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goldfades · 4 months ago

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LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!

for this request!!

─ summary | a week after megan caught you and father charlie, higher-ranking members of the church summon both of you for a stern warning. they threaten severe consequences—not just losing your positions, but eternal damnation—if you don't end your affair, and though you try to stay composed, charlie's anger flares as he refuses to accept their condemnation

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 5.3k

─ warnings | pretty angsty + dramatic but has a happy ending, forbidden love, descriptions of having a big family. also wanted to put out there that this in no way shape or form trying to depict the church as something bad, every church is different and this is just fictional and very self-indulgent.

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! this was super self indulgent and i swear i say that every time but it's true. the happy ending was sorta like... my happy ending LMAO but i just wanted them to end up together. this was super fast paced (ik... 5k words and """fast paced""") but if u read it, you'll know what i mean.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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Father Charlie’s face is pale, his eyes wide with fear as the weight of what just happened begins to settle between you. The churchyard, once a sanctuary, now feels like a trap. You stand there, unable to move, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Megan—” you try to call out, your voice catching in your throat, but she’s already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the church.

Father Charlie turns to you, his hand trembling as he runs it through his hair. “This… this can’t get out. It’ll ruin everything,” he says, his voice breaking under the pressure. He paces, eyes darting toward the church doors as if expecting Megan to reappear any moment with a crowd of witnesses.

Your chest tightens. You know what’s at stake—the life you’ve both built within the church, the delicate balance of your roles, the unspoken rules you’ve crossed. There’s no undoing what’s been done.

“I didn’t mean—” you begin, but he cuts you off, stepping closer, his hands gripping your arms with desperate intensity.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, his voice urgent. “I should have never let it get this far. But Megan… she can’t know. No one can know.”

You nod, but the truth gnaws at you. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness. The kiss—the feelings behind it—have been building for longer than you want to admit. And now that the barrier has been broken, there’s no pretending you can go back to how things were.

“What if she tells?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Father Charlie’s eyes meet yours, his face full of guilt and something else, something darker—a simmering fear. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything.”

The way he says it makes your stomach twist. You’ve never seen him like this, so cornered, so desperate. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve unleashed something in him that can’t be controlled.

“I have to fix this,” he mutters more to himself than to you, already starting to move toward the church, determination in his stride. “Go home. Don’t come back until I say it’s safe.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s no room for discussion. The weight of your guilt, mingled with fear, presses heavy on your chest as you turn and leave, knowing that the fragile world you both clung to is about to shatter.

As you walk away from the church, the echoes of the kiss linger on your lips, but now they taste bitter—haunted by the knowledge that you’ve crossed a line you can never uncross. And Megan, with her watchful eyes, has seen it all.

The walk from the church feels impossibly long, every step weighed down by the suffocating pressure of what’s just transpired. The once-bright sky has dimmed into muted shades of twilight, the air thick with impending doom. You can feel the weight of it pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. The churchyard, so familiar and comforting just moments ago, now seems cold, distant—like it’s pushing you away.

You glance back once, just once, and catch sight of Charlie disappearing into the stone walls of the church. His movements are hurried, frantic, and it only makes the knot in your stomach tighten. You know he’s going to confront Megan. You know he’ll do everything in his power to convince her to stay silent, to protect both of you, but the seed of doubt has already taken root. What if she doesn’t listen? What if Megan has already spread word of what she saw?

The fear claws at your insides.

You replay the moment over and over in your mind—the kiss, the way his lips had pressed against yours with a hunger that had long been suppressed, the heat of his body against yours. It was more than a moment of weakness; it was the culmination of everything you had been hiding, everything you’d tried to bury under the weight of duty. You had always known there was something between you and Charlie, but you had told yourself it was nothing, that it could never be anything more than unspoken glances and the occasional brush of hands. But now, the truth is undeniable.

You love him.

And it terrifies you.

As you turn the corner, moving further away from the church and deeper into the quiet streets, you try to suppress the panic building inside you. You force yourself to breathe, slow and steady, even as the thought of what comes next twists and knots in your chest. Megan… she had seen everything. Her eyes, wide with shock and something close to betrayal, flashed in your mind like a warning. She would never understand. She couldn’t. To her, this wasn’t just a mistake or a lapse in judgment—it was blasphemy, a defilement of everything sacred.

You walk faster, as if the distance could somehow cleanse you of what just happened, but the weight of your sins follows you, heavy and unrelenting. By the time you reach your small, modest home, the last of the daylight is gone. The darkness feels fitting, like a cloak draped over the truth you’re so desperate to hide.

You fumble with the key, your hands trembling, and push open the door. Inside, the space feels too small, too confining. The walls close in around you, suffocating in their familiarity. You collapse onto the nearest chair, your mind racing, trying to make sense of what comes next.

You think of Megan again, the way she had slipped away so quickly, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost. What had she seen? How much had she heard? Would she go to the elders? To the congregation? Your stomach churns at the thought of everyone knowing, their judgmental eyes stripping you bare, seeing you for what you truly are—a sinner. You can already picture the looks, the whispers that would follow, the way they’d turn on you. And Charlie—God, what would happen to him? His role as a priest, his entire life, would be torn apart if this got out.

You can’t let that happen.

But no matter how much you try to focus, your thoughts keep pulling back to him. To the way he looked at you in those moments after Megan had fled. His face, pale with fear, but his eyes… they had been filled with something more than just panic. There had been a tenderness there, a quiet desperation, as if he had wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words had been lost in the gravity of the situation. And now, the distance between you feels like a chasm, one that neither of you can cross until you know what Megan will do.

The hours stretch on in painful silence. You sit by the window, staring out into the night, your heart heavy with dread. Every sound, every rustle of wind, makes you jump, half-expecting someone to come knocking at your door, to drag you back to the church and expose your sin to the world. But no one comes. The night is as still as your breath, suspended in an unbearable waiting.

You wonder how Charlie is faring. Is he talking to Megan right now? Is he pleading with her, trying to make her understand? Or is it too late—has she already made up her mind? The uncertainty gnaws at you, each minute that passes feeling like an eternity.

The quiet is suddenly interrupted by a soft knock at the door. You freeze, your heart stopping for a beat, your blood running cold. For a moment, you can’t move, can’t breathe. Then, slowly, you rise from the chair, your body moving on instinct. You approach the door with trembling hands, every step echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness of the house.

When you open it, Charlie stands on the other side.

His face is pale, his eyes dark and sunken, as though he’s aged years in the span of a few hours. His expression is grim, but beneath the weariness, there’s something else—something raw, something desperate. He steps inside without a word, closing the door behind him, and the weight of everything that’s happened settles between you.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. His hands are shaking, and you notice the way he clenches them into fists, trying to steady himself. “She’s not going to tell anyone,” he finally says, but his voice is hollow, and you know that’s not the whole story.

You take a step closer, searching his face for answers. “What did you say to her?”

Charlie’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something dark in them—something you haven’t seen before. “I made sure she understood,” he says, but there’s no relief in his voice. No victory. Only guilt.

Your stomach tightens as his words sink in. You want to believe him, to trust that everything will be okay now, but the look in his eyes tells you that nothing will ever be the same. Not between you. Not between him and the church. And certainly not between him and Megan.

The silence stretches on, thick and heavy with unspoken truths, and you realize that whatever you thought you were protecting has already been lost. The kiss, the secret moments, the connection between you and Charlie—it’s all unraveling, piece by piece, and there’s no going back now.

You don’t know what he did. And you’re not sure you want to.

All you know is that something has shifted between you, and the fragile world you’ve built together is starting to crack.

“I… I couldn’t let her ruin this,” he says, his voice low and almost pleading. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You have no idea what you mean to me.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s a rawness to his words, a vulnerability that you’ve never seen in him before, and it makes the knot in your throat tighten. “Charlie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he says, his voice firmer now, more certain. “You need to hear this. I love you.” The words hang between you, heavy and full of meaning. His eyes search yours, as though he’s terrified of what your response might be, but at the same time, there’s a conviction in him that tells you he’s been holding onto this for far too long.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, the world falls away. The fear, the uncertainty, the guilt—it all fades into the background, and all that’s left is the truth. He loves you.

And God help you, you love him too.

“I love you, too,” you finally say, the words slipping out in a rush, like a dam breaking. The weight of them is staggering, but also freeing, as though admitting it has somehow lifted the burden from your chest.

Charlie’s eyes soften, and in that moment, the darkness, the fear, everything that’s been hanging over you both seems to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in this fragile, stolen moment.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, then your temple, and finally, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s tender, sweet, and laced with the kind of love that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. For a few precious seconds, you allow yourself to get lost in him—the warmth of his body, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something fragile and precious. There’s no guilt in this kiss, no shame. Just love.

But as sweet as it is, there’s still a bitter edge, the reminder of what’s been lost. The weight of what happened earlier, of Megan’s watchful eyes, lingers like a shadow over your joy. You pull back slightly, your heart aching as you search his face for reassurance.

“What are we going to do?” you ask, the question heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Charlie lets out a soft sigh, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The simplicity of his words settles over you, warm and comforting, but the reality of the situation isn’t so easily dismissed. You know the risks, the consequences that loom over both of you like a dark cloud, but right now, in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it feels like you can face anything.

He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as though he’s savoring the closeness, the peace that you’ve found in each other, if only for this fleeting moment. “I don’t care what happens,” he whispers. “As long as I have you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mixture of happiness and sorrow, because you know that this love—the love you’ve both fought so hard to deny—is as beautiful as it is dangerous. The church, the life you’ve built, the faith that has defined you for so long—it all stands in opposition to what you feel for each other. And yet, here you are, standing on the precipice, ready to fall.

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, your voice trembling.

Charlie pulls you tighter against him, his breath warm against your skin. “So am I,” he confesses, his voice breaking just a little. “But I won’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

You stay like that for what feels like hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the quiet, in the shared heartbeat that thumps in time with your own. For once, it feels like you’re not fighting against the world, but standing together, ready to face whatever comes next.

But the bitterness still lingers, a quiet reminder that nothing about this is simple. The danger hasn’t passed, and Megan’s silence, though promised, may not last forever. You both know that this moment—this love—comes with a cost.

Still, for now, you allow yourself to hold on to the sweetness of it, to the warmth of his embrace, and the knowledge that whatever happens next, you won’t face it alone.

───

The bells toll, echoing through the towering walls of the old church, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. Parishioners, still murmuring prayers under their breath, make their way toward the grand double doors, their heads dipped in reverence. The air is thick with incense, mingling with the faint scent of candle wax, and the murmured conversations of the faithful filter out as they depart.

You stand by the altar, adjusting your habit, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle over you. It had been a week since the kiss—since Megan’s eyes had caught the forbidden moment. You and Father Charlie had been careful, the tension between you palpable but unspoken. There was no room for slip-ups now, not with what was at stake.

But just as you turn to head back toward the sacristy, you notice something that sends a chill through you. A group of clergy—men dressed in higher clerical vestments, their expressions stern and unyielding—are making their way toward the two of you. The archbishop, Father Lucian, leads them, his presence commanding and severe, a man of high standing in the church, second only to the bishop himself. Behind him are two more senior priests, Father Augustine and Monsignor Ramos, known for their strict adherence to church doctrine.

Charlie stands frozen for a moment, his usual calm demeanor stiffening as he recognizes the gravity of what’s about to happen. His eyes meet yours briefly, and in that split second, you both know. They know.

Father Lucian stops in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. His face is impassive, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating, filled with judgment and a quiet, simmering disappointment. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until finally, he speaks.

“Father Charles,” Lucian’s voice is deep and resonant, cutting through the stillness like a blade. “Mother Y/N. We need to speak.”

Charlie straightens, his jaw set in that familiar stubborn way, but his eyes flicker with something darker—anger, perhaps, or fear. You step closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“We’ve been made aware of certain… transgressions,” Father Lucian continues, his voice cold, deliberate. “Ones that go against the very foundation of your vows—vows of purity, of dedication to God and His teachings.”

Father Charlie’s hands tighten into fists at his sides, though he doesn’t say anything yet. His silence, however, feels like the calm before a storm.

“We’ve heard unsettling rumors,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice carrying a softer, but no less menacing tone. “Of inappropriate closeness between the two of you. Intimacies that have no place within these sacred walls.”

Your stomach drops, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too stifling. The weight of their accusation presses against your chest, suffocating.

Father Augustine steps forward, his eyes sharp with accusation. “You both took vows before God,” he says, his voice unwavering. “To forsake earthly temptations for a higher calling. But what we’ve witnessed… it is not the first time such weakness has crept into the church. We cannot allow it to continue.”

You want to speak, to defend yourself, but your throat tightens, and words fail you. Beside you, Charlie’s breathing grows heavier, his anger barely contained.

“If you do not end this… affair immediately,” Father Lucian says, his voice dropping, “there will be consequences far worse than dismissal. You will not only lose your positions here, but you will face the eternal damnation of your souls. Your actions are not just a violation of church law but of God’s law. Do you understand?”

The implications hit you like a blow—hell. They’re threatening you with eternal punishment.

Father Charlie, who had remained silent until now, suddenly takes a step forward, his voice trembling with anger. “And who are you,” he says, his voice low but dangerous, “to tell us about the state of our souls?”

The senior clergy exchange glances, surprised at his defiance. But Charlie continues, his voice growing stronger. “Yes, we broke our vows. But this—what we feel—it's not some… sinful temptation. It’s love. And I won’t stand here and let you condemn us without knowing what’s in our hearts.”

Father Lucian’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, the tension is palpable. “Father Charles, you forget your place,” he says coldly. “This is not a matter of love. It is a matter of duty. Of obedience. You swore your life to God, not to your desires.”

“I didn’t swear my life to a prison,” Charlie snaps, his voice shaking with fury. “I swore my life to serve God, to care for people. But you—you’d rather see us as sinners than as human beings.”

“Father Charles,” Monsignor Ramos says, his voice hardening, “you are speaking out of turn.”

“No,” Charlie interrupts, turning to you, his hand reaching for yours without hesitation. “I’m speaking the truth. I won’t let you use God as a weapon to control us.”

Your hand grips his tightly, and despite the cold sweat trickling down your spine, you feel an odd sense of strength radiating from him. The threat of hellfire lingers in the air, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel so terrifying with him standing beside you.

Father Lucian’s gaze hardens, his lips thinning into a severe line. “This is your final warning. End this now, or face the consequences.”

Charlie stares back at him, unwavering. “I’d rather face hell,” he says softly, “than live a lie.”

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words hanging between you and the clergy like a challenge. They stand, frozen for a moment, taken aback by his refusal. The unspoken threat remains—hell, ruin, the dismantling of everything you’ve both worked for.

But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel afraid. You look at Charlie, his face set in defiance, and something inside you shifts. Maybe this is the beginning of the end, but it’s also the beginning of something else—something true, something worth fighting for.

The silence stretches unbearably in the cold churchyard, the tension thick as a storm building on the horizon. The senior clergy stare at Charlie, their expressions hard, almost disbelieving that he’s standing against them. Father Lucian’s eyes narrow further, but his voice remains steady, with a chilling authority.

“You are not beyond redemption,” he says, the words deliberate, cutting. “But defiance will not save you from the consequences of your actions. Think carefully before you decide to sacrifice everything—your calling, your salvation—for something so… fleeting.”

Charlie’s grip tightens around your hand. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. His next words, however quiet, carry an unshakable resolve. “I’ve already decided. I won’t live a life of half-truths. If that’s what it takes to serve God here, then I’ll find my own way.”

Father Augustine inhales sharply, looking between you and Charlie with something resembling disappointment—or perhaps disdain. “This will not go unpunished,” he mutters, his tone cold and unyielding. “There are consequences for every action, Father Charles. You’ve been warned.”

Without another word, the three clergymen turn on their heels and leave, their footsteps echoing ominously against the stone floor of the church. The weight of their warning lingers, even after they disappear into the distance.

You and Charlie stand there, unmoving, his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. The tension in his body slowly ebbs, though his grip remains firm, as if he’s grounding himself in this moment, in you. The sky above is clear, but there’s a storm brewing, one you can’t ignore any longer.

“Charlie…” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of leaves in the courtyard. “What are we going to do?”

He exhales deeply, his shoulders dropping as he turns to face you fully. His eyes search yours, filled with the same mixture of love and uncertainty that’s been building between you since that night in the church. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice softer now, the fire from before replaced with a gentle resignation. “But I know I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

You feel the same pull in your chest, the same conflicted desire that’s been tearing you apart. Everything you’ve built within the church, every vow you’ve taken—it’s all crumbling around you. But Charlie… he’s the one thing that still feels real, the one person you’ve come to rely on, to love in ways you never expected.

“I can’t lose you either,” you admit, your throat tight, emotions swirling in a confusing blur. “But they’re right… If we keep going like this, it won’t just be losing our positions. It’ll be worse.”

Charlie’s gaze darkens for a moment, as if weighing the enormity of it all. He steps closer, lifting his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a tender, almost reverent motion. “I know the risks,” he says, his voice steady, filled with an unshakable determination. “But the risk of not having you in my life… that’s worse.”

You close your eyes at his touch, leaning into the warmth of his hand. His words wrap around your heart, pulling you closer to the edge of something you can’t take back.

───

The decision had been made in a heartbeat, almost too quickly for either of you to process. One moment, you were standing in the courtyard, exchanging quiet promises of love and loyalty; the next, you were both packing your modest belongings in a small room that had been your sanctuary for years.

Charlie’s movements were hurried but deliberate, his usual calm demeanor now laced with an urgency that mirrored your own. You threw robes and personal items into a small bag, your heart pounding as the reality of your situation sank in.

“We can’t stay here,” he had said, his voice shaking with conviction. “Not after that. If we don’t leave now, they’ll find a way to tear us apart.”

You agreed, knowing deep down that the church, once a symbol of comfort and belonging, had become a prison. It wasn’t just Megan’s spying or the warnings from the senior clergy—it was everything. The suffocating weight of the vows, the whispered rumors, the constant feeling of being watched. You couldn’t breathe here anymore.

The room, usually filled with quiet prayer and reflection, was now buzzing with the frantic energy of departure. Charlie stopped for a moment, watching you from across the room. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity you had rarely seen before. He came closer, brushing his hand across your cheek, tilting your chin so that you met his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “We’re leaving everything behind.”

You nodded, heart pounding, but with a certainty that surprised even you. “I’m sure. I can’t stay here, Charlie. Not without you. Not like this.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment, as if holding on to this fragile piece of certainty before everything crumbled.

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

You smiled, a bittersweet knot forming in your chest. The thought of leaving everything you’d known was terrifying—but the thought of staying, of pretending, of hiding this love… that was worse.

A knock at the door startled you both, and your heart leapt in your chest. You turned to the door, half expecting to see Father Lucian or another member of the clergy, ready to drag you back into the suffocating confines of the church’s judgment.

But it was Megan.

Her eyes were wide, but there was something softer in her gaze now—something you hadn’t seen before. She hesitated in the doorway, her hand lingering on the knob as she looked between you and Charlie.

“I—I heard,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving?”

Charlie tensed beside you, but you took a step forward, your heart racing. “Megan… I know what you saw. I know what you think, but—”

She shook her head, cutting you off. “No. It’s not that. I—” Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath, glancing at Charlie before continuing. “I’m not here to stop you. I just… I just wanted to say I understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand why you’re doing this.”

You blinked, taken aback. Megan, the one who had spied on you, who had been so suspicious of your every move, was standing here, offering understanding. It felt surreal.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she added softly. “But if you’re really leaving, you need to go now. They’ll come looking for you.”

Charlie’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly. You felt a rush of gratitude toward Megan, despite everything that had happened between you. Her warning, her silence—it was an unexpected act of kindness.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words feeling heavy with meaning.

She nodded once, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You turned to Charlie, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s time.”

He nodded, his jaw set, determination burning in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Together, you walked out of the room, leaving behind the life you had known, the vows you had once believed in, and the future you had thought was certain. The church, once towering and holy, now felt like a distant memory as you stepped into the world beyond its gates.

You didn’t know what would come next—where you would go or what you would do—but with Charlie by your side, the fear didn’t seem quite as overwhelming. You had each other. And for now, that was enough.

EPILOGUE

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow across the rolling hills and fields that stretched beyond your front porch. The house you now called home sat nestled against a small grove of trees, a place you’d never imagined, yet somehow felt destined to find.

A soft breeze rustled through the open windows, carrying with it the distant laughter of children playing in the yard. You smiled, leaning against the wooden railing as you watched them—a picture of the life you had once dreamed of, now fully realized.

Two little girls, their dark curls bouncing in the breeze, were chasing after their younger brother, their giggles filling the air. They were so full of energy, so full of life. The kind of life you had longed for back when everything felt so suffocating, back when the idea of having a family seemed distant and impossible.

Behind you, the front door creaked open, and Charlie stepped out, two mugs of tea in his hands. His face, though older and more weathered now, still held that same softness that had always drawn you to him. He passed you a cup and wrapped an arm around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched the scene unfold before you.

You smiled, leaning into him, your heart swelling with contentment. This was the dream you had once shared with him, whispered between kisses when the future seemed so uncertain. But now, here it was—tangible, real. Your two daughters, as spirited and wild as you had imagined, and your son, a bundle of mischief with Charlie’s inquisitive nature.

You stood there in comfortable silence, watching as your eldest, a curious seven-year-old, tried to corral her younger siblings with all the seriousness of someone far beyond her years. The younger girl, barely five, kept bursting into fits of giggles, while your three-year-old son—always a handful—tumbled into the grass, quickly distracted by the dogs.

It was a far cry from the life you had left behind, from the cold stone walls of the church and the whispers of judgment. You had built this life together—away from the suffocating expectations, the prying eyes, and the fear. Out here, in this open space, you were free to be who you truly were, without shame, without fear of punishment.

Charlie turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your cheek. “You’re happy?”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt. “I am,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “I really am.”

He smiled, his eyes softening in the way they always did when he looked at you—filled with a love that had only grown stronger over the years. You still had your moments of doubt, of course—those nights when the past crept in, when the memory of everything you’d left behind tugged at your mind. But then you would look at him, at the children you had brought into the world, and it would all disappear.

Charlie pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the children’s laughter echoed through the evening air. The weight of the past had faded into something distant, something that didn’t define you anymore.

This was your future now—a family, a home filled with love and laughter. You had chosen this life, together, and it was better than any dream you had ever dared to hope for.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, your eldest daughter ran up to you, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mama! Look what we found!”

She held up a small flower she had picked from the yard, and you crouched down to examine it, your heart swelling with pride at her joy over such a simple thing.

“It’s beautiful,” you told her, smoothing back a stray curl from her face.

She beamed, darting off again to join her siblings, and you stood back up, feeling Charlie’s presence beside you, steady and strong.

“Two daughters, a son, and two dogs,” he repeated softly, his voice filled with that same awe he always carried when he talked about your family. “You’ve always had the best dreams.”

You leaned into him, your fingers intertwined, as the last light of the day faded. “And you’ve always made them come true.”

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flowafairy · 23 days ago

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TONIGHT, GO CRAZY !

★ postscript. what i imagine the bllk men to be like at a christmas party. ★ feat. kaiser, rin, reo, nagi, sae, barou, bachira, shidou, isagi, otoya, karasu, aiku ★ contents. crack mostly, not really x reader LMAO

note. hello. i just wanna start this off by saying i am so so sorry for how late and rushed this is 😵‍💫. i scrapped my other multi cause the idea was sorta dumb and i didn’t know how to write it but.. merry ( late ) christmas and happy new year! hope you enjoy this silly little late gift <3

★ KAISER : WHO INVITED THE GRINCH BRUH..

absolutely does not want to be here, was forced to come because it was his birthday.. not that he actually cares about that. he probably got the most gifts, sent everyone like $1 as a return gift with a proud smirk—“money for the peasants, i guess.” his ass ate all of the cookies and would smack anyone who dared touch him.. ptsd ig 💙

★ RIN : PARTY LONER

not very fond of christmas after his brother dropped the bomb on him that he does not give 2 fucks about him. probably that one loner in the party who stays in the room upstairs. secretly wore a pendant that sae gave him on the last birthday they celebrated together, the picture being rin holding up sae’s trophy with a fond look on his face. christmas makes his heart ache with both nostalgia and sorrow.

★ REO : RICH AUNT

the rich aunt uncle, this motherfucker gifted every single person at the party something well over $1000, and the worst part is he knew exactly what to give everyone too. would brush it off with a “oh, its nothing. just spare change.” .. rich ass. screams in joy when someone gifts him something back, could be a $2 teddy bear and suddenly you’re opening your phone to ‘reo mikage has sent you $3000’.

★ NAGI : LONER #2

also forced to show up like kaiser. parties were never nagi’s thing, he’d much rather stay at home and play video games all day. it took a little bit of convincing ( and a lot of whining ) but he agreed to come if he could bring his phone. does not participate in anything, just lounges in the corner with the occasional damn it when he loses.

★ SAE : THE FUCKS A RETURN GIFT?

he came, with no gifts at all. according to him he expected everyone to be giving him gifts and not expecting anything in return.. i mean, his parents never asked him for a present back so could you blame him? yeah.. you kinda could. i could see him trying to make everything about soccer, imagine this: you’re unboxing your present and you get something like a new pan, and suddenly this bitch speaks up like. “shame its not a soccer ball.. this is why you suck.” someone tape his mouth now.

★ BAROU : PARTY HOST

helped hosting the party, cleaned the house spotless! he also probably cooked 70% of the food, thats what growing with sisters gets you :b. doubled as a security guard of sorts outside the house. except he didn’t ask for identification, he’d yell at you to take your dang shoes off before you walk in. spill anything on the floor? he is coming for you and your entire bloodline.. just kidding!

★ BACHIRA : “SANTA’S REAL..”

unironically believes santa is real, please help this man. to this date he still puts cookies and milk on the table. his mother used to eat them and keep a couple of presents under the tree, thinking he’ll eventually realise santa isn’t real.. which he didn’t. so when the presents suddenly stopped coming and no one ate the cookies, he thought he was on the naughty list forever and sobbed about it for 20 minutes.. poor guy. his heart shattered when isagi held his hand and told him santa isn’t real—he was only trying to help, he swears!

★ SHIDOU : “BRO YOU WEREN’T INVITED???”

shidou is the complete contrast from bachira. does not believe santa is real and crashes the party ( he was not invited. ) yells at children that santa isn’t real and started a tomato war at the party when someone threw a tomato at him and yelled booo! … thankfully, he was later kicked out.

★ ISAGI : SANTA.. NOT REALLY!

epitome of santa, the opposite of kaiser. made hand-made gifts for everyone.. well, almost everyone. ( did not bring one for kaiser <3 ) he had a mini concert at the party, singing his heart out until someone kaiser burst out laughing and started mocking his singing.. things got a little heated from there! lets just say the title of santa was taken away from isagi the moment his ass opened his mouth 💔

★ OTOYA : “WHERE THE HOES AT”

came for the hoes cause he was told there would be a bunch of hotties at the party, which there wasn’t.. but thats okay, he swings both ways! assaulted chigiri with his ninja moves until he got bored, probably pulled up a 10 slide presentation on why he should introduce him to his sister and that he’s got ‘the experience’.. yeah, he got slapped in the face.

★ KARASU : HO ACT LIKE HE A JUDGE..

everybody hates him. constantly judging literally everything.. “these cookies ‘r mediocre at best..” “i could gift ya somethin’ better cutie.” “damn, these decorations lame as hell.” you get the point. starts pouting like a man-child when isagi tells him to shut the hell up, he knows he deserves it but he just can’t help the lil itch in his brain to judge everything okay! ( he just like me fr.. red flag moment 💔 )

★ AIKU : HOES BEFORE BROS

cool unc of the party, drinks are on him alright. i can imagine him grabbing a random sharpie he found on a desk and suddenly giving out tattoo’s for a dollar, broke ass. works pretty efficiently until he’s being labelled a scammer when the tattoo turns out to look like dog shit.. cut him some slack, he’s no artist! leaves the party early when one of his hoes text him to come over.. ima slap the shit out of him n eita 💕

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that-hazbin · 16 days ago

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Sorta AU/story idea where Alastor's a serial killer but he doesn't... completely realize that he's a serial killer.

He's super mentally Not Okay with a whole load of traumatic baggage, and sometimes when he gets past a stress threshold, he sort of... blacks out. Not faint, exactly, but his body moves on autopilot while his consciousness is just. Not there.

The first time it happened, he was fourteen. His father had beaten him black and blue, and left him limp on the floor to go beat Alastor's mother. When Alastor came to the realization that his mother stopped moving, his vision went blurry.

When he regained consciousness, his father was on the floor, bleeding from the head, eyes glazed over. It looked like he fell and hit himself on the corner of the dining table. Alastor lost both his parents on the same day.

After that, Alastor started having "episodes" a bit more often. A majority of the time, he manages to get home, and when he wakes up, he's hiding under his bed or in his closet, confused as to how he even got home. He doesn't want to be admitted into an asylum, of course, so he keeps quiet about this.

Sometimes, though?

Sometimes, he'll wake up knee deep in water, staring into the dark of a bayou. Sometimes, he'll wake up half-submerged in his bath, red going down the drain, with no clue as to where he's injured. Sometimes, the person who was screaming at him before the episode hit just went... missing the next day.

Alastor keeps quiet.

Naturally, when Alastor dies, he goes to hell. He doesn't remember the crimes, but he did commit them regardless. Of course, when people ask him what he did to end up down there, he can't give a real answer. The truth of the matter is that he doesn't know. Sure, he has... suspicions. Theories. But he doesn't know.

Things happen. He has several black out episodes in Hell before they simply stop happening, because he's stressed all the time and he can't just block every single second of every day from memory. He learns how to consciously survive in hell. Makes a name for himself.

Things roughly stay truthful to canon from there.

Then, one day, Charlie has a brilliant idea for a hotel activity. Part of redemption means acknowledging what brought you to hell to begin with, and what you can do now to make up for those actions! They go around the room, talking about the sins they committed, and what they can do now to improve. Alastor fully intends to stay out of the activity, he's not working towards redemption after all, but... Of course, Lucifer has to taunt.

Lucifer: What, you're just gonna sit around judging us?

Charlie: Er, dad—

Alastor: Hilarious coming from you, your majesty, truly. In any case, your memory seems to be failing you, I'm not here for redemption. I have no reason to participate.

Lucifer: Uh huh, neither is the bartender or the maid, you think you can be exempt just because you're staff? I'm the King of Hell and you don't see me skipping out. And here I would've thought you would have taken the chance to brag about the fucked up shit you did up there.

Charlie: Hey, guys, I don't think—

Alastor: Husk and Nifty are grown adults who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions. I am also a grown adult, and my decisions don't need to reflect theirs.

Lucifer: Oh, I see, you're a coward then?

Alastor: Believe whatever you want to, it makes no difference to me.

Lucifer: Sure it doesn't. Why don't we make this a game, huh? I'll guess your sins, and you stop me when I get it right.

Charlie: Dad, Alastor—

Lucifer: Can't imagine you fucked before marriage or anything, I mean, you scream prude. Bet you died a virgin.

Alastor: Hah, I wouldn't know. Are you done with your childish taunts, or are you going to allow your daughter to continue?

Lucifer stops dead, both because of the reminder that he's interrupting Charlie's activity, and also because he's replaying Alastor sentence back in his head. And, as the father of lies himself, he realizes that Alastor... wasn't lying when he said he didn't know.

Charlie: Great, yes, thank you Alastor! So, anyways—

Lucifer: Wait.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Seriously, wait. Bellhop, what the fuck do you mean you wouldn't know?

Angel: ... Oh shit.

Alastor: ... Charlie, continue your activity.

Charlie: Uh.

Lucifer: Oh, FUCK YOU! No, what the fuck did you mean by that?! What, were you like, drugged or—

Angel: HEY LET'S TALK ABOUT MY DEEP DARK PAST AS A MEMBER OF A MAFIA FAMILY!

Charlie: YES THANK YOU ANGEL LET'S TALK ABOUT IT! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR VOLUNTEERING!

Alastor gets the fuck out of dodge, and Lucifer finally gets the hint that he definitely stepped on a landmine that he very much should have not touched. Unfortunately, Lucifer alongside everyone in the hotel are left with a misunderstanding regarding Alastor's history.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #angel dust #lucifer morningstar #hazbin angel dust #charlie morningstar #appleradio #radioapple #might continue this in a part 2 we'll see #blackout au

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wndaswife · 8 months ago

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To your stepmother’s surprise, you come home from a Christmas party asking for her to care for you; it’s been months since her wedding to your father and months since you’ve paid her any attention at all.

Tags: angst, kiiinda fluffy, stepmom wanda loving you so so much, almost nearly unrequited love

drabble for matriarchal disturbance

I forgot my keys.

You texted Wanda some time during the evening once you realized you had forgotten them, and since she was the only one at home until tomorrow, she’d have to let you in. Or at least keep the door unlocked.

Oh no. It’s okay, I have work to do so I can unlock the door when you come home. :)

It was Christmas break and you were home for just a little, so you were out drinking with some friends from high school and some of their new college friends.

Wanda had texted you a week or two prior asking when you might be coming home. You didn’t answer — you didn’t ever feel in the mood to talk with your stepmother — but you knew it was still her curiosity talking through your father when he called a few days after you left her on read, asking the same question.

They were both happy to have you home, but Wanda particularly, though you could tell she was trying not to be overbearing.

She offered to make you tea or coffee once you were unpacking and offered to make you whatever you wanted for dinner that evening, and very subtly tried asking if you’d be home all break or if you might consider staying longer than when you planned to leave.

Your holiday break ended much later than the day you were planning on leaving, but you didn’t want to stay around much longer than was necessary — you’d spend New Year’s at home, and then you’d leave.

You weren’t really excited to be home, but you weren’t so cruel as to not come back for the holidays.

Still, you weren’t really looking forward to having to deal with your stepmother’s longing, curious looks, always wanting to talk with you or bring something up but not knowing how to and not wanting to spoil her limited time with you.

The feeling you got from seeing her look at you from the corner of your eye wasn’t necessarily all a form of annoyance, but some kinds of pity too, and perhaps some guilt.

There was something about the Christmas party that sorta had you feeling down, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, though perhaps it was simply because there were many things that had bothered you and you just couldn't pin it down to one thing.

It was something about meeting some of your friends’ other friends, and even some of their new partners. You hadn’t drunk anything, and perhaps it would’ve been worse for you if you did — you tended to get a bit more emotional while drunk.

All in all, you just felt… left out. And like you were missing something, or like you never wanted to be there at all.

You wanted to be somewhere you belonged and where your presence was not only enjoyed but needed — somewhere it was warm and loving and kind and soft.

While seeing all your friends together with their new ones and their partners, you just kept thinking of Wanda.

And you really hated yourself for it.

You wanted to go home to see her, and you knew you couldn’t stop it, because you’d been thinking of her all night. So you drank enough to feel just a little drunk — to get just enough confidence to make a bad decision — and went back home early.

From the window facing the street, you could see through the curtains that the living room lamp was on.

Wanda opened the door when you knocked like she said she would. From the door, you could see a book laying on the couch. She smiled at the sight of you.

“Did you have fun?” she asked immediately, stepping back a bit to allow you in. Then she said sympathetically after taking a better look at you, “You look a bit tired.”

You thanked the stars for having taken a few shots before you left.

You stepped into the house and wrapped your arms around Wanda, feeling the warmth of her knitted sweater against your cheek, then against the tip of your nose when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of her neck. Her hair tickled the space between your eyebrows.

There was a split moment before she wrapped her arms around you that would have been indiscernible if you hadn’t felt how immediate her embraces were a million-and-one times before.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, having turned her head to look down at you so the breath of her soft whispered voice blew warm and gentle against your ear.

“I wanna be your baby again,” you confessed — stupidly.

Wanda tried to speak immediately for how she felt deep in her chest when you spoke the words she had only dreamt would come out of your mouth ever since the wedding, but found she could speak only in stutters.

Then she finally said, “You’ll always be my baby, Y/N.”

You hugged her tighter and you knew that if you hadn’t been just a little bit drunk, you would’ve been angry at what she had just said. But now, it could nearly make you cry.

“Can you bring me to bed?” you mumbled quietly into her neck, still seemingly a bit embarrassed through your drunken state.

“Of course,” she answered, smiling down at you. This was the closest you’d been to her in months, and likely the longest you’ve spoken to her with undivided attention in that same span of time too. She almost didn’t want to move at all for how you’d unwrap your arms from around her once you headed up the stairs together.

You unwrapped yourself from around her body and she closed and locked the front door; you’d literally just been standing embracing each other in the wide-open doorway for several moments.

Then you swiped at your eyes when you pulled away in case you accidentally had cried.

Wanda smiled at you sweetly, and a bit tiredly too, and you knew she must’ve finished her work a little bit ago and decided to stay up to wait for you. She took your hand and you walked up the stairs beside each other in silence.

She squeezed your hand and you squeezed back, and Wanda looked over her shoulder at you shyly as you stared down at the steps of the staircase.

“Can I help you get ready for bed?” she asked once you both arrived in front of the washroom.

You nodded silently then looked up at her with a small smile. “I just have to get my stuff from my bags,” you told her. Then, a bit hesitantly, you let go of her hand and walked towards your bedroom.

Wanda turned on the washroom light and paced around a little, playing with the knitted fabric of her sweater nervously and checking her hair a bit in the mirror, and even trying to repress a tiny smile as she couldn’t help but make comparisons to how it all used to be before the wedding.

But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself — after all, every day after this would be different, and whatever had caused you to come seeking her comfort wasn’t guaranteed to happen again from tonight onwards.

You came into the washroom with a little bag of your toiletries and started unpacking them, starting with makeup wipes and face wash then everything else.

“Come lean against the counter,” Wanda said, and you did. She began removing your makeup with one of your makeup wipes, the fingers of her other hand delicately perched under your chin to keep your face in the light.

She was gentle with how she swiped against your face, and thorough with taking all the makeup off.

Wanda was always so nice and gentle. In taking care of you, and in treating you in any way, really, she always did it as if you were delicate, and special to her too. She never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you feel like you weren't the most important thing in the world to her.

You felt like crying, but really didn’t want to ruin how casual you were trying to make everything seem.

She must’ve noticed how your eyes were filling with tears because once she finished she set the makeup wipe down and held you to her chest wordlessly, running her hand down the side of your head soothingly with her other arm wrapped around your waist.

She seemed to understand that you still had your reservations about being with her like this again, and that you weren’t trying not to get into things too quickly.

Even so, she couldn’t help but… hope, even just a little, that the feeling of how she held you and brought you close might make you miss her enough to want to be her baby again for more than just an evening.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff,” you mumbled and straightened out of her hold, swiping at your eyes again.

Wanda packed up your makeup wipes and slid it back into the toiletry bag you brought.

Quietly, you asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

You weren’t really sure where to look when you asked, so you tried to keep busy getting your toothbrush ready.

But when Wanda replied with a gentle, almost eager, ‘Of course,’ you couldn’t help but look over at her to see her smiling at you.

You looked away while she told you that she would also change and get ready while she waited for you — her shared bedroom had a washroom in it.

Wanda felt ridiculous for how she felt in her stomach — a familiar fluttering feeling dancing around where it would when you were still together. Sometimes Wanda reasoned the memory of the feeling up to a fantasy, that perhaps she may have recalled it as differently as it had been for it’d been so long since she’d felt it.

But it was exactly the same as she recalled.

And it was only with you.

She hadn’t realized she had been smiling until she heard you come into the bedroom, and she instinctively relaxed her face so as to not be overzealous and overwhelm you.

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, closing the door of the walk-in closet as she stood in her pajama shorts and tank.

You nodded then looked away from her for how happy you felt to be asked that, to soon be adorned by Wanda’s kisses and touched by her gentle, loving hands and embraced by her arms the moment you got into bed.

Wanda seemed to be hesitant at your reluctance for a moment. Her fingers twitched with the urge to walk over and embrace you, to kiss your lips and lead you to her bed. But instead, restraining herself, she went to bed first, getting under the covers and looking over at you encouragingly.

Silently, you followed after closing the bedroom door.

She turned off the lamp on her side and you hesitated for a moment before you reached over and did the same.

Then you were blanketed in the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment you couldn’t see Wanda in your peripheral vision at all; you could for a moment construe the feelings of blankets under your hands as being in your own bed instead of hers.

For a moment you felt glad to imagine you had made it all up, but then you felt terribly disappointed and lonely again.

Without Wanda, it was always just a little bit… lonely.

But the burst of sudden feelings was contained only within a few moments’ time, for your eyes soon adjusted and you could see the shadow of your stepmother beside you.

She reached out for you, her hand moving under the blankets and placing it on your bare thigh. She moved closer.

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You’d been here before — in Wanda’s bed without your dad being home, in her company, in the spotlight of her undivided attention, in the warm shower of all her heart could pour out for you and only you.

It was was familiar with Wanda and you knew it for it was the closest thing you’d felt in a while to being somewhere you were certain you belonged in.

Then she added, “I want you here, Y/N.”

Like you had asked her, Wanda babied you — she cared for you. Her other hand wrapped around your waist and she slowly urged your body to lay down beside her.

She didn’t stop there; she moved herself onto her elbow only slightly to gain height over you, then cupped your furthest cheek with her hand. She kissed your face gently, tenderly, on your temple then on your cheekbone, and your chin.

Not your lips — not unless it was you who made an advance towards her first.

You turned and wrapped an arm around her torso securely, burying your face in her chest. She lowered herself back down and wrapped her arms around you immediately.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered against her, “I love you.”

In the morning when you arose before her, you carefully peeled yourself away from a soundly-sleeping Wanda. There was a pang in your chest as you sat at the edge of the bed, recalling how she held you close after you had told her you loved her.

She held you in a way that communicated desperation and longing; it wasn’t only sweet and tender like she always was, but pained, too. She had cradled the back of your head to her chest, rubbed your upper back and pressed her lips against the top of your head.

She might’ve nearly said that she loved you a fourth time, though you presumed she had tried to contain the way she wanted to pour herself out for you right then and there.

You turned and watched as she dozed, her body the very same that you were held against through the night, the same you had thrown yourself into her arms of and were accepted and loved and cared for like you wanted, like Wanda wanted.

How at peace she seemed having gone to sleep with you in her arms, with all she had been longing for warm in her embrace and sleeping in the eternal comfort of her loving.

If you were honest with yourself, and you tried to be for how often you lied to Wanda, you didn’t think it was a lie when you told her you loved her, for you still did.

And you still could, inviting her over to your place and responding to her calls and texts when you were away, letting her care for you and at the very least not pretend she wasn’t always looking at you, waiting only for your eye contact as cue for her to bring up one of the dozens of questions and worries she had about the life that you no longer shared with her — which was to say, all of it.

Wanda stirred and her fingers flexed outwards slightly, reflecting a slowly-rising sun’s beams against her wedding ring, before she relaxed again, still in deep sleep.

Just under an hour later once Wanda woke up to find you gone, she texted asking where you were.

When she texted, you knew that she must have looked first to see if you had moved to your own bed, for you had left and decided to go on a drive.

She messaged: Have you gone out?

Sitting in a parking lot of a walking trail with the breakfast you picked up, the sun only just having fully risen, you texted back.

Forgot something at Kate’s last night.

She asked if you were going to eat breakfast there or if you would be home to have breakfast with her; she’d make some now so it could be ready by the time you got back.

You tried to keep eating after choosing to leave your stepmother on read, but soon lost your appetite. Instead, you went on a walk that lasted until the early afternoon when your dad got back home.

As you had planned, you went back to your place on the second of January, and that evening wasn’t ever brought up.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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methoughtsphantom · 5 months ago

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halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

#the bats absolutely disgusted that someone would dare desacrate the grave of a dead child: 😡😡#meanwhile danny: :(where’s my friend #Jason is a sad bean who thinks no one even thinks of him #in this au they will>:)#I had a sense of where to go with this but it was all over the place honestly #i just also love the idea of them not finding him until he enters the stage as red hood and the bats just. clock him down so fast #like. omg Jason!! we’ve been searching everywhere!!!#proceed to tackle the fuck out of him with hugs 💕💕#jason’s worldview crumbles cuz #you guys noticed i got outta my grave 🥺??#obviously there’s still the replacement and joker’s still alive point but shhh #one thing at the time #danny fenton #jason todd #ghost cores #also yes the violence tendency was a wink to the pit madness #batman #red hood #dp x dc #also when all was resolved danny and dick would absolutely fight over who gets big brother privileges #danny: I adopted him when you didn’t even know he was alive #dick: yeah? well I adopted him when you didn’t even know he existed #danny: you Dick! you already have Tim #jason:#jason: uhh guys I’m a 2x1 package #(slides Damian into view)#Danny and Dick look at each other #Danny: you get one I get one?#Dick: No!#😔 dick just wants to gatekeep all his little brothers (he has secretly adopted Danny too)

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 27 days ago

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Good Luck, Babe! (8)- You'd Have To Stop The World

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 8- 8.6k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 7

A/N: Hey… So it’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry! Life has been super hectic these last few months and my mental health has been all over the place (which I have finally got a therapist to help me with!) So between two jobs, being in full time education and being depressed, it’s been pretty hard to consistently write or stay motivated but I’m sorta back? Only very briefly as it’s the holidays and my exams once again start again at the end of January and don’t finish pretty much till June. My plan for this fic is that this is the official final chapter of the story but I’m planning a sort of epilogue/extra chapter that I’ll add more info about in the end notes. Once again, I’m so sorry for leaving you all on a cliff-hanger (that was pretty evil of me)

But hopefully this makes it up to you <3 I love you all!

—

An empty feeling consumed your chest with every heavy step you took to the avenue your house was on, your hand gripping the dog lead harder than necessary as your eyes inevitably spotted the familiar red car that had pulled up into the drive next to yours, a gnawing feeling picking away at your mind. It had been just over a couple agonising weeks since the…incident with Wanda, a little while since you felt your heart crack once more, crumbling into hundreds of pieces that you felt would never be able to be put back together again, the constant replaying of the event in your mind further ensuring you wouldn’t heal from the memory. The agony that expressed itself in her choked sobs and broken, tearful gaze haunted you, it wedged an unfathomable ache in your soul that seemed unescapable, everything seeming to remind you of the woman you so desperately needed to remove from your thoughts.

You sighed in an irritated manner as you sensed where your thoughts were heading as you approached yours, and consequently, Wanda’s house, your head shaking subtly to try and rid you of the sight of her green gazing into yours, every swirl of her enticing green losing that glimmer of happiness you adored so much as you murmured the words ‘I can’t’. It was draining, constantly being reminded of how your love was never meant to be, how things would never end up like the stories you’d dream of, willing the characters who were clearly destined to be together to push past that final barrier that was blocking their happiness, you just wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop.

Before you could drift further down that detrimental path, the sound of two energetic boys calling your name gripped your attention, a smile genuinely gracing your lips at their emphatic tones, their contagious smiles and laughter meeting your ears as you passed the bottom of their drive. You avoided looking further up the path as they approached you, not wanting to feel another wave of conflict course through you, your gaze staying focussed on the way Billy instantly ran towards Lucky, deciding he wanted to say hi to the bundle of fluff he loved so much.

“Y/n!” Tommy called excitedly, his tone hopeful as he continued, his little form standing in front of you, looking up at you with a cheerful and innocent smile, his enthusiasm to speak to you causing the corner of your lips to tug that little bit wider. “Can we please come over to play today?” He pleaded, eager to come over and show you how he had improved his kickups, now able to do fifteen in a row, as it had been a while since you allowed them over, not wanting to endure the unnecessary contact with Wanda.

At his hopeful and bright tone, you felt your heart melt at his and his brother’s actions, Billy fussing over Lucky who sat by him, the dog growing extremely fond of the brown haired boy as he enjoyed his company when they’d come over. It was natural for the two of them to occupy each other, Billy’s hand running through golden fur as he would read a comic whilst Tommy and yourself caused chaos, a small tug pulling on the strings of your heart as you didn’t want to deny the twins of the fun they had in your garden, but a harsher, more prominent tug reminded you of their mother, feeling her intense green gaze at you.

To say things were tense between you would be an understatement, Wanda’s entire being longing for you, to talk to you and try and clear things up, express the emotions she had spent years burying as she couldn’t physically hold it in any longer, but it was clear you didn’t want to even try, deciding the only way you were going to be able to move on was by leaving the other woman behind. You needed to move on, to forget the way she sparked joy into your life and in doing so, you reluctantly ignored her, deciding that it would somehow be easier for you to simply avoid her than face her and your thoughts once more.

Without even looking up, you could tell she had that pleading glint in her eyes, hoping you’d spare her even a mere glance as you crouched to the boy’s level, letting your hand ruffle Tommy’s hair in that teasing and playful manner that always made him giggle, an apologetic smile gracing your features.

“I’m sorry but I’ve got more boring adult stuff to do tonight,” you murmur softly, your face signalling your sorrow for disappointing them as you witness the excitement slowly crumble away from the twins, Tommy’s shoulders slumping a little.

“But you had that last week,” he argued, your gaze drifting to Billy who was smiling down at Lucky, the dog tilting its head back to stare up at the boy with his tongue sticking out, the golden retriever’s usual goofy manner making him laugh.

“I know, I’m sorry,” your tone comforting as you fix his hair briefly after messing it up. “Blame my boss for giving me homework,” you tease, the boy’s eyes almost widening in fear at the idea of still being given homework in adulthood, amusing you briefly before you continue, wanting to cheer them both up a little. “I promise you can come over soon, I miss beating you at football,” you playfully murmur, pushing his shoulder teasingly as a glint of determination appears in Tommy’s eyes, a small laugh escaping Billy as he knew you always somehow lost the football matches, potentially due to letting the smaller boys win but not telling them that. “Now go on to your parents, I’ve got to go and be an adult now,” you joked, as you stood back up, making a show of getting up, pretending as though you were that old it hurt your knees and back, further amusing them and bringing smiles back onto their faces.

“Bye Lucky,” Billy said with more enthusiasm before muttering a short goodbye to you, making you shake your head playfully as it was clear how much more he loved the dog than you, something you could understand as Lucky was such a good companion.

Your eyes followed the way Tommy ran after his brother after saying bye to you, something you regretted almost instantly as you saw Wanda greet them, her hand cradling each of their heads in a motherly manner before letting them run off inside, her head turning to look at you, as though she felt your eyes on her.

The brief eye contact made you freeze momentarily, conflicted at how to feel as the world around you seemed to fade away, the only things you were able to focus on being the way your heart started to pound in your chest and her intense green seeming to grip your attention. Staring into her gaze that held a glint of pain but also hope made you wonder whether Wanda felt this immense guilt you did when she avoided you when you first came back, your heart feeling as though it was being split into two. Despite everything, you wanted to comfort her, no matter what could happen between you both you always longed to protect and care for her and it always hurt, especially as you knew you were the reason she was hurting now, the situation between you two forever resembling two stars that never wanted to align. On the other hand, you knew you didn’t have it in you to soothe her pain, deciding to try and savour the last remnants of your heart, finding it would somehow be easier to push her away than deal with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overpower you.

“Y/n please can we-” Wanda tried, desperation clearly lacing her tone as she took a pleading step forwards, wanting to, needing to talk to you, to try and clear the air and help navigate the feelings that were slowly suffocating her, trapping her in a place of despair.

Before she could finish her sentence, you sighed, shoulders slumping visibly for her to see, her brows drawing together as a pained expression took over her face as you stayed silent, merely offering her one last apologetic and equally broken look before turning away, walking towards your house and leaving her alone once more, a prominent ache forming in her chest.

“Please,” she whispered more to herself as you hesitated by your door, lowering your head whilst you paused before twisting your key in the lock, shutting yourself away from the other woman as her boys called for her, a despondent feeling consuming her whilst she had to force a smile to her lips, trying to put the mask back on for her family.

***

The sound of distant chatter met Wanda’s ears as she manoeuvred around the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner for everyone whilst her mind wandered elsewhere, inevitably drifting to thoughts involving you.

It was maddening to the other woman, the way you managed to consume her thoughts so regularly, how it seemed the world would have to stop for the longing in her heart for you to diminish, every fibre in her being longing for you, your presence, your laughter, simply you. You were the only thing that made her feel as though she was alive, that there was a purpose as to why her heart was beating in her chest, fluttering and melting at your actions. She hated how so many years had to pass for her to realise that she should never have tried to deny her feelings for you, to stop the love that wanted to bloom in her chest as she would gaze at you in your truck, a genuine look of happiness etched onto her features as she got lost in the moment, unbothered by the rest of the world and what she thought she had to be. She just wanted to be herself and in your presence was the only place she ever felt like she was safe enough. Even when you sat with her on your sofa that devastating night she felt safe, she felt more passion and affection in those sparing moments than over the years without you, an emptiness that brewed inside her craving your care to reminded her of how colourful life could be, like it was when you were both young, naïve and free adults with only one thought in your minds, each other.

It was apparent things would never change as you still consumed each other's thoughts, the love being replaced by haunting memories however, Wanda’s lips trembling slightly as she tried to get a grip on the emotions threatening to drown her, to force her into a spiral she didn’t want to experience. The years of pretending, lying to and berating herself fuelled her pain as she desperately tried to not let those thoughts control her once again, unable to survive in that mindset any longer, just wanting to accept that she was still normal, even if her heart wanted someone different, someone that she was told was wrong and corrupt. She wasn’t a freak, she wasn’t, she was just a victim of love was what Wanda repeated in her head, only reminding her of more confusing thoughts swarming around her head.

She loved you, she could finally say it to herself, but it was clear it wouldn’t matter as you avoided her, reluctant to cause any more pain as your feelings seemed to pass by each other at the wrong time, never quite clicking. It caused a different kind of hollow emptiness to settle in her chest, her mind dragging her down a painful trail of thoughts as she replayed that night in her mind, clinging onto anything that could offer some sort of relief to the agonising pain digging into her heart.

Cruelly, her thoughts remember the feeling of your delicate touch burning into her skin as you cupped her cheek, offering some sort of comfort to her after rejection and heartache flooded through her, gripping her heart in a manner that stripped her breath away, scared at the overwhelming feeling of pain. She could almost feel the lump that had formed in her throat, the way her lips trembled, tears spilling from her eyes as she sank into your body, desperately trying to relish in your comfort but succumbing to the agony that ripped through her chest, her soul.

The memory made her want to break down into tears once again, to let the avalanche of anxiety crash through her, knocking her over every time she managed to try and get back up but a small glimmer of hope floated through her mind, offering her a life line to cling onto.

She vividly remembers the way both of you leaned in, that intoxicating look in your eyes as you let your gaze drift to her lips, a longing look evident in them which only made it even more confusing for Wanda. She could see it in you, she was sure of it, you still loved her even after anything, it was something that tormented you forever as you said, confessing to her that you ‘had always been’ in love with her. You wanted it to work, even now. Why couldn’t things just work out? She was ready to tell you everything, to accept who she was but it wouldn’t matter, even if it was clear both of you felt the same way, your souls drawn together, it never seemed right.

Why couldn’t she just accept herself sooner? Why didn’t she realise loving you was worth any risk? Why was everything so confusing? She just wants to be able to think straight.

“Mom?” Tommy called suddenly, snapping Wanda out of her thoughts as she lifted her hand to wipe the stray tear that had spilt down her cheek, using all her courage to force a smile onto her face for the boys to see as they trudged into the kitchen, bored expressions on their faces. “Can you come and play with us please? Dad said he had a work call to take again,” he grumbles as both Billy and Tommy slump onto the stools by the kitchen island, their heads in their hands as they stare at the back of their mother, oblivious to the conflict swarming around her head.

At his words, anger seeped into Wanda’s mind as she let out a sigh, not wanting even more emotions to rage in her head at her husband's incompetence and inability to actually be a father for once, more memories from that night and the past few days filling her mind. After that argument that left her crying outside, Wanda had finally reached her tipping point, her heart unable to take anymore misery from the man, to waste any more years of her life pretending that she loved him, that she even cared for him. There was nothing left to savour between them and the last few days had only cemented the idea in her head to leave, to try and find someone else that would love her or show her some sort of affection, someone like you- No, not you, you were making that clear.

“I’m sorry but I’m a little busy Dorogoy, I’m trying to make Paprikash for dinner,” Wanda softly replies, making sure neither of the boys could sense the irritation that had brewed in her, their faces brightening at the mention of one of their favourite dishes though. Turning around to face them, she saw the disappointment briefly in their eyes from the usual dismissal from Vision, her heart clenching a little as they desperately wanted to play with someone, some joy filling them at the idea of food though, an idea entering Wanda’s mind. “Do you two want to help me make it?” She asked them, a gentle and motherly smile gracing her lips as they nodded eagerly, excited to try something new as they jumped off the seats to stand by her side, love blooming in her chest. Despite her negative feelings towards their father, the one thing she’d forever be grateful to him about was the two boys they brought into the world, her hands going to Billy’s shoulders as she instructed him on what to do, Tommy waiting to be told his job, both of them bickering on who was sous chef number one and who was sous chef number two.

Their playful chatter quickly filled the room, drowning Wanda’s incessant thoughts out of her mind as she supervised and made most of the dinner, letting the boys do simple tasks such as washing the vegetables and eventually trusting them to chop them, keeping her eyes on Tommy specifically though as he easily got distracted, the older woman not wanting him to accidentally hurt himself. It was almost as though all the emotions that were weighing her down were about to be forgotten, her boy’s making things more bearable, reminding her to enjoy the moment with them whilst a genuine smile stretched across her lips as the twins glanced up at her with a sheepish look, having knocked something off the countertop. Flour sprinkled across the floor at their mistake, simply earning a raised eyebrow from Wanda, their mother not even needing words to tell the twins it was their responsibility to clean the mess up when the sound of Vision’s laughter started echoing through to the kitchen, bringing a frown to Wanda’s face as well as the twins, the two of them looking up at her expectantly.

“Keep your eyes on the timer for me please,” she murmurs to the boys who had started to grab something to clean the floor with, their faces pulling into a brief confused look, “Shout me when there’s two minutes left, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Once the two of them nodded, she made her way into the living room to find their father, a sudden blinding rage consuming at the sight of him laid back in the armchair chatting on his phone, his smile wide as he chuckled to the person on the other end of the call, seemingly unaware of how selfish his actions were.

“God Tony, you should have seen the way Banner’s face dropped when I told him he inputted the numbers wrong,” Vision huffed out, amused at what had happened at work, his blue eyes flickering over at the movement in the corner of his eyes, drifting up Wanda’s body before meeting her green and the unimpressed and irritated look in them, a sigh escaping him which only amplified the annoyance building in her. “I’ll call you back Tony,” he muttered, having enough decency to end his conversation after meeting the look in his wife’s eyes.

“How was your work call?” Wanda coldly asked, her arms crossing over her chest as her head tilted slightly, looking down on the man who simply moved his hand to his temple, contemplating his answers as he let out a huff.

“Wanda, I’ve had a long week let’s not-” He tries, as he always does, but Wanda refuses to accept his blatant excuses, cutting him off.

“You have a ‘long week’ every week,” she dismisses, unbothered if she came across as careless or inconsiderate as she had finally had enough of his bullshit, needing to call him out and let it sit with him. “The boys were so excited to actually spend some time with you earlier, to play with their father but let me guess, talking to Tony and others was more important to you?” She states rather bluntly, his fingers moving to the bridge of his nose as he reluctantly listens to her. “Do you have any idea how much it upsets them?” Wanda asks, this time with a softer tone, trying to express the sadness it causes in their children at his constant false promises.

“Does it upset them? Or are they just upset that they haven’t gone over to Y/n’s house instead?” He questions, taking Wanda aback at the mention of you, all the thoughts from earlier flooding through her mind along with a new trail of thoughts at the annoyance in his tone. “Why can’t they just go over to her house? It’s better for everyone, they can have fun with her and I can have some quiet for once,” he mutters, earning a scoff from Wanda, her head shaking as she bites on her tongue, not wanting to start a screaming match with him tonight.

How did it ever come to this?

Before she can say a snarky remark or a bitter comment, they both hear Billy come into the living room to find Wanda, a confused and worried look appearing in his eyes making Wanda’s heart clench, her body instantly moving to comfort the boy, giving him a reassuring look before ushering him back into the kitchen, turning back to face her husband one last time, letting her thoughts clear before saying one last thing to him.

“Don’t be surprised at what happens next,” is all she says, defeated as she stares at him, trying to remember how part of her did love him at one point, only briefly as her heart only ever truly belonged to you before she turns away from him, making her way towards where her boys were, fingers finding her phone in her pocket, needing to search through her contacts for an old friend, ready to make her decision final.

It was over between them.

***

Grabbing the essentials for Lucky, you tossed the bag full of the necessities into the back of your truck, chuckling under your breath at the sight of the bundle of fluff sitting next to your feet, eager to come with you on your small journey as his tail wagged, tongue comically hanging out of his mouth.

The sun made his golden fur appear all the more angelic and adorable as you whistled for him to jump into the front seat of the vehicle, the window rolled down all the way as you quickly ran back up to check the front door was securely locked, ready to drive over to the lake to clear your mind from the thoughts that had been gnawing away at you over the last few days specifically.

You were just about to climb into the driver’s seat when you heard your name called by a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, a baffled look appearing on your face as you turned around to face the female voice, recognition appearing on your face along with confusion.

“Jen?” You eventually managed out as you stood by your car in a puzzled manner, a sense of happiness filling you at seeing an old friend from school, remembering all the crazy and entertaining science lessons the two of you shared next to each other, briefly remembering the way you nearly set part of the science lab on fire accidentally. It was still her fault in your opinion, but you weren't going to bring that up now after so many years.

“Y/n? Oh my god it really is you,” Jennifer Walter chuckled out as she approached you, walking over from Wanda’s house which you immediately noticed, not mentioning it though as you decided it wasn’t your business, despite how much it intrigued you.

“Yeah, wow it’s been a long time,” you sigh out, a little unsure of what to say as it was so surprising to see her, “What are you doing here? Wait, no, sorry, how are you first?” Your politeness earnt a smile in response as you leaned against your truck to talk to her casually, Lucky moving over to the driver’s seat and poking his head out near yours, further amusing you both.

“Good, I’ve just finished talking to Wanda about a…work thing,” she started, piquing your interest as you acted as though the words didn’t affect you that much, “So I’m currently back on business.” You nodded along to her words, listening attentively, “I need to go and check in to the hotel now though so is there any chance we could meet up another time and catch up?” Her tone was a little flustered as she looked at her watch, realising the time making you chuckle as she always seemed to be so busy, a look of concentration etched onto her face as she worked out her timings for her plans, running a little behind.

“Yeah, that’d be lovely, you still have my number right? Just message me and we’ll sort something out,” you reply, watching as she smiles gratefully at you, taking a step back as she needed to be leaving, having a work call to take at her hotel.

“Perfect! It was really nice to see you again,” She rushes out before ushering a quick goodbye at the sight of her taxi pulling up, your hand raising to wave her goodbye as you turn to get into your truck, now ready to leave to venture to the lake. Before you left though, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander over to the Maximoff house, trying to wrack your brain as to what career Jennifer would likely have gone into and figure out what they were doing, a strange, undecipherable feeling wrapping around your heart tightly. Shaking your head slightly, you tried to rid the thoughts from your mind, deciding you needed to stop thinking about her to move on, your mind focussing on reversing out of the drive and the adorable look on Lucky’s face.

***

The gentle sound of paws on the wooden surface of the dock caught your attention as you stared ahead at the vast stretch of water, the way the soft blue from the sky reflected delicately in each ripple of the lake, the gentle hues of green from surrounding bushes also adding to the picturesque setting you relaxed in, Lucky joining your side. Water dripped from his darkened fur, the golden tufts on his chin soaking wet as he held the tennis ball in his mouth next to you, tail wagging with enthusiasm as he impatiently waited for you to throw it again, his calm but also joyful demeanour always comforting to you.

With a smile on your face, you pushed yourself up onto your feet to throw the ball properly for the dog, taking the soaking ball and using all your strength to toss it as far into the lake as you could, watching as he leapt off the dock and splashed into the water, paddling over to chase the desired item.

Flopping back down onto the wood, you let your eyes flutter shut, trying to listen to the peaceful atmosphere and the world of nature around you, birds occasionally chirping, the splashing from Lucky, and the wind gently rustling the bushes around you to distract your thoughts but it was inevitable that enticing green would consume your mind.

Everything simply hurt. You felt broken once again, your heart felt as though it was bleeding anguish into your veins with everything you did, every choice you made as it never seemed to be the right one, it always ended up in pain and suffering that somehow seemed to have layers, finding new ways to torment you.

There was the initial pain from that night which plagued your mind, an incomprehensible amount of guilt flooding through you for destroying you both in ways you couldn’t describe, for being scared. You tried to justify your reasons, to convince yourself that you were protecting yourself for once, for trying to do something that would help you rather than others as you never seemed to care enough about yourself, a flaw that always came back to terrorise you. You were tired of always being the fool, the one who always ended up being broken or knocked down, so you tried to spare yourself the misery but it seemed that no matter what you would end up suffering, life forever playing a cruel joke on you.

You hated how pain also bloomed slowly, like a rose unfolding its petals, taking over your consciousness one thorn at a time as other agonising thoughts pestered you, making you question everything. You resented the guilt for hurting her, for supposedly being there to comfort her and making things worse, for avoiding her and leaving her to imagine the worst like you did when you returned. You loathed how yet, after everything, you still had hope for something, anything with her.

An annoyed sigh spilt from your lips as your hands moved to your eyes, anxiety trickling down your spine at your stupidity as your thoughts wandered down the wrong path, unable to stop yourself. That was your issue when it involved Wanda, no matter what you couldn’t stop your love for her, it was inescapable, you couldn’t get away from the memory of you both leaning in, her eyes conveying something different, something more. It was a look you had wanted to see every time she was with you, every time you spent intimately together in your truck, on this very dock, in the lake swimming with each other and pulling one another closer, it was all you ever wanted, to be looked at with love, and you threw it all away because your heart was too weak.

No, you didn’t throw anything away, there was nothing there. You had to believe this, believe that there was no chance of anything as you couldn’t carry on living like this, tortured by love for eternity. You were wrong, you had to be, you had to move on, that’s why you pulled back. It was the right thing to do, even if it hurt her, the two of you had to stop whatever this was between you, you had to let go.

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you desperately tried to build the courage up once again to let her go, to spend the time restitching your heart together at the gaping wound that would be left there, but you struggled to do so, drained from all the conflicting and confusing thoughts that had gnawed away at your sanity already.

Why couldn’t it just stop?

Almost on cue to save you from your inner turmoil, Lucky reappeared at your side with the tennis ball, the item plopping to the wood and rolling towards you as the dog panted, almost smiling at you and oblivious to how much comfort he provided you with, your fingers threading through his wet fur. You were just about to murmur something to the dog playfully, a weak smile growing on your lips as your thoughts still pressed heavily on your mind, when a sudden bark left his lips, his head snapping over to the side, causing your eyes to follow his alert gaze.

Nerves instantly consumed your body at the sight of a familiar figure at the end of the path, Wanda’s face twisting into shock and confusion whilst her body halted, a tension immediately filling the air as you both held the gaze, unsure of what to do.

Wanda had only come here to clear her mind after speaking to Jennifer regarding her situation with Vision, usually coming up to the Lake to either remember the happy memories that filled her mind and warmed her heart of your time together or to simply lose herself in the tranquillity of nature, not wanting to think. She didn’t expect to see you or that conflicted look engraved on her face that pulled on the strings of her heart, her face softening as neither of you wanted to make the first move.

When it became too much, your eyes getting lost in the swirls of green you’d forever remember, you turned your head away rather abruptly to break the gaze, moving your hand to cover your face for a moment, desperately trying to gather yourself together.

What was she doing here? You couldn’t take it. You didn’t want to end up getting hurt again, to feel your heart break anymore. You wouldn’t survive. You needed to get out of there.

Pushing yourself to your feet a little unsteadily, your fingers twitched subconsciously by your side as you felt anxiety and panic clawing its way up your throat in a manner you hated, your mind filling with claustrophobic thoughts as you called for Lucky to follow you, wanting to escape. You felt vulnerable under her gaze like this, something you struggled with as this was why you constantly cared for others more than yourself, you couldn’t face your own feelings, you couldn’t face reality and truly let the sorrows of your life sink in, pulling you under.

At the distress on your face, Wanda wanted to comfort you, to pull you into her arms and let the warmth of your connection settle you both but she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do, her own heart splitting into two as she couldn’t decide what to do. This was her chance, her chance to tell you everything, to confess, but the look on your face implied that you couldn’t handle it, your body gradually getting closer to hers, to pass her by, to leave her alone again. It was in the brief eye contact that you made as you somehow managed to keep moving without breaking down that Wanda saw a glint of something in your eyes, dread consuming her at the broken expression on your face as you looked at her, conveying without words that this would be the last time you saw her. It flooded memories of the day you left her the first time, that same glimmer appearing in your eyes making Wanda react, her hand reaching out for yours, not quite letting you let go just yet.

“Y/n wait, please,” she pleaded, desperation dripping from her shaky tone, the feeling of her finger tips wrapping around your arm sending sparks through your body, almost making you gasp at the intensity of it. “Please can we talk?” She tries, but all you can do is stare at where she holds you, another memory flooding your mind.

“Wanda wait,” you rush out as the other woman walks towards the end of the dock, ready to get into your truck for you to take her home, the stars shining bright above you both, the moon reflecting off the lake. The two of you had spent all day together, getting lost in the moment, unable to stop laughing and feel that gentle warmth envelope your chest in that tender manner every time you locked eyes, a nervousness building in you for the whole day as you planned to confess everything to her.

Your hand reached out to hers, gently grasping her wrist, halting her and encouraging her to turn around to face you, her green filled with confusion but also curiosity, her smile casual and affectionate as you search for words.

“I…You make me feel…um,” you stammer out, unsure of how to phrase it as the countless scenarios that played in your head started to merge together, causing you to feel lost as you tried to navigate your heart, gazing into her eyes and letting her soothe you, taking a deep breath. Her brows furrow at your words, the gentle glow of the moon illuminating her features, giving her this angelic and radiant look as you lost yourself in her beauty, awestruck by her and unable to form any words. Instead of stumbling over your words again, you try a different approach, slowly moving your hand up to her face to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a blush forming on her cheeks as she hesitates, your movements slowing as you gauge her reaction.

When she doesn’t pull away or give you any indication to stop, you step closer to her, giving her all the time she needed to tell you to stop, to not cross that line but she doesn’t, letting you lean in closer to her till your lips ghost one another, needing that last little bit of encouragement to kiss her for the first time.

If only you had known that kiss meant something different to her.

“I can’t,” is all you can croak out, voice raw with emotion and it shocked Wanda to see you so vulnerable, usually able to be the more composed one out of the two of you, signalling to her how heartbroken you truly were, her green expressing the guilt and regret filling her for being part of your pain. “It’s just going to hurt me, I-I can’t take it anymore,” you continue, regrettably meeting her gaze and conveying all of your emotions in a single look, almost stealing Wanda’s breath away at the intensity of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, voice delicate but wavering at the emotions flooding through her, her mouth opening and closing as she hesitates, trying to read your expression as you simply gaze at her. “I don’t,” she reiterates, trying to reassure you as you pull your hand away from her, teetering on the edge of making the decision to walk away, to leave her in the past for good. “I just…” she starts, trailing off as she lets her gaze flicker down to how your feet shuffle slightly, seeming to want to move, prompting her to confess, needing to tell you at least once, even if it was too late. “I love you.”

The world around you faded away instantly at her words, leaving you to focus solely on her, the way hope but also desperation filled her features, an anxious look glimmering in them as she waited to you react but you couldn’t, you just froze to the spot, unable to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that crashed through you, clouding your judgement.

You were supposed to be walking away from her, letting her go and moving on. You were supposed to be accepting that it was over, not letting yourself cling onto false hope, to let yourself believe again. It hadn’t ended well before, who’s to say it would work this time? Yet you still couldn’t will yourself to leave, unable to resist her as you had craved to hear those words spill from her lips for most of your life, the words replaying in your mind like a drug.

“I love you, I always have,” Wanda continues, sensing your confliction as you still, eyes flickering away from her momentarily before back to her green, looking for the honesty and sincerity lacing each delicate swirl you fell for in the first place, “I’m sorry it took me so long to say. I…I was just scared to say it, to admit it to myself that I was but I can’t keep pretending that you don’t mean everything to me. It’s always been you, I’m sorry for never seeing that.”

At her confession, you think your heart has actually physically split into two, a broken sigh escaping you as the overwhelming feelings crash down on you like a tidal wave, sweeping you under and submerging you into despair and desperation, confused about everything that was happening inside your chest and head.

Love and happiness consumed part of you, wrapping tenderly around your heart that pounded in your chest, trying to soothe you as the words gradually settled in your mind, sinking in and amplifying the hope that was building within you at every second that passed by. Your eyes held her nervous gaze, meeting the honesty, care and affection that overflowed from her green, desperately trying to convey every single ounce of love she had for you, a love that defies descriptions at how intense it was. She loved you, it was something you had waited over a decade to hear, to ring around in your head as relief tried to bloom through you, to console you and help a smile stretch across your lips but a shadow of fear crept over your mind, clouding your judgement momentarily.

Doubts picked away at every single thought you had, over analysing her words as fear ran down your spine uncomfortably, briefly appearing in your eyes making the other woman’s brows furrow, confused as to how hope swiftly diminished in your gaze, turning to something more haunting. How did you know she was telling the truth? That she wouldn’t run away as soon as those thoughts came back to terrorise her, to destroy her. You didn’t want to be something disposable again, you wanted to be the person she came home to, the person who made her feel as though the world would fade away whilst you were together, to make happiness flood through with merely a glance, you wanted to be her lover.

At your silence, dread starts to amplify the uneasy feeling in Wanda as she pressingly tries to figure out your thoughts, to untangle the onslaught of emotions flashing across your features.

“Please say something,” she begs, the fear in her voice evident as she desperately hopes that you would say something, anything to her. She didn’t care if you screamed at her, broke her heart again and confirmed that she was too late, she just wanted something, the lack of response somehow worse than anything else.

“How…How do I know you aren’t going to change your mind?” Eventually, the words leave your lips, tone hesitant and broken as you want her to answer you honestly, needing her response to help you make your final decision of whether you were going to leave. You were giving her one last chance, unable to deny her as always.

“I won’t,” she replies without hesitation, getting her determination and point across as she reaches her hand out for yours subconsciously, wanting to assure you she meant everything she was saying, the words coming from the deepest parts of her. “I’m never going to make that mistake again,” she continues, searching your gaze as you listen attentively. “I’m.. I’m divorcing Vision,” she sighs out, your eyes widening momentarily, the words filling you with a sudden hope, part of you actually believing that this could be the moment where you finally click, your feelings not clashing but finally becoming in tune with one another. “I never wanted to be with him, I just thought it’s what I had to do, what everyone wanted from me,” she whispers out, finally getting it off her chest, causing your features to soften as you knew how far her internalised homophobia festered, so hearing her actually say the words ignited something in you, the fear dissipating from your veins. She’d finally admitted it.

“Do you remember Jennifer Walter?” She asks, wanting to give you proof that her decision was made, that she wasn’t going to turn her back on you anymore. At her words, your brows instantly furrow, confused as to why she had named your old friend, letting her continue as you manage to nod in response, “She’s a lawyer now, she’s helping me get the divorce started,” the words making the earlier meeting with Jennifer make sense, realisation etched onto your features as green continue to gaze at you, one of her hands sliding into yours, the touch electric as both of you seem to instantly relax a little at the contact, warmth spreading through your hands.

“That’s why she was at your house,” you murmur out to simply voice your thoughts, the pads of your fingers brushing one another tenderly, the feeling natural despite how long it had been, your gaze flickering down to the sight, savouring the peace it brought you before lifting your gaze back up to see her nod her head. The confirmation seems to trigger something in you, the fact she was actually changing, actively trying to become the person she had always wanted to be, brewed something deep inside you, easing your nerves slightly which was mirrored in the way you searched her green. The fact you don’t reject her touches gives Wanda hope along with the glint in your eyes, the nerves seeming to settle as an intimate atmosphere wraps around the two of you like an embrace, twelve years of longing expressed in simple looks.

“I know I don’t deserve it but please give me one last chance,” she pleads, your fingers interlocking, mirroring how your souls seemed to entwine, a small sigh leaving you after, despite all the thoughts begging you to leave, you knew you were still going to follow your heart. It always belonged to her. “I want to try properly this time, I want to make this work. I want us to work,” she murmurs and you can feel yourself being freed from most of your insecurities and the fear holding you back, a soft smile gradually stretching across your lips as relief consumes you entirely.

“Promise me you wont hurt me again,” you whisper softly, lifting your free hand to cup her cheek, her eyes glossing over in consolation as she melts into your touch, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“I promise, I never wanted to hurt you, I just… It took me too long to realise you were all I ever wanted, the only person I wanted to love,” Wanda confesses, cherishing the way your hand feels against her skin, the sheer amount of comfort it provided to you both, the warmth that flooded through you both at the electric touch, the fact that such a simple action could arise such emotions stirring something in her. This was all she ever wanted, to feel loved, to feel loved by you again. “I want to make up for everything, to love you the way I've always dreamed of loving you. Please tell me I’m not too late.”

“You certainly took your time,” you whispered in a slight tease, attempting to ease the moment as it was emotionally intense, a small chuckle escaping her, making you remember how much you had missed that noise as it blessed your ears, your finger delicately brushing over her red tinted cheek, admiring the woman. “My heart has always been yours Wanda, I’ve never stopped loving you,” you confess in an intimate murmur, a sudden happiness enveloping you as you smile at her, realising that finally you had both confessed your feelings, the yearning you had both endured building up for this exact moment, clouding your mind with the thought of her.

Your eyes flickered down to her lips, her eyes mimicking the action and gazing longingly at yours, the feeling of your fingers caressing her skin intoxicating, the way your gaze flicker up to have one last intimate gaze addictive, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Without even realising it, the two of you leaned in closer, your head tilting marginally as your lips ghost hers, ready to slot over them and let years of passion consume you both, memories of the many kisses you had shared filtering through your mind as you try to savour the moment.

Inevitably, your lips met into a tender, loving and passionate kiss, the action saying more than a thousand words but most importantly the three that mattered- I love you. It was breath taking, the intimacy of the kiss as your lips pressed against once another, igniting sparks within each other as the melody of your love played a song of tenderness and affection in your hearts, letting peace wash over you both. It was a kiss that felt like more than simply mending your broken bond, an embrace that healed and reconciled the two of you, it was the start of something new, something to base a new relationship off and cherish as you looked to the future, wanting to tackle it together.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered against your lips at the two of you parted, foreheads leaning against each other as you felt her gentle breaths tickle your face, your eyes fluttered shut as you took in everything you could about the moment, her hand in yours, body pressed against you, lips brushing yours as she uttered the words that filled your mind.

“Say it again,” you sigh out, wanting to and needing to hear her say it again, and again, and again as you were addicted to the sound of those words spilling from her lips, almost as much as you were intoxicated by the way her lips perfectly met yours.

“I. Love. You,” she punctuated every word with a kiss that somehow was filled with more care, more affection as she continued to pour everything she felt towards you into the intimate moment, drowning you both in happiness as your souls intertwined, your bodied forever pulled to one another. “It’s always been you, only you,” Wanda murmurs as you both pull back once more, your eyes gently fluttering open to meet her enticing gaze, the shades of green almost making you fall for her all over again.

Smiles tugged at both of your lips as you lost yourselves in each other, your features softening before you press a kiss to her forehead, letting everything finally sink in your mind whilst you embraced like lovers.

You knew that your love wasn’t easy, it hadn't been so far and there were bound to be times when it was rough again, but it was a battle you were ready to fight for, even if it was against the world. Distance, time and the fears you both shared had already halted your story together but you fought bravely, tirelessly for it because you knew that your love was worth every struggle.

It always would be.

She always would be.

—

I want to apologise once more for the delay in getting this chapter out but I hope it was worth it as they finally got their happy ending <3

I hope you have enjoyed their story as much as I have and I really hope this ending was alright for everyone as I really struggled with it (both planning and writing)

I want to thank you all for your support on this fic and my others as I can’t express how much you all mean to me, especially this year as it has personally been so difficult for me. I will forever be grateful to you all and I hope you know it!

This is sadly the end of the official story but my plan is to write an epilogue style final chapter which would involve smut (as I know that’s what most people want) but it’s up to you guys on which you’d rather it be!

1- A smut chapter of their first time after getting back together.

2- A smut chapter a few months after Wanda has finally divorced Vision and the Reader and Wanda both live together now (I’ll send the twins to Pietro’s don’t worry)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

Tumblr- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 12 days ago

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Sum of All 15

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You find the kitchen. There’s a woman there. She looks just as surprised as you.

You scuff to a stop across from her and give a toothy smile, “hi.”

She hesitates, “good morning...” Her confusion nestles in her forehead. “Friend of Thor’s?”

You think about it, “I know him. Sorta.”

She pokes her tongue between her lips thoughtfully, “I’m not his wife. Yet. If you and him are... you know...”

“Huh? Oh, no. No.” You show your palms. “That’s definitely not it. A friend of a friend, really.”

“Ah,” she looks almost disappointed that you’re not sleeping with her ‘not husband yet’. “Oh, you must be one of the guests.”

“I guess I would,” you nod. “I’m not tryna impose but do you have somewhere I can hide.”

“Hide?” She echoes.

“Um, I just need space. To think. You gotta know how it is. Right? Girl power?” You cringe.

She snorts, “alright, I can find you somewhere, but you know, they don’t give up.”

“They?”

“The men. These type of men,” her tone turns dire. “You want some coffee? I just made a pot. Be nice to have. Alone.” She turns to open a cupboard, “At least, I imagine so.”

“Sure, uh,” you sway and look over your shoulder. “My caffeine addiction is a bit of a bitch. Pardon my language.”

She pours into a clear double-walled mug and nears. She wears a robe that’s too big for her. It must be Thor’s. Oh, you shouldn’t think too hard about that.

“So, you’re with Rogers, was it? How long have you been together?” She hands over the mug and beckons you to another doorway.

“Together? No, I work for him. I’m an accountant.”

“Uh huh, he just brings his accountant everywhere?”

“Well, he’s doing business with Thor, right? So I’m here to do numbers.”

“Loki can do those and he doesn’t really seem like the type for teamwork,” she says.

“Sure, uh, but... I don’t know.”

“You like flowers? I think your best bet is the gazebo but I can always find some dark corner inside,” she says.

“Oh, outside would be nice. Maybe the fresh air will help with the fainting.”

“Fainting?” She wonders.

“It’s nothing.”

“If you say so,” she shrugs.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Queenie. Obviously I’m... with Thor.”

“Uh, yes, hi,” you introduce yourself in turn.

“Out here,” she guides you through a back door and down a winding path. You marvel at the scenery.

“Wow, this place is so amazing. You really live here?”

“Sure do. At least I can appreciate the flowers,” she agrees.

She doesn’t sound especially elated with her circumstance. You can relate to that. You come up next to her and balance your mug.

“You know, he totally ruined my job.”

“Hm?” She hums.

“Steve. I was supposed to start a new one and he made me come here instead.”

She takes you around to a gazebo and stops at the lower step, “these kinda men also don’t hear no, do they?”

“Yeah, super annoying. Erm, thanks for the coffee. Sorry if I got in your way.”

“Not at all. I’d love to stay and hide with you but... better if I don’t,” she glances toward the house. “If I see him, I never saw you.”

“Thanks,” you blow out in relief. “I owe you.”

“Nah,” she waves you off. “Girl power, right?”

“Yessssss,” you grin.

She turns and traipses away, in no hurry to get back to the house. You climb the steps, careful not to spill, and sit on the bench against the wall. The smell of pollen and leaves tickle your nose. It’s as calm as you’ve been in days. Weeks, even.

As you ruminate with your coffee, you think about Queenie and what she said. How could she think you and Steve are together? From what you gather, he just broke up with someone. Peggy? You can’t keep track.

You empty the mug and leave it on the bench. You watch the birds from between the vine canopy around the gazebo. The day shifts and your stomach stirs. You are hungry.

You sit and take out your phone. Your battery is low. You should save it.

You’re just so frustrated with everything. Not just Steve but yourself. What’s going on with you that you can’t stop passing out like some damsel in distress? I mean, he is scary but he hasn’t hurt you. Yet.

Oh stop that! You’re just here to count. That’s your job. It’s the one thing you know how to do.

You pace around restlessly. You can’t stay here forever. You know that the longer you do, the worse it will be. You’ll be awkward at best and he’ll be angry at most. But he deserves it! How can he just ruin your whole life because he wants to make some shady deal with a criminal like him?

“So, you going to sleep out here or what?” Steve’s timbre makes you trip and you turn to face him.

He stands at the bottom of the stares, arms crossed, jaw set. You can’t see all of him but he still looks massive. And dangerous.

You glower and shake your head. You’re not ready. Yet, what choice do you have? You’re starting to understand those things Queenie said; or rather, didn’t say.

“You’re just gonna give me the silent treatment, huh?” He climbs the stairs heavily so you flinch with each step. “I don’t get it. Got you nice clothes, took you on a nice trip...” You shake your head and angle so your shoulder is to him. “I been nice to you, sweetheart. It’s why I don’t get this fainting business. I haven’t been violent to anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

You lower your chin and stare at your lap. The things you want to say might just earn his violence. So you’re better off to stay quiet.

“We have an agreement. You gotta do the numbers,” he nears, a shadow mirroring your own. “So...”

“I had an agreement with someone else!” You stand and stomp your foot. “I had a job, an apartment, I had--” You blink and gulp, filling your cheeks with air as you catch your exasperation. You back up and shake your head. “Sorry... no, I’m not sorry. But I am...” you gesture helplessly. “Why me? Why do I have to come here? I didn’t want to!”

You dare to look at him. You can’t read his face. His eyes flick up and down. He pushes his jacket back and slides his hands in his pockets.

“Cause I wanted you to.”

“Because-- because—that's it? Because you felt like it?”

His cheek dimples and he clicks your tongue, “are we being honest, right now? Is that what this is because you’re toeing a lot of lines, sweetheart.”

Your lips thin and you hug yourself. “I guess.”

“Alright, let’s be honest,” he steps closer and the back of your legs touch the bench behind you. “I think you’re cute. I like the way you get all wobbly-headed and I like catching you when you lose it. It’s fun.”

“Fun?” You scoff. “It’s not--” you blink and shake off the ripple in your vision, “no...”

“It’s gonna happen now, isn’t it?” His mouth slants.

“No,” you argue and raise your hand, extending your arm to keep your balance. You reach behind you and slowly sit. “I’m not going to pass out.”

“Oh, you’re not? Not knowing that I like to toy with you,” he gets even closer, bending to look you in the face. “That I’m not even close to done with you?” You inhale deeply as that woozy glaze fogs your head. His eyes are so blue, so bold. He grabs your chin. “That I’m gonna play with you until you’re broken and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

You gurgle and latch onto his wrist. He chuckles as you try to pull him off of you, instead leaning into him as your brain speckles hotly. Oh no. Your lashes flutter and stick as he eases you forward. Your body slackens and you’re hurled into the blackness once more.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #sum of all #mob au #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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wheeboo · 10 months ago

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big spoon, little spoon | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which ask your boyfriend if he wants to be big spoon or little spoon. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing (in the dark lmao), one curse word, terms of endearment, just boo being rlly affectionate :< WORD COUNT. 1.2k

requested from anon: congrats on 2k lovely!!! ❤️❤️❤️ for ur event may i please req seungkwan + #6 list one? thank u ahhhhh and congrats again - #6: "I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms."

notes: thank u my love !! i hope u enjoy <3 i had too much fun writing this pls 😭😭

join the 2k celebration!

"Okay, so big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

Seungkwan just freezes from where he stood in the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still dangling at his lips with bits of foam at the corners of his mouth. You're literally staring at him like you're waiting for him to answer and that it wasn't actually a rhetorical question.

"Are you asking me𑁋okay, wait." He marches back into the bathroom to hastily spit and rinse out his mouth, before coming back out with determination in his step. "Are you asking me if I want to be big spoon or little spoon?"

There's a playful lift to your lips as you sit down on the edge of his bed, and Seungkwan can very much see that slight mischievous look to your features. He can already feel the heat of the moment shoot up towards his ears, and he prays that the room is dark enough to hide it.

"Yeah, I am. Since, you know, we always sorta switch around every day," You say, nodding with a teasing grin. "And, well... I'm being considerate, as your partner and all. I gotta know all your preferences..."

God, Seungkwan feels like he's sinking into quicksand at his feet. Are you really at his place every day? He hardly ever thought about how often you were here, like how these nightly rituals had practically become routine now. He swears his heart does a little happy flip-flop at the thought.

It all started with movie night dates that bled into you two eating breakfast together, dinner dates that turned into you helping wash dishes at three in the morning, and then that particular comfortable silence that settled completely at this point. Every day, there always seems to be another reason for you to stay a little longer, another excuse to linger until the streetlights cast an orange glow through his curtains.

And Seungkwan knows he won't ever get tired of it𑁋he won't ever get tired of having you around. Not now. Not anytime soon. Not ever.

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling whatever embarrassment he had in his chest start to dissipate and replaced by a rush of warmth.

"Okay, well, as your very considerate and caring boyfriend..." He crosses his arms together. "what do you prefer?"

You purse your lips together, as if deep in thought. You didn't mind being either little or big spoon, but the thought of Seungkwan having his arms around you right now𑁋if you could describe it𑁋felt like being wrapped by a warm cloud, a feeling of pure, weightless security that chases away all possible worries.

But it isn't just about the comfort, although it's certainly a big part of it. It was the feeling of being safe and cherished, completely enveloped in his embrace. It was the feeling of home.

A slow smile graces across your face.

"I'll take little spoon," You answer gleefully, already crawling more onto his bed and tucking yourself under the covers with a little wiggle. Whatever façade Seungkwan had been putting up crumbles completely at the sight. A blush creeps up his neck, barely visible in the dim light, but his smile widens.

He chuckles softly as he joins you on the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. After flicking the lampshade off, he carefully maneuvers himself right beside you until he feels your warmth hit his skin. Then he slowly circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body, with your back meeting his chest. A low, contented hum leaves his lips as he simply holds you.

You wriggle in slightly, and he adjusts his hold, letting an arm curve over your stomach and the other one under your body to pull you even closer, fingers momentarily brushing against the hem of your shirt. You feel your legs entangle together under the blanket, and you swear the world gets smaller, quieter.

Seungkwan thinks you fit perfectly in his arms; it's like you've always belonged there.

"Comfortable?" he asks, voice muffled against you.

Your chest rises up and down with a soft sigh. "Mhm..."

The moments that pass are purely silence as he continues to hold you. You could probably fall asleep at this second, yet you feel the way Seungkwan's hand drifts lower from your waist, tracing gentle circles on the fabric of your shirt above your stomach. It's light, just barely there, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

And then you feel him moving around behind you, breath tickling your skin, before his lips press a brief, tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

Maybe you can sense the small smile to his face right afterwards, too.

"You're so soft," he mutters, but there's a bit of tentativeness to his tone.

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. "I𑁋Aren't we supposed to be trying to sleep?"

"Sorry," Seungkwan apologises, but you can still hear the smile in his voice. He presses another gentle kiss to your neck, then draws back, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. "Just like holding you like this."

The giggle that leaves you is shaky, nervous, as if there's a small, timid butterfly trapped in your ribcage struggling to take flight. He can probably hear the way your heart is pounding like a damn drum right now, but he doesn't comment on it. Thank goodness.

A thought crosses your mind, and it takes you a minute to cave into flipping yourself over to face him. A groan escapes him from the sudden change in position, but he quickly settles. The two of you can't really see each other that well since the room was basically suspended in darkness, but you can clearly feel his presence beside you, all comforting and familiar.

"I like being held by you too," You confess quietly, each syllable laced with your own hesitancy. "I... I don't think I have ever felt safer than in your arms, to be honest."

The sound of Seungkwan's breath hitching echoes throughout the room. Are the walls closing in? He's not hallucinating or imagining any of this, right? He wishes he could pinch himself, but he's busy holding you, and you're the only thought filling his mind right now.

He leans in closer, ever so slowly. He can see the faint outline of your face thanks to the sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains.

But just as his lips are about to meet yours, you feel a sudden contact at the tip of your nose. You flinch a little, scrunching your nose up for a second, and Seungkwan pulls back immediately with a gasp.

"Oh my go𑁋did I just𑁋" He stammers frantically, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, uh..."

"Baby," You call out affirmingly, aimlessly bringing a hand up to cup his face through the darkness. Then you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, or specifically... the corner of his mouth. Close enough, anyway. "There we go."

Seungkwan just blinks, eyelashes batting furiously as he feels you shrink back into his hold. This time, you place your head at the crook of his neck, breathing fanning against his skin and making him shiver in your hold, even though he's supposed to be the big spoon.

"Let's go to sleep," You murmur lowly, and if he wasn't used to how pretty your voice sounds when you're tired by now, he should really get his shit together.

And so, Seungkwan just secures his hold around you, but not before mouthing a set of three words that he knows you can't see in the darkness, but hopes you can feel in his embrace.

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minswriting · 2 months ago

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Do I Wanna Know? - Step-Brother Spencer Reid x Reader

About: It’s not easy fucking for your nerdy and hot step-brother when feelings become involved.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, step-cest, step brother spencer, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, guilt, shame, unspoken pining, etc.

Word Count: 1702

“Have you got color in your cheeks?

Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift

The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in so deep?

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.”

Your mother married her husband a few months ago. At a time when they had only been together for a few months but they apparently just “knew” it was meant to be. Who were you to judge, really? If you know, you know. You were just glad that your mother was relatively happy. There was also that added bonus of having a very new step-brother.

Spencer Reid, a profiler for the BAU and now your step-brother, was this nerdy guy. He had an eidetic memory, dressed like a grandpa, and was extremely hot for no reason. The day you met him, you were overwhelmed by his attractiveness. And he was so awkward too, adding to the appeal. You don’t see him often strictly due to his work and the fact that he lives in D.C while you live in Las Vegas. But when he does, it’s as though you’re in heaven. And tomorrow, Spencer is flying out to visit.

“How many secrets can you keep?

‘Cause there’s this tune I found

That makes me think of you somehow

And I play it on repeat

Until I fall asleep

Spilling drinks on my settee.”

Spencer: I can’t wait to see you.

You: I can’t wait to have your face buried between my thighs.

Your phone buzzed with another text.

Spencer: That will be divine.

You couldn’t help the smirk that traveled on to your face. You remember the first time you ever initiated anything with Spencer. It was a month after the wedding. He had flown back to Las Vegas for a case he was working on and decided to stay at the house rather than in a hotel with his team members. You noticed the way he had looked at you whenever you guys saw one another. Like you were forbidden fruit. But he was always too awkward, too shy to say anything to you. You guys hardly spoke unless necessary.

That was until you cornered him one night after he had gotten back at three in the morning after his case had been concluded. You remember the words you had spoken to him. “I see the way you look at me,” You had said quietly but seductively. That night you had gotten on your knees and gave him the worlds best blow job imaginable. And ever since then, the two of you had a very secret thing going on.

Late night phone calls, sexy photos, videos of one another sent privately. The past few months had been absolutely blissful. The amount of orgasms that you had every week was astounding and you were absolutely never sick of it. Because you got to hear the hot and sexy sounds that Dr. Spencer Reid, your step-brother, make.

As the months had gone on, these late night phone calls would turn into more than just sex. Talks about your days, life, books you both had been reading, the shows you’ve been watching. What was supposed to be nothing more than physical was slowly becoming emotional. At least for you. These days you often wonder if Spencer felt a similar way. But that didn’t matter as much. You would never allow yourself to cross the emotional territory. Or at least you’d never actively admit it.

“(Do I wanna know?)

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you’d stay.

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made

For saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

The day Spencer had arrived, you spent the day teasing him. You wore a red dress that covered just enough to be considered appropriate. But if you bent over in the slightest, which you certainly did, you could see the sexy red lingerie set you wore underneath, Spencer’s absolute favorite on you. He hadn’t had the opportunity to see it in person until now. After your family dinner and your parents had gone to bed, you had dragged Spencer to the bedroom, not even bothering to take your time.

Maybe it’s the way his tongue moves around your cunt, lapping up your juices. Or the way Spencer sucks on your clit, doing whatever he can to bring you the most pleasure. All you know is that you have to try your damn hardest to keep quiet, to make sure neither your mother or his father wake up to hear what their children are up to. Spencer’s face is buried in your pussy, tonguing your hole while his nose runs against your clit. If hell were real, you definitely would be going with how much you enjoy fucking your step-brother. And it would be absolutely worth it if you get to live this lifetime underneath Spencer.

When you finish twice from his tongue, Spencer finally removes his face from your cunt. His face glimmering from your juices as he reaches his hands to undo his shirt. You were already naked, something Spencer had done as soon as you closed the door of the bedroom. As he took off his shirt, Spencer licked his lips, looking at you with a look that you couldn’t quite interpret.

You knew this was wrong. So ridiculously wrong. He was practically family, at least legally. He was supposed to be your brother, someone you can depend on. Well you certainly depend on Spencer for something. And it’s certainly not for anything family friendly either. You’ve tried calling it quits. Three weeks in, you tried leaving it be by not calling Spencer or texting him. You only lasted a day before you started craving him again.

“Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

‘Cause I always do.

Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.

Now, I’ve thought it through

Crawling back to you.”

With you laying on your back while Spencer pounds into you like his life depended on it, you were absolutely trying so hard not to moan like the slut you know you are. You had a fist to your mouth while you looked at Spencer, who was leaned over you, arms on either side of your head, while his cock was thrusting in and out of your tight pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Spencer whispered shakily, looking at you in your eyes. “So tight. I could be buried inside you forever.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips as you looked back up at Spencer. The look in his eye. the one you can’t quite put a name to, was still there. Lust? Guilt? Love? It couldn’t possibly be the last one.

“Have you got the guts?

Been wondering if your heart’s still open

And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts

Simmer down and pucker up

I’m so sorry to interrupt, it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp

Of trying to kiss you

I don’t know if you feel the same way as I do

But we could be together if you wanted to.”

His lips went to yours, kissing you like you were his last breath and he needed you to hold on for life. His cock plunging into you at a rapid pace. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin and the wet sounds of your pussy. Had your mother and his father been awake, they’d certainly question the noises going on.

“(Do I wanna know)

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made

For saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you (crawling back to you)

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (You've had a few?)

'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)

Maybe I'm too (maybe I'm too busy)

Busy being yours (being yours)

To fall for somebody new

Now, I've thought it through

Crawling back to you”

You could feel the heat building in your abdomen as Spencer’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper moaned, breaking off the kiss. “So close, Spence.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Cum for me like a good girl.” He continued his movements, fucking you to completion.

You let out a whine, trying hard to not be loud as your orgasm grew closer. Spencer reached down between the two of you, rubbing your clit. And you gasped loudly, bringing your hand back to your mouth as your walls tightened around Spencer’s cock. Within seconds you were cumming, hard, spilling your juices onto his cock and onto the mattress. Your back arched as you came, your toes curling from the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

Spencer followed you, cumming inside of you with ropes and ropes of his cum, filling you with not a single care in the world. Maybe it was a sick thought on his part. Maybe if he got you pregnant, he could finally claim you as his. Or maybe that was just your fantasy. You were on the pill, it was very unlikely.

Afterwards, it’s the cuddling. The soft words spoken about how beautiful you are and how good you did that make your heart flutter in your chest. The way Spencer looked at you with that same look. And in your heart you absolutely knew what that look was. Love. Adoration. Mesmerized by you. Your step-brother loved you. Just like you loved him.

But you’d never admit it out loud. Neither of you would. Because your circumstances wouldn’t allow for such a thing to happen.

So in the shadows you guys remain, caught in your own little bubble where it’s nothing more than sex. But the calls while he’s away become more frequent, more about missing one another and wanting to hear each other. Many words spoken and yet many remained unspoken. Just as it will remain.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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imyourbratzdoll · 7 months ago

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Hiii <3 I was wondering if u could do a smut of Luke where the reader is lorelais daughter (reader is 18 ofc) but Luke is still with Lorelai (so like a cheating, quickie, sorta thing) hopefully that makes senseee i need more Luke stuff ugh he's so sexy

hi! he is🤭

summary - your mums boyfriend is so hot, it’s unfair that only she gets to have him.

warning - smut, cheating, creampie, dirty talk, slut used.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips.

Your lip curls as you watch Luke with your mum. Why did he have to be so hot? And so sweet? Couldn’t he be one or the other? Why both? You shovel some food into your mouth, hoping that it hides the look on your face. You loved your mum but you wanted her boyfriend.

Luke seemed oblivious to your attempts, no matter how many times you had worn short, tight clothes or bent over in front of him while wearing a mini skirt or brushed up against him or made sexual remarks. He never seemed to flinch, like it went over his head.

You were growing frustrated, there weren’t as many hot older men in Stars Hollow and you didn’t want to waste your time with the younger ones. Maybe you could drive out of town and find someone to hook up with, anyone to make these feelings go away.

When your mum and Luke went upstairs, bidding their goodnights to you and Rory. You rushed to your room, slipping into a tiny tight black dress, ruffling up your hair, swiping some red lipstick across your lips, spritzing your favourite perfume all over before grabbing your favourite pair of black heels and rushing out of the room, your sister watching you with raised brows.

“Please don’t say anything!” You whisper, pouting at her hoping that she’ll stay quiet.

“Just be careful, I’ll leave the key under the turtle.” She goes back to her book and you smile, quickly kissing the top of her head before rushing out of the house and hoping into your car.

You were disappointed and sexually frustrated. There were literally no men that you wanted here, sure. You had seen some attractive ones but whenever you’d think about doing anything with them. Your mind went back to Luke and it ruined it for you. Just like your sister had promised, you grabbed the key from under the turtle and quietly opened the front door, hoping to sneak in without being caught.

You let out a sigh as you tiptoed through the dark house, heels in hand. You made it to your room, entering and closing the door behind you. You drop your heels and strip from your dress before heading over and turning the lamp on, light coating the room and revealing Luke sitting in a chair in the corner, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“What the shit?!” You jump, trying to cover yourself, thighs pressing together as you feel your knickers become damp. “Why are you in my room?!”

“Where were you?” Fuck he looked and sounded so good, you felt so exposed… Well, you were in just your knickers.

“The bathroom…”

Luke raises a brow. “Really? Because I checked the whole house and not once did I see you.” He stands, towering over you. “Now, where were you?”

“You’re not my dad. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Luke smirks. “….That’s right, I’m not.” He stalks closer to you, backing you into your bed causing you to fall. He climbs on top of you, trapping you underneath his large body. “Which means I can do this.”

“Do wha—.” You moan before it’s muffled by his hand, his other playing with your clothed clit.

“Don’t act like you don’t want this, you little slut. I’m not blind or deaf to you trying to gain my attention.” Luke rips your knickers from your body, groaning as he finds you already dripping, he quickly whips his cock from his boxers. “Such a slut for your mums boyfriend? You do this with all of them or just me?”

You whimper, not being able to reply because his hand presses against your mouth harder. Your eyes roll back when he slides deep inside of you. “So fucking tight for me, guess you didn’t find someone to get you off, huh?” You shake your head.

Luke grunts beside your ear, “this ain’t going to be slow and sweet, I’m going to fuck you so hard and then go back to sleep next to your mother.” You clench around him, his free hand gripping your hip as he begins to pound into you, hitting all the right spots.

Your eyes connect and you wrap your legs around him, making him go deeper. Luke fucks into you harder and faster, causing you to see stars. Your hands grip at his back, not caring if you leave marks and it only seems to spur Luke on.

He changes the angle slightly and your back arches, happy that he’s covering your mouth because you felt a scream bubble in your throat. Your walls tighten and clench around him as your orgasm washes over you and your arousal squirts out, coating his dick and lower half.

“Good girl.” Luke continues to thrust before burying himself deeper and letting go, hot cum shooting out of him and painting your tight walls white. “Fuck.” You whimper as he pulls out, delivering a harsh slap to your puffy clit before tucking himself back into his boxers and walks out, not sparing you a single glance.

You lie there with a dazed smile, all fucked out and tingly.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 4 months ago

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Whump Prompt #1360

Whumptober #10: Slurred Words

A: “B, do you copy? Where are you?”

B: “‘m here… sort of… kinda cozy in this corner…”

A: “There you are! Are you alright? What’s your status?”

B: “Status… uh… bit fuzzy, but I’m still kickin’… well, kinda… head’s… spinny.”

A: “B, did you hit your head? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

B: “Um… was tryin’ to… get to, uh… sector …can’t remember. Everything’s sorta… blurry, y’know?”

A: “Okay, okay. Just hang on. Keep talking to me. I’m tracking your signal, but you need to stay awake.”

B: “Aw, c’mon… I’m not… not goin’ anywhere… room’s doin’ enough spinnin’ for both of us…”

A: “Yeah, I bet. Just keep that radio on, alright? No shutting down on me.”

B: “Hey… do I sound funny to you? Can’t… can’t get my mouth to… to say things right…”

A: “You’re doing fine. Tell me what you’re seeing.”

B: “Uh… somethin’ like… a hallway… I think… and some kinda… uh, blue light… real pretty…”

A: “I’m almost there. Just stay focused on that light, alright? Talk to me. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get you out of there?”

B: “Gonna… take the longest… nap… maybe grab… somethin’ to eat… got this craving for… uh… pizza…”

A: “Pizza sounds good. Hang tight, B. We’ll get you that pizza, after we get you to a doctor.”

There’s a distinctive groan over the radio, and A can’t help but chuckle.

B: “With sides?”

A: “If you don’t fight the doctors this time.”

B: “...f-fine.”

#whump #whumptober #whumptober2024 #writing #prompts #long prompt #dialogue prompt #search and rescue #head injury #trying to stay awake #clint barton core

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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

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Head spinning from blood loss, Eddie still manages to keep up a steady stream of curses as he lies in Steve’s arms, as he feels the jolt of Steve sprinting through The Upside Down.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking bullshit, fuck.”

“Good,” Steve says, frantic and out of breath. “Good, that’s—keep it up, Henderson says it can be, like, a sorta pain relief? Something about—”

“Fuck.” This time, Eddie chuckles through it. “S’not why I’m saying it.”

“No?” Steve says in that weird, measured tone that just silently screams panic, panic, panic. “Why?”

“Jus’ making sure,” Eddie says, and he knows that doesn’t make sense yet, can’t quite get his brain to work everything out. “Those’d be shit last words, so. They won’t be. You… fuck, ow. You know? Here lies Eddie Munson: fuck.”

Steve laughs, maybe a little hysterical, a little desperate, but mostly genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be really embarrassing, man.”

Eddie suddenly can’t find the energy to act insulted, even though he badly wants to make Steve laugh again—but it turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Steve keeps talking.

“D’you know what that would be, though? A damn good yearbook quote.”

And Eddie laughs, too—laughs even though it hurts. “C’mon, man, Higgins would never let—”

“Eddie,” Steve manages to drawl out, even as he dextrously weaves through the vines on the ground, like Eddie’s just said something particularly naive. “You think Higgins looks over the yearbooks? You just gotta sweet-talk the yearbook committee, they pay the printers to turn a blind eye, and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m known for. Sweet-talking,” Eddie says. He tries very hard not to cough, has the horrible feeling that he might tear himself in two if he does.

“Don’t sell yourself short, dude,” Steve says.

And Eddie would blame that on the blood loss for making him hear things, but then Steve’s hands gently squeeze around him like he means it, and…

“So what… what was your yearbook quote, Harrington?” Eddie says. He firmly ignores the fact that his voice is becoming increasingly slurred.

Steve picks up the pace, kicks through the door into the trailer. His breath hitches once, but not from physical strain; Eddie knows that he’s frightened.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve replies, chiding, because he’s so goddamn brave, too. “Not telling you that until we get out of this.”

“Tease,” Eddie says.

But he must not get it out very clearly, because as Steve heads to the Gate, he murmurs, “Stay with me, Eddie.”

There’s some rope Steve had stashed in the corner of the living room, just in case, and Robin and Nancy must’ve made use of it to get Dustin through, because it’s already hovering in the air, waiting for them.

“Okay,” Steve says, half to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Eddie attempts a nod. The room spins.

Or maybe it’s just that they’re moving somehow, that Steve’s pulling them both up the rope, somehow not letting go of Eddie; and then he can hear muted yells from the other side, and he’s being lifted up on his own, like he’s ascending to heaven or some bullshit like that, and he almost wants to demand a re-mark on his English paper, because religious symbolism is fucking hilarious, actually.

“You’re a goddamn trapeze artist, Harrington,” he says, and Steve must hear him this time, because there’s a laugh from just behind him, a fucking beautiful laugh, and then Eddie’s falling, and he’s—

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and his hand goes to his side instinctively, and he didn’t think he had much more blood in his body left to lose, but… “Oh, shit.”

His vision tilts sickeningly, and right before he passes out, he sees Steve appear in front of him, sees his face turn white.

“Eddie,” he’s saying, “Nance, what do I—oh my god—”

When Eddie wakes up, everything is fuzzy, his head full of cotton. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he has enough awareness not to panic about, that he somehow knows isn’t blood.

“So?” he says through the fog, lifts his eyelids just enough to see Steve is beside him. “What’s your yearbook quote?”

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Steve says with a smile, but he’s speaking in the thick, nasal tones of someone who’s been crying. “Thought you were on stuff that makes you forget all the stupid shit.”

“S’not stupid,” Eddie says indignantly.

For some reason, Steve’s eyes soften. “If you say so. Just rest right now, Eddie.”

“Can’t,” Eddie moans. He’s already made the mistake of looking up: the lights are too bright, quickly turning into nauseating swirls. “Feel sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “They said that’s normal. Hey, shh, just lie back. It’ll pass.”

But Eddie shakes his head and—ooh, shit, not a good idea.

“Y’should move, man,” he says. “Don’t wanna puke on you.”

Steve scoffs. “Eddie, you could literally throw up in my hair, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Eddie laughs, feels a bit pathetic that it comes out wet around the edges. “I just… wanna sleep,” he says, because he does, but he knows the nausea will keep him up—feels abruptly tearful, like he had done as a child with whooping cough, up for the whole night despite his fatigue.

“Here,” Steve says. “Close your eyes.”

And as he does so, Eddie feels a soothingly cool palm across his forehead. Steve. It’s such a gentle touch, such a kind touch that Eddie thinks he might cry—thinks he can only partly blame whatever drugs he’s on.

“Better?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Eddie agrees. And then, like a fool, he hurriedly says, “Don’t stop, though,” out of fear that Steve will draw his hand back at the answer.

Steve doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease him even the slightest bit.

“I won’t,” he says, like an oath. His thumb rubs over Eddie’s temple. “M’sorry you feel shitty.”

“It’s okay. You’re right, it’s passing. Think… think it was just… lookin’ at the lights.”

Eddie sighs without meaning to, lulled by the repetitive path Steve’s fingers are tracing, over and over.

“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes closed, then.” Steve hums softly, just in thought, not even close to a lullaby, but Eddie feels himself starting to drift off to it anyway.

“It’s a nice room you’ve got,” Steve says. “I would’ve rioted if it wasn’t. Big window. Just a view of the parking lot, sorry, not exactly five stars.” Another hum. “Kinda pretty in its own way, though. It’s getting a bit warmer. I saw—the other day, I looked out and saw these kids, there’s some grass a little bit away from… they were making daisy chains, I think. Was never good at… couldn’t get ‘em to tie right. So I’d just kinda tug at the grass, and… Hey, d’you know, some of the kids—like, our kids, I mean—they don’t even know about the buttercup thing, holding it to see if it like, glows, under your chin? I told Max about it when she got outta here—shh, she’s okay—and she just looked at me like I was crazy. She’s good at daisy chains, man, she told Lucas it was five dollars per flower and he paid it all, wore the damn thing on his wrist for the whole day. Stupidly sweet, but I couldn’t even say so or she’d, like, punch me.”

And Eddie’s used to painting a picture with words, used to creating fantastical landscapes out of thin air during campaigns. But as Steve goes on, talking about the kids (their kids), and flowers, and all the little signs of spring that he can’t see, Eddie falls asleep thinking that Steve’s given him the most beautiful, ever-changing view: how he sees the world.

Eddie doesn’t forget about the yearbook, but he doesn’t bring it up, simply because Steve keeps quiet about it.

It’s after a few weeks of the dust settling, reassurances that the nightmare’s over: of seeing Wayne and breaking down in tears of relief, of countless visits from everyone—mostly Dustin, second only to Wayne, of course; Eddie still says Steve’s tied for second place, at least, but Dustin insists it doesn’t count whenever Steve’s only there fleetingly to drop him off before heading to work.

It’s on an afternoon when he’s not expecting anyone, and Steve comes in, drops the yearbook right on top of his blankets.

Eddie looks down at it, hovers his hand over the front cover until Steve raises one eyebrow, as if to say, go ahead.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to find him. The picture is… there’s something beautifully imperfect about it, as if Steve had been caught by surprise by the flash going off when it did, lips tilted into a smile that’s relaxed rather than the typical rigid, picture-perfect look.

Eddie thinks that he finally gets what Wayne means whenever he says someone has ‘soulful eyes.’

And underneath the little box framing Steve’s picture, there’s…

There’s nothing. It doesn’t stand out, because not everyone on that page had opted to have a quote, but…

Eddie looks up. Steve shrugs, but his eyes are downcast.

“Yeah, sorry.” His voice is quiet; Eddie can hear a touch of embarrassment, and he hates it. “It’s not even… I didn’t even choose to keep it blank, really, the yearbook committee gave the deadline so far in advance, it… I had the time. Could’ve put anything.” He shrugs again. “Guess I couldn’t… guess I just, um… had nothing to say.”

Eddie closes the book. Sets it aside. Doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He gets it. If it’s even possible for him to be included in a yearbook, he’s confident he’d do the same—how do you even begin to sum up…? There’s nothing he could say about this year.

There are no words for it. For any of it.

But Eddie knows the ones that count.

“Tell me about work,” he says. He has the feeling Steve’s determinedly squeezed in a visit during his lunch break, his name tag askew.

Steve smiles, wrinkles his nose uncertainly. “But that’s so boring.”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Maybe I like hearing what you have to say.”

Steve looks up finally; he smiles a little like he had in the photograph, as if something like a flash has surprised him.

And he talks about work.

But it’s more than that; it’s so much more. Eddie’s getting to see through a precious window.

He hears about how Steve noticed Robin wearing odd socks, and he only teased her about it when he was sure it wasn’t a deliberate twist on fashion she was trying out. How the sun meant it was hard to see the T.V, so he drew the blinds when no customers were around, made it feel like him and Robin had their own private cinema. And Eddie smiles fondly when Steve recalls smelling some kind of coconut perfume he couldn’t place, and Robin had started a list guessing names, just because he said it reminded him of a family vacation when he was four.

Eddie sees it all.

He doesn’t need clever one liners, or statements of grandeur.

He just needs Steve’s words.

#a thank u ficlet for all the kind messages ❤️ nbtdad getting worked on will be ready as soon as i can make it❤��#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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richeeduvie · 6 months ago

Text

Birds of a Feather - PART ONE?

Darkish!Aaron Hotchner x Reader Sorry Lalo and Roman girlies I was on an Criminal Minds binge and I had to...and I also want to write more idkidk

It's moments he's remembering, from when you joined the team to when Aaron realized there was feelings in him for you. It all comes down to use for the justification of things he's done. He will do.

The person he's become for you. For you. That three letter word is easier on the tongue than the word because. It's less of an excuse that way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

WARNING: Mentions of death, violence, things of a graphic nature. Criminal minds stuff. Jealous, possessive Hotchner. Entitled behavior. Toxic behavior and relationships. OC!Hotch sorta cause I don't think he'd turn into this crazy of a person, but reader's just that hot lol. More tags to come maybe cause Hotch is only going to get worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Aaron never thought that the person that would change him would be the woman who smiled too much. He never thought this change would come harshly - all for you, the one who joined the BAU's team 6 months ago.

The one who currently has the whole team looking for their retainer case, including him.

He's almost silent when his head hits the bottom of the jet table. But Aaron hears your giggle and he's sure he hears Rossi's smile.

"I don't think it's right for you to have the leader of this team on the floor to help you and then for you to laugh at him."

"Oh, lighten up on the kid, Hotch."

Aaron stays under the table, Rossi's not able to catch the stern, even sterner way he looks there at the older man's words.

"And I'm not understanding why you - on how we have let Rossi off the hook when it comes to finding your retainer case."

Aaron's voice stays leveled talking to you, never rising in tone or going low. It's him as he always is, but under the table with you. It's not different.

It's not different. The way the blood in his cheeks come warm, it's not different. And it has to be that way for a multitude of reasons.

"We've silently agreed it's because he's old. Or, that's what I assume. And I assume I'm right."

It's Spencer coming out from the bathroom, his voice dragging out the word 'old' factually, casual. Not unkind, just the way Spencer is - and it makes the team smile and scoff. Or both. Unless you're the team's leader, then Spencer's words only bring a simple, slight curve to the corners of his mouth.

And what was barely there in humor drops at the sight of you smiling at Spencer. Spencer's words. Not at Spencer. It's all innocent.

What it is shouldn't matter anyway.

It drops, Aaron ignores the uneven, heavy feeling around his chest to the point he doesn't know why it's there when he can't anymore.

You smile too much.

"I'm old, and when you're old, you'll take the word as an insult when it is, and you'll use your age as an advantage when it benefits you. I think if my bad knees were going to ever be beneficial, it'd be now."

"I'll take your word for it, Dave."

"I think it's a great show of a leader to do this for one of their members of the team. To put in the work to find something very valuable to me."

"...It's a retainer case."

You smile at Aaron. He doesn't blink, but his eyes are never wide. There's nothing to smile about.

"And it wasn't in the bathroom."

"I don't think it's anywhere on this plane, my love."

Derek sits back in his seat, almost slumped when he does. "I know this seems dorkish, I think Reid being my plane seat partner recently has been affecting me, but I'm in the mood for a board game. Sorry, Reid."

You can see Reid turn to Derek Morgan to J.J across from them, then back to Reid.

"What's so dorkish about board games?"

"Come on, man. When you hear the word board games, do you think of the word cool, do you imagine a cool person who constantly plays board games?"

"I think of them as a way to cheaply and effectively spend time with loved ones and friends while igniting competition and entertainment. My favorite is Clue if we're going for a more simple conversation, but there are many, especially more modern ones that require more strategy, have deeper narratives, or are particularly just beautiful in design. I'd have to see a list."

Derek smiles with teeth at J.J. She leans her head back and smiles without.

"I feel like the point I was trying to make was proven there."

"What point?"

Your smile never lets up. It doesn't make Hotch smile, but it makes him unable to turn away.

With you, he's beginning to have moments where he doesn't understand why he does the things that he does. It goes against everything he's ever learned. But, he's not about to profile himself to see if he can fix that. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe he'll be able to look away, and you'll stop being someone whose smile and eyes and tilt of the head makes him warm and nearly angry. You don't deserve that anger even if you don't know it's there.

"I think going up against Spencer in a boardgame is a losing game. But I kinda want to, now."

"...Let's get up."

You listen to him, taking his hand when he helps you rise on your feet.

"I think I'll take to the corner, do a cognitive interview on myself to see if I can remember where I put the fuc...damn thing."

"I've told you to watch your language."

You have a problem with swearing. You have the skill of making it sound bright, charming. It's unprofessional. Hotch doesn't know or care to see the way his group softens their banter to look at you and him.

"I just did, I feel proud of myself. But sorry."

He doesn't say anything, but he watches your throat bob.

"And it may be a retainer case with my retainer, but not just just, Mr. Hotchner. Mr. Hotchner, Sir. Mr-"

"Don't hurt yourself, kid."

Your smile turns to Rossi, Hotch tilts his head - moves his body into your line of sight a bit more.

You're talking to him right now, it's unprofessional to suddenly shift the conversation, especially when it's one you were having with your boss. An explanation, but you don't have to smile at him the way you do. Aaron will take what he can get.

"But it'll probably be less than a week and a half before my teeth start to shift. That's thousands of dollars down the drain, all those wire tightening appointments poor seven year old me had to go through will have been in vain."

"She's right. No matter how rigorous the medical process is to literally break the gums so your teeth can shift into a more aesthetically pleasing position, it's almost as if your mouth has memory to shift them back-"

"No need for the ortho lesson, Spence." Emily takes a sip of her coffee, it clearing down her throat. "I can say with experience and visual evidence that if you don't wear those little plastic molds of your teeth for the rest of your life, they'll punish you by moving back."

The black-haired agent bares her bottom teeth and its slight crookedness. J.J leans in, Spencer tilts his head.

"It looks nice, still."

"Did you start to wear them after you noticed them shifting?"

Emily takes another sip. "Hell no."

You and Hotch turn away from that conversation as you sit in your corner. Settling. He watches you settle.

"Or I could just get braces again. I don't know how many people would take a twenty-six year old with braces seriously in this field but...we'll see."

The silence settles with you for a bit, no one expects Hotch to say anything. Hotch doesn't expect himself to say anything.

"I've been thinking about getting Jack braces."

They certainly don't expect it's something so personal. Personal for him, suddenly personal. And they - Reid, Morgan, J.J, Prentiss, Rossi, they've seen how the stern, small-eyed stare of Aaron Hotchner gets even more...silently harsh at the sight of you. Garcia would agree if she was here. So for that personal comment to be brought upon you, the charming, all-too-bright newbie? They can't help but stare.

But Rossi, Dave - he's a step ahead, he could question a thing or two about what it could mean.

You look at Aaron. He doesn't look away. He can't. He wants to.

He wants to look away. He doesn't know if he does.

"Oh. Well, tell the little man it's worth it in the end...and that the ortho-guy is lying, you can eat as many chips and nuts as you want."

Aaron doesn't nod, but his eyes are enough. "I'll be sure to tell him."

He turns to go back to seat before he can catch another smile, not yours, anyway.

"What?"

Rossi takes to looking out the window, Aaron looks at...files, he'll focus on the lines and catch-up work. There's nothing to turn away from when you're behind him.

"I think she did really well on this case."

"You'd be right." There's a pause. "Is there anything else?"

"I think that'd be you to decide."

His eyes flicker up to the older man. It's that type of comment, that insinuation that would get anyone else reprimanded, whether or not they're in front of the rest of the team. But David Rossi is David Rossi, there's a reason why he's so bold now, fixing that reason is not anywhere near Hotch's list of priorities. He's too tired now, at least.

And yet, he's always the last to fall asleep on the plane ride home. He turns behind him just to check. In your time here, they've learned you're second to last.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Out of the line-up to pick someone new, readily skilled and able to fit in with the BAU, Aaron knew it would be you. From a completely platonic and professional perspective, you were it. You had to be, it's something he can admit. Your name didn't reach him by a resume or interview, but the moment he met you, Aaron knew you would be an asset to the team.

And maybe, from a more personalized perspective, he thought Reid would do well with someone younger with them for the work.

But to be twenty-six, that's three years between now and your graduation with a public college in New York - and in those three years, you did quite a lot. Impressive work for someone so young. Nothing of titles or accreditation, but when his team is called out to find the killer of three women and your profile is at the center of it, it calls into question as to whether or not Aaron should make use of your talents, to let that go unappreciated would've been a mistake. He remembers how the team agreed.

Girl Sherlock. Silly. Silly girl. He doesn't care when anyone is named, killer or hero - but you deserve a better one.

It was a killer with no name in Virginia, so they didn't have to go far for the investigation, but you did. You came in the day they did, papers and files in your hand. A coat too big for you to wear. You look like you couldn't handle the cold, even though he wouldn't agree that it was cold at all that day.

"H-hi. Hello. I never thought I would have the chance to bother the FBI, but I...fuck."

He remembers Morgan's brow rising, his was already raised.

"Sorry, I didn't think this would be nerve-wracki...."

You trailed off when your eyes caught Aaron. A nervous, young woman who obviously wasn't from Virginia. Someone who possibly has a problem with authority, you wouldn't have stuttered and stumbled as much as you did around him if that was the case.

Though, you've built familiarity between the both of you. He's allowed you to. So, if he looks back on it, not someone who has fear of authority, you wouldn't be so open to asking him to get on the floor of a jet if that was the case. You were just nervous the first time.

"I have reason to believe that whoever took the lives of these women in the past week is the Northwind Killer. And the Wyoming Skinner. And the Akron Phantom."

You, this nervous, young woman with scrambles of writings, news clippings. At first, you appeared like an obsessive fan of true crime, someone they would turn away with pity and second-hand embarrassment. But then, the way you spoke, the way you profiled. It was professional, investigative. You knew what you were doing and you've been doing it for a while.

It didn't help that you were beautiful. But he doesn't remember thinking that the first time he met you. Aaron thinks he's only realized it over time, or...now it's personalized - the way you look on his chest, it's no longer just a fact of your face.

It didn't help that the coat looked too big on you.

"You're Girl Sherlock."

Aaron saw the way you cringed at Reid's reveal.

"I never not feel like I'm twelve years old when someone calls me that. I've just turned twenty-six. But yeah, that's me."

Prentiss’s head leaned up, then she nodded with her mouth parted.

“Well, nice to meet you, Girl Sherlock. But considering that makes me feel like I’m twelve, I assume you want to be called your actual name? I’m Emily Prentiss. This is Spencer Reid, don’t be surprised he somehow knows you.”

You smiled before you gave your name.

He doesn’t know what to think of how much he likes your name, he would’ve named Jack that if he was born a girl.

But, maybe Aaron never thought that, maybe he’s making himself into a fool. Aaron wouldn’t know why he’d do that when he doesn’t want anything to do with you outside of a professional matter. Where he can care for you professionally, maybe even to the point where you become close to him on the team, as he is with everyone else.

Not someone to resent when he dreams about you instead of Haley at night. You wouldn’t deserve that, but Aaron Hotchner would hope he’s done some good enough in his life where you could leave him alone in his own head, where there would be a part of him that doesn’t allow this to turn into anything.

But he should know by now, what he’s seen in his line of work - the dangers of what happens when you keep yourself convinced. But this wouldn’t be dangerous, it’d be right. This isn’t an unsub convincing himself that thoughts, fantasies of murder and wrongdoing are justified or something he’s entitled to, this is him convincing himself and rightly so that there’s nothing different about you. There is no bodily or mental reaction when it comes to you. Not then, not now.

Aaron tilted his head at the smile growing brighter. The smile was warranted then. He couldn’t profile just how much you think it’s needed to smile and make others smile then. Aaron was too busy with the fact three women were dead and you were there to turn the case upside down.

That and your four-pointed star earrings. Gold, old. Your neck held no jewelry.

“How do you know her?”

“She’s a private investigator. She’s made a name for herself internet wise, although her work in criminal investigation is just…I think this is one of those moments where I am self-aware enough to stop myself from making a socially-inept mistake. It would be an odd experience for you if a stranger began to delineate your life story and career progression, wouldn’t it?”

“On the nose, Spencer. But thanks for the introduction.”

There was silence between you all until Rossi chimed in, because of course he would. “Well, Girl Sherlock?”

There was no trailing off at the sight of Rossi, no. It was eyes widened. Hotch shared a look with Morgan, then Prentiss.

“You’re David Rossi.”

“You know me?”

“It’s a fan club.”

It’s something he almost whispered, nothing sarcastic or demeaning in voice, but it was a quip at the fact this was happening during a case. A bit humorous, because Aaron can admit it was, but mostly and barely frustrated. You were interesting, he wouldn’t blame the team for their attention shifting onto you.

“And you’re Aaron Hotchner.”

He blinked at that, he rolls his shoulders leaning forward remembering the way you said his name.

“I’ve read a few articles about you.”

Your mouth parted and Aaron knew what would’ve come out.

I’m sorry about your wife.

It wasn’t any question of what articles you read and it wasn’t any question that the team knew what they were too. The most recent ones would be the obvious answer. Haley, George Foyet. SSA Widower Aaron Hotchner, a man who was already closed off trying to break the walls down, for the sake of his team. His friendships - his son.

“Yeah, hi. Again,” And again, you said your name. “I’m twenty-six. I live and work out of San Diego usually. I used to work at a private investigation agency, it was mostly figuring out if someone’s husband or wife was fuc…fooling around on them and I wanted more so I marketed myself…more. It got me more work, robberies with leads that went cold, missing persons - which were usually twenty-somethings running away from their families. But one day, almost three years ago, the mother of a boy who went missing seven years ago paid me money I did not deserve to help her. I tried my best.”

“You found a boy who was missing for nearly a decade in a week, I would say your best is more than subpar.”

The team looked from Reid to you. Aaron couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to be cruel, to say it was luck - and he didn’t, which was good. He was proven wrong nearly after.

“Did she choose you for a specific reason?”

J.J crossed her arms. You shook your head. “She was a mother looking for anyone to help her when everyone else turned her away. I was there. After that, I got more cases. More serious cases. I almost went on Alprazolam which is so…not like me, I think? Sorry, but yeah. Murder cases, most of them older and unsolved ones.”

“And most you solved.”

You looked to the floor. “It was usually just things the police overlooked, missteps I could go back over. I don’t want to give myself credit where it’s not due but…yeah, I did nicely for a bit and that got around - got around enough to get some news articles thrown on me and the name Girl Sherlock.”

“It was the New Yorker who honored her with that one. I would agree, there’s a better name somewhere.”

“The New Yorker?”

Emily’s brows curved.

“It’s recent, for the most part. I was building rapport and promotion and it was alright until people were bringing me recent cases. These were family members and loved ones of victims or missing persons who were not waiting for the police to do their jobs, cases rejected by the FBI…sorry.”

“I don’t think there’s any offense taken.”

Morgan took a seat, crossed his arms too. You smiled at him, at Reid, Prentiss - J.J, you went down the line.

All for your mouth and eyes to soften at him when you reach him.

“There were these murders in Montana, which I’m sure Boy Wiki could tell you about.”

Morgan nearly snorted, as well as Rossi. Reid blinked, head pulled back. There was that natural banter you had with them already, good-natured raillery that he accepts now. Aaron accepts it. He doesn’t resent the way you laugh with them. He doesn’t, because that'd make you different.

That would mean he’s becoming worse of a person because of it.

Maybe it’d be easier to accept what’s happening to him if what was happening to him at the sight and sound of you were things that were more conventional. Nothing like what he feels when he takes listening in on Reid or Morgan when he swears he can hear you laughing all the way outside of his office. Nothing like him wanting you to stay behind on every other case because it means you’d have to do your job like the rest of them, putting yourself in danger.

Nothing like him thinking the person he hired only six months ago is incapable of doing this job, because then it means you’re helpless. You’re safe, as small as you are in a winter coat worn in the fall.

It’s all happening too fast, and it needs to stop quickly.

“Two pairs of parents from the same killer, that wasn’t my conclusion. Police knew it had to be the same man. I was investigating and another murder came, then another. They named him the Northwind Killer. This was a year ago. I was on it and then they stopped. Out of nowhere, I was trying to stay on it. Most of the murders I solved weren’t serial. I was lucky to get hired by someone whose daughter was the victim of the Wyoming Skinner.” You turned, Hotch watched the grip on your bag. “I shouldn’t say lucky, but it was in the sense that I knew this man was the same guy who committed the Northwind killings.”

“Each victim had their back skinned. Not post-mortem.”

“He didn’t do that in Montana, but I knew it was him.”

“How so?”

“I came in on the third victim each time, just like now. But I think it’s five. It’s always five victims in the end before he moves off to another state. Almost always, I may have not been FBI or of no legal authority but my presence in Wyoming brought enough attention that I think he was scared. Also…the police were doing their job well enough. He stopped at the fourth and didn’t kill for two months. On the dot, same in Montana. He started up again in Akron, Ohio. All of these are brunette women who end up lying face down, he kills five and moves on to a Northern state within two months. I know the signature is different every time, but I think that’s the point with him. Each state, he gets to try something new. Wyoming was skinning, Akron was decapitation. I just don’t know what it means.”

You put your bag down.

“Nobody called me for the Akron Phantom, I forced my way in. Same with here, but I think there are things with what I found in the other states that could help you here, maybe before they give him another stupid-ass name too.”

“It’s not money you’re looking for? Cause we don’t have it.”

It was the Police Chief you shook your head at. “No, Sir. Honestly? I’m too deep into this now. I know I have no legal jurisdiction or right to this case, I didn’t with Akron. I barely have time when people pay me, but I know I can help. I know this will help the families who’ve put their trust in me.”

Aaron knew to say yes. There was nothing but things to benefit from if he said yes. You were legitimate according to the words of Reid. You sounded genuine. There was no reason to turn you away.

“You’ll give a run-down on what you have for each killer?”

“Yes, Sir. Mr. Hotchner. I can get everything laid out. It’ll take a second, I think I lost my hair clip on my way in. I don’t know how that happened.”

Aaron’s decided not to realize he wouldn’t have turned you away if there was every reason to.

#hc's #drabble #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x you #BOAF!AU #birds of a feather #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #bau team #spencer reid #yandere #yandere x reader

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birinboom · 9 months ago

Text

The Luck-Bringing Cat

Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader; a shy former imperial concubine

The Apothecary Diaries-esque AU (I am kinda-sorta stealing this plotline from ep. 3), arranged marriage, budding romance, domestic fluff, pet names (JY calls Reader my dear, my love), Reader is also referred to as ‘my lady’ 💌 3.162 words

Jing Yuan, a famed general and childhood friend of the emperor, has yet to take a wife. The emperor decides to solve this by giving one of his least favorite concubines to his best friend. Even though Jing Yuan is against this practice, he can't help but fall head over heels in love once he meets you.

Thank you so much to @a11eya for beta-reading this for me!

Only one man had managed to stay at the emperor’s side through most of his life. Jing Yuan, the son of imperial scholars, made friends with the crown prince early in their lives, and they quickly became inseparable. As they aged, Jing Yuan became an asset to the newly crowned emperor; a seasoned warrior, an accomplished general, a brilliant strategist, and one of the few people who dared oppose the monarch when needed.

The emperor loved him like a brother. And it worried him that Jing Yuan never seemed interested in taking a wife. The general was far from blind to the longing gazes of the women of the court, he accepted their offers on occasion but he never seemed to want more than one or two nights with any woman. The emperor did not see anything wrong with this as he himself split his time more or less equally between his favorite concubines. But any man who was less fortunate than the emperor should surely want something more stable, especially a man who was slowly getting through his best age.

When Jing Yuan was pressed about why he did not want to marry, he stated with a lazy smile that he had neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But the emperor saw the slight downturn of the corners of the general’s lips. He saw through the facade of his best and oldest friend.

I have neither the time nor the energy for that kind of courtship. But I desperately wish I did.

The emperor thought deeply about this issue. Then he remembered someone in the inner court. A concubine who had fallen from his favor at their first meeting. He had never spent time with you after that. Why, he had barely thought about you in years. Still, you were a beautiful woman, well-educated, and, from what he had been told, quite quick-witted. You would make a good gift for his best friend.

Now he just needed to convince Jing Yuan that he would not take no for an answer.

Jing Yuan was still unable to fully understand how everything had come to this. He could not fathom why the emperor suddenly wanted to give him one of the imperial concubines as a wife. Giving an unfavored concubine to a newly appointed officer as a reward was far from an uncommon practice, Jing Yuan was well aware of that. But he had never expected it to happen to him, not after so many years in service of the emperor. He had been lucky to manage arranging a meeting with you before the wedding.

This practice seemed so wholly unfair in his mind. Unfair to you and any other concubines affected by the custom. You had already been given as a gift to one man, now you were being given to another, neither of whom you had chosen for yourself. Jing Yuan knew there was little he could do about the situation, but he did not feel right accepting another human being as a gift.

He continued towards the palace gardens which had been chosen as the meeting place, still in deep speculation about whether he had any chance of changing the emperor’s mind.

Turning a corner, he was torn out of his thoughts when he came upon a small gathering of women, all of them wearing identical robes. One held a folded-up parasol. They were all calling out to someone in voices too hushed for Jing Yuan to discern any words.

Ladies-in-waiting, he thought, paying them little mind. Then, his eyes fell on you.

The emperor had shown him a painting of you, commissioned shortly before you had begun your journey to the palace. Even if some years had passed since then, Jing Yuan still instantly recognized you.

You stood at the top of a small bridge crossing one of the many creeks in the garden, your face tilted up towards a nearby tree. The setting autumn sun fell upon you at an angle that made your skin and hair glow. Tearing his gaze away from you, Jing Yuan looked towards the tree as well, his trained ears picking up the song of finches. For a moment he wondered if it might be the same flock that visited the small garden of his own residence. Turning his eyes back to you, he watched as you lifted a hand, holding it up towards the tree. A finch took off from a branch and landed on one of your outstretched fingers.

Until now your face had been mostly devoid of emotion, eyes fixed on the tree. But when the finch landed on your hand, looking calmly at you with one black eye, your features softened, a fond smile gracing your face like the sun appearing from behind rain clouds.

Jing Yuan watched you lift the bird closer to your face, whispering to it, your other hand coming up to gently scratch the top of its head. He unconsciously raised a hand to his lips in an attempt to hide the smile blooming there. If this was how you behaved with one of his beloved finches (and he was certain at this point that the bird was indeed from the flock he possessively thought of as his), if you acted so kind and loving towards the smallest of creatures with no prompting, then marrying you could quite possibly be one of the best things to ever happen to him. The thought of having you gifted to him still felt wrong, but… perhaps he did not need to dread it as much as he had at first.

Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, trying his best to school his features into a pleasant, if slightly detached, expression.

You gasped, raising your arm to hide your face behind your long sleeve. The finch took off, frightened by your sudden movement, and the rest of the flock followed it. The flapping of their wings filled the air, drowning out your greeting as you and your ladies-in-waiting bowed to him.

Jing Yuan felt another smile tug at his lips. He managed to hide it behind his hair as he returned your bow.

Your ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to one side of the walkway, letting him pass. He looked at you as he ascended the bridge. The way you peeked shyly at him over your still-raised sleeve made his heart clench. He sent you what he hoped was a pleasant smile, and nodded towards the path on the opposite side.

“Shall we, my lady?”

The two of you strolled along the garden path for a while, Jing Yuan filling the air with what idle conversation he could think of, and you giving brief, shy answers.

Then, he heard the flap of wings and felt the touch of tiny claws digging into his hair, brushing against his scalp. Soon, he felt a small tug as the finch began to preen him. He could barely help but chuckle when another finch landed on his shoulder. He felt your gaze on him, then your eyes moved to the bird on his far shoulder.

“Oh!” you exhaled.

Raising his opposite hand, he gently encouraged the bird to hop onto one of his fingers, then moved the hand -with bird- closer to you.

“I have worked quite hard on taming them over the years,” he said. “The most recent brood is the tamest yet; they are the only ones so far to actively seek my presence. Though I suspect they only come to me in hopes of food. Would you like to hold it again?”

You looked away, your sleeve rising once more to hide your face. “Again…” you said, sounding very put on the spot.

Jing Yuan tried to quell his laughter. “I must admit that I was watching you for a moment before making my presence known. What I saw was very… endearing.”

You were silent for a while, then you peeked at him over the top of your sleeve. “May I be frank with you, General?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Staying quiet for a few seconds, you then drew in a deep breath. “I was rather nervous about this meeting. I have heard quite a few rumors about you, about your excellence at anything you do. And I was worried that I might not be able to live up to the expectations of the august general. But… You handle these birds with such tenderness and care. They trust you. Maybe they can trust me too, in time.”

Looking off to the side, you finally lowered your sleeve, clasping your hands in front of you. “I am very fond of small animals. My family owned a couple of tame nightingales when I was a child; I used to love falling asleep while listening to their singing.”

He felt another smile tug at his lips. He too had pleasant memories of falling asleep to the sound of bird song as a child. Though in his case it had been the wild birds outside his windows lulling him to sleep. Sharing such a similar memory with you only made him feel delighted.

Briefly peeking at him, as if to judge his reaction to your words, you then continued, “I have always yearned for a cat too, but my parents would not allow it because of our birds. And I never mustered up the courage to request permission to keep a cat after I arrived at the inner court. Though I doubt the emperor would have indulged me.” You sighed ruefully. “I suppose even now, since birds are favored once again, a pet cat will be impossible. The birds will be enough.”

Jing Yuan looked at you for a moment, stroking his chin. “A cat is a pleasant idea. As the saying goes, ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Though if I had my way I should like a lion instead!” When he saw your eyes widen, your mouth starting to open in surprise, he could not stop himself from laughing once more. “I jest, I merely jest! A house cat will suffice! Perhaps we can teach it to leave the birds in peace, or keep it indoors at all times.”

The thought of keeping a cat locked inside, though he doubted it was truly achievable, brought his thoughts back to the way you had been hidden away in the inner court for years. His smile faltered. Would it be right for him to mention his hesitation? Would it assuage you to know that he was far from satisfied with how the situation was handled?

“If I may be so bold, my lady… You were not the only one who had a certain level of apprehension about this meeting.”

You shrank back a little, shoulders slumping. “I… see.”

Jing Yuan saw you raise your hand again, he could only assume to hide your face once more. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he reached out to take your hand in his.

“Please, do not misunderstand me, my dear! It is not because of you, it is the entire situation. I do not much like being given another person as a gift. And I find it wholly unfair to you to be given away once again.”

He had so much more to say on this subject, so many points to make about how the former concubines nearly always came out as the losers in these circumstances. And yet he felt his mind go blank. He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. It had the opposite effect. Your hand was softer and more delicate than he could have ever imagined; so different from his own strong, calloused hands. It took every last shred of self control to not raise it to his lips.

Releasing your hand with great reluctance, he forced himself to finish his thoughts. “I am loath to receive a wife under such circumstances, even if she is one I should have quite liked to court of my own volition, had I been allowed to. But in the end it is His Majesty’s decision. Even so, I can promise you this, my dear: No matter what may come, I will always do my utmost to ensure that we are both happy with this union.”

You grasped the hand he had held with your free hand, rubbing the skin, your head bowed enough that he could not see your expression.

“I-I…”

Then you raised your head again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I must admit, I am quite relieved that you feel that way. That you understand the situation from my point of view too.”

Jing Yuan returned your smile. “As much as I am against this entire circumstance, I must admit… the more I get to know you, my dear, the more I am looking forward to you becoming my wife.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, then Jing Yuan escorted you and your ladies-in-waiting back to the inner court. Seeing the gate leading to the inner court left him with a sense of melancholy he could not quite place. Perhaps he had already grown so accustomed to your presence that the thought of being without you left him empty. It made him look forward to your wedding day even more.

One early morning, some six months later, Jing Yuan was found crouched over a rosebush in the small garden of his residence, pruning shears in hand. It was something he refused to give up, no matter how many people told him it was below his rank to tend to his own garden. Gardening was one of the few things that truly cleared his mind, one of the few still moments of the day that allowed him to relax. And today, he needed it.

He had already spent several hours lying awake, tossing and turning, his mind whirring, until finally giving up on sleep once he heard the first birds singing outside. Rolling over, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, then left the bed to start his day.

The air outside was cold enough that his breath created little puffs of mist, the remnants of frost biting his cheeks. He paid it little mind; it helped clear his head. And so, he crouched over the few bushes that needed pruning this early in spring, settling into a calming rhythm as the world around him slowly grew from a milky gray to pink and orange.

His rhythm was disturbed as something brushed up against his knee. Looking down, he spotted the white kitten he had presented to you on your wedding day, just a few days before the new year began. You had been infatuated with the cat (as had he, as were both of you even now), and you had aptly named it Snowmoon in honor of the full moon hanging in the sky, casting lambent light over the snow-covered ground of the garden outside your windows.

The memory of that night still made him smile.

Snowmoon raised itself on its hind legs, the little bell on its collar jingling. It propped its front paws against his knee, and chirped imploringly. Jing Yuan could only assume that he had been so engrossed in his gardening that the sound of the bell had gone unnoticed.

How did you get out? he wondered as he picked up the kitten, holding it up in front of him.

The kitten returned his gaze evenly with its brilliantly blue eyes and began to purr. Cradling it to his chest, he stood, intending to put the cat back inside. It had yet to learn that the birds of the garden were off-limits. And the birds had yet to learn what the sound of the bell signified.

But as he stood, he caught sight of another figure in the morning light. You were bundled up in several layers of clothing, seemingly ready to spend a while outside.

Jing Yuan frowned. “What are you doing out of bed, my love?” he asked. “It is still so early.”

You looked away, trying to hide the shy smile forming on your lips. You were still not used to the terms of endearment which he favored.

“I wanted to lend you a hand,” you said.

He appreciated the sentiment. But he found it difficult to imagine you crouching in the dirt like he had been.

“There is no need, my dear, I am almost finished.”

Your mouth set in a stubborn line. “Then I will help with the last of it.”

The firmness in your voice made his heart flutter. He enjoyed all the work you put into getting to know him better. And he made sure to return it tenfold.

“Very well, my love. Let me just put this little rascal back inside.”

As he came outside once again, he found you crouched over the rosebush he had been working on, your long sleeves almost trailing in the dirt.

That will not do.

Jing Yuan pulled out the long ribbon holding his hair as he moved closer. Crouching behind you, he deftly wound it first underneath one sleeve, across your back, then underneath the other sleeve, tying it at your shoulder. His actions left your arms bare, sleeves far out of harm’s way.

You shivered in the cold air, goosebumps forming on your newly exposed skin.

Jing Yuan rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into your body. “You are still free to go inside.”

You huffed. “I will not.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Handing you the pruning shears, he showed you where to prune, guiding your hands. The two of you chatted idly about the roses for a while, when he expected them to bloom and what colors he had planted. Then the topic moved to the future as a whole.

“Tell me, my love,” Jing Yuan said, wrapping his arms around you, “I know you have only been with me for a few short months, but how do you like it so far?”

You leaned back against him, nestling further into his embrace.

“I enjoy it so very much. I appreciate the freedom I have, compared to the inner court. And…” You turned enough to meet his gaze, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “I have grown quite fond of the master of this house.”

He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to be jealous of this man?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a smile lingering on your own mouth. “He has been very kind to me.”

“I suppose I shall have to be even kinder, then,” he said, before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

Maybe there really was something to the saying of ‘a cat well cared for may bring luck to its owner.’ Jing Yuan was certainly feeling very fortunate at that moment.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like what you’ve read, please check out my other works. Love, Em 💖

Do not repost, redistribute, copy, modify, record, translate, or plagiarize my writing. If you see someone posting my writing claiming it as their own, or posting a narration of my writing, please let me know!

#love letters from em #hsr #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #jing yuan #fem!reader #arranged marriage #domestic fluff #budding romance #pet names #x reader #x you #drabble #drabbles

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