leave. I know nothing about dogs” she pleads.

“I’m always one call away, love of my life” you promise.

—

Five missed calls. You sigh when you leave the OR, though it is from an unknown number.

Before you can return the call or contact Wanda to make sure she’s fine, Darcy finds you, dragging you by the hand without any explanation.

“Does this belong to you?” she says, pulling the curtain to reveal Pietro, holding an ice pack against his right hand.

“It belongs to my girlfriend”

“It? Seriously?” he complains, but Darcy ignores him.

“Came in with hammered fingers and cries every time I try to examine him”

“I will take a look. Thanks, pal” you force him to remove the ice pack, ignoring his protests. “What happened?”

“I tried to fix the fence”

“Mhm” you bend his fingers and move them around, trying to check if there’s a fracture. He complains and tries to jank his hand back, but you don’t let him.

“Can’t you take some X-Rays?”

Now, where’s the fun in that?

“Honestly, I think you’ll just have some swelling and pain. Let’s put a bandage in those three fingers and make sure you don’t move them too much”

“At least Wanda’s less mad at me”

You smile.

“Glad to hear it. Did she drive you here?”

“No, I wasn't in the mood to be lectured. I just told her I needed something from the hardware store and came straight to the ER”

You nod, writing a prescription for him. Once you’re done, you take the hand, bandaging the three fingers together.

“You know, I just worry” he interrupts the silence.

“About what?”

“Well, has she ever told you about the twins’ father?”

You glance back at him, arching an eyebrow.

“No, and I respect that. If she ever feels like telling me, I’m sure she will. So I’d appreciate it if we keep it at that, Pietro”

“I’ll just say, he was the biggest asshole. And it almost destroyed her. I promised myself no one would hurt her again”

You nod, still working in silence. Of course, the shovel talk. After the stunt he pulled with Rogers, this is nothing, really. Going along and nodding a few times might just do the trick.

“To be fair, I never liked him. You’re fine, I guess”

“I can live with being just fine in the eyes of Frosty the snowman” you mutter, finishing the bandaging and giving him some pills. “Now go back home and let me take care of the fence when I’m there”

An ambulance parks right outside of the ER and you excuse yourself. You don’t notice Pietro hanging back, watching as you help the paramedics move a woman from their gurney to a hospital bed.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re out of the OR and see a text from Wanda that you remember the incident.

Wanda: Thank you for checking Pietro.

Y/N: Happy to help the evil twin, love.

Wanda: What would that make me? The good twin?

Y/N: The hot, beautiful, angel twin.

The sound of your pager snaps you back to reality, which means the last hours of your shift will be busy.

—

“I should go and help”

“Please, don’t”

Wanda and Pietro are sitting in the backyard’s deck, watching as you fix the fence.

“Did you get Sparky as a test? To see how she’d react?”

“That is actually a great idea but no” Pietro laughs, stretching his arms. ��I can’t believe you don’t remember”

“Remember what?”

“We were at school, back in Sokovia when we were five or six. The teacher asked us to draw our pet, but we didn’t have one so…”

“So you drew a dragon and said you wanted one for our birthday” Wanda suddenly remembers, frowning. “But what did I draw?”

“A white dog, with a very pink nose and fuzzy hair. And when we were at the theater, I saw him and thought, that’s my sister’s dog”

Wanda laughs, trying not to cry at her brother’s antics, wiping the corner of her eyes before she gets emotional. She reaches for his hand and he squeezes it, smiling.

“Why haven’t you told her about how you had the twins?” Pietro asks after a while, his voice soft.

“Because… I’m afraid she’ll see me differently. And I don’t know if it’s worth it, dwelling in the past. It’s done and nothing can change it”

“It’s not about dwelling in the past, it’s about sharing everything that makes you who you are. And that’s a big part of it” Pietro insists, standing up when the boys show up with Sparky. “We’re going to the park. See you for dinner”

Wanda stays on the deck, watching as you finish replacing the last wooden panel.

“I am so ready for a shower and a nap” you sigh, plopping down next to her. “At least Sparky can be out safely now”

“How can I pay for your very hard work?” Wanda says, and your hand squeezes her thigh.

“I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Maximoff. But when I’m not all sweaty”

“You’ll have to leave the toolbelt on, though” she says, making you laugh as you kiss the spot behind her ear.

You enjoy the breeze as you sit together on the deck, drinking a beer while Wanda looks out her yard.

“If I told you something, would you promise not to judge me?”

“I would never, my love” you say, putting a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “What is it?”

“It’s about the twins”

“Uh. Did Pietro put you up for this?” you click your tongue. “You don’t have to tell me anything; whatever the situation is, I imagine it’s not easy”

“I think… It would help explain why he’s so protective of me. And I want you to know, I do”

“Alright, then. I’m listening”

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, looking at her clasped hands.

“We met in college” she begins. “I was 20 and he was on an exchange program. Came from Oxford University, I think. We were in different faculties but somehow crossed paths at a party and got talking. It was the first time I was in love”

“He was elegant and acted like a gentleman, and said funny things without being crass. He acted differently than the rest of guys I ever tried to date. So we were together the whole semester, until winter break came. I was considering inviting him over to spend Christmas with us when he got an unexpected visit from his fiance”

You breathe deeply, knowing where this is going. Wanda still won’t look at you, and she takes a moment to continue.

“Uhm. So, yeah. The minute I saw them together I wanted to scream, but all I could do was hide. I felt like such an idiot. He didn’t even try to find me and apologize. And for a few weeks I was… sick. I threw up every morning, and felt tired. But I thought it was stress”

“Wanda, I’m so sorry” you say, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She leans against you, letting your touch ground her. Wanda’s hand goes to hold your own, and you squeeze it, trying to show your support.

“When I realized what it was, I tried talking to him. I thought he at least deserved to know. But he just wanted to give me some money to deal with it, in his words”

Those words make your heart ache, but you grit your teeth. You admire Pietro’s self control more than ever.

“I’m gonna need you to give me a name so I can find him and kill him”

“I let that go, for my sake. I had two babies to care for. No matter how it happened, I knew I always wanted them. So I told my parents everything and then Pietro, well…”

“He went crazy, I can imagine. Can’t really blame him”

“So, now you know it all. I still have things to figure out, because sometimes the kids ask me about their father and I don’t know how to tell them he never cared about us” she sighs, leaning against you.

“We’ll figure it out together, when the time comes” you promise, kissing her cheek. “And you don’t have to be afraid of me judging you, you did nothing wrong, Wands. I’m so sorry you had to go through that”

“I just thought… I wanted you to know”

“Did you ever see him again? I mean, does he even know their names?”

“No, and I hope it stays that way. If he comes back, I don’t want him anywhere near Tommy and Billy” her voice shakes with emotion, and a bit of her accent comes back.

“That’s ok. We won’t let it happen” you promise, kissing her temple.

“I love you”

“I love you too. And our boys”

“And our dog” she says, which makes you look back at her. She smiles at your shocked expression. “We’re keeping Sparky. No further comment”

“Yes, Ma’am”

—

The twins couldn’t believe it when Wanda told them they could keep Sparky. Pietro smiled as the kids hugged their mother, promising to always take care of him.

“You’re the best mom ever!” Tommy says, running around the living room.

“You’re welcome” Pietro mocks as he walks past her, and she elbows him.

You spend the evening watching a movie in the living room, Sparky sitting between both boys.

The 36 hour shift, coupled with the work on the backyard leaves you exhausted, so 15 minutes into the movie you begin to fall asleep.

“Come on, sweetheart” Wanda says when your head keeps loling to the side. “You need to rest”

“No, but I wanna know what happens with Big Welder” you mumble. Wanda stands up, kissing your forehead and pulling you all the way to the stairs. After brushing your teeth and almost sleeping while standing up, you plop down in bed, taking everything off and deciding to sleep in nothing but your underwear.

“Very tempting” Wanda comments when she sees you.

“I thought you’d be watching the movie” you stretch, appreciating how Wanda’s eyes linger on your breasts.

“Uh, they started playing video games. So that was my cue to go” she crawls into bed with you, not ready to go to sleep but wanting to share some alone time. “Before I forget, who are you inviting for Thanksgiving?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, dinner. We’re having turkey, the Barton’s are stopping by…. You do know it’s this Thursday, right?”

“I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner in like 15 years”

“You’re kidding” Wanda says, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I started volunteering when I was 16 to avoid being home. And you know I rarely went back for that stuff. I think the most I’ve done is eat pizza with Darcy while we’re working”

“Well, Darcy should come too! Have her over, I only get to see her at the hospital”

“You sure?” you say, smiling nervously. All you know about holidays in the last decade has been the chaos of a hospital.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great, you’ll love it” she promises, kissing you.

—

Chaos isn’t exclusive to the ER, it seems. You’ve had a busy morning, mowing the lawn, cleaning the deck and getting ready to set a large table for everyone who’s joining. To your annoyance, Pietro is using his bruised hand as an excuse to not help.

“You’re doing great” he gives you a thumbs up and you want to throw the broom straight to his head.

“You could help your sister in the kitchen” you say, wiping the sweat from your forehead and coming to look over his shoulder. “Tinder? Seriously?”

“Yeah, check this out” he says, showing you some of the matches he’s had.

“Oh, wow” you whistle at a picture of a blonde woman in a bikini. You’re about to comment something else when you hear a cough behind you. Of course, Wanda is staring, her signature head tilt letting you know you’re in danger.

“I mean, oh, wow, what a horrible, unattractive person. Blegh. So not my type” you say, pretending to gag.

“I’m only letting it slide because it’s Thanksgiving” she warns and you nod.

“Yes, love. I’m sorry”

Pietro snorts and you turn to slap the back of his head.

“Sestra, are you gonna let her do that to your brother?”

“Yes” Wanda says, leaning forward to snatch his phone. “Come help me in the kitchen. Now”

“You know, I’m twelve minutes older” he says as they go back inside.

Once you’re done with mowing and picking up the dry leaves, you set a table across the backyard and some lights for extra decoration. Hoping the kids won’t look, you set up a trampoline you know they’ve been asking for.

“Alright, come supervise” you ask Wanda, and for some reason the entire Maximoff entourage follows behind.

“It looks amazing!” she says, inspecting the lights you installed. “I love these”

“I know. I may have stalked your Pinterest board, @witchy16”

“Billy, look!” Tommy points at the trampoline, running to try it out, his brother close behind.

“Be careful” Wanda warns. “I’m not sure I love that”

“They can use it only when I’m around” you promise, turning to her. “That way I can get more alone time with my girl”

Wanda laughs, but the sound is drowned out by your lips on hers, and your hands travel south to squeeze her ass.

“I’m right here!” Pietro complains, which makes you smirk.

“I didn’t see you, sorry” Wanda says.

“I did” you smile, earning a slap on the shoulder from your girlfriend. Something pings in the kitchen, so she excuses herself.

“You know, we usually save the presents for last”

“What presents? This isn’t Christmas” you say.

“People give each other presents during Thanksgiving too. Isn’t it obvious? How do you give thanks to someone? You get them something” he insists, which makes you doubt yourself. Pietro leaves to join the twins on the trampoline.

Maybe he’s right. What if Wanda got you something and after everything she’s done to make sure you enjoy this holiday, you have nothing to give back.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you done in the backyard?” Wanda says when you walk in.

“I… yeah. Do you want me to do anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m just letting everything in the oven for now. Come sit” 

“Actually… I need to go check something” you lie, feeling awful about it. But you have to get her a present.

“At the hospital?”

“Yes. I won’t take long, I promise” you say when she looks disappointed. “I’ll be back in an hour and I’ll help with whatever’s missing” 

“I just want us to spend time together,” she smiles, taking your hands. You lean forward, kissing her. “Oh, and call Darcy, I just want to confirm she’s coming”

“Yes, my love” 

Pretending to be super calm, you walk to your car. You only let panic take over when you’re driving around, finding the traffic to be awful. Seems like people always leave everything for the last minute, and you hate yourself for not thinking about this sooner.

You can’t let Wanda down.

Darcy’s the only person who can help out, so you call her while you try to find a place to park.

“Hello”

“Hey. Wanda wanted to confirm you’re coming to dinner”

“I am, only for the amazing food. But the hospital will page me if there’s an emergency so don’t expect me to stay for long”

“Got it. By the way, did uh, your family happen to give each other presents during Thanksgiving?”

“No, they only get drunk and yell at each other. Why? Do I have to bring a present? Because then I’m out”

“No, that was just me being stupid, never mind. See you at seven”

You hang up, leaving the car to walk around the shops. Most of them are closed, because of course, it’s a holiday. The only places still working are supermarkets. So, what? Will you have to get your perfect girlfriend toilet paper and say “happy holidays”?

After walking down several blocks, you finally find a jewelry store open. 

“Welcome. How can I help you?” a woman says.

“Hi. I can’t believe you’re open at this time of day” you comment, looking around the store. Wanda never really wears bracelets, or earrings. Necklaces, yes. Though they’re always very discreet. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who have to buy a peace offering for the holidays” 

“Huh”

“Or last minute engagements” 

“Oh. That’s definitely not the case” you smile, and something behind the woman catches your eye. “That’s a nice pearl necklace”

The woman puts on her sales hat, telling you every detail about the very elegant, very real pearls and how it is an absolute must for any woman. It honestly doesn’t take a lot of convincing. It’s beautiful and you remember how Wanda mentioned she always wanted one, but considered it a bit of a silly expense with two kids and no real use for it.

“I’ll take it” 

“You don’t want to look at the price?”

“I imagine it’s those four figures there”

“Yes”

“Yeah. That’s fine. I’m a trauma surgeon” you explain with a smile, feeling a little smug. 

“She’s a lucky lady”

You don’t really agree, considering this is very last minute. For the twins, you decide to take some of the Christmas presents you started to buy for them and store at your house.

And as much as Pietro annoys you, you’ll have to get him something too. 

Looking at the time, you decide to keep shopping for a bit longer, hoping no one notices if you’re gone too long. 

Wanda definitely notices. By the time you come back home, you’re sneaking around with a few boxes but she comes out of the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” 

Her tone makes you jump, and you look at her with wide eyes.

“I…”

“Doesn’t matter. I need you to go to the supermarket and get me some boxes of mac and cheese for all the kids. And a few bottles of wine, in case Laura and Clint stay longer” 

“Ok” you say, wishing she had called you since you were around the supermarket not long ago. 

By the time you finish all her errands, it’s four and you’ll only have an hour or two to rest. 

“Hey, here’s everything you asked for” you greet with a smile, hoping Wanda is less stressed now.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I think the Bartons aren’t even staying for dinner so I made you go for no reason, I’m sorry”

“It’s ok” you say, putting your arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want this to be perfect. For you to know that having a family is nice so you won’t…” she trails off, trying not to look at you.

“So I won’t, what?”

“So you won’t leave. It’s silly”

“Hey, I’d never leave… sorry” you grumble, looking at your phone and ignoring the call.

“If you need to pick up...”

“It’s just my landlord asking about the lease renewal” you roll your eyes which makes her laugh. “As I was saying, I don’t need a perfect Thanksgiving as a reason to stay. I love you. That’s it”

“I love you too” she smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. With your hands on her cheeks, you deepen the kiss, enjoying how she sighs against your lips when your tongue darts out. Then, your hands travel south to squeeze her ass, encouraging her to put her legs around your waist. 

“Hey, can we…? Ugh, not again” Pietro says, covering his eyes. “We’re thirsty”

Without dropping Wanda, you go through the stuff in the fridge and hand him some drinks.

“We’ll be upstairs, don’t go up in… 20 minutes” you say, making Wanda giggle.

“You guys are gross,” Pietro complains, crashing against the table as he keeps his eyes closed.

“Come on, let’s make those 20 minutes count” you say, carrying Wanda to the bedroom.

—

The Bartons arrive at 7, just like Wanda told them to. Sparky is the main attraction, as all the kids coo and aw at the funky little dog that loves all the attention.

“Pietro, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you” Laura says.

“Only good things, I hope”

“That must have been a short conversation” you laugh at your own joke, while Pietro glares.

The kids run around the yard as Laura and Wanda chat, Clint handing over Nathaniel to you while Pietro talks about his job.

Darcy shows up a little later, and you make your rounds, introducing her to everyone that hasn’t met her yet. 

“You again” she says when her eyes land on Pietro. 

“What? You’ve heard a lot about me too?” 

“Yeah, mostly bad shit”

“Bad word” all the kids turn to point at her, and she facepalms.

“Fuck”

“Two bad words!” Cooper says. Laura covers Lila’s ears, though she is laughing. You clasp your hands over Darcy‘s mouth because you know she can keep going forever.

“Kids, have you tried going on our brand new trampoline? You can take Sparky with you” that gets them distracted enough, running away to the backyard. “There. Don’t worry, it took me a minute to get used to the no swearing”

“This is why I don’t hang out at PG-13 events. Anyways, I brought some stuff to make pumpkin cocktails and guacamole. Help yourselves” Darcy says, holding a bag of tortilla chips.

“Nobody eats guacamole at Thanksgiving” Pietro says. 

“They do if they’re Mexican. We can pretend. I’ll call you Pedro all night long” Darcy says just to annoy him. “Plus, this is all I can make” 

“Are all surgeons bad cooks?” Wanda teases, and you’re dumb enough to answer honestly.

“Not all! Carol is actually a great… huh” you scratch the back of your neck at Wanda’s glare. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” Pietro guesses.

“Yeah” Wanda tilts her head, making you smile weakly. 

“I’m making cocktails” Darcy interrupts everyone, dragging you to the kitchen. For a while, you talk about some patients that arrived during the day, but it was still a strangely calm shift at the hospital. It was usually busy during dinner or after that some people got injured, while driving back home. 

“Take this to Wanda, that will make her forget that Carol comment” 

Approaching slowly, you put the drink in front of your girlfriend, who takes a sip and then coughs.

“Wow, what is this?” she laughs, the alcohol strong enough to knock her off her feet.

“A fire hazard” Clint comments, able to smell it across the table. Still, Wanda sips on the drink and nods, enjoying the taste.

“Go easy, Miss Maximoff” you joke, which makes her smile.

“I still remember why I’m mad at you”

“Then forget what I said, take these like tequila shots”

“Carol is an ex,” Pietro says, putting together the information. 

“As in Carol Danvers? Nice” Clint comments, earning a slap on the arm by Laura.

“Thread carefully” 

“Ah, jeez. Look what you made me do” Clint laughs, looking at you.

“Pumpkin cocktail for Laura coming right up”

“I’ll bring it, I have to check the turkey” Wanda says, slightly slurring her words. 

“If you go anywhere near the oven, leave that thing here” Clint points out, not wanting to put out fires on his day off.

You take Wanda’s place, sipping casually on the rest of her drink. Everyone stares as you don’t even make a face to the amount of alcohol on it.

“We’ve known each other since college” you explain. ”So this is just like drinking water”

While you keep chatting in the backyard, Darcy and Wanda are both in the kitchen, your friend making herself a drink while Wanda turns off the oven to get the turkey ready.

“Want another cocktail?” she says, pushing a glass towards Wanda. The woman grabs it, sipping again. The sweet taste of the pumpkin hides a bit of the alcohol, so the punch isn’t hitting quite yet. 

“Listen, I know your brother already gave my friend the shovel talk” 

“Really? When?” Wanda says, a little too loudly. 

”Back in the hospital. And I had to hold off on mine because you were always in my territory and I didn’t want to seem like a bully. However, now is the time to tell you… she’s my best friend, has been since college. Life hasn’t been particularly fair and her mother certainly didn’t help, though I’m sure she’s made it seem like no big deal, but Y/N really does deserve someone nice and kind. So don’t break her heart. Under any circumstance”

“I’m not planning to, Daisy” Wanda nods her head, her thoughts a little fuzzy.

“Nobody plans to hurt someone they love. And I’m Darcy”

“I’m a little drunk” Wanda clicks her tongue, leaning on Darcy as they go back to the backyard. 

“Everything ok, love?” you say when Wanda comes back, and to your surprise, she sits on your lap instead of a chair.

“These things are strong. A couple more and I’ll consider doing that thing you wanted to try in bed”

“Oh, dear God” you blush, while Clint, Laura and Darcy whistle. Pietro covers his ears, gagging. “No more cocktails for you… at least with the kids around”

The Bartons stay a little while longer, eating and drinking until Lila and Cooper approach Clint.

“Can we get a dog?”

“That’s our cue to go” he sighs, standing up.

“Please, we want one!” Lila insists, and you laugh at Clint’s defeated expression.

“We’ll see” he compromises. “Come on, we gotta stop by at your grandparents”

They leave, thanking you for the food and you promise to take the twins and Sparky to play at the farm very soon.

Pietro finally gets off his ass to bring the turkey, which looks absolutely delicious. He carves it, saving the biggest piece for his sister.

“I love Thanksgiving” you say, enjoying what’s probably the best meal you’ve ever had.

“Me too” Darcy agrees, getting seconds and thirds of everything. Truth be told, you never get to sit around and eat as much as you like so this is a total luxury for a workaholic doctor.

As you’re finishing up, Wanda takes out a pecan pie. 

“I’m in heaven” Darcy comments upon the first bite.

On the other hand, you cannot hold back a moan, which makes Wanda bite her lip, one of her hands going to squeeze your thigh. 

“Hey, quick question, will you marry me?” Darcy says to Wanda and you elbow her.

“Right in front of my pecan pie?”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t, I will”

“She better get a ring then” Wanda says, smiling at you. Your mind goes back to the woman at the shop, telling you about those last minute engagements.

Surprisingly, Pietro is the one that changes the subject.

“You know what I always find funny? How the flavor makes my throat all tingly. And my tongue numb”

Everyone looks at him in silence, until Darcy speaks.

“That’s an allergic reaction”

“What? No” Pietro dismisses her point.

“It is” you insist, which earns another hand gesture from the man. “Oh, you’re right, what do we know? We only went to medical school”

“You’re so dumb” Wanda says, laughing and holding her sides. “You’ve been allergic our whole lives? Oh, my God!”

“Very funny, sestra. But now you can’t make this anymore”

“Hey, eat a granola bar or something” Darcy snaps, getting a second slice. “Why should we pay the price for your weakness?”

“Let’s finish the pie so he doesn’t get an allergy” you tease.

Darcy and you keep eating while Pietro is instructed to clean up the table and load the dishwasher. As the celebration ends, Darcy goes back home with tons of leftovers.

“I’ll walk you out ” you say, accompanying your friend. As you’re chatting, your phone rings again.

“Your mother?” Darcy guesses when you ignore the call. You click your tongue, putting the phone back in your pocket. “Let me guess, she’s calling for the usual wish you were here bullshit while never calling in advance”

“Yeah, that’s our thing. This year I’m not in the mood to do it, though”

“Well, she’ll hopefully get the hint” Darcy’s pager goes off and she sighs. “There it is”

“Want me to tag along?”

“It’s fine. I’ll call if it gets too crazy. Bye, pal”

You wave as she drives away, walking back with Sparky. For a second, you feel guilty and think about calling your mother back, but this day has been perfect and you don’t want to ruin it.

“Hey, kiddos, did you have fun?” you ruffle Tommy’s hair when you get home, getting Sparky his dinner.

“Yeah, it was awesome!”

“Well, you better check your rooms because I got you a little present”

As usual, Tommy is faster, but Billy is right behind him, both of them shouting excitedly.

“What is all that noise?” Wanda says, alarmed.

“Just following tradition” you explain with a smile, waiting for the kids to open their presents.

“What tradition?” Wanda says, looking confused.

“Thanksgiving presents”

Then you hear it. Pietro snorts a laughter from his spot in the kitchen.

Motherfucker.

“I’m gonna kill you, Evil Twin” you say, going straight to where he’s standing. Pietro runs around the kitchen island, putting distance between you two.

“Stop it, you two!” Wanda says, hands on her hips.

“Sorry, love. But he’s got it coming” you throw a towel his way, and take advantage of the distraction to jump over the counter, falling on top of him.

“Cool!” Billy says, watching as you have Pietro in a headlock.

“How are you so strong?” he complains, unable to free himself.

“I’m in the ER, do you really think I don’t have to deal with drunk assholes?”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling you by the belt loop of your pants until you’re off balance. “Explain” she asks standing between you two.

“He told me you gave each other presents during Thanksgiving!”

“We love ours!” Tommy says, showing the stands for their controls. You smile, fixing your shirt.

“Well, you’re the only ones getting one. Your uncle is definitely not”

“You got me something?”

“Yes, and it was a damn good present” you smile, knowing the curiosity will drive him crazy.

“Come on, can I have it?”

“No” Wanda and you say at the same time.

You make fun of him, and then Wanda tilts her head.

“Did you get me something?”

“Of course I did” you pat the back of your jeans, finding the necklace box there. “Here”

Wanda’s eyes widen as soon as she opens it, her hand covering her mouth.

“What? You don’t like it? I can return it. Or maybe I can’t. But you don’t have to wear it” you rant, afraid that it’s too much for a tradition that isn’t even real.

“Sweetheart, stop” she says, smiling. “I-I love it. Thank you”

“Well, I love you” you lean forward, letting her kiss you. Billy and Tommy protest at the contact, something that they have unfortunately picked up from their uncle.

“Can I have my present? Please?” Pietro says.

“No, wait until Christmas” you say.

“And for this little joke you’re gonna clean the kitchen” Wanda says, pointing at all the dirty pots and pans.

“My joke got you a pearl necklace”

“Chop, chop, Pietro” she ignores him, pushing the kids upstairs so they can get ready for bed. “You two stink, go and take a shower”

“Where do you want me, Bossypants?” you joke, standing next to her.

“Mhm” she smiles, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “You like it when I’m bossy?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Then go shower too. And stay in bed. You were running around all day”

“Wanna join me in the shower?”

“I’ll help Pietro clean. Or we’ll never hear the end of it” she says, smiling when you pull her close, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t be long”

By the time Wanda comes up, you’re asleep, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.

The gentleness of her lips against your neck wakes you up with a shudder, and you bring your hand to rub up and down her back.

“Are you done with cleaning?” you say, trying not to yawn. Wanda’s teeth, marking the spot between your shoulder and neck jolt you awake. “Baby?”

“You always give me so much. I want to thank you” she says, moving down your lap. You lean on your elbows, unsure if you’re understanding what she’s saying.

“Wanda?” you’re about to ask something else, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel her rubbing her nose against your clit through your shorts. “I… uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong” you say, having trouble breathing when she pulls down your shorts, revealing you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Perfect” Wanda smiles, leaning down. You can tell she’s hovering, teasing you with anticipation. Even when she kisses the inside of your thighs, it feels heavenly.

You make the mistake of looking down, and Wanda’s eyes meet yours. She has a predatory smirk on her face, one you’ve never seen before. She knows how much you want this, she can see it, smell it. You’re about to plead for her to continue when she goes down, tongue licking a strip down your center.

“Fuck” you say, your legs instantly going to close around her head. You’re so sensitive and she’s sucking on your clit with such abandonment. Wanda lets you ride her face, enjoying the feeling of your juices coating every inch of her chin.

When you’re close to coming, she manages to pull free of your hold, pushing her hair back. Her chest is heaving, face glistening with your arousal.

“Wha-“ she doesn’t let you finish, pulling down her own shorts, and crawling on top of you.

“I want you to come with me” she sighs against your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. Her pussy comes in contact with yours, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her wetness.

“Be quiet for me” she hisses, though there’s certain tenderness in her voice. Her palm covers your mouth, and Wanda only moves when you nod, pushing her hips against yours.

“Wanda” you plead, not knowing exactly what you’re after. Even though she’s also getting pleasure out of this, she’s still very much in control, keeping you steady as she rocks her hips, setting the pace.

As your breathing quickens, Wanda picks up the pace, and your arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer until she drops her body on top of yours, moving and panting next to your ear.

“I’m close” you breathe, and the way she bites down your neck is what pushes you over the edge, letting out a groan and a string of curse words that would put your best friend to shame.

Wanda’s release follows, and you let her dig her nails in your shoulders as she comes. She relaxes against your chest, her heart slowing down as you run your hand up and down her back.

You don’t need to look to know there’s a mess of sheets and clothes around you. Wanda is too far gone to care, the intensity of her orgasm and the exhaustion of the day making her doze off.

“Can we make this into a tradition?” you whisper against her temple. She laughs, cuddling against your side.

“Totally”

—

Wanda: Hey

Y/N: Hey, gorgeous

Wanda: Miss you

Y/N: Miss you more.

Y/N: Thinking about that mindblowing orgasm too.

“Someone got laid for Thanksgiving” Carol reads over your shoulder and you huff.

“Mind your business, Danvers”

“Darcy said it was the best meal of her life. What do we have to do to get invited next year?” she says as you walk down the hospital halls.

“Go back in time and not sleep with me”

“Damn. Wanda’s still jealous? Would it change if I’m a married gal?”

“You set a date?” you stop Carol, excited to hear more.

“Your invitation should be in the mail soon”

“Congrats!” you smile, pulling her for a hug.

“There’s one more thing… I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor…”

The request catches you completely off guard. Carol had been your friend since you arrived at the hospital, but considering everything that happened, you’d figure Maria wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

“I mean… I would love to, but Maria”

“She’s fine with it. Understands it was just a distraction”

“Aww, that makes me feel so special” you put your hands over your chest, sighing dramatically.

“You know what I mean” Carol says, making you walk to the ER. “So, you in? You’ll have to do dress fittings. Organize a bachelorette party. Make sure I’m there on time”

“Fine, yes. Oh, did I mention we got a dog?”

On the way to the ER, you show Carol a bunch of pictures of Sparky, and she’s still obsessing over his funky hair when you find Kate, finishing some charts.

“How was your night, Bishop?”

“A bit crazy. Some accidents on the road, and cuts with kitchen knives… but it’s been pretty quiet now”

Carol gasps and you want to scream.

“Don’t say the q word, Bishop” you plead.

“Why?”

Two ambulances park right outside and you nod towards them.

“That’s why”

True to the lore, the word quiet attracts a wave of emergencies and freak accidents that take up most of your shift.

That’s not what has you on the edge of a nervouse breakdown, though.

During your first break of the night, you answer a text from Wanda, telling her you’ll be sure to be there for Pietro’s dinner tomorrow, as he’s finally leaving on Monday morning.

No one ever leaves a voicemail so you check out the notification, and you wish you hadn’t.

“For someone who works in the ER, you sure as hell aren’t around for family emergencies” your mother says. “Well, it’s not really an emergency, but you get my point. We’re gonna be in town, Jane’s probably applying to Westview university next year. Call me when you can, it would help if you give us a tour around the city. And pick up the damn phone, it’s Thanksgiving”

Kate finds you in that moment, making you jump out of your seat.

“You wanted me to…”

“Follow up with the patient in 403, yes. I’m going out for a while. Call me if it’s urgent”

The first thing you want to do is throw your phone away, but you settle for walking to a nearby store, looking for a pack of cigarrettes and a lighter. If you didn’t have a shift to go back to, you’d certainly get a bottle of cheap booze.

As you sit on the sidewalk, your hands tremble when you light up a cigarrette. It’s been ten minutes and you’re through the third one when Darcy stops by.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Since you can’t find the strenght to explain it, you hand over your phone. Your friend physically recoils at the sound of your mother’s voice, that’s how much she dislikes her.

“I’m sorry” Darcy says, sitting next to you. “She might not even make time to see you, she’s probably just pretending, like with every holiday”

“It’s not just that, Darcy. What if Jane goes to Westview University? I’m going to… I’m going to be worrying about whether or not she’ll be around. If her daughter needs anything, she’ll call me, if something goes wrong and I don’t find a way to fix it immediately, I’ll be the screw up of a daughter who never cares about her family. I’m gonna have to move, there’s just no way I can…”

“Slow down” Darcy sits next to you, her hand on your shoulder. Her touch helps you stay calm, and you breathe slowly. “That’s a massive if. You don’t know if it’s happening. And we’re both very much aware that you could do everything your mother asks and it still wouldn’t be enough. Don’t let her control you”

“I don’t know how” you admit, your voice breaking down.

“That’s ok” Darcy pulls you in, hugging you. “We’ll figure it out. Or just take her to the nastiest places in town, she’ll never let Jane come here again”

You let out a laugh at that, wiping your tears.

“I love you, friend” you say, feeling exhausted.

“Ugh, you always get so emotional when that witch is lurking around. Careful or you’ll end up proposing to Wanda”

“I don’t want my mother anywhere near Wanda. If she says anything hurtful to her, I swear to God she’ll really regret the minute she pushed me out of her fucking insides”

“Damn, bitch, now that’s the fire I want to see in you” Darcy claps, pulling you up. “Come back inside. Heard it’s been non stop since your minion summoned the entire city”

“Yeah, she said the q word”

“Queef” Darcy sighs and you cackle.

“Sassy queef”

—

The last thing you want to do when your shift is over is have dinner and be social, but you promised Wanda.

So you walk through the door with a smile on your face and some flowers for your girlfriend. Wanda greets you with a kiss, but quickly pulls apart.

“Did you smoke?”

“Uh…”

Seems like the entire pack of gum after smoking for the last 48 hours didn’t do the trick.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll go use some mouthwash and change clothes”

“Hold on” Wanda pulls your hand, looking at you. “What’s wrong? You only smoke if you’re stressed”

“Sestra!” her brother calls, and you’re actually grateful for the interruption.

“I’ll tell you later. Pietro needs your help”

Thankfully the conversation centers on the other Maximoff and his plans for the upcoming weeks, now that the conditions seem more favorable for snowboarding.

You ask a question here and there, but mostly keep to yourself, eating the chicken paprikash and drinking wine. Yeah, you definitely drink a couple of glasses to keep your cool.

If Wanda notices, she keeps it to herself once again.

“Well, sounds like you’ll be needing a pair of brand new gloves” you say to Pietro at one point, taking out a box from behind the tv. “Hidden in plain sight”

“She’s a keeper!” he exclaims when he notices the fine material. “I’m definitely coming back for Christmas now”

“Hey, you better get me something nice too”

You’re halfway the second bottle of wine when everyone’s done with dinner, and the kids are debating between going for ice cream or watching a movie. It’s safer to stay in the kitchen, cleaning everything and hoping you can excuse yourself early.

Truth is, you really want to drink until you pass out but that would raise too many questions with Wanda.

“They settled on Jumanji” Wanda announces when you’re drying your hands.

“Mmkay. I’ll take Sparky out for his walk then” you volunteer, rushing to get his leash before she can ask anything else.

The cold air makes you sober up a little, remembering what Darcy told you.

Don’t let her control you, don’t let her ruin your life.

You’ve told Wanda your relationship with your mother is not the best, but how could you possibly explain that’s a wild understatement?

“Isn’t that the cutest dog?” Agatha greets Sparky, who wags his tail. “What’s their name?”

“Sparky”

“Oh, wow” Agatha waves her hand in front of her nose. “Booze and cigarrettes, did you have fun at the casino?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll get you a special tea. It always helps”

She rushes you to her porch, making you sit while Sparky is on your lap, comfortably napping.

“One cup of “specialty”. Hah! Get it? Special tea, specialty”

“Very clever… oh, wow! Does this have peppermint?”

“Yes, clever girl”

“My grandmother grew peppermint on her front yard. I always loved the smell of it… even the taste when she made tea” you smile, sipping slowly.

“Everything ok, kiddo?” she asks after a beat of silence.

“No, not really”

“Well, I’m here if you want to…” your neighbor says, petting Sparky.

“I mean, thank you, but I feel like I don’t have a lot of people to tell this to, without being judged. Because you know what it is? I fucking hate my mother, Agatha”

To your surprise, the woman let’s out a loud laugh.

“Oh, honey, please. Tell me about it. My mother was a witch”

“Is that figuratively or…”

“I mean, who knows. She was evil, that’s for sure” Agatha rolls her eyes, and then looks at you. “Yeah, I get it. Most people say that you have to love your family, just because you share blood. Blood is thicker than water, they say. Meanwhile, they don’t know the full phrase is the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”

“Is that so?”

“Trust me, I know” Agatha nods. “My mother would tell me I was evil, I was bad. Just rotten to the core, in her own words.”

“I’m so sorry”

“Darling, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You have your own family with the Brady bunch over there.”

“I guess a part of me still believes she’ll apologize”

“Don’t hold your breath. And if she doesn’t, it still doesn’t mean you did something to deserve her shit”

“Thank you, Agatha”

The woman pats your leg, smiling.

“My love, are you coming back to bed?” a voice says from the inside of her house and you almost snap your neck looking back.

“Coming, Rio”

“I had no idea I was interrupting, I’ll leave right now” you stutter, carrying Sparky down the steps of the woman’s porch.

“Don’t sweat it, hot stuff. She needed a break after everything we just did” Agatha winks.

“Good talk, bye Agatha, bye Rio” you wave your hand, running back home all flustered.

The kids are with their uncle watching tv when you go inside. You let Sparky go so he can sit on the couch with them, and go upstairs to get changed and sleep.

Once you’re settling in bed, Wanda pushes the door open, eyeing you curiously.

“Sweetheart” is all she says. It’s both a question and an affirmation.

“It’s been a long day” you admit, too tired to pretend you’re ok, but also not in the mood to explain everything.

Maybe your mother won’t even come, and you’ll have shown Wanda how broken and fucked up you are for no reason. She doesn’t need to know it. Not now, at least.

“Let me help” she offers, climbing on your lap, kissing every inch of your face. You hold on to her waist, digging your fingers in her flesh. “I love you”

“I know. I love you too” you smile, finally connecting her lips with yours. She’s meant to comfort you with her touch, not wanting to start something else, because everyone’s downstairs. But when you swipe your tongue across her bottom lip, Wanda lets out a groan, nails scrapping your scalp as you deepen the kiss.

“Please” you say, switching positions so she’s on her back, you on top. You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but she can sense your desperation, holding on to your shoulders.

“It’s ok. I’m here. Use me, love. Take me”

Those words spurr you on, making you go down to kiss her neck, unbuttoning her shirt and leaving a trail of marks all the way to her hips. You desperately pull at her pants, immediately going down on her, your touch impatient as Wanda covers her mouth to keep quiet.

“Please” she manages to ask, and you give her more, stretching her with two of your fingers. “More”

You’re happy to comply, adding another digit and working them in and out of her clenching cunt, while you go back to meet her lips in a messy kiss.

“I fucking love you” you say against her mouth, and that sends Wanda over the edge, arousal gushing out of her with each of your final thrusts.

“I was… supposed to make you feel better” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, trust me. You did”

Wanda laughs, looking at you lovingly while you kiss her temple.

“I love you too” she says when your lips meet hers for a quick kiss.

“I know. I’m very lovable”

Her laugh makes you forget all the bad shit you’ve been carrying with you for the last day and a half.

—

“Take care, brat” Wanda says, her arms going around her brother. “See you soon”

“Yes” he then says something in Sokovian, making Wanda laugh.

“Do you guys know what they’re saying?” you approach Billy and Tommy.

“No, mama hasn’t taught us any Sokovian”

“We think it’s so they can say bad words without getting caught”

“Huh”

“What is all that mumbling I’m hearing?” Wanda says, making you stand straight.

“Nothing” the three of you say at the same time, making her laugh.

“Relax, sestra. You two, be good while I’m gone. And if you’re not good…”

“Be careful” they finish the sentence, laughing.

“And you…” Pietro points at you. Wanda is about to intervene, thinking he’s about to give you another shovel talk. but you wink at her, smiling. “Welcome to the family”

“Thank you, Evil Twin. See you at Christmas”

“You’re dressing up as Santa this year” he says in a low voice and you laugh.

The man gets in his car, waving goodbye one last time.

“Alright, you two, we’re gonna be late for school” Wanda says, and the routine slips you back to reality.

“Hey” you say, pulling her close to you. Before she can answer, you kiss her, hands on her cheeks. She squeezes your wrists, smiling. “Do I really have to be Santa?”

“We’ll see” she laughs, kissing you once again. “Come on. We got a busy day ahead of ourselves”

You smile, letting her take you back home.

Whatever happens next, you just need Wanda to get through it.

[saeun]

megumi's a "whatever," boyfriend. not in the sense that he has an attitude, but in the sense of agreement to your actions. you want him to buy you that korean corndog? sure, whatever. you want to match keychains with him? not quite his style, but it's whatever.

megumi's also an "i don't know," boyfriend. he never knows. he lives by the saying that ignorance is bliss, and it constantly leaves him in a state of confusion. he doesn't know how he got to the nail salon, but apparently he's found himself attempting to decide which colour's best.

"megumi, should i get this one or that one for my nails?"

"i don't know. they both look like the same colour," he repsonds, bursting his brain to find the difference.

"it is, honestly, but the shade is different."

"the first one then," he opts for the first choice, still having no idea what the difference is.

one more thing about megumi: he's a "my girl," type of man. believe it or not, he addresses you as "my girl" when you're not around. such behaviour leaves itadori and nobara in shock. the most endearing name of affection they've received from megumi bordered "idiot," or his favourite, "stupid." it's no wonder why they thought he had no capacity to be romantic.

"why are you so down in the slumps?" nobara questions, rounding the corner with itadori who's holding all her bags.

itadori joins in on the questioning, "yeah, you look like you found out spiderman isn't real."

in unison, nobara and megumi sigh heavily. it's only itadori who'd be sad at the fact that superheroes are fictional.

megumi slouches, resting his head on his knees. it bothers the other two that their friend isn't his usual self today.

"seriously, meg, are you okay?" nobara's voice softens to show her genuine concern. it doesn't last long, however. softness doesn't last long when you have the kind of friend who finishes every snack as soon as it's been bought.

"itadori yuuji, put that snack right back where you found it."

"my bad," he apologises, doing as nobara said.

the attention turns back to megumi. his aura radiates sadness — something that neither of the three knows how to deal with. well, it's better to say it than to dwell on it.

"my—" megumi stops himself, sighing at the mere thought, "my girl's mad at me and i don't know why."

"oh," the duo shares a response.

"uh, well, what did you do?" itadori asks, drumming his fingers awkwardly against his thigh.

"i don't know," the sad boy replies.

"do you ever know anything, fushiguro?" nobara pipes in. how are they supposed to help him when he himself has no idea?

megumi sighs heavily again, nobara's words hit him where it hurts the most, "you sound just like her."

"there's no saving him," itadori whispers to nobara.

"you're right. we should call her to deal with this," nobara whispers back, nodding with itadori as she secretly sends you a text.

[jaybird1306]

Last month, England and Wales took the first step towards legalising assisted dying (a separate bill is under consideration in Scotland, while Northern Ireland is described as “left behind” on the issue). After a five hour debate in Parliament, MPs voted by 330 to 275 in favour of the The Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill. As it stands, the bill would allow terminally ill adults with an expected six months left to live to end their own lives. They would have to make two separate declarations, signed by either themselves or a proxy (who can be someone who has known them for two years or someone of “good standing” in the community), and their eligibility would have to be confirmed by two doctors and a High Court judge.

The vote to approve this bill is being presented by supporters of the right to assisted death as a victory for dignity, compassion and bodily autonomy. The ultimate in the right to choose. And on these bases you might assume that I am one of those people. After all, I do believe in bodily autonomy. I hope it goes without saying that I believe in dignity and compassion in death as in life. And, of course, I believe fervently in the right to choose what happens to your own body.

But rather than these beliefs leading me to support this bill, they are in fact the reason that I have my doubts. Let me explain.

Like most good liberals, when I historically thought at all about assisted dying I considered myself to be in favour of it — although admittedly without having thought through any of the details. There is no doubt whatsoever that current end of life care leaves far too many people suffering a painful and undignified end. There is also no doubt that some people, out of fear of such an end, have ended their lives earlier than they might otherwise have chosen to, while they still had the ability to travel to Dignitas in Switzerland. Family members have faced the choice of letting their loved one travel and die alone in a foreign country, or to go with them and face the risk of prosecution on their return. None of this is humane. And legalising assisted dying seems like an obvious way to address these issues. That, in any case, was what I historically thought.

But a few years ago, doubts were introduced in my mind when I was a judge on the Royal Society of Literature’s Christopher Bland Prize. One of the books submitted to us was a memoir by Alastair Santhouse, a consultant neuropsychiatrist at The Maudsley Hospital in London. The book, Head First: A Psychiatrist’s Stories of Mind and Body, didn’t make the shortlist in the end, but it did make a lasting impact on me, most notably on my opinion of assisted dying.

Santhouse opens his section on the topic by recounting his first experience of a practice he was later to discover was so common it had a name: “granny dumping.” That is, the depositing of an unwanted elderly relative (the name suggests usually a female relative — we’ll come back to this) at a hospital over Christmas. The elderly woman in question here was brought in by her son and daughter-in-law who told Santhouse, “She just isn't right,” before leaving and turning off their phones. On her own, the woman, now in tears, told Santhouse there was nothing wrong with her. “They just don’t want me over Christmas.”

This episode may shock you as it did me. The thought of doing such a thing to my own mother causes me physical pain in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I simply cannot bear it. But, says Santhouse, the medical profession quickly disabused him of his “notions of people always behaving honourably or having respect for the elderly.” And it is his decades of experience, his repeated witnessing of this lack of honour and respect for older people, that makes him so implacably opposed to assisted dying.

While some may have taken a calm and rational choice to end their lives, there are an unquantifiable number of people who may be pressured or coerced into doing so. […] As they approach the end of their lives, people feeling unwell and scared can experience a pressure, spoken or implied, to let their families collect the inheritance that they would otherwise not get if they had to pay for medical or nursing home fees. They may also feel a pressure to release their families from the burden of caring for them. Vulnerable, frightened patients may only feel loved, accepted and valued by their families if they take the decision to end their lives by assisted suicide. — Santhouse (2021) pp. 206-7

As my parents have aged I too have witnessed some of this lack of honour and respect for older people in action. For example the time an impatient male carer made my strong, capable, fiercely independent mother cry when she was, in the immediate aftermath of a hip operation, feeling none of those things. I have also seen how quickly someone who is strong, capable and fiercely independent can suddenly become scared, uncertain and vulnerable when they lose their independence, even if, as with my mother, it was only temporary. It is far from unbelievable that someone in this state could be quite easily coerced into agreeing to end their own life. Rather, it is frighteningly believable. Indeed I personally know of at least one case where someone felt pressured (to my knowledge never overtly vocalised, but as Santhouse points out, this pressure does not need to be spoken to be felt) into arranging their own death, before at the last minute changing their mind. How many others have simply gone through with it?

Well, according to a recent report on assisted dying, “mercy killings” and failed suicide pacts, that is a question for which we do not have an answer and nor are we likely to get one any time soon. Written by the think-tank “The Other Half, the “Safeguarding women in assisted dying” report notes the “secrecy” that is “built into the latest assisted dying proposals in the UK.”

This is also true of countries thought to be exemplars like Oregon and the Australian states. In Oregon, death certificates do not include a note of assisted dying. All provider information on assisted deaths is deleted after the annual report is prepared. This simple data report does not, and would not, reveal the kind of abuses we fear here. In Canada, there are stories now emerging of families who have tried to prevent their relative being given MAID [medical assistance in dying] —as they believe they are not terminally ill. Families cannot get access to medical records to understand if their relative was coerced. The state protects itself and those who are involved in delivering death. — The Other Half (2024)

The abuse the authors of this report in particular fear is state-delivered domestic homicide — and not without good reason. Although the UK inexplicably only started including over 75s in domestic abuse statistics in 2020, we know that elder abuse is far from uncommon. We also know that women live more years than men in ill health, and that having a disability doubles a woman’s risk of being domestically abused. The law in England and Wales has also recently recognised suicide as an outcome of domestic abuse (indeed, data suggests it may be more common even than homicide) and has outlawed the “rough sex defence” through which men who killed their sexual partner via strangulation achieved leniency in prosecution and sentencing.

We cannot claim therefore to be ignorant of the clear vulnerabilities women face, nor of capacity of violent men to exploit the law to justify their abuse. And yet despite this knowledge, the potential for these laws to be used in the furtherance of violence against women has been shamefully absent from the assisted dying debate.

And not just here in Britain. The report highlights that most countries that have legalised assisted dying don’t even consider domestic abuse in their safeguards (which are mostly concerned with will beneficiaries), let alone collect or publish any data on the issue. Meanwhile, assisted dying campaigners in the UK have championed two male mercy killers with a history of domestic violence, one of whom had previously been imprisoned for bludgeoning his second wife with a mallet.

The result of this data gap on domestic abuse and assisted dying is that it’s hard to quantify exactly how widespread the problem is. We do have some indications, however. We know that in Canada, women “seem 2 times more likely to seek MAID track 2—which allows for those with non ‘reasonably foreseeable’ deaths to die” — that is, women who are not terminally ill. We know in Belgium that women dominate the figures of those given “psychiatric euthanasia.” Why are these psychologically troubled women so much more likely to seek death than their male counterparts? The data is silent on this issue, and the states in question seem in no hurry to uncover the reason behind the sex discrepancy.

In the Bill as it currently stands in England and Wales, assisted death for the mentally unwell would not be an immediate issue, since the law would apply only to terminally ill patients — but the example of countries that have gone before us shows how easily and quickly the concept of “terminal illness” can be and has been stretched.

…it is estimated that now 3 per cent of Belgian and Dutch assisted deaths are for psychiatric disorder. Psychiatric illness is not usually terminal and suicidal impulses are often part of the illness itself. To have a state-sanctioned way for such people to end their lives should be a cause of concern for everyone.

One study showed that 50 per cent of Dutch psychiatric patients asking to die had a personality disorder* (a very unstable diagnosis with symptoms sensitive to social pressures), a figure similar to that in Belgium. Twenty per cent had never been hospitalized because of mental health problems (which calls into question how severe they are) and, in 56 per cent of cases, loneliness and social isolation was thought to be an important factor. This in turn raises the question as to whether assisted suicide is being used instead of proper social and mental health care. Perhaps the most troubling statistic in the study was that in 12 per cent of cases in the Netherlands, the three assessors had not agreed unanimously on the decision, and yet the assisted death went ahead anyway. — Santhouse (2021) p. 209

This final statistic is echoed in a finding from The Other Half report, which notes that in Western Australia, guidance states that “feeling a burden” is meant to be a red flag for assessors determining a patient’s eligibility. But despite “more than a third of those approved reporting they felt a burden, Western Australian medics decided that everyone who applied for VAD was eligible in acting voluntarily and not being subject to coercion in 2023-24.” Which, to say the least, stretches credulity; as the authors of the report put it: “It is startling that despite the prevalence of domestic and elder abuse in Australia, the assisted dying safeguards for these picked up absolutely no one at all.”

Well, quite.

Santhouse also raises concerns about safeguarding, noting that “as the experienced expert who would be asked to undertake [safeguarding] assessments,” their presence is “no reassurance whatsoever.” It is, he writes, “extremely difficult to truly know someone's motives, including the motives in someone asking for assisted dying. This is particularly the case where the individual concerned is frightened, vulnerable or wants to please others, and do what they believe others want them to do.”

Source: The Other Half (2024)

[Image description: an excerpt from The Other Half, "The 2006 killing of Mandy Horne in Shetland was widely reported as a Romeo and Juliet, mercy killing by her husband - Mandy had MS. Both died so there was no investigation. Only through Mandy's father and a curious Times journalist was it later revealed to be a very violent murder and suicide by Mandy's husband: he's also killed their pets. The night before she died, Mandy had asked friends to stay because she was scared of her husband."]

But despite the failure of states that have legalised assisted dying to collect data on its intersection with domestic violence, we are not entirely without pertinent evidence. By combing through “news reporting, inquest findings, sentencing remarks and court of appeal judgements where killings and attempted killings were said by a judge, coroner or defence to be part of a mercy killing, or (failed) suicide pact,” The Other Half report authors have identified and reviewed more than 100 “mercy killings” and “failed suicide pacts” — and they make for sobering reading.

The Other Half’s research revealed that “at least 5 UK men per year violently kill women who are disabled, elderly or infirm, under the guise of mercy killings.” Eighty-eight per cent of the killers were male, overwhelmingly husbands and sons, and the killings were extremely violent, involving “cutting women’s throats, bludgeoning them, shooting them, or using stabbing, suffocation and strangulation.” One woman was thrown off a balcony by her son. Another was strangled with her dressing-gown cord by her husband. Many women had their throat slit. “Overkill,” the authors found, was frequent. Meanwhile, men are “overwhelmingly the survivors of ‘failed suicide pacts’.”

Having my throat slit, or being strangled with my dressing gown cord, or being thrown off a balcony does not sound particularly merciful to me, and whether or not you wish to die, it is hard to imagine anyone choosing to die in such a violent manner. But the vast majority of these women did not ever express a wish to die at all, let alone to die violently. 78% of them were not even terminally ill, being simply “disabled or elderly and infirm.” The report identified an increase in a woman’s care needs as a trigger for a mercy killing.

The majority of these men were let off with suspended sentences and sympathy from judges who repeatedly spoke of the “exceptional” nature of these strikingly similar cases (the report found that the few women who engage in “mercy killing” generally get a life sentence), with “very limited data, if any, data [being] collected by the state on these deaths, and no learning or curiosity.” One man let off with a suspended sentence had written the joint suicide note himself with no input from his wife; another had a history of domestic violence against his dead wife. And, let’s not forget, these lenient sentences all took place in a context where assisted dying is illegal. It’s also worth pointing out that this analysis would not have been possible if these mercy killings had taken place under the auspices of the new bill, because none of the information would be publicly available.

Source: The Other Half (2024)

[Image description: excerpt from The Other Half, The judicial safeguard: even criminal court judges are not able to spot patterns in so called mercy killings. Selected judicial remarks to mercy and failed suicide pact killers. "This is indeed an exceptional case" - Scotland husband smothered wife who'd returned home from hospital. "A tragedy for you...exceptional in the experiences of this court. You were under immense emotional pressure...you acted out of love." - Husband wrote his wife's suicide note then cut her throat. Suspended sentence. "I conclude the mental torment engendered by the impossible situation in which you found yourself must have been intolerable." - Husband strangled wife after she had broken her vertebrae and had been unable to look after him. Suspended sentence. "[The judge] decided to suspend the sentence due to the 'exceptional' circumstances" - Father helped his daughter take an overdose then suffocated her. She had been receiving (poor) inpatient mental health care in hospital. Suspended sentence. "It was, in part, an act which you believed to be one of mercy." - Husband knocked his wife out with a dumbbell then slit her throat. She had dementia. Suspended sentence. "the defendant was not coping with the strain of being the principle carer...I accept at the time he did believe he was doing what he believed to be an act of mercy." - Husband smothered wife with clingfilm. She had Parkinsons and had recently has a fall. Suspended sentence. "the case was exceptional and jail would not be appropriate" -Husband gave his wife an overdose of antidepressants and suffocated her in a plastic bag. "I accept in killing your wife you were doing so because you felt this was the only way to limit or prevent her suffering." - Husband pushed his wife down the stairs and then strangled her. She had dementia. Suspended sentence. "The taking of a life is always a grave crime, but the exceptional circumstances of this case require the court to show compassion." - Husband cut his wife's throat after her dementia worsened. Suspended sentence. "indeed true love...an exceptional case" - Husband attempted to bludgeon his wife to death with a hammer. Suspended sentence. "a most unusual and very sad case" - Husband struck his wife with an iron pole, then smothered her as she sat in bed. Suspended sentence. "You were convinced that she was suffering and it was more than you could bear." - Son threw his mother off a balcony as she was receiving end of life care. Suspended sentence.]

But what about all the people who are not coerced, you may be thinking at this point. Don’t they have a right to bodily autonomy? Don’t they have the right to choose?

To this I have two points, the first of which is that rights in a democracy must be balanced and the right of one person to willingly choose to end his life must be weighed against the right of another person to choose to continue with hers. Nothing about the debate so far, nor the bill in question, makes me at all confident that this balance has even been considered, much less achieved. As Sarah Ditum noted in her excellent piece in The Times, published shortly before the vote took place:

But for legislation that relies on the principle of informed consent, there seems to be a strange haste to get it on the books without fully investigating its implications. The full text of the bill was published last Tuesday; MPs will vote on its second reading less than two weeks from today. This is not ideal, particularly when the issue is as consequential, ethically and practically, as medically administered death.[…] Before taking a neutral stance on a bill, the government should scrutinise it, including producing an impact assessment and a legal issues memorandum. These are supposed to be made available one month before the second reading, but as they don’t currently exist and the second reading is less than a month away anyway, that isn’t going to happen. — Ditum (2024)

Beyond this lack of proper scrutiny is the question of whether the state of care for those living with illness, whether terminal or not, gives people a meaningful choice to make. Certainly, the Health Secretary Wes Streeting doesn’t think it does, leading to his voting against the bill. Neither, apparently, does the Voluntary Assisted Dying (VAD) programme in Australia, if the pamphlet cited by The Other Half is anything to go by, featuring as it does this family quote: “The voluntary assisted dying process was really the first time that any medical and allied health practitioners had given such understanding and empathy to my sister's suffering, and that was such a relief.”

And, sure, you could read this as approbation of the VAD programme. Or you could read it as an indictment on the care system.

For his part, Santhouse says his experience is that when people are asking to die, “they are commonly communicating something different.”

They are asking for help to live. They are saying that they can't see how they can cope with the problems that they have, and are asking for help in finding a way through the seemingly impossible difficulties that lie ahead. To take their request at face value, and to whisk them over to the nearest assisted dying clinic, is to abrogate our responsibilities to the patient. — Santhouse (2024), p.210

If people are not making a free choice, if people are choosing death not because they want to die but because we have failed so abjectly to make living bearable for those who need care, what does that say about us as a society?

Similarly, as the Other Half notes in its examination of female suicidality in response to domestic violence, it “is impossible not to imagine a scenario that a woman in abusive situations would find it easier to access NHS assisted dying than support to create new life away from her abuser.” Certainly, assisting her death would be cheaper, a concern which was also raised by Santhouse, who fears that legalising assisted dying would make it “far easier to give up on people once the going gets tough.”

Advocates for assisted dying often rebut concerns about the morality or ethics of assisted dying by pointing to the strong public support that their position holds. And it’s true: my opinion is, as they say, unpopular: a poll conducted by Opinium earlier this year on behalf of pressure group Dignity in Dying found that 75% of the British public supports assisted dying.

But how many of the British public really understand the implications of how this works in practice? How many of them are thinking about the violence of the mercy killings we are asked to sympathise with, or the ease with which vulnerable people can be coerced into unwillingly ending their own lives? I ask, because when you poll British people who are more likely to have a good grasp of how assisted dying might work out in reality, the support drops rather precipitously.

A recent survey by the British Medical Association found that 50% of doctors were in favour of the legalisation of assisted dying, which is already a substantial drop from the position of the general public. The difference was even more pronounced when considering only palliative care doctors, that is, the doctors who are most likely to have direct experience of the realities for the patients involved (how good care can change their attitude to life; how vulnerable to coercion patients might be). Among these doctors, 76% were against a change in the law — almost the exact inverse of the opinion of the general public.

Where we go from here is unclear. The Terminally Ill Adults (End of Life) Bill is now at the committee stage, where it will hopefully receive some of the scrutiny that has to date been sorely lacking —although given parliamentary timetabling restrictions this is by no means guaranteed. In the meantime, social and palliative care continues to be underfunded and under-resourced. And some men will continue to violently kill some women, and the state will continue to allow most of them to get away with it.

In a weird coincidence, shortly after I wrote this piece a friend of mine told me about the Christmas care package that had been sent by Age UK to her mother and aunt:

[Image description: A collection of gifts that includes slippers, a blanket, shortbread biscuits, a box of Celebrations chocolates, other unidentifiable edible or wearable treats.]

Age UK apparently sends these packages out to people on benefits with age-related health problems, and it’s such a brilliantly practical and caring idea I was inspired to set up a monthly donation to the charity.

Here’s why you should too: ageing is a feminist issue. Older women are poorer (thanks to the pay and pensions gap) and more frail and in poorer health (thanks to the health data and treatment gap) than older men. They are also more likely, thanks to sex differences in unpaid care (see Invisible Women for stats on this), to have spent their life taking care of other people. So, this Christmas, instead of “granny dumping,” let’s return the favour and make sure older women are taken care of themselves as they have taken care of all of us.

The link to donate again is here.

[doll-for-you-11]

She lived alone in the city and was super proud of how independent she was. Her parents had told her to stay even during college but her freedom was super important to her and she moved into her own little apartment.

Nothing fancy, just a single bedroom with a small front yard, overlooking the street. It was convenient too, within a short walk from her campus and as it turns out from her eventual work place.

Over the years she had many guests but no one stayed forever. Guess she was a firebrand and it didn’t really attract too many people to her. She didn’t care because she could take care of herself - financially and otherwise.

That is, until something fishy started happening. Her favourite blue bracelet was missing. At first, she thought she had been forgetful and left it at work or somewhere in the apartment. But then, a week later, it happened again. This time a green pair of earrings. Her stuff was being stolen! She was sure of it.

Between work & socialising she didn’t have much time to interact with her next door neigbours, so she never asked them. But one day, she snapped. Something really special her mom gifted her was gone. Outraged, she drove to a local hardware store. She bought and set up a button sized camera, hidden from sight. It had a wide field of vision and recorded the entire room.

With password encryption and notifications on movement or activity enabled, she felt safe. She let the camera record everything she did. Even, her most private moments. She danced in front of it, changed her clothes in front of it too.

She made love to strangers with the camera recording it and never told them. Even watching those videos back when she was alone, touching her beautiful body to them and making herself orgasm from it.

The robberies seemed to have stopped too. Nothing went missing anymore at all. She was happy and satisfied. Perhaps the thief had never been around. Just a figment of her imagination.

That night, without her knowing though, someone watched. As she stripped out of her dress and laid back on the bed. Pillow between her beautiful legs and a vibrator on her pussy, she went to town.

Her gorgeous body contorted, her moans and breathing getting louder. Unknown to her, someone was stroking themselves while watching. He had always been watching her like this. He gave up on being a thief, but he had hacked the encrypted camera and had access to the feed.

He clicked record, yet another video now in his hard drive. As she furiously masturbated, so did he. Cumming together, but unknown to her.

Three months later, she walked up to her door to find a brown envelope at her step. On it was scribbled ‘For your eyes only.’

Curious, she stepped inside. No address or sender name on it. She opened the envelope and flipped the contents on her desk. Immediately, the blood drained from her cheeks. In shock she looked at the images. High resolution photos of her, touching herself. Using her vibrator. Of her body, exposed.

She felt disgusted, but not at the fact that her photos were sent to her. No, she was disgusted in herself because she felt herself getting wet.

In the same package was a USB drive and a note attached to it saying ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been watching. Left you a gift too.’

With shaky breathing she put the USB into her laptop and opened the video titled ‘Filthy little slut’. It started playing and showed her. Bare body, pillow in between her legs. Vibe on clit. Enjoying her body as she came hard. The hairs on her neck stood on end as her nipples got hard and pushed against the fabric of her top.

She then saw another few files but the one that intrigued her said ‘A gift for my good girl’. She opened it and a video played. A dark room, a screen glowing and a silhouette, clearly a man. He wasn’t the hottest he had seen, or particularly big. But, he was stroking himself with abandon, and she could hear him grunting and moaning. Moaning that was matched by her own. He was playing back her own orgasm and stroking for her.

She took her laptop to her bedroom and laid down with it in front of her. A nervous glance at the camera but she couldn’t help it. Out of instinct, with all shame abandoned by now, she let her hand slide into her underwear. She was now touching herself, to her voyeur. And she was doing it in full view of the camera she set up.

Instead of feeling safe, she felt violated. Humiliated and, strangely, more turned on then ever before. She said ‘please, please have your way with me’… to no one in particular as she orgasmed hard. Passing out with her hand in her panties and her door not securely locked.

She woke up, several hours later. Feeling far more exhausted than usual. Her laptop had been shifted off the bed and all the photos neatly stacked too. Her panties were around her ankles and her pussy felt sore.

She reached down and rubbed her slit, realising there was more than just her juices inside her. A pang of panic and ecstasy shot through her as she started to piece things together.

Grabbing her phone, she opened the camera app and saw it. He came in after she was knocked out. And he was so gentle at first. Mask on his face, he kissed her pussy and made her cum so hard in her sleep. After that, he ravaged her. Looking directly into the camera at it, knowing this filthy little slut will watch it back. He came inside her, over and over again. And then he left the bedroom, but not before waving at the camera.

Turned on like crazy, once again, she swayed from the video she had just seen. She got up, needing to drink some water. Entering the kitchen in a daze, she opened her fridge and grabbed a bottle.

As she closed it, there he was. Mask still on. Looking at her. He covered her mouth and stifled her scream. Took one deep and passionate look at her and said ‘You are mine now, good girl. All mine.’

- 😈😈😈

This is so unbelievably hot 🥵 I think I need to go buy a camera and hope someone hacks it now...

[frost-queen]

Colours we aspire to be (Maid!reader x Benedict Bridgerton)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m, @erikasurfer

Summary: You are Gregory's maid and in no position of getting close to one of the lords at the house. Yet an artistic demand allows colours to explode with love. Growing closer to each other, you fall more in love. Knowing it is wrong. When Violet finds one of his paintings of you, she is over the moon. Her husband not so much, certainly not when his son threatens to run away with you. (apologies I changed it to Gregory instead of baby Eloise since I thought Ben would be too young then.)

“I’m going to get you.” – you called out playfully. Bended a bit through your knees, hands out as you chased after a young Gregory. Little Gregory of two of age, laughed loud, moving as fast as he could, hands bouncing up and down. You walked behind him making sure you weren’t catching him quickly. – “Gregory…” – you said sweetly, calling him over. – “I’m coming to tickle you.” – you teased making Gregory laugh even louder. His laughter filled the hallways. There was an open door as Gregory ran into it. You went after him, grabbing him from behind. – “Got you.” – you said laughing as you pulled him onto your lap. Smothering him with kisses.

“Ben.” – Gregory let out with grabby hands. It made you look up, gasping loud as you were unaware lord Bridgerton was in the room with you. Benedict looked away from his painting to the two of you. Barely fazed by the barge in, turning his gaze to his painting once more. You got up, curtsying deep for him. – “Apologies my lord.” – you said, keeping your gaze to the ground. Straightening your posture once more, you took Gregory’s hand. – “I shan’t disturb you any further.” – you addressed about to take your leave. – “It is quite alright.” – he responded, furrowing his brows at his painting. – “It seems I have lost inspiration anyways.”

Benedict took a step back to admire his painting. Sighing loud as he didn’t like one bit of it. – “I hope inspiration will come to you soon, my lord.” – you bowed to him, ready to take Gregory with you if Benedict hadn’t stopped you. – “Y/n, right?” – he asked not sure if he remembered Gregory’s handmaidens name correctly. – “That I am, my lord.” – you responded. – “Can you come and see what I am doing wrong.” – he asked, leaving room for you to join. His sudden request made you blink surprised.

“My lord I do not believe I will be of much help.” – you told him. – “Come, come.” – Benedict moved a bit closer, reaching his hand out to grab your wrist. You nearly tripped over your own feet when he pulled you closer to the canvas. Gregory having sat himself down to lay on the floor. – “Tell me.” – Benedict gestured at the painting wanting your opinion. You didn’t dare to look at his painting, feeling as if you were overstepping. Benedict took you gently by the chin, moving your face forwards to look. – “I want your honest truth Y/n.” – he took a step back to allow you to see.

You gazed upon the painting, clearly seeing he was indeed missing inspiration. – “What do you think I should do?” – he asked. – “I…I don’t know… my lord.” – you told him, taking a step back. Benedict moved closer to the painting to be able to look at you properly. – “You surely must have some insight? Inspiration or dreams to fill this canvas?” – he wanted to know. – “Girls like myself do not dream.” – you told him honestly. It made Benedict blink in shock. – “You… you surely must.” – he insisted upon. You shook your head to tell him otherwise. – “Everyone has dreams.” – he let out with a laugh.

“I cannot afford dreams, my lord.” – you answered returning to Gregory. You picked him up from the ground, holding him in your arms. Benedict kept staring, watching you leave with Gregory. You returned to the nursery with Gregory. Benedict left his painting for what it was, going downstairs. Edmund was on his way to the drawing room when he saw his son. Quirking his eyebrow up at his son’s expression. – “Is something the matter son?” – he asked. Benedict shook his head thoughtfully. They entered the drawing room together. Anthony sitting with Violet in the sofa’s. A young Eloise playing cards with Colin.

There was a knock on the door as you entered with Gregory. Violet got up, coming over. – “He has been washed and properly bathed, Lady Bridgerton.” – you told her, allowing her to take Gregory from you. Violet nodded, returning with Gregory to Edmund. You wanted to lower your gaze as your eyes locked on Benedict. He clearly was staring at you, a puzzling expression on his face. Quickly lowering your gaze, you left the drawing room. Waiting outside in the hallway till you were called back in again to come and fetch Gregory.

You were putting Gregory to bed, tugging him in when you heard the door creaking open. You just thought it would be Violet or Edmund to give their son a goodnight kiss. – “I’m just putting him to bed, my lady.” – you said out loud, rubbing Gregory over his stomach. You didn’t hear an answer, making you wonder if you misheard the door opening. You turned around, startled by Benedict standing in the nursery with you. The fright made your back hit Gregory’s bed hard. – “My… my apologies Y/n, I didn’t mean to startle you.” – he spoke with a sheepish smile.

“It is quite alright my lord.” – you responded, keeping a hand on your beating heart. Trying to steady it down as there was no danger. You stepped aside for him to say goodnight to Gregory. – “I’ll let you say your goodnights.” – you told him. – “I…I actually came here for you, Y/n.” – Benedict replied making you widen your eyes. – “For… for me?” – Confused you didn’t understood what overcame the lord.

Benedict nodded as you walked away from Gregory. Leaving the room, closing it behind you. Standing in the nursery, you started to collect toys from the ground to clean up. – “I…I came here to talk to you about your…dreams.” – Benedict spoke.

Stopping mid-way, you were stunned. – “My dreams?” – you answered confused. – “I already told you I cannot afford dreams.” – you reminded him, continue to clean up the room. Benedict came nearer, wanting to look at your face. – “But you must have.” – he called out as you turned your posture away from him. – “I do not!” – you made clear, not wanting to engage with it further. Of course you had dreams. You were just taught to never express them. It wasn’t proper for a girl of your station to have dreams. To see the world in a different way for it would only cause heartbreak. Benedict went around you to look at you once more. – “Y/n you can tell me.” – he said as it infuriated you.

“Why are you so interested in whether I have dreams or not?” – you told him, looking him dead in the eye. Benedict swallowed hard, staring into your eyes. – “I am insignificant…” – you added in a softer tone, holding a few of Gregory’s toys. – “Because I can see it in your eyes.” – Benedict spoke, taking a few toys from you. Tossing them into the play chest. His answer made you enlarge your gaze in wonder. – “There is a whole world hiding inside of you.”  – he said. – “There is not.” – you sighed out, tossing the last of the toys in the chest.

Benedict grabbed for your hands as your first reaction was to pull away. Remembering your place all too well. Benedict grabbed them again, lifting them a bit up as you didn’t pull away this time. – “I cannot have dreams.” – you warned him. – “Open yourself up to it Y/n.” – he whispered out, pulling you gently closer to him. Pressing your lips together, shaking your head, you couldn’t give in to it. – “Close your eyes… it will help.” – he told you.

You sighed loud, finding it extremely silly. – “If… and I mean if I let it out, will you stop bothering me?” – you wanted to know as you couldn’t handle his pestering you over silly dreams. – “I can’t promise you that.” – he answered making you want to punch him in the shoulder. – “Who’s to say what your dreams will be?” – he added pulling his shoulders up cheekily. Exhaling loud, you hated yourself for giving into it. You closed your eyes, pulling your hands out of his. Fidgeting a bit with your skirt nervously. – “When I… I close my eyes…” – you started hesitant.

“I see…” – you added, opening your eyes with a deep sigh. – “I cannot do this.” – moving your hands up, you gave up. – “No, no, no Y/n you were doing wonderful.” – Benedict called out, wanting you to continue. – “This is insane.” – you told him. He simply gestured at you to begin anew, moving aside somewhere behind you. Taking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes again. – “Every night…” – you began, biting your lip nervous. – “The brightest colours fill my head.” – you added with a bit more confidence as you could see explosions of colours in your mind. 

“I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see. All those dreams for the world I want to make.” – you expressed with passion. Benedict stared at you, envisioning your dreams along. A smile curled up as he felt himself fall in love. Slowly you opened your eyes once more, feeling a bit embarrassed. You were afraid to look at him, wondering what he would think of you. Benedict walked up to you, leaving a quick kiss on your cheek.

“You’ve inspired me.” – was the only thing he said before running out of the nursery. Shocked, you gently touched your cheek where his lips had touched. Benedict ran up to his room, taking out a blank canvas. The entire night he worked. First with pencil, drawing your face from memory. Then the colours came. Staining his fingers as he blessed the canvas with wonders of colours behind you. As if the colours were bursting out of you. For the world you were going to make.

The next morning, you were startled when Benedict burst into the nursery. Panting loud. The first thing you noticed was the paint smudges on his fingers and face. – “You must come with me.” – he said, rushing up to you. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from the ground. Already tugging at you to come along. You protested a bit as Gregory still sat on the ground. – “Gregory, my lord!” – you said firm, pulling yourself free. You couldn’t leave him alone. Picking Gregory up, Benedict took you by the elbow, taking you along.

“My lord you promised to leave me alone.” – you told him as it wasn’t your place to be this close to him. – “I promised no such thing.” – he reminded you with a charming smile. You panicked a bit, hoping no one would see you. Benedict wanted to push you into his room as you gasped loud. Holding one hand firm onto the door opening, not wanting to enter any further. – “I cannot!” – you made clear, holding Gregory on your arm. – “You must.” – Benedict called out, pushing on your back to get you into his room.

“My lord I cannot.” – you tried to make him see, holding your position with every might. Benedict sighed deep, tickling you under your arm. It made you laugh, removing your arm from the frame as he could push you inside. You stumbled into his room, holding Gregory tight in your embrace. Benedict shut his door, approaching you. You blinked surprised when he took Gregory from you. Giving him a soft kiss against his cheek before setting him down. – “Go play Gregory.” – he said giving him a little pat on the back.

“Drawing?” – Gregory called out. Benedict collected some paper and pencils, laying it onto the floor for him to use. You hoped he had forgotten about you, yet he hadn’t. Benedict held his hand on your lower back, moving his hand before your eyes. – “My lord!” – you yelped out as you felt him push you forwards. Hands waving around as you hated stumbling in the dark. He positioned you in front of the painting. Removing his hand. It took you a moment to adjust your sight. Eyes widening with a gasp at the painting.

In shock, you turned round to him as he stood very close behind you. Blinking bashful, you stared into his eyes from how up close he was. – “You are my muse Y/n.” – he said moving his hand up against your cheek. Shocked by the touch, you stumbled back against the painting. Panicking as it started to wobble, but you quickly steadied it. You were afraid to turn back around, knowing you would get lost in his gaze. Something you weren’t allowed to do. – “My lord I must go.” – you said firm, stepping away from the painting. You felt a grip on your shoulder, making you spin around to him. Putting your spinning to a stop with both his hands around your arms.

You wanted to look away, but those eyes were enough to make you fall in love. Fall in love with someone you weren’t supposed to. Feeling yourself drawn to him as he made you dream. Dream of this beyond your control. Aware of what you were doing, you shook your head. Backing away. – “No… I can’t do this.” – you said returning to Gregory. – “For you.” – Gregory said, holding up his drawing as you picked him up. – “Y/n.” – Benedict called out as you took a run for it.

He reached his hand out to you, moving it up resting it closed against his forehead with a deep sigh. You hurried back to the nursery with Gregory hoping no one had seen you come out of the lord’s bedroom. Panting loud, you reached the nursery, closing the door behind you. Gregory held his drawing in front of your face, waving it to get your attention. – “What is this Gregory?” – you asked with a smile.

“For you.” – Gregory said as you accepted it. – “My lords, Gregory this is beautiful.” – you told him with a gasp. – “And it is all for me?” – you walked around the nursery with him. – “Like Ben?” – he asked you. It caught you off guard for a moment. – “As beautiful as your brother’s paintings.” – you told him, giving him a kiss against his forehead.

Benedict slowly opened the door, peaking his head inside the nursery. Looking around for any sign of life. Specially yours. – “Are you in here?” – Benedict whispered ready to enter more if it wasn’t for his brother’s voice startling him. – “What are you doing?” – Anthony asked with crossed arms. Benedict jumped out of his skin, turning quickly around, closing the door in the process. – “Lo…looking for Gregory?” – Benedict replied with a sheepish laugh.

Anthony quirked his eyebrow up. – “Gregory is in the garden with Daphne and Eloise.” – Anthony answered him. – “And… and his maiden too?” – Benedict asked, knowing it might be a dangerous question. It sure made his brother look questionable at him. – “Why is it of any significance if his maiden is around?” – Anthony wanted to know, moving his hands to his hip. – “Nothing for.” – Benedict replied, clearing his throat afterwards. – “I’ll… I’ll just go paint.” – he spoke making his way past Anthony. Anthony watching his brother leave with a quizzable brow. Unable to grasp whatever his brother possessed.

Benedict decided to take the long route to his quarters, hoping to encounter you. He passed his sisters room as the door was open. He paused, staring inside. Eyes locking on yours while you were making up the bed with another girl. You noticed him as well, staring back at him. He curled up a smile at you. You granted him a soft smile back before returning your gaze to your duties.

Benedict knew he should move, but he couldn’t help but keep staring. Watching you make up the bed. Whenever he looked at you, he felt inspired. Wanting to combine his dreams with yours. The girl and you finished up, leaving the room. Benedict moved aside to let you leave. The girl curtsied before him before taking off. You did the same wanting to follow her when you felt a grip on your wrist.

Taking a step back, you looked down at his hand around your wrist. Eyes meeting up with his, you knew it was wrong. Pulling your hand away, you broke free. – “My lord, you mustn’t let yourself get carried away. It is wrong.” – you told him. What would his family think. What would his reputation be after this.

“Y/n… please…” – he said reaching for you once more. – “I… I have to get back to work.” – you finalised taking your leave. Pressing your lips together, you stopped yourself from crying. Knowing you were letting yourself get carried away by these feelings. So caught up in the colours. You dove back in your work, trying to push Benedict out of your head. Preparing Gregory’s bath up in the nursery.

Hearing the door creak open, you had little time to react as you got spun around. Seeing in the flash of a second that it was Benedict as he pressed his lips on yours. Holding you firm by your waist. Using your elbows, you pushed him off. Touching your lips in shock. – “My lord!” – you shouted. – “You mustn’t. Think of your reputation. People like me don’t belong with people like you.” – you remined him. It was just unseen.

“I do not care.” – he breathed out with a shake of his head. – “Every piece of you fits perfectly. Why can’t you hold me? Why can’t I kiss you? I wish it could be like that.” – he said beggingly. – “I don’t want to hide it away. I wish we can be just us. Why can’t I say that I am in love? Every time I see you and cannot be with you, I die a little.” – he finished confessing. - “We know this, my lord.” – you responded with a saddened expression. –“It cannot be like this.” – turning your head away, you didn’t want to give in to it. Benedict turned your gaze back to him. – “I decide what I want and it is you, Y/n.” – he whispered out before kissing you once more.

Violet was humming a song whilst passing the rooms. Benedict’s room open as het gaze fell on something colourful. Her curiosity took the better of her, making her enter the room. Eager to see what her artistic son has been painting. Violet gasped at the glorious painting. It took her a moment to recognize the face. Looking down, her gaze fell on another drawing. Bending down, she took it, seeing it was another drawing of you. Then she found two, three more. A smile curling up on her face.

“Violet darling?” – Edmund called out from the hallway. Searching for his wife. Edmund noticed his wife in his sons room, entering as well. – “What are you doing in here?” – he asked smiling. Edmund came to her side, looking over her shoulder to Benedict’s drawings. His eyes widened, snatching the drawing out of his wife’s hand. – “What is this?” – he called out. 

“It’s Y/n, Gregory’s maiden.” – Violet answered with a smile. – “This is…” – Edmund began. – “wonderful.” – Violet filled in for him. – “Horrendous!” – Edmund corrected her, crumbling the drawing in his hand. – “Benedict!” – he shouted loud, stomping out of his room. – “Edmund!” – Violet came running after her husband with worry. – “Benedict!” – he repeated loud.

The door to the nursery opened as the door slammed into the wall. Startled, moved Benedict away from you. Edmund furious as he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling hard on you. You screamed, falling to your knees by him. – “Let her go!” – Benedict called out. Edmund presented Benedict with the crumbled drawing in his hand. – “Are you in love with a maid?” – he wanted to know. – “What is the matter?” – Anthony came joining the scene, having heard the commotion.

“Edmund let her go!” – Violet insisted upon. Edmund inhaled sharp through his nose, letting go of you. Violet ushered you over as you ran over to her. Falling onto your knees as you collapsed into her embrace. – “No son of mine is loving a maid!” – Edmund made clear. – “Benedict!” – Anthony called out, agreeing with his father onto this.

“Edmund that is enough! Our son can love who he wants.” – Violet responded to make her statement clear. – “I’ll have her dismissed!” – he threatened. – “It doesn’t matter what you’ll do, father.” – Benedict responded with a glare. – “I’ll run away with her and marry her. I’ll make sure you won’t find us and you’ll never see us again!”

“Edmund!” – Violet shouted to make things clear to her husband. – “Look at the drawing.” – she ordered him as Edmund refused. – “Look at the drawing!” – she repeated while comforting you. Edmund flattened the drawing, looking at it with an annoyed expression. – “Tell me that is not pure love you see. Don’t we aspire for our children to love for love. No matter where she comes from or her status. Our son loves her, isn’t that the greatest gift anyone can give their parents?” – Violet said, defending you at every might.

“Father.” – Anthony said not wanting his father to change his mind. Edmund sighed loud, dropping the drawing. – “Love her with every might.” – he told him before taking his leave. A sign of him accepting the relationship. – “Father?” – Anthony called after his father, leaving the room. Benedict looked over to his mother, thanking her. She let go of you, giving you a little nudge into his direction. Smiling hard, you ran up to Benedict, throwing your arms around him. He spun you around, overjoyed that he could finally love you like he wanted to.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr. Gaiman,

I had a recent experience that (kind of) revolved around your character Death and I thought you might enjoy the story!

So, to begin, it is important to mention that my mom has been a long time fan of yours, notably of your Sandman series, and even more notably of the character Death. As a young goth in the late 80s/early 90s she connected heavily with the character both because of your marvelous writing but also because she happened to look a lot like that character. During that time she also happened to be close friends with the comic artist David Hahn.

Cut to the present, a few weeks back, my mom and I were visiting Albuquerque where we are both from. During a lovely green chili filled lunch with my uncle he asked what we planned to do during our visit and we mentioned a few comic book stores we'd like to check out while in town. He proceeded to tell us about a store that they used to go to as teenagers (named Comic Warehouse) and mentioned that there was a drawing of my mom, as death, drawn by David Hahn, above the entrance to this place. My mom was skeptical at first, thinking perhaps he meant it was an illustration of death that just happened to look like her. Regardless, curiosity got the best of all of us as we went to investigate.

Upon arriving at the shop we were disappointed to find that no such picture of Death could be found above the door, or anywhere for that matter. After a few minutes of peaking behind shelves and double checking dusty corners, my mom built up the courage to ask the nice man working the desk if he happened to know about this particular illustration. After stating he knew not only David Hahn but even remembered some of her other friends that used to haunt the place, he then disappeared behind a wall of boxes. After a few anxious seconds he reappeared with the illusive drawing in hand! Not only were we all shocked to find that it still existed, but as it turns out my uncle was right! It was in fact a picture of my mom, as death, and it even contains a short note addressed to her, thanking her for a lift!

It was a wonderful and surreal experience to find a 30 year old illustration of my mom, drawn as what has also become one of my favorite characters, and I thought you might appreciate knowing what a long lasting and wonderfully strange impact your work has had on a couple weirdos from Albuquerque.

That made my day completely. Thank you!

[t1red-twilight]

don’t call me “d”

summary: a girl pushes herself onto dean during a case.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst?, fluff?, light hurt/comfort

notes: sorry if your name is victoria. i’m sure you’re lovely

word count: 1.6k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

you, dean, and sam were currently up north in new england working on a case. just the morbid usual: a couple of strange deaths, all the doors were locked, et cetera, et cetera. the most recent victim was a man named evan, who was almost decapitated.

halfway through interrogating the most recent victim’s friends and family, the victim’s sister decided that she would tag along. she had caught on to what the three of you were actually investigating and she wanted in.

her name was victoria, but insisted that she be called vic. a feisty thing, she was. ‘vic’ had long red hair, and did not care for any sort of personal space. at least, with dean she didn’t. when you introduced yourselves to her, it was explicitly expressed that you were dean’s partner. she didn’t care to respect that in the slightest.

at first, she was seemingly respectful. this façade didn’t last long. soon she was fruitlessly flirting with dean and completely ignoring both you and sam.

it didn’t help that perhaps in another circumstance she might’ve been dean’s type. she was tall and slender with a playful attitude. you knew from the beginning that you were in for a long one.

vic’s brother had an uncle that he was close with. she had willingly given his address, and that’s where the four of you were headed.

you grumbled in annoyance. vic had not let dean have any space, no matter how hard he tried to walk in tandem with you. eventually you had just given up and just walked beside sam.

it was evident that you were pissed, sam immediately sensed how livid you were. “you alright?”

“just peachy!” you replied, sarcasm flooding your tone. as you said this, dean turned and slowed so that he could walk with you and sam. you tried to distract yourself by examining the neighborhood, but your train of thought was cut off by dean speaking in a confrontational tone.

“victoria, you can leave. we’ve got this. we’re professionals.” dean gave her a deadpan look and when she didn’t move, he followed with a tautly-stretched smile. she still didn’t move.

“don’t be silly, d. i’m coming. evan was my brother.” dean muttered a couple profanities under his breath.

the look of irritation very present on his face. this didn’t last long as you had reached your destination.

vic did the honors of knocking on her uncle’s door. it took the man a moment to answer, and when he did he was clearly in a state of distress. it makes sense when one of your close relatives meets an untimely, violent end.

however, what vic did next shocked you to your core. when her uncle answered the door, she reached behind her and pulled dean to her side. then she spoke in a loud, clear tone, “this is my boyfriend, dean, and his friends. we just wanted to talk about evan, see how you’re holding up. is that alright?”

the man nodded and opened the door, but when you and sam were about to walk in she shut it in your faces. she wiggled her fingers at you in a wave. your blood was boiling. what did she think she was doing? did she honestly think that by forcing herself on dean would make him want her?

you turned and sat abruptly on the porch stairs. sam followed you. “she’s a little, uh, spirited, isn’t she?” sam turned to look at you. your brows were furrowed and illustrated your expression with the disdain you were feeling.

“yep.” you responded curtly. you were seeing red. sam tapped his foot against the concrete in impatience. “i don’t like her.”

“she’s extremely pushy.” sam sighed. the both of you sat in silence for about half an hour before dean and vic finally emerged.

dean reached down and helped you up off of the stairs. he then spoke broadly to sam and you. “well, the guy knows nothing more than what we knew. evan was a stand up kid who was suddenly found dead with defensive wounds, but no windows were broken or doors unlocked in his apartment. apparently he visited his uncle the night before it happened and was acting a little frantic.”

vic hung off of dean’s arm. “see, d, i told you. that old guy doesn’t know anything.

dean shook her off and gave her a curt smile. “don’t call me d.”

sam decided it was a good idea to look over evan’s apartment again. you had decided to look around the kitchen, where the body was found the morning after.

damn, evan’s apartment was cold. you wondered if that was the default setting or a symptom of something else. it was eerily quiet, too; quiet enough that your ears rung. you squatted to get a better look at the place where the body was found, and you saw some blood that had crusted over.

while you were examining the baseboards and the blood that had clearly been missed by the clean-up team, you heard someone approaching you from behind. “some blood was missed by clean-up. that’s gross, don’t you-“

you turned, fully expecting it to be one of the boys from the weight of the footsteps, but coming face-to-face with the spirit that had evidently killed evan. “dean! sam!” you shouted. you tried to get to your feet, but you weren’t fast enough. the spirit got close enough to you to knock you back.

unfortunately, neither party arrived before the spirit lunged at you and slashed your upper arm. the pain was sharp and quick, and you soon felt warm blood trickle out of the wound. the ghost vanished soon after.

you were able to find some bandages in the back of the impala and cover it up with a long sleeved button down of dean’s. you figured you’d worry about caring for it properly later once everything was over. hopefully, no one had seen how much you were bleeding and you could get away with pretending you were fine.

later that night, after some more snooping online (mostly on sam’s part), you could find the grave that held the corpse you were looking for.

dean had dug up the grave of said ghost. he salted it and burned it, and that was the end of it. you were quite surprised; in the past the burning hadn’t been too successful. if you were being honest, your rage blacked out most of the events that happened for the rest of the night.

the dirt crunched under your feet as you walked back to the impala. vic trailed after dean; your shoulders tensed. the scene mirrored a mother duck and her ducklings. luckily, you made it to the passenger seat before someone else could. you slammed the door and your arm stung with pain again. you hoped that no one had seen you flinch.

the ride back to vic’s place was awkward, to say the least. soft rock filled the silence, and that calmed you slightly.

the impala jerked to a stop in front of vic’s house. “do i really have to go, d?” she poured. how pathetic of her.

dean turned and answered her instantaneously. “yes, and don’t call me d.”

her pitiful pout worsened, “are you sure? we could have some fun?”

“yes. get out of my car.” when she didn’t, he followed up. “now, please.” finally she listened to what dean was saying and left. dean didn’t even wait to see her to get inside, he just sped off to the motel you were staying that night.

the motel bed was calling you. at arrival you practically jumped out of the car and into the room. it was just a typical run-down motel, but you couldn’t wait until you drove out of town and forget today ever happened.

“woah there tiger. wait up for the rest of us,” dean jogged to meet you. “let’s take care of your gash now, alright?”

you closed your eyes and sighed. suddenly you were extremely aware of dean. you were very much emotionally exhausted. “it’s not that bad. the bandage will hold up just fine.” at this, dean grabbed your hands.

“please? just let me take care of you.” the shines in his eyes was convincing enough.

that’s how you found yourself in the dirty bathroom, sitting on the toilet with dean sealing your wound with stitches. “you’re not mad at me, right?”

you were stumped that this notion. “no? why would i be?” you blinked in poorly veiled shock.

he spoke plainly, “because victoria was falling all over me all day today.”

you looked astray to the confusing red shower curtain. “that’s not your fault though. it’s not your fault that she can’t respect your boundaries.”

“i just care about what you think, you know,” he stated, not looking away from binding your arm with more gauze.

hesitating, you thought both about what to respond with and how you actually felt about the whole situation. you thought it was clear that you weren’t mad at dean. you were just mad at how vic couldn’t stand that one man couldn’t want her. well, obviously it hadn’t been. how long had dean thought you were upset with him? did he-

dean broke the silence. “i lost you there for a second.”

you shook off your thoughts. “oh, sorry. i don’t blame you for her actions at all. you stated what you wanted several times. kind of crazy that she fully ignored us telling her we’re together,” you expressed with a lopsided smile.

he looked up into your eyes, “so we’re good?” his green eyes showed the slight apprehension he still carried.

you lightly tugged your arm out of his hold and held his face in your hands. “of course we are, d,” kissing his forehead afterward.

“i love it when you call me that,” he smiled.

“you missed,” he said.

“huh?”

“you missed.” he guided your face down toward his and greeted your lips with his. you kissed him in a way that you hoped affirmed him that you were both okay. that today hadn’t changed how you felt about him in the slightest. you felt him grin against your kiss. you pulled away and smiled at him.

suddenly you were aware of the toilet seat beginning to be uncomfortable as you sat, so you stood. dean followed.

“it’s cold out. let’s go warm up,” he said impishly. while flirtatious, you were aware he meant just to sleep.

“yeah, that sounds great,”

[sonik-kun]

Reminder that canon Jiang Cheng is:

- Self-sacrificing. There have been numerous examples in the book where JC is willing to lay down his life for his family and sect without a second thought. Charging at Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu in the turtle cave. Stepping in front of his mother to protect her from the core melter hand. Distracting the Wen before they discovered WWX. Offering himself as a hostage in return for JL in the Guanyin Temple incident, etc.

- Fiercely protective of his family. The above bullet point elaborates on this part well. But I would also like to add that he is extremely protective of JL. He follows him on nighthunts and is the first person JL calls for whenever he is in trouble. The moment JL sends out a flare, JC is instantly in there, dropping everything for him.

- He allows JL to be a child. Despite the historic context and the stiff upper lip attitudes of that time period, JC allows JL to be a child still. He is spoilt rotten and never knew the same horrors those of his previous generation had to endure. JC does all he can to keep him safe from that to prevent similar incidents from happening again. He also allows JL to healthily express his emotions and never once scolds him for crying. The moment he sees him upset, he's in there soothing him, ready to throw hands with whoever hurt him.

- He doesn't use corporal punishment methods on JL despite it being the norm of that society. JL explains this to WWX who was shocked to discover that JC doesn't punish JL, despite his threats. JL is horrified by the notion and is very comfortable and secure around his uncle. Secure enough to give him sass even, something JC would never dreamed of doing to his elders.

- He is an excellent and attentive leader. He built his sect from the ground up and recruited people on his own all whilst he was still a teenager, still recovering from trauma and torture. He brought his sect back from the brink of annihilation and built it back up as a major sect on very minimal experience with little next to no guidance.

- He's politically savvy. From a young age, he was always socially aware of everything, valuing the safety of his sect and family above everything else. He correctly predicted WWX's downfall and tried so much to warn him and save him from it. Powerless in that moment, he chose his sect over WWX in fear of them being annihilated a second time should he side with him. WWX understood and respected this, so defected of his own accord.

- He still believed in WWX and held onto hope for him, even when things were looking bleak. Despite WWX siding with the Wen, the sect that almost annilihated his own, JC allowed WWX to go with them and remained friends up until WWX inadvertently got JZX and JYL killed. He still allowed WWX to see his sister and even name his nephew. They visited each other in secret regularly despite the risks of being caught, and JC tried to defend him even in the face of the three most strongest sects. He wasn't successful, but he tried.

- He is more reasonable and level-headed than the rumours lead you to believe. We see this when the prostitute comes to testify about JGY. He calmly considers her word and everything she has to say. Not once was he rude or snappy with her. He also remembers his etiquette and addresses elders with manners and respect. He may at times be quick to anger, but he is also quick to calm himself down and conduct himself properly as we see in his first scene where he lets "MXY" go, despite being a practicing demonic cultivator.

- He let's WWX go in the end. The moment he learns the truth about everything and that WWX wasn't entirely guilty for everything everyone accused him of, JC drops all feelings of aminosoty towards him. He doesn't blame him, nor does he actively pursue him anymore and demand he answers for his "crimes." JC got all the answers he wanted from him and instead of holding on to grudges and resentment, he let WWX go to be happy with LWJ, despite clearly wanting him to come back to Lotus Pier. He understands and respects that WWX is ready to move on and start a new life with LWJ. It hurts him, but he respects that decision.

There are many more positive traits I could discuss here, but I'll be here all day if I did.

JC is a nuanced character with a lot of flaws, but he also has a lot of positives that make his character realistic and relatable but also very likeable. He is a traumatised man with a troubled past, but he never allowed it to truly bring him down. He persevered, built up his sect, and raised a nephew with a pure heart. I think it's safe to say that despite his problems and despite everything he has gone through, JC is a survivor with a strong heart. He has a lot of admirable traits that you mustn't ignore or deny if you truly wish to enjoy and appreciate his character.

[writingsbytee]

SURPRISE! - TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM (AFAB) READER

WARNINGS: 18+ ; angst; fluff; SMUT; minors do not interact!

PAIRING: Terry x Gwen (reader)

SUMMARY: You and Terry have been broken up for 3 months. You’re injured in an accident and the hospital calls Terry to notify him and… surprise

TROPES: second chance; 

WORD COUNT: 4,074

“Ms. Daniels, please wake up”, a gentle voice eases me back into consciousness. My head feels like it’s being split open with a claw hammer. I blink slowly so that my eyes can adjust. 

When my eyes finally focus I look up to see a pretty lady in scrubs looking down kindly at me. 

“Welcome back Ms. Daniels. You had us scared there for a moment,” she says.

“What hospital am I in? What happened?” I say sitting up and holding my head. 

“You’re at Benson Memorial. You were in a bicycle accident. You’re fine just a few bumps and bruises. Your head CT was clear, so nothing to worry about there, ” she says handing me a cup of water. 

I take slow small sips as I try to recall the past few hours.  I never even saw that car coming as I crossed the road from one trail to the next. I hear muffled shouting coming from outside my room, and the doctor shoots a nervous glance my way. 

“Ms. Daniels, your boyfriend is outside and I don’t know how much longer he can wait”

I nearly choke on my water, “Boyfriend?”

I hear a commotion outside my door before the doctor/ nurse can open her mouth. 

“Nah, I’ve been here for two fucking hours and no one has told me how she’s doing yet! I’m going to see my girlfriend if you want to throw me out after then throw me out!”

I’ll never forget that voice. Terry is here. Now. He bursts into my room looking as good as ever but incredibly worried. When his eyes land on mine his shoulders sag with relief and he rushes to my side.

“What happened?! How bad are you hurt? Were you wearing your helmet?” He asks, his mouth running a mile a minute. I must be dreaming there’s no way Terry’s here we broke up 3 months ago after he came back from Shelby Springs. 

He came back different after trying to bail his cousin Mike out of jail. I tried to be there for him and provide all the support he needed but he just pushed me away. When I found out that he had been helping a girl named Summer, he completely shut down and wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give him an ultimatum so I told him that when he figured everything out to come and find me. Two weeks later I got a letter that absolutely broke me. 

“Why did they call you?” I asked looking at my doctor.

“He’s listed as the primary on your emergency contact list we have on file here”, she said motioning someone else in scrubs to come in. Another woman comes in holding an ultrasound machine and my heart stops.

“Is my baby ok?!” I ask immediately grasping at my stomach. 

“That’s why I needed to wake you. Ms. Daniels, we need your consent to do a transvaginal ultrasound so we can evaluate the status of your baby”, the doctor says remaining calm. 

I nod, “Of course, please do what you need to do”.

There’s a deep sigh to my right. I almost forgot that Terry was next to me. When I glance over at him he looks shocked and heartbroken. 

“I’m sorry I know I should’ve told you but you sent that letter the day I took the test and I didn’t know what to do”, I said right before the waterworks started, courtesy of your pregnancy hormones. Terry just looked at me his eyes softening but his trademark frown was still there. 

“Can you give us a minute please?” Terry asks the doctor.

She nods, “We’ll be right outside tap the door twice. We need to get this ultrasound done so the faster the better you two.” Then she’s out the door.

“So the baby’s mine?” Terry asks.

I nod my head, a fresh wave of tears coming. 

“I never meant to keep from you this long but you weren’t returning my calls and I couldn’t reach you. You didn’t leave a return address on the letters you sent, which ripped me apart by the way, and you just fell off the face of the earth Terry! I mean come the fuck on! I’m in love with you and finding out I’m having your baby just for you to dump us over a fucking letter!”, I’m out of breath, my chest heaving with anger.

He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off, “We don’t have the time to get into this now. We’ll talk later now please let the doctor in, I need this baby to be ok”, I say my eyes burning with unshed tears. Jesus everything makes me so emotional now, well let’s be real it wasn’t that different before I got pregnant. Terry looks at me, his eyes softening to that doe-eyed steel gray.

“Sure thing princess,” he says with a small smirk. Terry gets up and I bite my lip at the way his ass looks in his khakis. Has he gotten finer since I last saw him? He taps the door twice and almost immediately the nurse is back in the door, the doctor following in shortly after.  They set up all the equipment, I put my feet in the stirrups, and the doctor began her exam. 

“Aaaaand that is your baby’s heartbeat!”, the doctor says as she points to the disfigured blob that’s my baby.

“Terry look!” I say as I point my finger toward the screen. 

I turn my head to the right and I see a small smile on Terry’s face.

“That’s our baby?” he says all choked up. Two small tears fall out of each eye as he looks down at me. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I say reaching for Terry’s hand.

He grabs it and says, “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Home? Like my home or he’s just taking me to my house and that’s my home. 

“How did the hospital even get in touch with you?”, I ask as Terry drives us home. 

“I just got a new phone, same number,” he says eyes focused on the road.

“Oh, ok,” I say folding my arms across my chest.

“I already know what you’re thinking. I was going to call you, but a lot of what I have to say shouldn’t be said over the phone. I want a chance to explain myself. I never should’ve ended things the way I did. You deserve so much better than what I gave you and I can’t be any more clear when I say I’m so sorry. I fucked up.” 

“Ok when we get home I want to know everything”, I say gently. Terry looks my way and nods twice before looking back at the road. 

“Yeah, can I get two double cheeseburgers all the way with cajun fries please?” Terry says to the ‘five guys’ employee.

“Aww, you remember my order?” I say my face softening. 

“It’s been three months. Not three years. I didn’t forget baby” Terry huffed looking at me with that sexy-ass side-eye. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m supposed to be mad at you,” I say rolling my eyes. There’s no way this man has me in the palm of his hand in an hour and a half. I need to stand the fuck up. Terry grabs our food when they call our number and escorts us out of the restaurant.

He chuckles as we get back in the car and says, “Oh it’ll come back to you I’m sure.” I roll my eyes, looking at the scenery passing by. 

“You said ‘I can’t do this anymore Gwen. It’s not you it’s me.’ Terry, you have no fucking idea how much that hurt. How insignificant it made me feel. Like I wasn’t even good enough to break up in person so you use a fucking letter?” These pregnancy hormones are no joke I was thinking about mounting this man and now I’m going off on him. 

“Babygirl I’m so sorry. Please, when we get home I’ll finally be able to explain myself. Please don’t cry, baby I never meant to hurt you the way that I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I made my peace with this a long time ago Terry. Some people just aren’t meant to be together,” my voice breaks as I try to keep my emotions at bay. 

“I wanted us to work so bad I would’ve done anything to keep you, but I won’t do that anymore. I’m worth more than that. Our baby is worth more than that. I won’t have them question my love for them I’m going to show up for them every day because that’s what a mother does,” I take a few deep breaths to try and compose myself, but I can feel the dam start to break. I look over at Terry and he has a deep frown on his face. He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and I can tell by his posture that he’s trying to keep his cool.

I unlock my front door to let Terry and myself in. He follows silently behind me. I can feel the tension radiating off him. Despite how he feels right now he still pulls out everything I need to eat and sets my place at the table. I wait for him to join me before I start eating. We eat in a tense, awkward silence before he breaks the spell of uncertainty around us.

“Mike’s dead.” I didn’t have to look up to see the pain on Terry’s face. The burning behind my eyes is instant.

“What do you mean dead? You were going to bail him out?!” I reached for my necklace. It’s a locket, Terry gave me after our first anniversary. A small heart-shaped photo of us sits inches from my heart every day. Terry took a deep breath before he went into detail. About Shelby Springs and its corrupt law system. How he almost died on multiple occasions. Who Summer was and how he couldn’t leave her fate in their corrupt hands. 

“I couldn’t leave until I knew I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I couldn’t involve you and potentially put you at risk. I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt, especially knowing what I know now,” the guilt evident in Terry’s voice as he buried his head in his hands. 

I feel the warmth of the tears as they glide down my face. My hand comes up to cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I rush to Terry’s side, wrapping my arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry Terry! You shouldn’t have had to deal with this all on your own. What can I do?” 

This whole situation is miscommunication at its finest. I grab Terry’s hand and lead him back to the room we used to share.

“I didn’t bring you back here to have sex. Take your shoes and shirt off and get on the bed.” I say kicking my shoes off. I crawl to the head of the bed and make myself comfortable before making grabby hands at Terry.  He crawled his way up the bed before laying his head on my stomach. I started giving him a scalp massage as he loaded everything he’d gone through while we were apart. When he finished we were both a mess. Terry lifts his head and my heart breaks at his expression. 

“I never wanted any of this. All I tried to do was save my cousin and instead, I lost him. I lost you, our baby. I’m alone now.”

I’m shaking my head before he can finish his sentence, “You didn’t lose Mike. In the physical sense yes but, he’s always with you Terry. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can put this behind you and move on. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this.”

“Together?” he looks like a scared sad little boy and it breaks my heart. I reach my hand down and caress his face. 

“Together Terry, all three of us,” you say as a fresh wave of tears begins. You were going to dehydrate at this rate with all the crying.

“Come on, we’ve had a busy day and I think a shower would do us some good,” you say sitting up. Terry sits up and scoots to the foot of the bed. I look at him and really notice how tired he looks. Like the weight of the world is sitting on his shoulders.

I make my way towards him and kiss his cheek, “Come on, your clothes are right where you left them. I’ll be in the bathroom when you’re ready.”

I grab one of Terry’s old ‘Marine’ t-shirts and boy shorts and head into the bathroom. I can’t believe this shit, no way this is real life. Poor Mike, poor Terry, and even poor Summer. 

I’m in the shower washing the dirt and leaves out of my hair when I hear the bathroom door open. I keep quiet continuing to wash my hair waiting for Terry to join me. I feel the cool air as he opens the shower door and steps inside. His arms wrap around my waist from behind and he rests his head on my shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry Gwen. You’re not unlovable. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I couldn’t come back unless I knew you were safe. I’ll be making this right for the rest of my life to you and our little bean,” Terry says as his hand migrates to my stomach. 

I turn in his arms wrapping my hands around his neck, “I’m not going to pretend that I’m ok with how you did everything but, I understand. I forgive you, Terry.  I did as soon as you burst through the hospital door,” I finish with a chuckle. 

Terry grips my face in his hands, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you and the baby how sorry I am. I wasn’t there when you found out and you have no idea how bad I wish I were. Every doctor’s appointment I’m there, you’ll never feel how you felt when you got that letter, Gwen. That’s a promise.” Terry’s eyes have that fierce determination in them. You know when he gets that way there’s no stopping him.

“Stop crying baby, I hate seeing you so upset,” Terry’s using his thumbs to wipe my tears. 

I shake my head, a watery laugh leaving my lips, “It’s hormones more than anything.” My eyes widen as Terry drops to his knees in the shower. His hands wrap around my hips. He presses his forehead to my belly and kisses the barely-there baby bump.

“Hey there little one. I’m your dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to find out about you. I’m here now. Daddy’s not going anywhere.” 

I could barely see Terry over the tears in my eyes. A watery smile forms on my lips when Terry lifts his head to look at me.

“What is it, baby?” he asks.

“Kiss me,” I say pulling him up to meet me.

Terry towers over me pressing my back against the shower wall—nothing but steam and unspoken confessions hanging in the air. 

“Are you sure, princess? I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for”, Terry’s face takes on that deep frown that’s so attractive to me.

“I’m sure Terry. You’re still in the doghouse but, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you and I want us to be a family, so yes please kiss me.”

When Terry kisses me it’s like the world stops. An involuntary moan leaves my lips. It’s like we have all the time in the world. He kisses me slowly, deeply, all-consuming. 

“I forgot how good your lips feel, princess.” Terry’s eyes darken in color and I can almost read his mind. 

“I’m going to kiss you again ok?”, a small smirk makes its way onto his face as he crowds my space. 

“You’re not leaving any room for Jesus are you?” I ask chuckling.

“There’s been too much space between us the past three months. Prepare to be sick of me, baby girl.” Terry’s voice drops an octave and I can feel my ovaries crying. His hand glides down my front pausing over my barely-there baby bump.

“We’re going to be great parents,” I reach my hand for Terry’s face caressing his cheek. 

He smiles that megawatt smile of his and nods, “Without a doubt.” And then he kisses me again.  We’re a mess of lips, tongues, and teeth. My pregnancy hormones have me grinding against Terry’s leg like a dog in heat. 

“You missed Daddy huh?”, he asks placing his thigh in between my legs. He grabs my hips and slides me up and down the length of his thigh. The friction on my neglected clit is out of this world as I release a needy moan. 

“I can’t hear you. Do I need to stop?” Terry grips my hips forcing me to stop.

“No, no, no I miss you, Daddy! I do. Please don’t stop. I need this,” I grip his shoulders, leaving little crescent indents.

“Look at me, sweet girl. Tell Daddy what you want,” Terry says gripping my chin and lifting it to meet his eyes. 

I can barely put two words together and he wants me to tell him what I want. 

“I love it when your eyes get all dopey like this, you want Daddy inside you?” Terry’s lapping at my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I’ll have a time with my concealer in the morning but that’s not my concern at the moment. I reach for his wrist, bringing his hand down to my pussy, right where I want him. 

“Please Daddy I need you. I need this please,” my voice taking on a whiny pitch. Next thing I know the water’s being shut off and Terry’s opening the shower door. 

“There are things I want to do to you that can’t be done in the shower. Come on,” Terry says while wrapping me up in a towel before leading me out of the bathroom. 

“Ugh! Daddy don’t stop please!” My legs won’t stop shaking as Terry sucks the soul out of me. I lost count of how many times I’ve come already. I look down at Terry while he’s devouring my pussy. The sounds in this room are purely pornographic. 

He looks up at me through hooded eyes and moans the sound vibrating against my clit. 

“Ouuu Daddy yes!! Right there! Don’t stop!”, I’m a panting mess. I look down at Terry again and all I see are the whites of his eyes. 

“I forgot how good you taste baby. I can’t get enough mm!” You’d think Terry never ate a day in his life the way he’s eating me out.

“Terry I… I need you!” I squeal pushing his head away.  

He releases my clit with a small pop before sitting up on his knees. His eyes narrowed, “Now I’ll let you have that one ‘cause it’s been so long. Don’t do that shit again. I’ll finish eating when I finish. Understand?” Terry has my face in a vice-grip, my lips puckered.

“Yes Daddy,” I say, willing to do whatever he asks as long as he gives me that dick. I’d probably go rob a bank if he asked. 

“On your side, princess,” Terry says as he places a few pillows behind me.

I turn on my side and Terry’s right behind me kissing any skin he can get his hands on. 

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed your smell, your taste, your smile, your laugh, and even when you roll your eyes. Even though you know that’s five lashes automatically,” Terry says peppering my whole body in kisses. 

“I missed you too Daddy. Now are you going to show me how much, or do I have to get started without you?” I tease him by running my hands down my body. Terry playfully smacks my hands away before lifting my leg and sliding into me. 

We moan simultaneously as Terry starts to move, “Oh god! I forgot how big you are!” I moan as Terry bottoms out.  

My head falls back onto Terry’s shoulder, “I’m not going to last!” I squeal the burning already starting in my lower belly. It feels so good from this angle, Terry keeps hitting my g-spot with every thrust. 

“Come whenever you want baby. Daddy’s got you,” Terry breathes into my ear. The neighbors can probably hear squelching and moaning coming from my room but I really don’t give a fuck. If their man was digging their shit out like Terry was doing to me, they’d be screaming too. 

“No! Come with me please! I need it baby!” I moan trying to plant a kiss somewhere on Terry. He sees me struggling and bends his head to kiss me. He grabs my neck with one of is free hands, not hard enough to do harm but, just enough to give me that much more pleasure. 

“Open,” he says stilling inside me. I lean my head back a little farther, opening my mouth. Terry smiles deviously like the freaky devil he is and I watched dazed as a small glob of spit makes its way from his mouth to mine.

“Now swallow,” I do as he asks and open my mouth to show him it’s all gone.  

“Jesus, woman you’re going to kill me! Fucking love how nasty you get for me. Daddy’s little slut,” Terry groans. He slides out of me and I flop onto my back. 

“Come to mama,” I say grabbing his face and pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. I reach for his dick, wrapping my hands around it, and I feel him shudder. Terry moans as I give him a few slow strokes. 

“Get back inside me please. I need to come,” I wine.

“Again? Who made you so needy?” Terry asks smirking down at me. 

“You going to keep talking shit or remind me of how I got pregnant in the first place?” I ask. 

Terry grabs my throat almost instantly, “Who you think you’re talking to?”

He brings one of my legs up to his shoulder and I roll my eyes. Terry’s face darkens, as he bottoms out inside me for the second time.

“I told you I was going to let that shit slide. Now you pushing it,” he said as he begins to thrust. I’m grasping at air, that’s how good his dick is. 

“Aww look at you, getting fucked stupid. How’s it feel princess?” Terry taunts grabbing one of my hands interlocking our fingers. If I could talk I probably say something smart, but Terry’s right he’s fucking me stupid. I can’t put a single sentence together. 

“Huh what was that? Daddy can’t hear you.” A particularly hard thrust has me screaming, my orgasm hitting me out of nowhere. I feel myself soak the sheet and Terry, but I can barely keep my eyes open. My nails drag down his back, marking him up.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming, kiss me,” Terry moans. 

I grab the back of his neck, bringing his face to mine, but before our lips meet I whisper a quiet ‘I love you’. Our lips meet and we both moan as Terry fills me up. He stays inside me as I remove my leg from his shoulder. Both of us panting and staring at each other with awestruck goofy smiles. We have some work to do, but I can’t wait to see what this next chapter has in store for us.

THE END.

Annnnd that’s a wrap!! As always constructive criticism is appreciated but please be nice ‘cause I’m sensitive. I feel like I'm so bad at writing sex scenes, but I'm trying to get better. I really had fun writing this one. I anyone has any request DM me or ask anonymously. Until next time my little freaks <3

TAGLIST:

@blackgurlnhermoods

@dxddykenn

@kianaleani

@pinkkycherrish

@shallipii

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Divider from: @puppizai

[hayleythesugarbowl]

hello! I've been seeing a lot of smosh vidcon content lately as well as rewatching shayne guesses and it made me brainstorm a bit!

How about a Spencer x reader where he freaks out about his favorite creator being at vidcon (the reader obvi) and the other cast members trying so hard to get them to meet and they hit it off? *you know Kiana would be allll over helping a bestie out lol*

or maybe even the same kind of thing but instead of meeting, reader is one of Spencer's fav youtubers in Shayne's guessing favorite youtubers video? Shayne immediately knows it's spencer and kind of outs his crush! reader is a big fan of smosh so she sees the video and it goes from there!

absolutely adore your work and keep it up queen! 🫶

See You Online || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you see a smosh video of spencer saying you’re one of his favorite youtubers, you begin to interact online. then, when you both attend vidcon (and spencer’s friends convince him to talk to you) you hit it off

word count: 2.6k

warnings: mild language

a/n: hey darling! so i kind of went with both of these ideas and i hope you like what i did 🤭 i included some fake insta/yt in this because it fit so this is partially a social media au. fem!reader. enjoy!!

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     “Well, this is obviously Spencer.”

     Shayne tapped his pen against the desk as he looked at the screen in front of him.

     Three YouTuber names had appeared next to him for the viewers to see. 

     “What makes it me?” Spencer’s teasing voice came from off camera. 

     “C’mon,” Shayne said. “We got Retro Game Corp, MandaloreGaming, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

     He continued. “Everyone knows you love retro shit. MandaloreGaming sounds like just the kind of nerd thing you’d be into. And (Y/n)—that one’s just self explanatory. I mean, Spencer’s obsessed with (Y/n). Ask anyone in the office.”

     “Ok woah,” Spencer piped in again. “I don’t know about obsessed.”

     “Dude, you just told me yesterday that you watched her videos until two in the morning the night before,” Shayne addressed him.

      Then he faced back to the screen, to the viewers. “Spencer’s got a little bit of a crush on (Y/n). It’s uh, it’s honestly adorable.”

      A woman’s muffled voice came from offscreen. 

     Shayne laughed. “Kiana said Spencer would have (Y/n)’s babies.”

     “Dude!” Spencer yelled at Kiana offscreen. “What if she sees this!”

     “There’s no way,” Shayne laughed. “There’s no way any of the YouTubers from this video are seeing this.”

      “Imagine,” Spencer joked. “I’m like, ‘hey (Y/n), hit me up’, and then she sees this, bro.”

      “Hey,” Shayne raised his eyebrows. “You never know. I mean, I married a YouTuber.”

      “Just an excuse to bring up Courtney,” Spencer coughed.

      “Anyway,” Shayne put his hands on the table in front of him. “We’re getting a little off track here. We’ve established Spencer’s in love with (Y/n). Now—do I even have to guess?—show me Spencer!”

      He pointed to the side as an imagine of Spencer popped up on the screen. 

      “Well, thanks for that easy round,” Shayne joked. “Now, let’s see the next set of YouTubers…”

     And that was where you stopped watching the video every time. You’d seen the whole of Shayne Guesses Favorite YouTubers before, but when you went back to rewatch it, it was always this clip.

     You’d been sent this specific clip by hundreds of people. Your followers and subscribers on all different platforms. The comments ranged from ‘oh my gosh look at this’ to ‘you have to see this smosh video’ to ‘petition to get Spencer and (Y/n) to go out’.

     What they didn’t know, was that you’d seen it long before they began tagging you in it.

     You were a huge Smosh fan, and had been for years. Imagine your shock when you yourself were named in one of their videos. 

     You’d only been a creator for a little over a year now, but you’d quickly gained a following and were becoming more and more popular online. It still all felt so surreal, and seeing yourself named as someone’s favorite YouTuber—especially on one of your favorite channels—felt like a huge moment.

      That, and you were flattered by Shayne’s comments about Spencer. You thought it was sweet that he enjoyed your content and—you couldn’t stop the blush from spreading to your cheeks—you. 

      That was what prompted you to leave a comment under the video—a comment which Spencer responded to.

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Can Shayne Guess Our Favorite YouTubers? Smosh Games • 721k views • 38k 👍

comments 2.9k

yourusername ✓: does this count as being in the youtuber and the celeb crush vid?

♥️ by creator

spennser ✓: it was actually only until 1am i swear smoshyyy651: spensser LMAOOOO chumbawumbasnumbertwofan: the fact that (y/n) (y/l/n) saw this ✋😭 y/nstanforlifeee: oh my gosh my queen is here 👑 I love you and your vids (not as much as Spencer apparently asksfsk)

mya_sol: how many times have you watched 8:04? me: yes

yourfavoritepizzaplace: ‘spencer would have (y/n)’s babies’ KIANA THATS WILDDDD 💀

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    And from there, you began interacting. Leaving comments and likes on each other’s videos and instagram posts. Leaving fans to obsess over your every interaction, to make compilations, to wonder if you were dating.

     Because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t read most of the comments about you two. 

    You enjoyed your little online back-and-forth. You’d known who Spencer was before the Shayne Guesses video had come out. Watching Smosh on-and-off for years, you’d seen him in multiple videos.

     It still felt so unreal for him to know who you were—not only know who you were but like your videos.

     And now look at you, messaging him and liking his posts like you were old friends. Spencer pretty much liked and commented on every one of your feeds or stories or uploads.

     After your original comment on the Smosh video, things just…took off. You didn’t really know how it started, one comment led to another, and suddenly it was like you had always congratulated each other and left witty comments on each other’s pages. 

     You smiled as you stared at the screen of your phone, looking over your’s and Spencer’s latest interaction. You couldn’t deny that he was really cute. You’d always thought so. 

     You thought of Shayne saying that Spencer had a crush on you and you felt your smile grow bigger.

     Your empty suitcase caught your eye as you looked up, sitting on your bed and reminding you that you still had to pack.

     You set your phone down. Fangirling over Spencer could wait. You still had yet to pack for your flight that that was in two days, and you didn’t want to leave it ‘till the last minute—or, more last minute than it already was.  

     You had been lucky enough to be invited to VidCon this year, and you were thrilled about getting to go as a creator and meet other artists who had inspired you. You were less thrilled about the packing.

      You stood up and walked towards your closet, starting to decide which outfits you wanted to bring, daydreaming about what VidCon would be like. All while thinking about Spencer.

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yourusername

liked by hannahmontoya, spennser, and 21,449 others

yourusername: new vid up now !! 💌

view all comments

haleypham: about to go watch it right now xoxo love you

yourusername: stop ilysm 🤭

ynsgirlfriend: WAKE UP SHE POSTED 🙏

spennser: guess what i’m going to be doing at 2am

⤷ liked by yourusername

darlingdaisy: please do a grwm next i need to see your skincare routine!!

ryla768: we’re being fed well today 🙇‍♀️

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spennser

liked by yourusername, filmingamanda, and 17,914 others

spennser: it’s giving cat lady

view all comments

phatchanse: *cat queen

yourusername: my cat says to tell ur cat hi

spennser: my cat says ur cat’s pretty cute carmensanfransisco: LOL 😂🐈 urmom17: oh my gosh she commented spencer are you freaking out? spennser: urmom17 shitting my pants fr

jessicarabbitsimp: who else has noticed spencer and (y/n) all over each other’s igs 😏

smoshismylife: love you spencer 🫶

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liked by spennser, iamjordiofficial, and 32,712 others

yourusername: thx for 100k 🥂

view all comments

spensser: yay i contributed

⤷ liked by yourusername

yourusername: how’d you have time to create 100k accs tho? ⤷ liked by spennser

lucindajones101: congrats girlie!! you deserve it

ynfan7: my queen 🧎‍♀️

butterflyenjoyer: been here since the beginning 🥹 keep shining!!

getyninasmoshvideo: the way spencer makes an appearance on all her posts 😭

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VidCon was amazing. 

      Today was the first day, and you couldn’t wait for all the festive still to come. You had already seen so many cool presentations and been a part of so many workshops and met so many interesting people. 

      And now, as you stood at the table set aside for you, staring at the slowing line of people still waiting to meet you, you thought that this was definitely your favorite part.

     You’d gotten to talk to people who watched your channel and hear how your content had impacted their lives or inspired them to create. It really made it all feel worth it. It made you love your job and all of the opportunities it had given you.

     You’d been here for nearly two hours already, and still there were a few more fans waiting to speak with you and get a picture.  

     You smiled to yourself as the last of the people filed through, letting the momentary silence wash over you. You had just picked up your phone to take a quick selfie for a later post, when you heard a commotion to your left.

     You turned to the source of the noise and had to do a double take when you saw the entire cast of Smosh at a setup similar to yours, having their own meet and greet.

     You didn’t know why in all of your thinking about Spencer you hadn’t assumed that Smosh would be at VidCon. It seemed obvious now. They were YouTubers, weren’t they?

     Speaking of Spencer, you saw him talking to Courtney and your heart did a little flip in your chest. After interacting with him online these past few weeks, and watching his channel for these past few years, it seemed crazy to see him in person. 

     As if sensing your presence, he looked your way and you turned away in time so it didn’t look like you’d been staring. You didn’t think he’d caught you watching him. 

     “Wait? Spencer, is that (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?” Courtney’s voice carried over the several feet that separated you.

     “Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed,” you heard him say sarcastically, even though your back was turned to him. You stepped a little bit closer to their location, pretending to be fixing something on your lanyard.

     “Dude, you have to go talk to her,” you heard a male voice—Shayne? You didn’t dare turn around—say.

     “No way man,” Spencer answered, “What would I even say?”

     “You’ve been commenting on each other’s instagrams for like a month, you’ll think of something,” Courtney said.

     “Yeah, but that’s different. This would be, like, a real conversation,” he answered. “I don’t actually know her. What if she thinks I’m just some creepy fan, and it’s like bro back off.”

     You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. Oh, what he didn’t know.

     Then the music in the venue picked up and you couldn’t hear their conversation for nearly a minute. You walked a few feet back over to your table, picking up and looking at a few of the gifts fans had given you, finding a new way to look busy. This went on for another minute before you heard a new voice say,

     “What’s this about Spence and (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?”

     “Just that Spencer’s going to go up to her,” Courtney announced. 

     “I’ll get the popcorn,” the voice said. 

     “No, Kiana,” you heard Spencer say. “That’s not what’s happening.”

     “You’ll regret if forever if you don’t go talk to (Y/n),” The voice—Kiana—stated. 

     “No way. That’d be like if I asked you to just ‘go up and talk to’ Darren Chris,” Spencer said

     “My favorite white guy,” Kiana joked.

     “Hey bro, I thought we established that was me!” Spencer said in outrage. 

     “You will be if you go and talk to (Y/n),” she finished. 

     “I will not be manipulated,” you heard him say, and you stifled another chuckle. 

     “No, but you will be shoved,” Kiana said.

     “Wait what?” Spencer got out, before you heard a scuffing sound.

     You turned around just as Kiana pushed Spencer and suddenly he was right before you. 

     “Hey,” he said, looking uncomfortable, shooting a glare behind him at Kiana. “I heard there was a meet and greet?”

     You smiled. “You just missed it, actually.” 

     “Damn, next year then,” he said.

     “I suppose I could make an exception,” you teased. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to take away anyone’s Favorite White Guy title.”

     Spencer winced. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

     “What conversation?” You winked at him. 

     “I can’t remember,” Spencer said, smiling as he rubbed a hand along the side of his face.

     You were both silent for a moment.

     “So,” Spencer started, breaking it. “I would tell you that I love watching your content—until a very reasonable hour of the night, might I add—but you kind of already know that. And I bet you’ve already been told that by hundreds of people today.”

     “Not by anyone nearly as cute though,” you replied, before leaning in to mock-whisper. “And I don’t mind hearing it again.”

     “Also,” you continued. “I could say the same to you. I love Smosh—I’ve watched your channel for years. You guys are all so talented.”

     “Really? No way,” Spencer smiled. “You watch Smosh?”

     “Really,” you smiled back. “I did know who you were before the Shayne Guesses video, you know.”

     “Don’t remind me,” Spencer said, shaking his head.

     “I thought it was sweet,” you told him, laughing. “And if that video had never happened, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

     “Or at Buca Di Beppo tonight at 8?” Spencer said, with trepidation.

     “Or that,” you agreed, nodding. “Are you asking me out on a date, Spencer Agnew?” 

     You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. 

     “I guess I am,” he said. “Unless you’re going to slap me, in which case no.”

     “Only if the date goes badly,” you teased. “And if you don’t make 100,000 more accounts to subscribe to my channel with.”

     Spencer grinned. “Done. And I can introduce you to the rest of the gang.”

     “Are they good with me crashing your guys’ dinner?” You asked. You couldn’t believe you were going to meet the members of Smosh.

     You couldn’t believe you were going on a date with Spencer. 

     “Oh, they already know about it. They’re listening to every word of our conversation right now.” Spencer pointed a thumb behind him and you looked over his shoulder to see all of the Smosh cast watching you.

     They all waved at you.

     “Hey girl hey!” Kiana called to you, smirking at Spencer. 

     You waved back at them, grinning. 

     “Well, I don’t want to keep you from meet-and-greet-ing any longer,” you said, turning back to Spencer.

     “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” Spencer joked, gesturing between the two of you.

     “Doesn’t count,” you said back. “Technically we’ve already met on the internet.”

     “Yeah, well, you’re much prettier in person,” Spencer said, as he backed up towards the rest of the Smosh cast.

     “Well then,” you said, only a little bit breathless. “I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

     “Unless I see you on the internet first,” Spencer said, turning around and walking away. 

     You couldn’t wait. Not only did you have your date with Spencer to look forward to, you also had the rest of VidCon to get to know Spencer better and hopefully hang out with him before all this was over. 

     You turned to leave as well, walking in the opposite direction of Spencer as you tried to think where you had to be next. It was hard to focus when all your thoughts were occupied by something else. Someone else.

     You were almost out of earshot when you heard Kiana’s voice, carrying over the crowds of people.

     “Get over here, loser. I’ll take my thanks in the form of cash and/or worsted weight yarn.”

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yourusername

liked by spennser, co_mill, and 41,813 others

yourusername: had the best time with spennser at vidcon ‘24 ❣️

view all comments

kianaparker: ok but i’m glowing (also yw 💁🏾‍♀️)

⤷ liked by yourusername

spennser: new phone who dis?

yourusername: definitely not your gf ⤷ liked by spennser materialgorl199: GF?!? AHHHHH heatherscandystore: wait they’re together? I’m so happy for them ily both sm 🤭

jessicarabbitsimp: I KNEW IT WAIT 😭

thirdcutestsmoshboy: i met both of them there and they were so sweet

ynislife: so are they dating???

angelagiovanagiarratana: GUYS 🥹

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed this little bit of a different format. i had sm fun writing this. check out my other spencer fics if u want more like this 🎀

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Three} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {@niklausie}: the squeal i let out when i saw your kinktober post asking for more klaus that’s my man!! shocked that people aren’t requesting a lot of him already but i love to see all the elijah love 🥺 anyway! my request is: 1920s klaus dating a fem!reader who’s in her late 20s and a young upper-class widow whose husband never satisfied her, maybe it was an arranged marriage, and her relationship with klaus is quite scandalous. he’s introducing her to pleasure in a way she never imagined or experienced before. could be him going down on her, which she’s never done before, or just raw passionate bonking in a jazz club like the smitten degenerates they are hehe xx i appreciate it a lot if you decide to write this!

♡♡♡ I just KNOW Klaus made a hobby out of doing this at every speakeasy in the city...♡♡♡

2.5k words - Kinks: 1920s, oral sex, public sex, Klaus being a flirt, jazz music && lots of gin ..

The crumpled note in your hand was the key to the evening, an address to a secret club. Your friend had suggested the place, telling you that you would love the jazz and the atmosphere. It was entirely outside your comfort zone to go to such a place, especially alone.

But your life had changed so much in the past months that you wanted to do something new. So here you were, standing in front of a plain wooden door, with nothing to indicate what was behind. A small window, the kind you would expect to see in a bank, was set in the door. It slid open, revealing a pair of eyes.

“Name?” The voice was low and suspicious.

You swallowed and said the password your friend had given you. “la fee verte.”

The window snapped shut, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe they wouldn’t let you in. Then the lock clicked, and the door swung open. The man behind it gave a small, amused smirk. “Enjoy the show.”

Inside, it was dark and smoky, the air thick with the mingled scents of tobacco and alcohol. It felt as though you’d stepped into a different world … one where rules didn’t apply. A thrill ran down your spine as you took it all in. The dim light cast long shadows over the room, and in the center, a crowd of people swayed to the lively, infectious tunes of the jazz band on stage.

You moved toward the bar, your steps hesitant but steady. “Gin, please,” you ordered, and the bartender poured a generous amount into your glass. The liquid burned as you took a sip, but you liked it. It was stronger than the polite, watered-down drinks you were used to, stronger, and better. The tension you’d been holding onto since you’d arrived began to slip away.

As you watched the dancers, a spark of envy stirred in your chest. The women moved freely, laughing, spinning, their dresses swirling as they danced with their partners. You wanted that. The freedom, the joy. For once in your life, you wanted to do something just for yourself.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” A voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and rich like the gin in your glass.

You turned, and the moment your eyes met his, the words caught in your throat. He was gorgeous, all chiseled features, blue eyes that gleamed in the low light, and a smirk that sent a flicker of heat through your chest.

“I’m Klaus,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your fingers tightened around the glass, and you were suddenly grateful for the dim lighting, so he wouldn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. “Y/N,” you managed, offering your hand.

Instead of shaking it, Klaus took your hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and your breath hitched, warmth pooling in your stomach at the simple touch.

“What brings you here tonight?” he asked, his voice casual, but the intensity in his gaze told you there was more behind the question.

“My friend told me about the band,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “And I’ve… been wanting to try something different.”

He nodded, glancing toward the stage. “They’re good,” he said, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music. “I imagine you’ve been to plenty of these places.”

You laughed, a bit nervously. “Not exactly. This is my first time at a place like this.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? Then I’m honored to be part of your introduction to such debauchery.” His smirk deepened, and your heart skipped a beat. “Where are you from?”

“Here,” you said, “New Orleans. Born and raised.”

“And your husband?” His voice was casual, but you could tell he was paying close attention to your answer.

You hesitated, then took another sip of gin for courage. “He died a few months ago.” The words slipped out more easily than you expected. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Klaus was watching you, like he genuinely cared about your answer. “It was an arranged marriage. We never… loved each other.”

A shadow flickered over Klaus’ expression, but it disappeared just as quickly. He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I see,” he said softly. “And now?”

You looked down, tracing the rim of your glass with your fingertip. “And now, I’m figuring out what it means to live for myself.”

Klaus’ smile was slow, deliberate. “I think you’re off to a good start.”

Your heart raced as he stepped closer, his presence warm and magnetic. His breath ghosted against your ear as he whispered, “Care to dance?”

“I don’t know the steps,” you admitted, glancing at the couples on the floor, their movements effortless, graceful.

Klaus chuckled softly, his breath brushing your skin. “That’s the beauty of it, love. You don’t need to know the steps. Just follow me.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your waist, guiding you toward the dance floor. The moment his hand touched you, a spark of something electric shot through your body. You let out a shaky breath as he pulled you into the rhythm of the music, his body pressed against yours, leading you with a confidence that made it impossible not to follow.

As the song picked up speed, he spun you around, your dress billowing around your ankles. Laughter bubbled up in your throat as you twirled, dizzy and giddy, caught up in the excitement and the heat of his touch. When the music finally slowed again, you were breathless, flushed and grinning.

Klaus held your gaze, his hand still resting on your waist. Your bodies were close, swaying gently with the music, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes were dark with desire, and your pulse quickened.

Your husband had been cold and distant, barely sparing a moment for you. But now, here, with Klaus, you felt the desire that had been buried beneath layers of propriety and convention rising up inside you. You wanted him, more than you could ever remember wanting anyone.

"You are far too lovely to be married to a man who never appreciated you," Klaus murmured, his voice low and husky.

Your face burned. "What makes you think I'm lovely?"

Klaus chuckled, spinning you again, your body moving perfectly with his. "You have no idea, do you?" His gaze roamed over your face, your lips, down your body, his eyes filled with lust. "You are intoxicating."

"I'm sure you say that to every single gal who walks in here," you said, the gin loosening your tongue.

His smirk deepened, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle over the curve of your hip. "I'm only interested in the one who is right here, in front of me."

The music ended and the applause startled you both out of the trance you had fallen into. Klaus' eyes lingered on yours for a moment, then he took your hand and led you off the dance floor.

"Let's get another drink, shall we?" he murmured, and you found yourself unable to refuse.

You followed him to a quiet booth, upholstered in soft velvet, tucked away in a secluded corner. He signaled a waiter, and soon, two fresh glasses of gin sat on the table, the liquid ice-cold and refreshing. You sipped it slowly, savoring the tart flavor, as Klaus' eyes studied you.

"So," he said, leaning back, his arm draped over the back of the seat. "Tell me about yourself."

You blushed. "There's not much to tell."

Klaus shook his head, taking a drink. "I doubt that," he said, his gaze intense, making the blood rush to your cheeks.

"Well," you began, unsure where to start. "Same old story, married young, and it wasn't a happy marriage." You didn't elaborate, didn't want to talk about the years of loneliness, the disappointment. "It's a relief, honestly. Now, I can make my own choices, be my own person."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan on doing anything with your freedom?"

You took a long sip of gin. "I honestly don't even know where to start..."

Klaus tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I might be able to help," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"What did you have in mind?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Your stomach did a somersault as he slid closer, his thigh brushing yours. The scent of his cologne, crisp and musky, surrounded you, making it hard to focus.

"Let's start with this," he whispered, his lips inches from yours. Before you could ask what, he was kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, his hands tangling in your hair.

You gasped, your body responding instantly, desire flooding through you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He tasted like gin and sin, and it was everything you wanted. You felt his hand sliding up your leg, under your dress, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your heart pounded, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his lips trailed along your jaw, down the side of your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. You felt a pang of fear, and you didn't know why, but something inside you pushed back.

"No," you gasped, pulling away, your chest heaving.

Klaus paused, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes dark and hungry. "Why not?"

"It's not... proper," you stammered, hating yourself for the words.

Klaus chuckled, his fingers brushing your cheek. "I'll make sure no one sees," he said, his voice low and husky.

You swallowed hard, heat rising in your cheeks. You wanted him, but you were afraid. You'd been taught to be a good girl, to obey, and the thought of someone seeing, knowing, terrified you.

"You don't have to be afraid," Klaus said, as if he could read your thoughts. "Want to know a secret? No one cares what you do. This place, it's about freedom. About living life to the fullest, without the constraints of society holding you back."

Your heart pounded as his hand slid up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. His lips went back to kissing and nibbling at your neck, and you found yourself arching against him, craving more.

"I want you," he murmured against your skin. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," you breathed, giving in.

You felt him smirk against your skin, and his hand slipped under the fabric of your panties, his fingers stroking over the slick, wet heat between your legs.

You gasped, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you, as his fingers found the swollen bud of nerves, circling and teasing it. You let out a small moan, your hips moving involuntarily, seeking more.

"Did your husband ever do this for you?" Klaus asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Please don't bring him up with your hand between my legs," you moaned.

He laughed. "That's a no, then."

Before you could respond, he was sliding under the table, his hands pushing your dress up to expose the skin of your thighs.

You were suddenly hyper aware of the people around you, the possibility that someone might notice, but the lights were too dim, the crowd too noisy, and Klaus was kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

You bit back a moan, the feeling of his lips against your skin making it hard to think, the gin still thrumming through your veins.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, gripping the edge of the table as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin.

"Giving you the pleasure that was denied to you," Klaus murmured, his fingers spreading you open.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered as his tongue circled the aching nub of nerves.

He chuckled, his tongue moving in slow, lazy circles, the sensation sending ripples of pleasure through you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he took his time, drawing out the moment, building the tension.

You had never felt anything like it, the way his warm mouth was making your body respond, the way his tongue flicked over the most sensitive part of you. You were trembling, gasping, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he increased the pressure, his fingers slipping inside you.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible, the pleasure too much.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

"God, yes," you moaned, unable to stop yourself.

He chuckled again, and the vibrations making it all more intense. He was enjoying this, the effect he was having on you, and it turned you on even more.

You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, your hips rocking against his mouth. The music was loud, the voices around you a steady drone, all the overwhelming sensations building, building, building. You were teetering on the edge, and then Klaus did something with his tongue, a swirl of pressure, and it was too much. A shattered cry ripped from your lips as you came, hard, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Klaus stayed between your legs, his mouth and tongue working their magic, until you were completely spent, panting, sweaty, and blissed out. He emerged from under the table, a smirk playing on his lips, and kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, salty and sweet, and the idea of him doing such a wicked thing made your core pulse again.

"How was that, love?" he asked, his gaze burning into yours.

"That was incredible," you breathed, your hands curling into his shirt.

He grinned. "I'm glad to hear it."

You blushed, realizing how scandalous this whole thing was. "I've never done anything like that before."

"I can tell," he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Your husband was a fool."

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the flutter of pleasure his words gave you.

"I should go," you said, though the last thing you wanted was to leave.

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

You didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense, anyway.

"Freedom, you see, is also about taking what you want, when you want it," Klaus said, his hand trailing over your collarbone, the bare skin exposed by your dress.

You hesitated, his words ringing in your ears. You'd spent so much of your life following the rules, doing what was expected of you, and now, the prospect of being free, of doing whatever you wanted, was dizzying.

"So... What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You looked up, your gaze locking with his. You wanted him, all of him, and the way he was looking at you, the way his fingers were dancing across your skin, made it clear that he wanted you too.

"Take me home," you whispered, and his smirk widened, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his eyes.

"Darling, I'd be delighted."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter seven

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie springs something on you, and Steve is not happy.

Warnings:

Angst, fighting

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

I hope you enjoy 💕 Thank you so much for your support on this series!

It had been two weeks without any word from Eddie. You felt terrible after he had shown up and found you and Steve after…well. You knew it had hurt him, which is something you never wanted to do, despite your history.

It was another uneventful day at the diner. You had just delivered a tray of drinks to one of your tables when you noticed Chief Jim Hopper coming in and heading your way.

“Hey, Hop,” you greeted with a smile, sitting the empty tray down on the counter. “Where do you want to sit today?”

Hopper approached you with an uncomfortable look on his face. It made you nervous, your eyebrows furrowed as he got closer. He was carrying some papers in his hand. He called you by your full name as he reached you, which he never did.

“…Yeah?” You said, concerned about whatever he was about to drop on you.

Hopper rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve got some papers for you.” He handed you the stack of papers, avoiding your gaze. You’d known Hopper your entire life and he’d never acted like this around you before.

You looked down at the papers. Petition for Establishing Paternity. Signed - Edward Munson.

You looked up at Hopper, eyes wide. “What…what is this?”

Hopper was still avoiding your gaze. “Eddie filed to establish paternity. This is a court order for a DNA sample from both you and Asher.”

Your head spun with this information. Eddie had filed for paternity with the court? You had seriously just been served papers? “What…what does this mean?”

“You’ll have to go to the address on the paper to provide a DNA sample from you and Ash,” Hopper said. “If the DNA proves Eddie is Asher’s father, he’ll be added to the birth certificate and he’ll have paternal rights. He’ll most likely file for joint custody at that point.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Eddie hadn’t even talked to you about this. He hadn’t talked to you at all. Was he really so mad at you about Steve that he’d do this? In this way?

You thanked Hopper for coming out here and he gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before he left. You felt like you were in shock. You couldn’t think of anything else as you went on with your day - you felt like you might cry. This was so much all at once. You never would have kept Asher from Eddie, if he had just asked. But adding him to the birth certificate so soon? And having to go to court?

Your mind was still reeling with this information when Steve and Robin showed up after their shift at Family Video. They could tell something was wrong immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked as soon as he reached you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking you over like something had happened to you. “What’s going on?”

An equally concerned Robin stood next to him as you sniffled and wiped your eyes. You reached behind the counter and grabbed the stack of papers, handing them to Steve. “Eddie had me served.”

“He what?” Steve said, grabbing the papers from you and looking over them as Robin gasped. He flipped through the papers, getting angrier by the second.

“Why would he do something like that?” Robin asked. “That’s not like Eddie at all.”

You and Steve exchanged a look - you knew exactly why Eddie would do this. He was hurt and angry. Robin didn’t know about you and Steve sleeping together, and you weren’t planning to tell her, at least not yet. Things had already been confusing enough between you and Steve.

“I don’t know,” you said, looking down. “I wish he had talked to me first.”

Steve was clenching his jaw. He handed the papers back to you, turning and walking out of the diner angrily.

“Where are you going?” Robin called, throwing her hands up. “You’re supposed to be my ride home!”

Steve sped into Forest Hills Trailer Park. His car skidded to a stop outside the Munson trailer, and he killed the engine. Eddie’s van was outside. Steve knew he probably should have taken the time to calm down a little, but he wasn’t thinking straight. He climbed out of his car and slammed the door shut, stomping up to the front door and banging on it.

“What the fuck-“ Eddie said as he opened the door, then his eyes went wide. “Steve? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve shoved Eddie in the chest, making him stumble backwards. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do this to her?”

Wayne stood up from the couch in shock as Eddie shoved Steve back. “How could you do this to me? Take my place in my son’s life, sleep with my girlfriend?”

“She is not your girlfriend!” Steve yelled back, exasperated. “You left her! And you all but admitted you slept with groupies on the road. You expected her to just wait for you while you did whatever you wanted and come running back whenever you decided to show up again? Whether you knew about Asher or not, you abandoned her!”

Eddie was at a loss for words. “I- that’s my son. He’s not yours. As much as you want him to be.”

Steve clenched his fist. He wanted to take a swing at Eddie so bad. “She missed you, you know? It took her a year to stop talking about you. I bet you didn’t think about her at all.”

“I did think about her,” Eddie said. “I thought about her all the fucking time.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Why did you fucking sleep with her?” Eddie yelled, the hurt evident in his voice.

“That’s not relevant at all,” Steve said. “She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t owe you anything.”

Wayne jumped in at that point, ever the voice of reason as he tried to defuse the argument. “Eddie, he has a point. Why did you take off and never talk to that girl again? I thought you loved her?”

“I do love her!” Eddie exclaimed. “I love her so fucking much you have no idea.” He pointed a finger at Steve. “You could never even comprehend how much I love her. You could never love her the way I do.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, that’s not true, buddy. I’ve been here for her while you were off playing rockstar. I’ve been raising your son.”

It was Eddie’s turn to clench his fist. “That’s only because I didn’t know about him. I love her, and I love Asher.”

“You love her so much you had her served? Instead of just talking to her?” Steve stepped closer to Eddie, getting in his face. “Do you even know how upset she was?”

“Wait,” Wayne said, holding his hand up. “Ed, you had her served?”

“I want to see my son. I have rights.” Eddie said, holding his head up high. He felt like he was completely in the right here, he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He wanted custody rights, he wanted to be on the birth certificate. He wanted to be Asher’s father.

“She wants you to be in his life, you fucking idiot! All you had to do was ask! All you had to do was fucking show up for once in your life!” Steve was fuming, adrenaline coursing through his body, ready to fight. “She still misses you. The old you, at least. The one that never would have treated her this way.”

Eddie was speechless once again. Wayne walked over, cautiously putting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Eds, you know I love you more than anything, and I’m always in your corner. But you need to grow up before you can be in your son’s life. That poor girl had to grow up a lot faster than she wanted, and she did it on her own.”

Eddie turned to his uncle, his brown doe eyes sad. “But Wayne-“

“No buts. I know the band is important to you, and I know you’ve worked hard. But you need to think long and hard about your decisions. You made a bad call. A petty one. This isn’t about you, or even you and her. It’s about that little boy. You need to be thinking about what’s best for him.”

The words struck Eddie deeply. He always valued his uncle’s advice - he had been a great father figure to him all these years, so he had to know what he was talking about. If anyone knew how to be a father, it was Wayne.

“I just…” Eddie ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve already done it now. I’m going forward with it. If we can agree on custody, we won’t have to go to court. But I’m going forward with getting my name on that birth certificate.”

Steve shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “You’re a selfish prick, Eddie Munson.”

Steve turned around and marched out of the trailer. Moments later, Eddie and Wayne heard his car starting and leaving the driveway. Eddie collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands.

Maybe he really had fucked up.

Things had been different between you and Steve since sleeping together. You hadn’t done it again, but things were definitely…a little stranger. He had kept his word, and the next morning he drove you straight to the doctor for a morning after pill. As much as you loved Steve, and as much as you loved being Asher’s mom, you weren’t thrilled by the idea of adding another to the mix. The doctor had warned you it wasn’t 100% effective, but it was safer than nothing.

You weren’t ready to jump into a relationship, either. You knew Steve would want that, but he was happy to move at your pace. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore.

The next day after being served, you had off work so you bundled Asher up and headed to the lab to fulfill the DNA samples. You had been stressing nonstop since you’d been served the papers. You didn’t mind adding Eddie to the birth certificate and giving him partial custody or visitation, but you had wanted to ease into it. He barely even knew Asher still, had only met him the one time. You didn’t want all this to be confusing for him since he was still so young.

You pulled up to the lab and killed the engine, climbing out of the car to get Asher from his car seat. You carried him inside on your hip, walking to reception and handing the paper to the woman working. You were so nervous you felt dizzy and sick to your stomach, like you could vomit at any second.

She asked your name first, then glanced down at the paper. “And this is Asher Henderson?”

“Yes,” you said, the toddler examining the building with curiosity. “It's…not going to be painful, is it?” You hated to put Asher through this at all, but especially if it involved blood work.

“No hon, it’s just a cheek swab,” she said, giving Asher a friendly smile and wave. Asher smiled back cautiously, hiding in your neck as he waved back. “You two can go on back.”

Asher clung to you as you walked to the back, following a nurse to a room. You sat Asher on the table and stood next to him. He eyed the tray with the long cotton swabs, but didn’t fuss since there wasn’t a needle in sight.

The nurse swabbed the inside of both of your cheeks first, showing Asher it wasn’t scary. Then she moved towards him - “Say aaaaaah!” - and you were grateful when he listened. He opened his mouth wide and she got the swabs she needed.

“Great job, little man,” the nurse praised, giving him a high five he happily returned.

You were struck by the most intense nausea at that moment, you almost doubled over and threw up on the floor right there. “Can you watch him?” You asked quickly, before you were sprinting from the room and to the bathroom down the hall, which was mercifully empty. You fell to your knees, emptying the contents of your stomach.

When you were done, you were in shock. You wiped your face with some toilet paper, flushing the toilet and leaning against the wall. You had been worried sick over the thing with Eddie, but you didn’t think it was that bad. It was getting to you more than you thought.

You straightened yourself up and hurried back to the room, where the nurse was letting Asher play with a stethoscope. She turned as you walked in and gave you a reassuring smile as she stood.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, picking up Asher. “Thank you for watching him. I don’t know why that happened.”

She gave you a reassuring squeeze on the arm as she headed out of the room. “It’s okay. I got sick ten times a day when I was pregnant with my daughter.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ You began, but she was already out of the room. You furrowed your brows, thinking maybe you needed a trip to the doctor in case you had the stomach flu. It was about that time of year.

It was also nearing Asher’s 2nd birthday, and you had a party to execute this weekend amongst all this drama. You wondered if you should invite Eddie or if that would be awkward. Ultimately you felt like you should at least extend the invitation - be a bigger person, and all that.

You had planned his birthday party at your mom’s house, since he was still too young for friends the entire guest list could fit comfortably. You’d already ordered the cake, and sent invitations to everyone.

Despite how angry you were at Eddie, you figured he at least deserved to attend his son’s birthday party.

You waited until Asher was tucked safely and cozily into his crib before you reached for the phone. You dialed the number you never forgot, even after all these years.

“Hello?” A voice greeted, familiar and missed.

“Hi Wayne,” you said. “How are you?”

“Well!” He responded, sounding significantly happier once he recognized your voice. “I’ve been alright. How have you been? How’s that little boy?”

“We’re both doing just fine,” you smiled over the phone. “Is Eddie there?”

“Sure is,” he said. “Do you want to talk to him?”

“Please.” You twisted the phone cord around your finger, the nerves creeping up in your stomach again. You’d already thrown up one more time since you’d been home, you didn’t want to do it again.

It was a few seconds of shuffling over the phone before you heard breathing. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Eddie,” you greeted awkwardly. Since you hadn’t spoken to him in so long, not since he caught you with Steve and not since being served, you didn’t know how he felt about you or the situation.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised to hear your voice. “Uh…hey.”

“I, uh, just wanted to ask you something,” you began. “Asher’s birthday is coming up and we’re having a party at my mom’s this weekend. I was wondering if you and Wayne wanted to come? The guys are invited too, of course.”

“Oh,” he said again, sounding shocked at the question. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course, I would love to go. I know Wayne would, too. I’ll talk to the guys.”

“Okay, cool,” you said, feeling extremely awkward. An equally awkward silence filled the air. Finally, you decided to address the elephant in the room. “I got your papers.”

“Oh..yeah,” he said, and you could practically see the uncomfortable expression on his face. “Yeah, Steve came to, uh…talk to me about that. Listen, I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to spring it all on you like that.”

“It’s…okay,” you reassured him, although you really didn’t feel like it was. You were still kind of hurt about it. “I mean, you could have just asked.”

“Yeah, yeah, I…I know. I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment. “We went and did the DNA samples today, so I guess that ball is rolling. They said it usually takes two days. And, well, you and I both know he’s yours.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “Yeah. He’s definitely mine. I didn’t have any doubts about that…kid’s my twin.”

His words made you laugh, too. “He sure is. I’ve seen your face every day for the past two years.”

It was silent again as your words hung in the air. Finally, Eddie spoke. “I’m…I’m really sorry. About what I did. Disappearing on you and never calling and all. That was…it was shitty of me. I admit I got caught up in the band and the fame. And I don’t know if you can ever forgive me - hell, I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But I’m sorry, and I just want you to know that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, a couple escaping and falling down your cheeks. You wiped them away with a sniffle. “Thanks, Eddie. That means a lot…for you to say that.”

“Well, I mean it,” he said. It was quiet again as neither of you knew what to say.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you this weekend at the party,” you said. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah…talk later.”

You hung up the phone, the lack of an ‘I love you’ feeling odd for the end of a phone call with Eddie. You remembered the nights laying on your bed at home and hogging the phone all night while you chatted with Eddie, totally in love, giggling and kicking your feet as you talked to him.

You still felt sick, so you felt like you should get an early night. You headed to your room, took a quick shower in your en suite bathroom, dried your hair and did your nighttime routine, then got cozy under the blankets. Your mind swam with thoughts of both Eddie and Steve, as you fought off the nausea. Finally, you were able to fall asleep, and get some rest from the mess that was your life.

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