#i mean yeah i want him to be my husband but i want him to be my wife more

[missdynamighttt]

so hey... mean, husband! katsuki loving how you smell WAY TOO MUCH.

it was supposed to be innocent. you had only wanted a damn opinion.

“hey, smell this,” you said, leaning toward him in his office, tilting your head slightly to expose your neck. “i got a new perfume, and i wanna know what you think.”

you thought a quick visit wouldn't hurt. you were expecting a quick answer. maybe a grunt, maybe an eye roll, maybe a “tch, smells fine,” in that usual gruff way of his.

it got his attention. his eyes flickered up, and before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you right into his space. then, instead of a quick sniff like a normal person, he leaned in, nose brushing against your neck, inhaling deeply.

the scent—sweet, warm, something intoxicating hit him all at once, and suddenly, his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

he sniffed your neck again, slower this time, like he was trying to commit the scent to memory. his breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“katsuki?” you murmured, blinking.

and before you could react, he kissed you. it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t careful. his lips pressed hot and firm against the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands gripping your waist like he needed you closer.

you barely had time to process before his teeth scraped against your skin. “hey—”

“shut up,” he mumbled, mouth trailing down, biting, sucking, claiming.

your breath hitched as he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you shiver. you swallowed, trying again. “that's no way to talk to your wife—"

another kiss. another bite. another low, pleased growl from him as he pulled you closer, pressing your body flush against his. his hands roamed, holding you firmly against him as he groaned against your skin.

“so, do you like the perfume or—”

“i dunno,” he muttered against your skin, mouth hot, voice rough. “still figurin' it out.”

you squeaked, hands gripping his shoulders. “are you even trying..?"

"mhm," he hummed, lips trailing along your neck, teeth scraping before he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot. “still can’t tell. lemme try again.”

you tried to gather your scrambled thoughts, but with the way he was devouring your neck, leaving marks, kissing you like he owned you, you were starting to give in.

“you—” you shivered, barely holding back a gasp as he devoured your neck, his breathing growing heavier.

somewhere between the heat, the teasing, and the way his fingers dug into your hips, you forgot why you even asked him in the first place.

you were losing this battle.

“… fine,” you exhaled, tilting your head to give him more access. “forget the damn perfume.”

he smirked against your skin, his hands creeping down to unbutton your blouse. “already did, sweetheart.”

“katsuki,” you breathed, gripping onto his shoulders.

"tch,” he smirked against your skin, his lips trailing over your shoulder. “sound real nice when you say my name like that.”

"katsuki."

he pulled back slightly, half-lidded eyes full of heat and amusement. “what?”

you swallowed hard, trying to keep some semblance of control. “this is your office.”

he scoffed. “so?”

“so? someone could walk in and—”

he smirked, leaning in close, his lips barely brushing against yours. “then you better keep quiet, yeah?”

a shiver ran down your spine as katsuki’s fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, slow and deliberate. his mouth never left your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

“you smell too damn good,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, sending a wave of heat straight through you. "fuck."

"oh, so now you have an opinion," you huffed, torn between stopping him and letting him ruin you right here, in his office.

pop. another button undone. his hands brushed against the newly exposed skin of your chest, and you sucked in a sharp breath as his hand toys with the edges of your bra.

“you fuckin' started this,” he murmured, his voice rough. “you really thought i’d just smell you and let it go?”

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “i just wanted a damn opi—"

rip. he tore the rest of the buttons open, completely impatient, exposing your lace bra to the cool air.

your eyes widened. “you asshole.”

he just grinned, unbothered. “shouldn’t’ve worn somethin’ so easy to take off.”

but before you could argue, he grabbed your hips, shifting your body. you were bent over his desk, your skirt riding up your thigh, his breath hot against your ear.

“you’re such a damn tease,” he muttered, tugging your skirt up to reveal your plump ass. “askin’ me dumb shit while smellin’ like that?”

“you’re the one who couldn’t control yourself,” you shot back, your fingers curled against the desk, your voice not nearly as steady as you wanted it to be.

a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jolt.

katsuki smirked. “yeah? you sayin’ you don’t want this?”

you swallowed hard. “i didn’t say shit. i just—just wanted to know if you liked the—”

he chuckled, dark and amused. “oh?” his hands slid lower, fingers finding your waist. “then lemme show you how much i like it, yeah?”

before you could snap back, he pulled you flush against him, letting you feel just how hard he was. fuck, you could already feel the hot, wet need pooling at your core, dampening your panties.

“tch. still wanna run that mouth?”

you clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

he chuckled lowly, his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, dragging them down slowly, teasingly. “that’s what i thought.”

you sucked in a breath when katsuki’s hands roamed over your folds, rubbing the soft, glistening skin with such care. you hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt, feeling his length rest on the valley of your ass.

“katsuki,” you breathed, your grip tightening on the desk. you swallowed hard, pressing back against him. “please... please, put it in already.”

that did it.

katsuki groaned, his grip on you tightening as he exhaled a shaky breath. “shit,” he muttered. “didn’t think you’d beg so pretty. but since you asked so nicely…”

you barely had time to process his words before you felt the tip of his cock in between your folds, your warm cunny clenching around him.

"fuck," you whimpered, trembling against him as he slowly pushes his cock all the way in, gently kissing your cervix. "it's too much… too much."

katsuki groaned, his nails digging into the plush of your hips as he watches his cock disappear into your folds. “nah... you can take it.”

your body shivered at the way his grip on your waist tightened, like he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

he smirked at the sight, steadying his cock and slowly pulling out, but you could still feel your cunny cling to his tip. “look at you… so fuckin' wet... didn't need fuckin' foreplay with you, huh?”

“it's your fault,” your voice laced with frustration and something dangerously close to desperation.

katsuki scoffed, his grip on you tightening. “oh, yeah?”

then— smack. a sharp gasp left your lips as his palm landed firmly on your ass again, the sudden sting making you jolt forward against the desk. “katsu—!”

“shut up,” he growled, his voice low, massaging the red he marked on your ass. “you’re the one beggin’ me earlier like a little slut, and now you wanna blame me?”

“’m sorry,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. “'m sorry, 'm sorry...”

katsuki chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against you as his hand drags down to your folds. “yeah? you sorry now?”

you nodded quickly, biting your lip as he dragged his fingers up to your clit, rubbing you softer this time, almost soothing. but his grip on your hips told a different story.

“didn’t sound too sorry a second ago,” he muttered, his hands moves feverishly, gripping you tighter.

your body jolted as another sharp smack landed, the sting spreading across your skin, making you yelp. “fuck, i-i'm sorry already..."

katsuki hummed, his hand smoothing over the spot he just struck before gripping your waist again. “mhm, that so?”

you nodded frantically, but he just chuckled. “you keep sayin’ that... but you’re still here, beggin’ for more.”

your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach as he pulls his cock all the way out before pushing back in just as slowly, feeling the way every inch of him drags against your creamy, velvet walls.

then, katsuki suddenly slams the rest of his cock deep inside of you, harshly bringing your hips to his, his abdomen pressing up against your ass, the sensation of his heavy balls against your clit too hard to ignore.

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. his hands, his mouth, the way he owned every inch of you.

another smack made you gasp again, a choked whimper slipping past your lips. katsuki groaned at the sound, bringing his fingers to your mouth to muffle your moans, feeling your lips suck on him.

“thats it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “too fuckin’ cute when you whimper like that.”

the desk shook beneath you, papers scattered to the floor, your legs felt weak, your breath ragged. you were barely able to form words anymore. the only thing escaping your lips were quiet apologies, murmured between gasps as your body shuddered under his touch.

finally, katsuki groaned, pulling his fingers away from your mouth to arch your back against him, your faces close enough, your lips almost touching. “enough."

then, he kissed you. it was deep, firm, demanding, swallowing every breathless apology, every whimper, every ounce of resistance you had left. his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew you were forever his.

“love you,” you murmured, barely realizing the words were slipping out between breaths. his grip on you tightened for just a second, his breath hitching against your skin. “love you… s'much, katsu…”

“love you too,” he muttered against your lips, voice raw with emotion. “love you so fuckin' much...”

your breath came in soft, shaky gasps against his lips, your body still pressed against his. the overwhelming heat of his touch, the way he held you, the way he owned every inch of you—it was too much.

his lips were at your ear, voice rough, uneven. “almost there,” he murmured, his grip tightening.

you could only nod, your own breaths coming out in shaky gasps. the tension, the heat, the way he moved... it was building, higher and higher, pushing you toward that high you need.

“katsu,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the desk as waves of heat surged through you. "'m.. close too.."

his breathing is just as uneven, his grip on you tightening. “i got you, sweetheart... just— fuck... go ahead and cum for me..."

a shudder ran through you as the tension coiled impossibly tight, and then— your body melted against his as you feel his cock paint your walls white, a deep groan rumbled from his chest as your slick covers him. his grip bruises your hips as he buried his face into your neck, riding out your orgasm with you.

for a moment, there was nothing but heavy breathing, the warmth of his body against yours, and the quiet hum of satisfaction lingering between you.

then, you feel katsuki's hand running down your back in soothing strokes bringing you back down from your high.

“yeah,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder. “i definitely like the scent on you, baby.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[rosiecosy]

tied to you˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(dino x reader)

“we’re here!”

the door to the bridal suite slams open, and seventeen bursts in like an overenthusiastic stampede, their suits barely containing their energy.

“are you ready?” soonyoung practically vibrates. “are you nervous? do you wanna run? say the word, and i’ll cause a distraction.”

jeonghan rolls his eyes. “you just want an excuse to cause chaos.”

“yeah.”

seungkwan sighs dramatically, already dabbing at his eyes. “i just can’t believe chan is getting married before mingyu.”

“hey,” mingyu frowns. “what does that mean?”

you giggle, adjusting the lace on your dress. “it means chan’s just ahead of the game.”

seokmin gasps, clutching his chest. “oh my god, you’re defending him now. you really do love him.”

“that’s kinda the point,” joshua chuckles.

“no, no,” jun shakes his head. “the point is, she’s officially one of us now.”

minghao crosses his arms. “which means we can roast her, too.”

wonwoo nods. “we should prepare initiation.”

you snort. “you guys act like i haven’t been dealing with you for years.”

seungcheol steps forward, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. his voice softens. “but really—are you okay?”

you take a breath, heart swelling at the sight of them all, at the warmth in their eyes.

“i’m more than okay,” you say. “i’m ready.”

they collectively sigh in relief.

“good,” woozi says. “because chan’s been pacing for the past twenty minutes, and if we don’t start soon, i think he might combust.”

—

chan is, in fact, about to combust.

his tie feels too tight. his palms are sweating. he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, ignoring mingyu’s amused snickers.

then—

the doors open.

his breath leaves his body.

it doesn’t make sense, how someone he sees every day—someone he already knows is the love of his life—can still stun him. but here you are, walking toward him, and he swears his heart might actually give out.

“breathe,” seungcheol mutters.

chan barely hears him.

you reach him, slipping your hand into his. his grip is warm, grounding, desperate.

“hi,” you whisper.

chan exhales, squeezing your hand like he can’t believe you’re real. “hi.”

the officiant starts talking, but chan only hears the way you giggle softly when he fumbles with the ring, the way your fingers linger against his when you slide his on.

then—

“you may now kiss the bride.”

seventeen erupts.

“DO IT PROPERLY!” soonyoung yells.

“USE TONGUE!” dk adds, earning a smack from seungkwan.

chan groans, covering his face. “oh my god, can you not?”

you laugh, grabbing his hands and tugging them down. “ignore them, husband.”

his breath stutters at the word.

husband.

chan doesn’t hesitate. he cups your face, lips pressing against yours, and the second he does, the cheers double—mingyu actually whistles.

but chan doesn’t care.

he just pulls you closer, arms tight around you, lips curling into a smile against yours.

when he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, voice full of wonder.

“we did it.”

you grin. “you’re stuck with me now.”

chan laughs, lifting you off your feet just because he can. “good. because i’m never letting you go.”

[asvidema]

finally got to sit down and draw my interpretation of Penelope, queen of Ithaca, from epic: the musical

also as a bonus, her namesake duck

[darkluminosity]

Crazy about Diluc and Eula rn so I wanted to do this... link behind the cut since it's a lot 🙃

1. Tough to say, they both do in my hc but I feel like she's more likely to initiate the hugs and he initiates the kisses 😉

2. I think they both do tbh lol. Maybe she does a bit more (at least in my current wip)

3. Eula would borrow Diluc's, I think he's more organized

4. I feel like she would for the reasons above, maybe if she was drinking and misplaced them?

5. Hm this is actually a bit tough because although he's rich and owns a winery, it was inherited so idk if he was taught money management, especially because he has others run it for him. But I feel both of them are fairly responsible.

6. Well, Diluc's parents... yeah they're not around anymore and idk about Eula's. I feel if anything she would take either extreme, either hiding it because she doesn't want to ruin his reputation by others knowing he's dating a Lawrence, or she would utilize their relationship to get back at her clan (and in part of my hcs, get rid of her association with her clan and break apart from them). But the latter would be after they talk it through and he assures her he doesn't care about it. I don't think he would want to hide it. If anything it would take him off of the bachelor market which I think he'd be happy about lol.

7. I actually think he'd be better in the kitchen overall (especially taking lessons from Adelinde if he is willing to learn) BUT as it stands his signature dish is literally a version of Pile 'Em Up which is throwing ingredients on top of each other? Compared to her signature dish, an upgraded version of Moon Pie, I think her signature dish beats his in terms of complexity. But for everyday cooking, probably him.

8. She gets more sleep but he needs more sleep lol 😂

9. They're both serious about their duties and work, but I feel he's a little more hardworking. Not that she isn't, but I think she knows her boundaries and limits more- he's constantly pushing his limits (and working as the Dark Night Hero doesn't exactly have a strict schedule if you know what I mean)

10. She has more empathy... I think 🤔 idk sometimes he can surprise others, it's just others find him hard to read. But I think he has the capacity for empathy too, he just doesn't communicate it openly very much.

11. A cat (hmm this gives me ideas) or she becomes attached to his falcon, they can write letters to each other and send them back and forth (aww 🥰)

12. Eula

13. His is acts of service and quality time, and hers is physical touch and quality time

14. I don't think they would keep secrets from each other intentionally, but there are certain things in Diluc's past that he probably wouldn't want to mention to her, and stuff he knows about Kaeya. Maybe if she asked him (about his past) but I don't think he would readily share it.

15. Neither, but I think as I alluded to in #6, Eula might not feel she deserves him so she might push him away and tell him he deserves better. At least in versions of hc where she has a lower self image and some insecurities. Who knows, he could even say the same to her because of his past if she ever found out 🤷🏻‍♀️

16. Diluc (lol my husband thinks Eula would be a terrible mom 🤐 he said it and he's the Eula main lol)

17. Eula (lol I did a short fic idea of this after chapter 18 of Fighting Winter but never posted it, where they talked after waking up and he's like why were you moaning in your sleep and making noises... and she's like uhh,I was? but she was thinking omg I want to run away in shame lol and instead tries to change the subject 🤣)

OTP questions:

Who initiates hugs?

Who wants to hold the hug longer?

Who borrows the other one’s phone charger?

Who loses their keys/wallet?

Who’s better with money?

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents?

Who’s better in the kitchen?

Who needs/gets more sleep?

Who’s more laid back and who’s more hard working?

Who has more empathy?

If they were to adopt a pet together, what kind of pet would it be?

Who is more outgoing?

What is their love language?

Are they holding any secrets from each other?

Which one is more likely to cheat?

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids?

Who sleeptalks?

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Forever Ain’t Long Enough

Paring: Glen Powell x Rockstar!Reader

Summary: Glen Powell and his rockstar love have been together for a decade, ever since they met on Scream Queens. Their relationship, once a well-kept Hollywood secret, is now making headlines—especially after their red carpet appearance at the Twisters premiere, where a certain ring was spotted. Now, sitting down for an exclusive interview ahead of her highly anticipated country comeback album, she finally confirms the rumors: not only did Glen propose, but they’re already married.

The camera flashes are still burned into her retinas. Last night, when they stepped onto the Twisters red carpet, she swore she heard the collective gasp from the press the second they noticed the ring. A decade together and somehow, they’d managed to keep this part a secret—until now.

“Alright,” the interviewer, a seasoned journalist with a warm smile, leans in with an air of intrigue. “Let’s start with the question on everyone’s mind. The Twisters premiere. The ring. Glen Powell finally putting a ring on the rockstar he’s been crushing on for ten years. Is it true?”

She laughs, shaking her head at the dramatics. “Oh, it’s true,” she admits, holding up her hand so the camera gets a good look at the diamond. “But we kinda forgot to tell people that we’ve actually been married for months.”

The interviewer’s jaw drops. “Wait—married? Glen Powell and his longtime rockstar girlfriend-turned-fiancée-turned-wife?”

She grins, nodding. “Yep.”

“Okay, hold on. You mean to tell me Glen Powell—Hollywood’s golden boy, America’s sweetheart—has been secretly married to you, country music’s newly returned queen, for how long?”

“Six months,” she confirms, sitting back against the leather chair. “We had a quiet ceremony on our ranch in Austin. Just family, some close friends, nothing crazy. I think after ten years together, we didn’t feel like we needed a spectacle. We just wanted us.”

The interviewer shakes her head in disbelief. “I need to process this. I feel like I’ve been lied to.”

She laughs again, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, we never lied. We just… didn’t correct anyone.”

“Unbelievable,” the interviewer mutters, then refocuses. “So, tell me—how did Glen propose? Because if this was under wraps, I’m guessing it wasn’t a public, get-down-on-one-knee-at-the-Oscars kind of thing.”

“Not even close,” she says, her smile softening. “It was at home, on the ranch. We were sitting on the porch, watching the sun go down, and he just—he pulled out the ring and said, ‘Ten years is a long time to wait, but forever still doesn’t feel like enough.’ And that was it. Simple. Perfect. Him.”

The interviewer sighs dramatically. “Well, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It really was,” she agrees, her fingers absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring. “And I know people always say ‘when you know, you know,’ but Glen—he’s always been it for me. Since day one. I think we both knew it, even when we were just kids messing around on Scream Queens.”

“So, does this mean the new album is about him?”

“Oh, yeah,” she confirms. “He’s all over this record. Every song, every lyric. It’s about the life we built together, the love we’ve grown into. It’s my love letter to him, to us, to Austin, to home. Making this album felt like coming back to myself.”

The interviewer sighs wistfully. “A secret wedding, a country comeback, and a husband who’s been in love with you since the minute he met you. You’re living the dream, girl.”

She grins, looking down at her ring before meeting the camera with a twinkle in her eye. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I really am.”

[meadowfics]

postpartum

husband!babyfather!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mom!reader

in a world where you did get to have your family, unlike what happened here

warnings: mentions of normal post-pregnancy stuff like breastmilk pumping. postpartum depression. dae-ho being ALIVE in this one and being the best husband to you and father to your babies <3

heavily requested in my inbox after what I posted yesterday LMAO

the weight of it all is suffocating.

you sit on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions as exhaustion drapes over you like a heavy, unshakable blanket. 

in your arms, tiny and delicate, byeol drinks from her bottle, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest, her slow, steady suckling the only sound anchoring you in the moment.

the babies tiny body is warm against you, her breaths soft, her features too much like dae-ho’s that it makes your heart ache.

normally, you would be lost in adoration, in awe of this little life you brought into the world. you would trace her perfect cheeks with your fingers, marvel at the way her lashes flutter as she drinks, kiss the soft long hair she inherited from her father. 

today, you are simply trying to hold yourself together.

your body is sore, aching from the endless cycle of feeding, pumping, and barely sleeping. your mind feels foggy, tangled with thoughts you don’t want to have, emotions you don’t want to feel. 

you love your daughters, you love dae-ho, you love your family. you would never trade this for anything. 

however, the love isn’t enough to make the heaviness go away.

across the room, seo-ah plays on the floor, a bright burst of energy that fills every corner of the house. she chatters to her stuffed animals, her high-pitched giggles filling the space, making everything feel alive in a way that you cannot.

“appa! look! teddy is dancing!” 

she exclaims, lifting her stuffed bear into the air, twirling it in circles.

dae-ho, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, gasps in exaggerated excitement. 

“wahhh! so cool, teddy is so talented!”

seo-ah beams at the praise, her eyes crinkling as she twirls again, her joy infectious, her laughter like sunshine.

normally, that sound would lift you. 

normally, watching dae-ho be the incredible father that he is would warm your heart, remind you that you are not alone in this, that you have him.

today, it only makes the exhaustion worse.

dae-ho’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and observant, even as he stays engaged with seo-ah’s game. 

he doesn’t miss the tension in your shoulders, the blankness in your eyes, the way your responses are slower, quieter than usual.

he gets up, making his way to you, crouching in front of the couch so that he’s level with you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful. 

“are you okay?”

you manage a small smile. 

“yeah, just tired.”

the marine’s warm, calloused hands settle on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles. 

“do you want me to take byeol for a bit? you’ve been holding her all day.”

you shake your head, your arms instinctively tightening around byeol’s small frame. 

“no, i got it.”

dae-ho doesn’t push. he never does. 

he simply nods, but the concern lingers in his eyes.

after twenty minutes, when byeol finishes her bottle, you sigh, shifting in your seat. 

“love, can you do their bedtime routine tonight? i feel… gross. i just wanna shower.”

dae-ho’s expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before carefully lifting mini byeol from your arms. 

“of course, baby. take your time, okay?”

he doesn’t say it to make you feel better. he means it. 

every time, every single time, he is happy to take care of his girls. 

he never complains, never hesitates. 

he loves them, loves you.

as he walks away, bouncing byeol gently in his arms, calling for seo-ah in that affectionate tone he always uses, you make your way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

unfortunately, the moment you step into the shower, the relief you so desperately crave does not come.

the warm water cascades down your skin, but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing down on you. 

the pressure is strong, firm against your sore muscles, but you still feel tense, wound so tightly that no amount of heat can unravel you.

you let your head drop forward, resting your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. your arms hang limply at your sides, the steam rising around you in thick waves. 

for a moment, you try to breathe…slow, deep, steady. but it doesn’t help. nothing does.

your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

your breasts ache, swollen and sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. your stomach, still soft and a little stretched from carrying byeol, stirs something sharp and cruel inside you, something that whispers that you’ll never look or feel the same again. 

honestly, you cannot recall if you felt like this after having seo-ah.

you press your palm against yourself, fingers tracing over the faint marks left behind from your pregnancy, and you don’t know whether you love them or hate them.

a lump forms in your throat as your gaze flickers downward. 

your thighs, your waist, the curve of your hips—none of it looks the way it used to. 

you know, logically, that your body is healing, that you just brought a life into this world. 

sometimes logic doesn’t quiet the thoughts that get at you, that tell you you are different now in a way that you can’t come back from.

you reach for your vanilla body wash, desperate for something familiar, something comforting.

the moment your fingers curl around the bottle, you realize it’s empty.

your breath catches.

it’s stupid. 

it’s just body wash. you can use dae-ho’s. 

it doesn’t matter.

it does.

your hand trembles slightly as you pick up his bottle instead, the scent of cedarwood and musk filling the space. it smells like him, like the warmth of his embrace, like the shirts you steal from his side of the closet. 

you squeeze the soap into your net sponge, rubbing it over your arms, your shoulders, your chest. the wrongness lingers, settling into the hollow of your ribs like an ache that won’t fade.

when will this get easier?

the thought slams into you like a wave, sudden and suffocating.

your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, tears spill over your cheeks, mixing with the water streaming down your face.

you bite down on your lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it’s useless. the emotions hit all at once, hard and overwhelming, crushing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in.

your shoulders shake as the sobs build, as the exhaustion and frustration and sadness pour out of you in waves you can’t control. 

you press a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, trying not to let it get too loud and scare seo-ah from her bedroom.

no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you tell yourself to just get over it, to just be strong…you can’t stop.

the walls feel too close. the steam is suffocating. the sound of the water is deafening.

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto the tile as you try to catch your breath, try to pull yourself together, try to remind yourself that you are okay.

you don’t feel okay.

you don’t know when you will again.

your body still aches. your breasts are sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. 

the final straw.

and then—

the door creaks open.

you don’t hear footsteps, don’t hear anything other than your own quiet cries. 

then the shower door slides open, and suddenly, there he is.

dae-ho.

your husband.

your breath catches as he takes you in….your trembling frame, the water streaming down your face, the way you try so desperately to wipe away the evidence of your breakdown.

he’s not having any of it.

without a word, he steps forward, his black shirt and joggers instantly soaked as he pulls you into his arms.

“baby,” he breathes against your wet hair, his voice thick with emotion. 

“don’t do that. don’t hide from me.”

you break.

your hands clutch at his shirt, your sobs shaking your whole body as he holds you. his large hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your soaked hair as he rocks you gently.

“i know it’s hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“but i’m right here. i’ll always be right here.”

and you believe him.

he stays with you until the tears slow, until your breathing steadies. 

then, gently, he helps you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you before drying you off with so much tenderness it nearly makes you cry all over again.

you don’t lift a finger.

he stands behind you, brushing through your damp hair before braiding it, his fingers moving with practiced ease thanks to his older sisters. 

he massages your vanilla body butter into your skin, his touch warm, comforting. when he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers linger at your waist, his gaze full of something so raw, so real, that it makes your breath hitch.

in bed, he helps you pump, his hands resting on your thighs, his presence a grounding force.

finally, when you’re settled against him, you whisper, 

“did they go to sleep easily?”

dae-ho hums. 

“byeol was easy, but seo-ah went on a five-minute rant about oreo ice cream before tiring herself out.”

you giggle softly, your heart swelling. 

“she really loves that ice cream.”

you don’t speak again until the question that has been weighing on you slips past your lips.

“dae…will i feel beautiful again?”

dae-ho’s response is immediate.

he pulls you close, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

“you are beautiful now,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“you’ve always been beautiful. you gave us the most perfect babies. and i promise, baby, you’ll feel normal again. until then, i’ll be here. every step of the way.”

and in his arms, in his warmth, you believe him.

you will be okay, even if postpartum depression keeps trying to consume you.

masterlist

[writeshite]

“Careful now.” Mr. Milchick cautioned, his left palm just beneath yours as he’d stopped you from nearly dropping the small, neatly wrapped box. He guided your left hand back to a level height, around ninety degrees at angle from elbow to hand. “We wouldn’t want to break that.” His right hand was set atop yours on the top side of the gift box.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Milchick,” you sighed in relief. “My apologies, my outie overexerted himself this past weekend.”

“Yeah, that’s called sex,” Dylan snarked, pointing to the hard to cover hickeys trailing to the back of your ear. You weren’t exactly eager to promote or detail your outie’s sex-life.

“It’s his outie’s wedding anniversary,” Mark rectified Dylan’s crass statement.

“I’m aware,” Mr. Milchick responded, “Five years, seven months, and twelve weeks.” His left hand softly traced your wedding ring. If you didn't know any better, you'd say his smile took a softer tone; the usual dead joy in his eyes looked almost enamored. “My congratulations to your outie. I imagine the annual exhaustion indicative of a successful and joyous marriage."

Dylan's yearly crude joke on the matter was cut short as Irving placed a hand on his mouth. "I believe so too," you beamed, "alongside the presents, of course." You nodded to the gift in your hands. "Thank you for hand-delivering this year's gift, and last year's, and the year before that. You really don't have to; I'm sure there are better things to do." You glanced down at the gift; his hands had yet to leave yours.

"Nonsense," he assured you, "It's no trouble at all." Mr. Milchick squeezed your hands and, with one final smile, left the space. Irving made a disgusted sound as Dylan licked his palm and darted into the supply closet for a tissue.

Dylan pursed his lips, glancing over at the door; once certain Mr. Milchick wasn't returning soon, he teased, “Get a room next time, will you?”

You rolled your eyes. "It's hardly sexual to talk to a coworker."

"It is when you and Milchick do it," Dylan pulled a face in good jest. "Tell him, Mark!" He attempted to corral Mark to his side, "The eyefucking is abysmally disgusting." He dramatically exclaimed.

"I mean," Mark pursed his lips momentarily, "I don't really see anything of the sort," his words caused disbelief to rise on Dylan's face. "Besides, isn't Milchick married?"

Both Dylan and you turn to each other, then Mark, before shrugging, uncertain as to the answer. "How can you be sure?" Dylan asked.

His question was met with no answer as Irving returned and sternly expressed Mr. Milchick's preference for privacy: "What extracurricular activities Mr. Milchick has have no bearing here; he hardly enjoys sharing facts about himself outside of work, we should respect that." Dylan pouted and directed a not-so-quiet 'party pooper' at Irving; the latter turned to you and smiled earnestly, "Besides, aren't you more excited to find what anniversary present our friend has this year?"

Dylan half-shrugged, and he and Mark turned their attention to the gift box as you tore away the purple wrapping. This year's gift was an appropriately and mildly decorated set of custom sticky notes. "Your outie's husband is quite thoughtful," Irving commented, glancing at the stickers. He's a lucky man."

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Tim falling for you

Tim Bradford x reader

warnings:

a/n: im gonna be so honest i love him your honor

prompt: @sacredwarrior88: “May I please request headcanons for Tim falling in love with a female detective who's also a veteran and swore off love and relationships after her divorce?”

you’d just transferred to mid wilshire a few months prior

and from the moment tim heard you complaining about discipline and rookies needing a kick in the ass—he was head over heels

you were also a veteran, he felt a connection with you for that

he’d always make small talk with you

“so, where’d you serve?” -tim

he was cute and all, you just weren’t ready to fall in love again—or ever

“you know, i think tim really likes you, l/n” -lucy

“oh, i know” -you “you don’t become a sergeant in the army and not be able to tell when a boy has a crush on you”

“so? you don’t like him back or something. he’s a great guy, he was my TO. i mean, he’s a hard ass, but like, he’s a great guy” -lucy

“i appreciate you trying to help, but i’m not here looking for a relationship, chen” -you

harper and lopez would rag on him constantly for not making a move

“they just got here, i’ll give it a few more months” -tim

“it’s been a few months, what’s really going on?” -lopez

“yeah, bradford, i never took you for a shy guy” -harper

“we’ve been out for a few beers, it’s just…” -tim

“well, spit it out!” -lopez

“y/n just got divorced and told me they don’t want to get into anything serious—ever again” -tim

“wow, your dream partner just walks into your life and is unattainable by means of hating all men” -harper

“well, you thought you’d never find love again after your divorce and look at how far you’ve come, tim. at least give it a little time” -lopez

“isn’t that what i just said?” -tim

“i get where y/n’s coming from, though. i mean, after i got divorced i was over all men forever. now i’ve got a husband and another beautiful daughter” -harper

tim felt really discouraged, he thought you were perfect for him but he understood that dating a coworker was complicated. so was divorce

but instead of trying to get you, he tried to be there for you

“how’ve you been. new station, new city, new start?” -tim

“it’s fine. taking it day by day” -you

“you know, i could give you some good restaurant recommendations or something?” -tim

“no thanks, lucy beat you to it” -you

“of course she did. you know, she used to be my rookie” -tim

“she told me right after she told me you have a crush on me” -you

tim got red in the face very fast

and you made sure to keep your composure just long enough to make it awkward

“she…she did, did she?” -tim, through clenched teeth

“yep” -you, starting to laugh

“you’re messing with me” -tim

“i’m not, actually. i just think its cute you’re embarrassed” -you “but you already know my story”

“i do. and i hope you can take the time you need before you agree to go out with me, because i don’t think i’m gonna get you out of my head anytime soon” -tim

“ooh, sergeant bradford, i didn’t think i’d get to see this side of you. you’re always tripping over your words with me” -you

“well, i had a helpful talk with some meddling detectives” -tim

“i can take a guess who you’re referring to” -you

“i’d love to grab a beer with you sometime if you’re not ready to date yet, but i’d love to grab dinner with you if you are” -tim

“i’ll give dinner a thought, but for now drinks will do” -you

tim started treating you mostly normal and getting his confidence back since spilling his guts to you over drinks, and the girls were cheering him on every time you were within 20 feet of each other

he started treating you professionally, with a few winks and sly comments here and there

“so, you’re giving bradford a chance?” -lopez

“i’m giving a chance to giving him a chance” -you

“i feel you there, after my divorce i couldn’t imagine dating again, but i’m glad i found it in me to give my husband a chance” -harper

“he’s a good one?” -you

“eh, i’d give him a solid 6 out of 10” -lopez

“yeah? well i’ve been debating taking him up on that dinner, but that six rating really convinced me” -you

you finally found caught tim after shift and gave him the good news and he couldn’t be more excited

really, he’d been planning this date for weeks

and it went amazingly

“can i kiss you?” -tim

“only if you want to” -you

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): iii

A/N: well here we are! the final chapter of “older (and wiser).” this will not be the end tho! i plan to write a prequel series going more into depth about wanda and readers past, how they came to be, how they fell apart and what not. i do want to to make one more thing clear before you continue reading; this story is meant to be as realistic as possible. meaning the ending may not be for everyone. i specifically wrote this with intent of giving these characters an emotional arc they deserved. so, without further ado, enjoy this final chapter!

synopsis: wanda comes over for dinner one last time.

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst

warnings: it’s gonna be sad lowk. get the tissues ready.

MASTERLIST series masterlist

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

wanda spends most of the night back at her hotel, staring out the large window that overlooks the city. neon signs flicker in the distance, their glow casting fragmented patterns across her room.

she leans her forehead against the cool glass, letting the city hum around her, lost in thoughts of you. she imagines what you could be doing right now. if paul’s arms were wrapped around you, if he makes you laugh the way she used to. a hollow ache settles in her chest as she lets herself sink into the deep loss of not having you anymore.

the next day, early morning, wanda’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. she reaches for it groggily, only to find a message from you at the top of her screen.

come by at 6:30? here’s the address: 150 west 26th street, new york, ny 10001. see you soon!

for a moment, wanda just stares at the screen, her thumb hovering over the message. she exhales slowly, closing her eyes as a wave of uncertainty washes over her. part of her wants to pack her bags right then and there, to book an early flight and leave you in this city behind.

she doesn’t know which is worse. never facing you again or having to sit across the dinner table from you and your husband-to-be.

she spends the rest of the day mentally preparing herself for how this evening could go, running through endless scenarios in her head.

what would one talk about when having dinner with their ex’s fiance? especially when said ex is someone you’re still seemingly in love with.

oh yeah, your fiance used to look at me the same way.

or

of course, i know what her favorite song is. ‘do i ever cross your mind?’ by dolly parton. i performed it for her on our eighth month anniversary.

yeah, i paid the tech guy in the theatre department extra to let me use the theatre after hours.

the thoughts make her cringe, but the bitterness is hard to suppress. she tries to bite back the small, unwarranted hatred she’s developed for paul. everything she’s learned about him—despite her best efforts not to—has been nothing but positive.

he’s generous, patient, successful, and clearly loves you. and wanda knows you wouldn’t be marrying someone who didn’t treat you like you deserved the whole world.

it’s all pathetic in its nature. she should have been over you long by now. but she doesn’t know how to explain to you— to explain to herself—that leaving you is still something she’s trying to process. that even when she didn’t appreciate you enough, you felt like everything to her. you still do.

and she doesn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

by the time the sun sets, wanda’s resolve is still fragile. she dressed carefully, standing in front of the mirror for far too long, fussing with her appearance. she wants to look composed, unbothered. as if seeing you happy with someone else doesn’t feel like dagger to the heart. one that you keep twisting without trying.

at 6:15, she steps outside her hotel and hails a cab, clutching a bottle of wine she bought earlier as a polite gesture. as the cab weaves through the bustling streets of new york, wanda wonders what kind of expression you’ll wear when you see her. will it be warm, nostalgic, indifferent? she braces herself for anything.

when the cab drops her off in front of a sleek residential building in tribeca, she lingers for a moment before buzzing in. the door unlocks with a soft click, leading her into a quiet corridor toward an elevator. she steps inside, pressing the button for your floor with a hand that feels unsteady.

the walls feel too close. the air feels too thick.

by the time she reaches your door, her nerves are frayed. she knocks twice, her heart hammering.

four seconds later, the door swings open, and there you are, beaming at her like no time has passed.

"hi! it’s so good to see you."

before wanda can say anything, you pull her into a hug, warm and familiar. she exhales sharply, caught off guard, but she lets herself sink into it, just for a moment.

when you pull away, she notices the man standing just a few feet behind you, a cat in his arms. he watches the interaction with a patient, kind smile before gently setting the cat down.

“sorry about that,” paul says, laughing as the cat immediately tries to sneak toward the door. "he bolts every chance he gets."

then, without hesitation, he steps forward and grasps wanda’s hands in his own. his grip is firm, his smile genuine.

“it’s really nice to meet you, wanda.”

for a second, wanda is stunned by the ease of his kindness. she had spent so much time building him up in her head as an obstacle, an enemy, but standing here now, faced with his warmth, she almost felt guilty for ever resenting him.

“thank you for having me,” she manages, recovering quickly. she glances around, taking in the space. "you have a lovely home."

then, as if suddenly remembering, she reaches into her bag.

“i brought some wine,” she says, handing it to you. “the expensive kind. i know my stuff.” she huffs out a small laugh, forcing some lightness into her voice.

paul chuckles, taking the bottle from your hands to examine it. “i like her already.”

and just like that, wanda knows this is going to hurt more than she thought.

dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and well-meaning smiles. paul is gracious, effortlessly kind, and wanda hates how easy it is to like him. she hates that there’s nothing about him to hate at all.

she watches the way you lean into him when you laugh, how his hand absentmindedly finds yours on the table. it’s second nature, the kind of comfort that only comes with time, with certainty.

and wanda knows, without question, that she has none of those things with you anymore.

paul has made it a habit to ask about how you and wanda met. even though she’s sure he already knows most of the story, he’s always genuine in wanting to hear more, especially the parts you tend to leave out.

“you got any funny stories about this one?” paul asks, flashing wanda a pointed smile. “something embarrassing, please.”

wanda huffs out a quiet laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. she has plenty. but as she glances between you and paul, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. some memories feel lighter than others. some carry more weight than she knows what to do with.

still, when she sees the way you’re watching her; curious, amused, trusting, she decides to tell it.

“oh, i’ve got one,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “back in college, we tried to break into the theatre department after hours. it wasn’t really breaking in, technically, the door was open, but we definitely weren’t supposed to be there. they had this whole wire rig set up for the upcoming peter pan production, and somebody—” she tilts her chin toward you “—thought it would be a great idea to try it out.”

paul turns to you, amused. “why am i not surprised?”

you groan, already bracing for the rest of the story. wanda smirks but continues, her voice softer now.

“so, there she was, strapped into this ridiculous harness, so sure she was about to soar across the stage like some theatrical prodigy. but the second she tried to lift off, the harness jammed, and instead of flying, she was just—”

“i was dangling there,” you chime in, groaning at the memory. “like some tragic shakespearean ghost.”

“and then, of course, security walks in,” she says, shaking her head. “and instead of, i don’t know, explaining, she panicked and yelled, ‘i have done the deed. didst thou not hear a noise?’”

paul bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “you did not.”

“she did,” wanda confirms, laughing softly. “the security guy just stood there for a second, like he was reconsidering every choice that led him to that moment, then sighed and said, ‘get down.’”

paul grins, shaking his head. “so, what happened next?”

“i had to help her out of the harness before we both got kicked out,” wanda says. “and then we ran. fast.” she pauses, her smile dimming just a little. “ended up at that all-night diner by campus instead. sat there for hours, drinking burnt coffee, still laughing about it.”

her voice drifts for a moment, lost in the memory. you swallow, feeling something heavy settle in your chest, but before the silence can stretch too long, you force out a small chuckle.

“i could’ve flown,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a little more time.”

wanda looks at you then, and there’s something in her gaze. something paul doesn’t quite catch, but you do.

“yeah,” she murmurs. “maybe you just needed more time.”

paul laughs again, unaware of the way wanda’s fingers tighten around her glass. “you two were absolute menaces, huh?”

and just like that, the moment passes. the air lightens again, and Wanda takes another sip of her wine. but the memory lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

“did she ever tell you that we watch some of your movies sometimes?” paul cuts in, his eyes bright with genuine curiosity. there’s an eager energy to him, the kind that makes it clear he isn’t just saying it to be polite—he actually wants to talk about her work.

wanda raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh?”

you offer a small, sheepish smile, and paul continues before you can respond.

“i mean, seriously,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “i’m already a pretty emotional guy, but your movies? they wreck me.”

wanda lets out a soft, amused laugh, her fingers absently tracing the stem of her wine glass. “that’s very kind of you to say.” she takes a slow sip before adding, almost offhandedly, “i guess i just have a thing for playing characters in distress.”

paul barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “yeah, well, you do it very well. it’s almost unfair.”

wanda smirks, but there’s something thoughtful in the way she tilts her head, as if considering his words. then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she leans in slightly and says, “i take it you’re a crier, then?”

paul places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “absolutely. no shame.”

that earns a more genuine laugh from wanda, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eases. the air between the three of you feels a little lighter.

when the plates are empty and the conversation slows, paul pushes back his chair with a contented sigh.

“i’ll start on the dishes,” he says, already stacking plates. “you two should catch up.”

you smile at him, appreciative, and wanda feels something twist in her chest. she shouldn’t be here. she doesn’t belong here.

still, she doesn’t move.

you refill your wine glass and lean back in your chair, watching her carefully. wanda swirls what’s left in her own glass, staring at the deep red before speaking.

“maybe i should’ve tried to convince you to run off with me,” she jokes, her voice light, almost teasing.

but when she finally looks up, she sees the way your expression falters, just for a second. you know, both of you do, that it isn’t really a joke.

you let out a small breath, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “that wouldn’t have changed anything, wanda.”

“wouldn’t it?” she asks, a little too quickly.

your eyes search hers, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the past is sitting between you, untouched, waiting.

wanda wonders if there’s a universe where you had run off together. if there’s a version of you out there, tangled up in her arms instead of in someone else’s.

she swallows hard. “i wish i had tried a little harder.”

your face softens, but it’s not enough to undo the distance between you. “you couldn’t help it,” you say, voice gentle.

"i could have," she insists, her hands gripping the stem of her glass a little too tightly. there’s frustration in her voice, but beneath it, there’s something raw. regret, maybe.

you don’t argue. you won’t. because the truth is, she could have.

"yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper. "maybe."

silence settles between you. wanda watches as your gaze shifts toward the window, toward the street where people pass by, oblivious to the ache sitting between you both.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. maybe some kind of reassurance that she still lingers in your mind the way you linger in hers. that if things had been different, if she had been different, this could have been her home, her life.

but you don’t give her that.

paul’s voice calls from the kitchen. “babe, where’s the dish soap?”

you blink, turning toward the sound, and the spell is broken.

wanda forces a smile, downing the last of her wine before standing. “i should get going.”

you don't question it.

you grab wanda’s coat from the rack and walk her to the door. she doesn’t ask you to, but neither of you are quite ready for the night to end without one last moment.

“leaving so soon?” paul asks suddenly, his voice light but tinged with something unreadable. both you and wanda turn to face him.

she nods apologetically, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “i have an early flight tomorrow,” she admits, offering a small, regretful smile.

“oh.” paul’s disappointment is subtle but there, it flickers in his eyes before he shapes his expression into something more polite. “well, it was really nice meeting you, wanda.”

you glance at him, catching the way he shifts slightly, rubbing his thumb over the inside of his palm. a small habit of his when he’s holding something back. you wonder, briefly, if tonight was difficult for him too, if he’s been carrying the weight of this evening the same way you have. you decide you’ll ask him about it later.

stepping forward, you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the way his jaw relaxes at the familiar gesture. his hand finds yours easily, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“i’m just gonna walk her out,” you murmur, giving his hand a small squeeze.

paul nods, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he offers wanda another polite smile. “safe travels,” he says, his voice kind, sincere.

as you lead wanda toward the door, you feel the weight of paul’s gaze lingering on you, as if he knows that this goodbye is heavier than it appears.

the air outside is crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. wanda stands beside you on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of her coat. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a second, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of something you’ll never get back.

her uber is a few minutes away. that’s all the time you have left.

she exhales softly, eyes fixed on the passing cars. then, as if she’s been holding it in all night, she finally asks, “do you think we could have worked things out? if we had been different people? under different circumstances?”

the question hits you. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because the truth is, you don’t know.

maybe in another life. maybe in a world where you didn’t leave the hotel before she could see you, where you both didn’t have to love each other from a distance, where you didn’t have to wonder if loving her meant waiting for something that wasn’t enough.

but this isn’t that world.

you swallow hard, staring down at the pavement. “i don’t know, wanda.”

she nods, as if she expected that answer, but the sadness in her eyes deepens anyway. “me neither.”

the uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the night, and you both turn toward it. this is it. the real goodbye.

wanda hesitates, then reaches for you, pulling you into one last embrace. you don’t know who’s holding onto who tighter. when she pulls away, her hand lingers on your arm for a second too long before she finally steps back.

“take care of yourself,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you give her a tight-lipped smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you too, wanda.”

she slides into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, you stand frozen on the sidewalk, watching until the taillights disappear around the corner.

and then it hits you.

the weight of it all crashes down at once. the grief, the finality, the understanding that there are some lives you’ll never get to live, some love stories that will never get their second chance.

you press a hand to your mouth as your chest tightens, eyes stinging, but you force yourself to turn back toward the building before you fall apart completely.

when you step into the lobby, you’re not surprised to see paul waiting by the elevator. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to.

the moment you reach him, you break.

a choked sob escapes you as you fall into his arms, and he holds you without hesitation, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple. and you believe him.

because this was never about leaving him.

you love paul. you’ve never questioned that.

but love doesn’t erase the what-ifs. it doesn’t quiet the ache of knowing there’s a version of you out there who loved wanda differently, who had a life that was beautiful in its own way. one that you’ll never get to live.

paul presses a kiss to your hair and just holds you, letting you mourn what could have been.

and when you’re finally ready, he walks you up.

[elvenwhovian]

My son has been sitting in my lap while we play through the Portal games. Not sure if it's a good parenting choice, but it's very entertaining. :3

A transcript for those who don't speak toddler:

My son: Where's Wee Wee (Wheatley)?

Me: He's gone bad. He's mean now.

My son: Where's Wee Wee (Wheatley)?

Me: He was bad. He was mean to us. What do you think? What do you think's gonna happen?

My son: I (want to) find him again.

Me: Yeah. We'll find him again.

My son: Is he gonna be nice?

Me: (repeats question) Mmmm. We'll have to wait and see.

BONUS: *My husband laughing at Potato Glados*

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi honey, hope u doing well

May I ask for some headcanon about Castiel and Candy marrige life?

MY CANDY LOVE; married life with Castiel!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: SFW, Castiel x reader, fluff, long post, probably misspellings!! ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hii! This request was very cute, yet my mind isn't very clear, and I truly hope I wrote coherent stuff. I hope you enjoy it! ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

You lived in Castiel’s apartment since the day you married, though it felt as if you already lived there even before getting an official wedding. It is a big, cozy apartment for the both of you, and he is more than happy to have you around. You two would equally pay for things, though expect Castiel to have a sugar daddy complex and try to spoil you for everything.

Castiel has always been willing to invest his best effort to make sure that your relationship works healthily and greatly. No matter if he is busy with his tours or composing some of his songs, he wants to give you enough attention as well. And when Castiel is in love, he is very attentive and romantic!

He looks at his ring in awe, remembering the meaning behind it. And when he is holding your hand, he raises it gently to kiss the exact spot where your ring is, his eyes shinning with love. It makes him feel so excited and lucky inside.

Even if he is used to waking up besides you, his heart still quickens when he opens his eyes and sees you right there. A soft smile appears on his face, feeling very lucky to having deserved the title of your husband. He’d admire your calm behavior, memorizing every single feature of your face, his smile growing with affection. His hand would carefully massage your scalp, making sure it only helps you to relax even more, not to wake you up.

He takes advantage of your sleeping form to go and prepare breakfast for you two. Then he brings it to bed.

Castiel is well aware of your preferences, so he’d basically spoil you for special breakfasts, lunches and dinners. The anniversary dinners are the better ones! He prepares the whole house with sweet candles, making the lightning give a more intimate and romantic environment. 

Completely trusts you to dye his hair! It’s a part of the monthly routine at this point, and you two have a lot of fun when you’re doing that. You take funny pictures of him, and he absolutely adores every single one of those pics as they save all the fun you had. 

He loves to take pictures of the most special moments with you. He even takes secret pics of you so he can stare at them when he is in a tour. He constantly gets teased by his bandmates about being such a simp, yet he shows his ring and proudly says “well, who’s married and loved and who’s not?”

When he is doing a tour, he makes sure to have morning and night calls just to check on you. He loves to hear you ramble about whatever crosses your mind. And even if he teases you about talking too much, he absolutely adores seeing your talkative side. It has been normal for both of you to see him go on a tour. He’ll always bring you some gifts from wherever he has gone, but good news…

Most of the time, whenever you’re free, he is kidnapping you to another country so he doesn’t miss you every single night. Of course, to do this he had to have a talk with his band members like “would you agree if I bring my spouse on our tours..?” 

And hell yeah, he achieved to make them agree! His relationship with you is known, he might post stuff with you on his Instagram and be proud about having you as his spouse. And expect this man to post stories with pics of you and 300 emojis of 😍💕 

Castiel is so in love. Even after any concert he gives a grateful speech where he always thanks you for being a great support on his career.

He can give you free guitar classes if you’d like too. And if you like to sing, he could be the guitar and you could be the voice. Though expect him to praise you a lot.

Oh, yes, the only problem… he might play his guitar late at night, when he needs to practice for any future concert, when he needs to unwind or when he is simply bored. The moment you let him know that he’s bothering you, he’d go quickly to bed like a sad puppy and apologize, filling you with kisses and hugs.

Castiel is very clingy when you both are in private! Even though he isn’t scared of being clingy in public, keeping his hand casually on your waist, planting short kisses on your cheek… but when you both are in private, expect him to be all over you. He’d have an arm around your shoulders so you can rest your head on his chest, as his free hand place your legs over his. And let’s not forget about the spontaneous kisses! He’d surely give you small kisses on your head, forehead, cheek, and finally lips.

Those cold winter noons, when the sun is finally hid and the day is ending, he’d keep you by his side on the couch, under a blanket and cuddling you as you see a random show or movie on the TV.

When you both can have a stable economy, every anniversary would result in traveling to some foreign country! Castiel has been in some places already, but the experience of going with you is definitely different and much better.

There would be a part of your daily routines where you both go on a walk with your pet (because it is a must to have a dog if you're living with Castiel, my bad) together and simply yap about whatever comes through your mind. And Castiel is very talkative as well. It is very easy to have fun with him and the laughs are always assured.

Castiel is very supportive with whatever you like, always pushing you to achieve your dreams. You also do the same for him, and he naturally wants to see you happy for achieving things in your life. He worries a lot about your mental health.

But he also worries a lot about your physical health, reaching the point of going out of the apartment to smoke so he doesn’t bother you (and he’d fill his clothes with perfume so the tabaco is subsided and doesn't bother you). 

And whenever you get sick, he truly hopes to be there and take care of you since the beginning. It hurts him in the heart when he is in a practice and receives the message of you having temperature :(. He makes his best to leave as soon as possible and then rushes to go back home, he can’t leave his spouse feeling dead while he is away!

Has a whole album of pics since your teen years until the recent ones which he fills every year and during the anniversary night, as you both are together cuddling in bed, he opens it and shows all the new pics that had been collected in the past year.

Night routines are always important, and he definitely wants you to teach him how to do a proper skincare routine, so his skin is always bright and stunning. 

I'm sure he'd trust you to shave his beard when it starts growing.

He is cuddly during the night and very talkative if he’s got the energy. So you two would lie down, sometimes his head on your chest or the other way around. Then your dog would join to bed and you three would be a happy family in bed!

Castiel likes to take you to some of the first spots where you both had your first dates as teens and do the same stuff again just to feel nostalgic.

At some point in your lives he’ll give you the speech of considering having kids. He’d love to have kids with you, the excitement of seeing you pregnant and taking care of you during that time is a thought that has crossed his mind lots of times. And damn he truly wishes. He wants to be a proud grandpa of his grandchildren and educate them, play with them and see them grow up.

In conclusion, you’re the softest spot of this man, and he is bragging whenever he can about having built an incredible life with his favorite person!

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[lavender-phoenix-flames]

No I don't think people understand how badly I wanna WIFE Levi Ackerman up. He IS my wife, he is my babygirl.

[mbirnsings-71]

something something having a new hyperfixation and now having several new WIPs about it AND just starting to draw certain characters from it just yesterday uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah-

[chrollogy]

[moeblob]

And then his husband enters his life and is like "do you have toe beans as a dragon? is that a thing? do reptiles have toe beans?" and Sascha looks at him like "I do not know the meaning of those words in that order..."

edit: ...I forgot my own OCs scar (now included)