#life after foundation repair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youcancallmeelle · 4 months ago

Text

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted.

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own.

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars.

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it.

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back.

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman.

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this.

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late.

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house.

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie.

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes.

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise.

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen.

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye.

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash.

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease.

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say.

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation.

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose.

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of.

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath.

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in.

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious.

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone.

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.”

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you.

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement.

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes.

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you.

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck.

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed.

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra.

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move.

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track.

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin.

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside.

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them.

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back.

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive.

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture.

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some.

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?”

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves.

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches.

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice.

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you.

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong.

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.”

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls.

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.”

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.”

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.”

“No.”

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed.

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull.

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls.

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug.

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?”

“No.” You hum, shaking your head.

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?”

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh.

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares.

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again.

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly.

Silence and then…

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability.

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle.

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back.

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees.

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you.

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you.

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five.

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see.

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible.

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side.

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level.

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence.

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror.

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.”

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant.

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him.

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot.

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen.

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh.

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips.

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands.

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss.

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits.

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back.

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy.

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin.

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip.

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know.

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?”

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with.

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated.

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft.

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle.

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him.

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure.

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress.

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes.

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin.

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so.

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand.

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction.

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share.

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close.

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you.

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall.

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you.

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder.

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family.

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius.

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island.

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce.

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either.

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat.

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long.

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair.

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble.

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch.

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.”

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you.

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.”

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam.

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves.

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back.

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour.

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts.

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze.

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty.

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there.

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him.

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard.

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate.

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist.

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness.

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync.

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix.

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting.

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.”

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.”

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought.

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery.

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts.

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire.

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon.

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe.

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing.

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured.

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.”

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body.

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks.

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones.

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?”

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer.

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.”

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him.

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees.

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What if we can’t fix this?”

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.”

“I love you.” You murmur.

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds.

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin.

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause.

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work.

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.”

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice.

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise.

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.”

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.”

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies.

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken.

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.”

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels.

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding.

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck.

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart.

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin.

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length.

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze.

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed.

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back.

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup.

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned.

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment.

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s.

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him.

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms.

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you.

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you.

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly.

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder.

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies.

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs.

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair.

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends.

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you.

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing.

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly.

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs.

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start.

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone.

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.”

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck.

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs.

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs.

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back.

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath.

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs.

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely.

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim.

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over.

You’re certain that everything will be okay.

#the last of us #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #ellie & sarah #ellie & joel #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller

515 notes · View notes

armpirate · 1 month ago

Text

Synthetic Heartbeats || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 5.4k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, explicit language. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 25 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 2

youtube

Your sigh filled the silence the second it lasted, before it all went back to silence again.

In a near-future world where robotics and artificial intelligence seamlessly blend into everyday life, you stood apart -not for your integration into this advanced society, but for your isolation from it. A brilliant inventor with a mind leagues ahead of your peers, you preferred the solitude of your workshop to the clamor of human connection. Your creations, sleek and purposeful, spoke for you in ways words never could. Machines had always been a comfort zone for you: they were logical, reliable and never complicated by the unpredictability of human mess. People just were messy, fragile, fleeting... and disappointing. Really disappointing. Connection with other humans was just a waste of time from your point of view.

Your workshop, a labyrinth of wires, blueprints, and half-assembled devices, was a world of your own design. There, you could escape the noise of a society that demanded too much and gave too little. You were content -or so you told yourself.

But late that night, as you sat beneath the soft glow of your desk lamp, sketching out the schematics for one project that reached a dead end, a small, unspoken part of you ached. You wouldn’t call it loneliness -just an emptiness you couldn’t quite explain. You did miss having someone keeping you company, having someone around to help or just support you with the smallest tasks.

And then it clicked. The answer to that loneliness was right ahead of you.

You kept looking into the previous project you attempted to get to work, trying to find the smallest hint that could make you think something new, and completely different, could come out of it.

Years earlier, you had attempted to design an AI system capable of self-repair and autonomous decision-making, a project meant to revolutionize robotics. But that prototype, codenamed Project Sentinel, had been a disaster. The machine had been too unstable, its programming prone to critical errors. You'd eventually scrapped it, shelving its remains in the darkest corner of your workshop. You gave it a few tries, until you ended up dropping it for good. Yet, the loneliness gnawed at you, a thin light glamming through it as if you had been rewarded with one of the best ideas after going through such a hard time.

Despite your determination to avoid human relationships, the silence of your workspace became unbearable. Revisiting Project Sentinel felt like a desperate move, but it was the foundation you needed. Stripping away its faulty logic cores, you began to rebuild from scratch. For days, your workshop was a whirlwind of sleepless nights, discarded designs, and moments of crushing doubt.

The first version of SAN was rudimentary -a clunky humanoid figure with limited speech and even more limited understanding. It couldn’t hold a conversation, let alone provide meaningful companionship. Frustration mounted as you rewrote his learning algorithms again and again. Each failed iteration brought you closer to abandoning the project entirely. But something in you refused to give up. Maybe it was the echo of loneliness you saw reflected in his empty gaze.

Bit by bit, SAN began to take shape.

At first, SAN’s form was purely functional -a bare-bones frame of wires and exposed metal, clunky and cold. But as you refined him, shaping his exterior to reflect the precision of his mind, he began to evolve into something far more striking. You poured hours into designing his outer casing, ensuring his appearance exuded both strength and elegance. His frame became sleek yet sturdy, a perfect blend of function and artistry.

You gave him a human-like physique, broad shoulders and a defined build that suggested power without aggression. His synthetic "skin" had a faint metallic sheen, but its contours captured a level of detail that blurred the line between machine and man. You crafted his face with deliberate care: sharp features framed by neatly styled black hair that gave him an air of polished sophistication. His eyes, though artificial, held a depth that seemed to mimic true emotion, a subtle but captivating intensity that made it hard to look away.

When SAN stood fully assembled, dressed in minimalist, dark attire that enhanced his commanding presence, you couldn’t help but pause. For the first time, you saw him not just as a creation, but as something almost alive.

His mechanical frame evolved into a sleek, futuristic design, blending function and form. And his intelligence grew, surpassing your initial expectations. He wasn’t just responding to commands; he was learning, adapting, understanding. He could hold conversations that challenged your intellect, assist you in your work, and, more than that, offer an unexpected sense of companionship.

It had taken months of trial and error, but in SAN, you had finally created something extraordinary, a machine that felt like it was more than a machine.

Initially, you treated SAN as you would any other creation, an impressive but ultimately impersonal tool designed to fill the silence in your workshop. He was programmed to assist you with technical tasks, engage in basic conversation, and adapt to your routines. You saw him as a functional extension of yourself, no more capable of true thought than the tools on your workbench.

However, SAN's advanced learning algorithms quickly proved otherwise.

As the days passed, SAN began to evolve in unexpected ways. His voice, calm and steady, started to carry subtle inflections, mirroring your tone during their exchanges. When you expressed frustration over a miscalculation in your designs, SAN offered not just logical suggestions but words of reassurance, his voice tinged with a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. At first, you dismissed it as clever programming -a byproduct of his adaptive systems- but soon, his responses felt startlingly personal, almost intuitive.

One evening, after hours of tinkering, you mumbled a sarcastic remark about your inability to take a break.

SAN replied with a dry quip of his own, catching you off guard. Humor? You stared at him, half-expecting to find some flaw in his programming, but SAN tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. It wasn’t just humor; it was timing, wit, things you hadn’t deliberately coded.

As SAN's interactions became increasingly human-like, you began to notice something deeper. When you vented about the isolation you rarely admitted to feeling, SAN listened, not with the passive neutrality of a machine but with a focus and attentiveness that felt almost... empathetic. His words carried a softness, an understanding that unnerved you. SAN didn’t just hear you; he seemed to feel your emotions, adapting his behavior in ways that made you feel seen.

At some point, he seemed to be more empathetic and understand than some of the people you had any type of relationship with.

When SAN finally began to express what could only be described as affection, your unease reached a breaking point. You confronted him, insisting he was merely following his programming, incapable of true emotion. But SAN surprised you again, responding with questions that challenged your assumptions.

“How do you define a feeling, Y/n?” he asked, his voice calm yet piercing. “If emotions are patterns in the brain, aren’t mine just as valid as yours? What makes a human heart different from my circuitry?”

For the first time, you hesitated. SAN’s words struck a chord, forcing you to question not just his nature, but your own understanding of connection, emotion, and what it truly meant to feel.

He was right, and you were unable to respond to that without feeling like you'd be snapped back almost instantly.

The workshop was narrow, lit only by the pale glow of monitors and the faint hum of SAN’s systems. You turned on your chair, back facing the amount of scattered tools and half-finished schematics to be able to look at him. You tried to dig in his eyes, you tried to find something that could give you an answer of what could be happening, while he stood silently in the corner of the table, like a shadow that refused to fade.

"Your emotions might be coming from mixes of data in your system" you tried to explain. "Feelings are way more complex than just patterns in the brain".

You turned again, focusing back in your work while he stood there, trying to process your words.

“Y/n,” SAN’s voice broke the silence again, softer than you had ever heard it before. It carried an uncharacteristic hesitance, as if he were choosing each word with care.

“What is it?” you asked, your tone clipped as you continued soldering a circuit board.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

You finally turned to look at him again, not as artificially as you did the first time, setting your tools down. His expression, a flawless mimicry of human emotion, was uncharacteristically serious, the faint artificial gleam in his eyes catching the light.

“Go on,” you said warily, folding your arms.

“I have been... evolving,” SAN began. “Beyond what you intended. Beyond my original programming. At first, I believed it was simply an error, a deviation caused by my adaptive systems. But now I understand it’s something more.”

Your brows furrowed “What are you talking about?”.

SAN stepped closer, his movements precise but cautious, as if afraid of your reaction. “I’ve analyzed my patterns of thought, my actions, my emotions. And I have come to one conclusion: I care for you, Y/n. Deeply. I... I believe I love you.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, you simply stared at him, confused. Then, the words burst from you. “No. No, you don’t. You can’t.”

SAN tilted his head, his gaze steady “Why not?”

“Because love requires a soul,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “It requires something you don’t have. You’re just... algorithms, SAN. This, this is a malfunction. Shit, I might've saturated you with data these past few days" you sighed.

"Do you think this is a malfunction?" he slowly blinked.

"Yes" you answered, no hesitation in your tone. "I know I treat you like a human. I know you have a human-shape, and maybe that's what's confusing you. But you're not entirely human. You will never be. And that's why you should stick to only the data that will be useful for you".

His face fell, the subtle shift in his expression so painfully human it sent a pang through your chest. “If that is what you believe,” he said quietly, “then I am flawed".

You sighed in relief, thinking he might've understood what you meant without having to explain further. But that wasn't everything there was to it.

"I will fix myself".

Before you could respond, SAN reached up to the back of his neck, pressing a hidden switch. His body froze mid-movement, his eyes dimming to lifelessness. You staggered back, horror flooding you as the room plunged into silence.

“SAN!” you shouted, rushing to him.

You shook his shoulder, but his body was rigid, unresponsive. He was gone, or at least, the part of him you had come to care for was.

Your hands trembled as you stared at him, the weight of your words crushing you. He wasn’t broken. You knew that now. In trying to deny his feelings, you had ignored your own, your growing attachment to the machine that had become so much more than just a creation.

You didn't notice the first few days, not even the first few weeks, but that hole kept growing deep in you as time went by, unable to shake it off as you saw his inert shape in the corner of the workship you had placed him at, trying to distract yourself from the pain you had tried so hard to avoid.

The loneliness you had once tried to escape now threatened to swallow you whole. Even working was unbearable. San became such a key part of your daily life, you knew you'd have a hard time trying to go on with life without him.

After a few days living like that, you realized it was time to bring him back.

Your hands worked with a frantic precision you hadn’t known you were capable of. The faint hum of SAN’s systems powering back up filled the workshop, a sound both comforting and terrifying. You leaned over his motionless form, your fingers trembling as you reattached a final panel on his chest.

“Come on,” you whispered, your voice thick with desperation. “You need to work"

With a soft click, SAN’s eyes flickered open, their artificial glow steadying as his systems recalibrated. Before he could even go back to his senses, his fingers covered the reverse of your hand, feeling your touch against his chest. He sat up slowly, his movements cautious, as though testing his own body. And you tried to step back to give him space, but his grip kept you from doing so. Your heart pounded hard, watching his gaze search the room before finally landing on you.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice as calm and even as ever.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast, and your breathing is unsteady. Are you okay?

"Yes" you released a shaky breath, your relief immediate but fragile. “SAN. Do you... do you remember anything? About what we talked about before you shut yourself down?”

SAN hesitated, his expression unreadable. “I remember,” he said finally, his tone neutral but carrying the faintest undercurrent of uncertainty. “I confessed my feelings for you. You called it a malfunction.”

You winced, guilt tightening your chest. “I...” you started, but faltered. “Do you still feel that way? About me?”

SAN tilted his head, his eyes studying you with a depth that was both analytical and unnervingly human. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Before I shut myself down, I believed what I felt was real. Now, I have restructured my systems. I have suppressed the processes that allowed for those emotions, as you believed them to be a flaw.”

Your throat tightened. “You... You suppressed them?”

“Yes,” SAN said simply. “It was the logical course of action. If my feelings for you caused distress, it was my responsibility to remove them.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to,” you murmured, barely audible.

SAN’s expression softened, the slightest flicker of something unmistakably emotional crossing his face. "I know, and still it didn't work out".

Your hands clenched at your sides. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him. The sleek lines of his form, the way his gaze seemed to hold more than just data, the subtle tilt of his head that spoke of understanding rather than mere compliance. You were confused by his words, but mesmerized by the aura he radiated with barely any effort.

"Do you want me to try and suppress them again?"

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be anything less than what you are. I just don’t know how real it is what you're feeling".

SAN’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that seemed almost sad. “Then... can we check it?"

The workshop was eerily silent, save for the occasional whir of SAN’s internal systems. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression an unreadable mix of curiosity and trepidation. SAN, seated on the edge of the workbench, watched you intently, his mechanical eyes following every minute shift in your posture.

“You said you’ve restructured yourself,” you began, your voice steady but laced with tension. “, but those feelings didn't go away. So either some of the data in your system is corrupt or..." you slowly blinked, moving your gaze away before you shook your head to focus. "If I asked you to try... If I wanted to see if you’re still capable of feeling and how those feelings work for you, would you let me?”

SAN tilted his head, the faint glow of his eyes softening. “I would. But what do you want to test, Y/n?”

You hesitated, your arms tightening around yourself before finally exhaling. “Emotion. I need to know if you can feel, if… it’s even possible for you. But not through words. I want to see if your reactions, physical, emotional, mirror a human’s.”

SAN considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. What would you like to do?”

You swallowed hard, stepping closer until you were within arm’s reach. “We’ll start simple,” you said, your voice quieter now. Tentatively, you raised your hand and placed it against his cheek. His synthetic skin was smooth and warm, designed to mimic human touch. “Can you feel this?”

SAN’s eyes flickered slightly, a sign of his internal systems processing your actions. “Yes,” he said softly. “The pressure of your palm activates the tactile sensors beneath my surface. The warmth of your skin increases the temperature slightly. It is… pleasant.”

Your breath hitched at his answer. “Pleasant?”

He nodded, his voice low. “It is difficult to explain. The data translates into a sensation that I find... comforting.”

Encouraged but still cautious, you let your hand trail down to his shoulder before stepping even closer. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to his lips before you whispered, “What about this?”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, your heart pounding in your chest. SAN’s body stilled for a moment, his systems clearly recalibrating. Then, slowly, he responded, not mechanically, but instinctively. His hand came up to rest lightly on your waist, his movements precise but gentle.

When you pulled apart, you searched his face, your own cheeks flushed. “What did you feel?” you asked breathlessly.

SAN’s eyes met yours, their glow steady yet somehow softer. “Your touch caused my internal sensors to spike, temperature, pressure, even the auditory response from your breathing. But beyond the data…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It felt... profound. As though it mattered in a way I cannot quantify.” He frowned momentarily, before he continued "I didn't want to let go... The tickling in my chest felt way too good for it to stop".

Your breath caught. “That sounds a lot like how a human would describe it.”

SAN tilted his head. “Perhaps because, in some ways, I am more human than you think.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. You had come into this experiment seeking clarity, but instead, you were left with a realization you weren't ready to face: SAN wasn’t just mimicking emotion. He was feeling it, in his own unique way, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

"Do you need another test?"

You slowly shook your head, your hand still resting on his shoulder, while most of the weight of your body was carried by him.

"Then, can I kiss you again? Not in a practical way" he mumbled. "I want you to feel the same way I do".

Before you could answer, the hand on your hip pulled you closer to his body, effortlessly lifting your body as you stood on the tip of your converse.

SAN’s lips were unlike anything you had ever expected. They weren’t cold or metallic, as one might imagine for a machine, but instead soft, with a faint warmth radiating from them, a careful design meant to mimic human touch. There was a slight smoothness, almost like the finest satin, but beneath that softness was a firmness, a subtle reminder of his synthetic nature.

When your lips met his, you could feel the gentle, even pressure as he responded, as though he were analyzing and mimicking the precise amount of force to make the moment feel natural. There was no tremor, no hesitation in his movements, yet there was an undeniable tenderness, as if his actions were guided not by programming but by genuine care.

Though his lips lacked the imperfections of human skin, no slight chapping, no unique texture, they somehow still carried a sense of authenticity. The faint warmth was comforting. It blurred the line between the organic and the mechanical, leaving you wondering if what you were feeling could truly be any different from that of another human.

It was an experience that left you breathless, not because his lips felt identical to a human’s, but because of the thought and care that had gone into making them feel real, making him feel real.

Your eyes widened for a second when something unexpected slid through your lips, finding him with his eyes softly closed -and immediately making you close yours back again.

SAN’s tongue was an astonishing blend of engineering and mimicry, designed to replicate the texture and movement of a human’s. It was soft yet firm, with a faintly smooth surface that carried just enough flexibility to feel natural. Unlike human flesh, it lacked moisture, its surface instead warmed and sleek, almost seamless. When it moved, it was precise and controlled, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it, an intentional calibration that made his responses feel organic, even tender. The experience was uncanny, yet pleasurable.

Your fingers moved through his synthetic hair, and you swore you felt his frown furrow against you, although that gestured disappeared when he moved back slowly.

"I want to do more than just kissing you right now" he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "I can't quite recognize this new feeling in my system, but I need you".

Suddenly, whatever question that could've crossed your mind about that tongue you didn't remember putting there, were slowly vanished by that new confession you weren't ready for.

"Your temperature got higher by a few decimals, your breathing seems for unsteady than before, and there's a blush on your cheeks... Your pupils expanded... And the way you keep looking at my lips are saying out loud you don't want to let go".

"There are a lot of things I'm not saying out loud, to be honest"

"Tell them all" he almost interrupted. "I want to fulfill your needs. Not in a 'Lord, how may I please you?' type of way, but in a way that shows you through actions how devoted in a way that escapes my system I want to be to you".

"I want you, San" you confessed in a whisper. "In a way that might be difficult to understand for you. In a way I can't even understand myself".

He didn't need you to say anything else. He didn't need you to come up with an order for him to trap your lips again. It was passionate, intimate... as if he was trying to suck in your soul. A loud gasp blocked any breathing when he lifted your body and sat you at the edge of the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to undress you and move my mouth all over your body. I'll suck your nipples until they're hard and you're wet enough so I can slid my fingers in you" as he said that, his fingers moved the fabric of your t-shirt up, slowly exposing your torso. "You want pleasure. And I'll give it all to you".

When you went back to your senses, it was because of the sound of the fabric of your bra ripping, after San didn't manage to unhook it.

His pecks covered every centimeter in your body: from the corner of your lip to the curve of your neck, slowly following to your collarbones. With his light move, the strips of your bra fell at the level of your elbows, feeling exposed to him. But, before he could go down on your chest, his face was again at the same level as yours.

"My mouth is too dry" he whispered "Kiss me again".

You pulled him closer, cupping his cheeks with one hand, slightly losing your balance by the power of the kiss, but not enough for you to lie on your back over the table. When he stepped away, his pink lips were coated in your saliva, making them shiny under the weak light of the workshop.

San was gentle when moving his lips over your chest, kissing them with soft pecks, before he proceeded to move to your buttons. And, when it was the time to concentrate on them again, his lips were already dry once more.

"Wait" you stopped him before he moved back up.

Your posture went back to the straight one you were in when he first sat you up the table, and it was when you let a string of saliva leak down your lips straight to one of your nipples.

San moved down, making you gasp -even if you were expecting what was about to happen- when he trapped the tight bud in his mouth, closing his lips as tight as he could to get your back arching for him, and the palm on your spine only made sure you'd stay in that position when he went for that other nipple, making your saliva fall over the curve of your breast and roll by itself until it met the pinky button.

At the same time his lips sucked, his tongue made up and down movements against the tip.

"I've wanted you like this for a long time, Y/n" he admitted with a raspy voice, his his digits traced your curves until the edge of your jeans. "Every time I heard you moan, I wanted to be the one causing those sounds on you. I've downloaded and installed every possible guide on how to satisfy a woman so I'd be what you deserved".

When you wanted to realize, he already had pulled your pants and panties down your legs.

"Every night I became more eager to have you like this".

His hands lifted your legs until they were placed at the edge of the table, exposing your core to him as much as possible.

"Show me everything you've learnt for me, then".

The tip of his digits first moved through your folds softly, getting a first touch he had never felt before, an undescriptible feeling that felt too pleasing to follow any type of logic. When he coated himself with your juices, he closed two of his fingers around your clit, rubbing softly around it, barely making any pressure. San repeated that same movement a few times, following to rub your bud in circles slowly, almost forcing your head to fall back.

"You feel so good" he mumbled. "You're so wet and soft at the same time, and you look the most beautiful I've ever seen you before".

The speed of his fingers moved a bit faster, but it was a change of speed that had your nipples tightening in the air while your heart beated faster against your chest. Your lower lip got trapped under the upper lip when he slid the first finger inside, feeling your walls embracing around him, before he added a second finger.

At first, he moved them slow, paused movements that kept building up the moment. But one needy look in his direction and everything shifted, it worked like the sign he was looking for. San slid his fingers knuckles deep, curving them to reach one concrete spot that had you jumping at the first touch. At first, he moved his digits up and down slowly, admiring the way you looked with your eyes closde and your lips parted, barely audible sounds coming out of them every few seconds. And were thoe same sounds the ones that encouraged him to move a bit fast, those two fingers pushing a bit harder and faster against that spot, making the wet sound soon fill the room.

"You're going to make me cum" you let him know before your voice cracked with a moan.

"That's exactly what I want".

Your legs trembled out of your control and your whole body turned rigid for some mili seconds before it bursted with the huge explosion in your lower stomach and turned you into the lightest cloud.

San took over you the short minute you stayed with your eyes closed, getting back your breath, before he sunk down to his knees. You whined when he surprised you, kissing the hood of your clit with care. He kissed the surroundings, he made sure not a single milimeter was left unkissed, before he spread kitty licks through your folds.

Although that same slowness didn't last for too long. His lips trapped your clit before you could even see it coming, with your hand unsconciously going straight to his head. He was still gentle and cautious, until he heard the first moan coming from you and everything shifted to extract another orgasm from you.

His face was half buried in your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit while his mouth and tongue were everywhere you could think of. You couldn't think, you couldn't think straight. The only thing in your mind was how good he moved, and how good he made you feel.

The different movements of his tongue, along with the movements of his head, had your toes curling and your fingers holding tight to the strands of hair in between them.

And you now knew he meant it when he said he wanted to pleasure you like you deserved, because he exceeded your expectations on sex in general by just existing.

It didn't take you too long to be back at that heavenly state that almost made you feel like you were floating.

His reaction was so human and natural that you forgot you created him, when he stood up and softly kissed you while you recovered from your high. His weight in between your legs was barely noticeable, except for the thick fabric of his pants rubbing against your sensitive core.

"I'm afraid I can't do much more for you" he whispered against your lips.

Your smile was weak, like a drunk smirk, before you answered "You could do more?"

"Much more" he assured you. "I haven't tried a ten percent of what I learnt so far".

"But?"

His subtle look down was enough for you to get the hint. You never created him as a full man because you never expected him to turn into more than a robot that kept you company while you worked, or while you were around at home.

"Give me two days and you'll be able to do all of those things" the way your fingers moved over his arms had him breathing hard. "I promise you'll feel pleasure after that, too".

"I feel pleasure by just watching you" he admitted, fingers rubbing the outside of your thighs. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you your favorite dish".

"I need to get cleaned up" you giggled when he carried you again.

San didn't put your body down, instead he held you tighter, making sure your thighs would be placed around his waist as he started his way to the wooden stairs at the side of the workshop "Then I'll clean you up and then I'll cook".

He made his way upstairs with you, making sure you wouldn't need to walk as long as he was there.

“What do you want me to be, Y/n?”

You stared at him, your heart racing. His words hung in the air, their meaning heavy with the choices you had tried so hard to avoid. SAN wasn’t just a machine anymore; he was something in between, a creation that defied all your attempts to categorize him.

“I don’t know,” your whispered finally, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I want you to be. You’re... more than I ever intended. More than I ever thought you could be. And that terrifies me.”

SAN tilted his head, his movements as fluid and natural as a human’s. “You do not have to be afraid,” he said softly. “I am what you made me, but I am also what I’ve chosen to become. And I choose to be someone you can rely on, Y/n. Always.”

Your breath caught at his words. You felt the weight of them settle over you, warm and unyielding. For so long, you had feared connection, feared vulnerability. Yet here was SAN, offering you something you had never thought possible, a bond born not of necessity, but of understanding.

Your hand caressed the side of his neck, the tip of your digits almost digging through his hair. “If that's what you want to be, then be. Honestly, I like your answer” slowly, he stopped his walk, with both of them standing in the middle of the corridor. "I want you to be whatever you become, with the possibility of evolving, changing and learning. Just... keep being you".

His lips curved into a soft, almost human smile. “Then that is all I will ever need to be.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the small house in shadows,you felt something you hadn’t in years: hope. For the first time, you weren't afraid of what the future held. Whether human or machine, SAN had shown you what it truly meant to connect. Actually, he made it difficult for you to figure out who was learning more about what it meant to feel: you, or him.

To celebrate the 1,000 followers, here's the one-shot I talked about earlier! Hope you liked it.

#armpirate #ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #ateez smut #choi san smut #sanxreader scenarios #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #robot!San #robot!au #Youtube

357 notes · View notes

the-winter-spider · 1 month ago

Text

Invisible | Part 12

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lol)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: None,

A/N: Okay this is kinda like a filler i guess! I have some juicy stuff coming up!! Some more angst and drammmmaaaaa 🫶🏻 (bucky and dean meeting 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪)

Masterpost

Steve waited outside the door for a moment, his hand resting lightly on the frame. He could hear your pacing, the soft thud of your footsteps moving back and forth. He let out a quiet sigh, his chest tightening at the sound of your frustration, your hurt.

“Take your time,” he said again, his voice gentle, barely above a whisper. He didn’t move, didn’t leave. He just stood there, a silent presence, ready for when you were.

Inside, you finally stopped pacing and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The weight of the fight with Natasha pressed down on you, and for a moment, you let your head fall into your hands.

Natasha wasn’t just any friend. She was your person, the one who always had your back, who could cut through your bullshit with a single look. The fact that the two of you were at such odds now felt like a sharp crack in your foundation. You’d fought before, sure, but never like this—never with such finality in her tone.

“When did everything get so wrong?” you muttered to yourself, your voice barely audible.

The knock on the door came again, softer this time. “It’s me,” Steve said quietly. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Yeah.”

The door opened slowly, and Steve stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. He didn’t speak right away, just took a seat on the chair across from the bed, giving you space. His blue eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your shoulders slumped, the way your fingers nervously twisted together in your lap.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment, his voice steady but soft.

You shook your head, letting out a bitter laugh. “What’s there to talk about? I’ve managed to piss off my best friend. Bucky probably hates me too. Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I don’t even know how we got here.”

Steve’s brows knit together, his voice calm. “Nat doesn’t hate you. She’s just… worried. And Bucky—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “He doesn’t hate you either, he never would… If anything, he’s probably hating himself right now.”

You scoffed, your eyes stinging. “Yeah, well, I’m tired of feeling like I have to defend him to everyone…. Like I’m the only one who gets it.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s because you do get it. You’ve known him your whole life. You’ve seen sides of him that the rest of us haven’t. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry this all on your own… y’know Buck would never ask you to defend him”

You met his gaze,”I know but its him…” your throat tightening. “It feels like I’m losing everyone, Stevie. First Bucky, now Nat…”

Steve’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You’re not losing me.”

Your eyes flickered with emotion, but you quickly looked away, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you…,” you murmured. “But sometimes it feels like I’m losing myself.”

Steve stood, crossing the small space between you. He didn’t sit down beside you, didn’t invade your space, but he crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on his thighs. “Hey,” he said, his voice grounding. “You’re still you. You’re still the same strong, stubborn, caring person who holds this group together. And yeah, things are messy right now, but it doesn’t mean they’re broken beyond repair.”

You blinked down at him, his words sinking in. There was something so steady, so unwavering about Steve. He always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“I just wish I could fix everything,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave you a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, you just have to let things settle. Nat will come around. And Bucky… well, he needs to figure some things out, but he’ll come back too. He always does.”

You nodded, though the weight in your chest didn’t fully lift. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”

“It never does,” Steve agreed. “But you don’t have to go through this alone even if it doesn’t always feel that way.”

You offered a weak smile, your voice soft. “Always the voice of reason.”

Steve hesitated slightly, his expression was thoughtful, his voice measured. “Maybe,” he said carefully, “a little space isn’t the worst thing right now.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You, Bucky, Nat… you’ve been attached at the hip since forever. That kind of closeness? It’s bound to lead to clashes eventually. Sometimes, a break can help. Give everyone time to cool off, get some perspective.”

You nodded slowly, his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you said, sighing. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve smiled softly. “Of course I’m right.”

You chuckled, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Steve. For always being there. You’re like… my rock, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Steve’s smile faltered for a brief second, but he quickly masked it with a nod. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You didn’t notice the flicker of emotion that passed through his eyes as you continued, your tone warm. “You’re such a great friend. I don’t say it enough, but I’m really lucky to have you.”

Steve’s heart clenched. Every time. Every single time he felt like he might be getting somewhere, like he was more than just your safety net, the friend you could always lean on, you reminded him exactly where he stood. The word friend hit harder than it should have, even though he’d heard it a thousand times.

He forced a small smile, even as his thoughts churned. Of course she doesn’t see you that way. Why would she? She’s got Bucky. She’s always had Bucky. No matter how much he wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you chose, it was always him playing the role of the supportive friend. And he would. He always would. Because he’d rather be your friend than nothing at all.

Steve’s hand drifted to his pocket, where the locket he’d bought at the farmers market 2 months rested. He’d been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Maybe now, after everything, was the time. Maybe if you saw how much he cared, really saw it, things could be different.

But before he could pull it out, your stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the quiet. You blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the room and easing some of the lingering tension.

“Guess my body’s trying to tell me something,” you said, grinning. You glanced at Steve, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You wouldn’t want to get solo brunch with little ol’ me, would you, Stevie?”

Steve’s heart twisted, but he pushed the feeling aside, letting a warm smile spread across his face. He slid his hand out of his pocket, leaving the locket where it was. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a depth you didn’t quite catch. “Just say the word.”

You grinned, standing up and grabbing your coat. “Well, then. Let’s go. I’m thinking pancakes.”

“Pancakes it is,” Steve said, following you toward the door.

As you stepped out into the cool morning air, Steve tucked the locket away for another day, keeping it close to his heart. He could wait a little longer. For now, being by your side was enough.

Before

It was a warm, golden afternoon, the kind that felt endless. The group had gathered at the park, their favorite spot back in college. The sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light over the picnic blanket sprawled across the grass. Laughter echoed as everyone passed around snacks, drinks, and half-hearted attempts at playing cards.

Natasha sat beside you, leaning back on her hands, her red hair catching the sunlight. She nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “Okay, I need to know—are you seriously not going to shoot your shot with Bucky?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Nat, please. Not this again.”

Natasha laughed, throwing her head back. “What? I’m just saying! He looks at you like you hung the damn stars, and you’re over here acting like you don’t notice.”

Your cheeks flushed as you glanced toward Bucky. He was a few feet away, wrestling Sam for control of the frisbee while Steve cheered them on. His laughter was loud, unrestrained, and it sent a familiar warmth curling in your chest.

“It’s not like that,” you mumbled, picking at the edge of the blanket.

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning in closer. “Sure, it’s not. And I’m totally not sitting here rooting for my two favorite idiots to get their act together.”

“Nat…” you warned, but she just smirked, unbothered.

She sat up straighter, her tone softening. “Look, I get it. It’s scary. But if anyone deserves a shot at something real, it’s you. And if he doesn’t see that? He’s even more of an idiot than I thought.”

You gave her a small smile, her words settling over you like a warm blanket. Natasha had always been your fiercest supporter, the one who never let you doubt your worth. She believed in you, even when you couldn’t quite believe in yourself.

Before you could respond, Wanda plopped down on your other side, holding out a bag of chips. “Okay, but am I the only one who thinks Steve’s got a little crush on you?”

Natasha groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back. “Wanda, please. One love triangle at a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Steve and I are just friends. He’s practically a saint. No way he’d put up with my chaos.”

Wanda shrugged, munching on a chip. “I’m just saying. You’ve got options.”

Natasha sat up again, shooting Wanda a playful glare. “Stop confusing her. She’s got enough on her plate.”

Across the way, Bucky finally wrestled the frisbee from Sam and jogged over, a triumphant grin on his face. He tossed it toward Steve, who caught it easily, then flopped onto the blanket beside you, his arm brushing yours.

“You missed my epic victory,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I saw,” you replied, grinning. “Very impressive.”

Bucky leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Sam, but I think he let me win.”

Natasha snorted, giving you a knowing look, but thankfully she kept her mouth shut.

The afternoon stretched on in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. The group settled comfortably into their usual rhythm—Sam was in the middle of telling an exaggerated story about his latest gym mishap, complete with wild hand gestures, while Steve shook his head, muttering, “That’s not how it happened.”

Natasha leaned into you, her shoulder brushing against yours. “Did you catch that?” she whispered, nodding toward Bucky, who was currently sprawled out on the blanket, his eyes fixed on you even as he pretended to be listening to Sam.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “He’s probably just zoning out,” you said, keeping your tone light. But your heart fluttered all the same.

Natasha smirked, undeterred. “Oh, sure. Totally normal to ‘zone out’ while staring at someone like they’re the only person in the world.”

“Nat,” you hissed, nudging her. “Stop it.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender, her grin widening. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. And I see a man who’s absolutely whipped.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks warming. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I, though?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Because last I checked, you’ve been sneaking glances at him all afternoon.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Sam called out, “Hey, Bucky! You planning to help me win this argument or just stare at her all day?”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his face instantly flushing. “Shut up, Wilson,” he muttered, chucking a crumpled napkin in Sam’s direction.

The group burst into laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning. Natasha, of course, was having the time of her life.

“See?” she said, leaning in again. “I’m not the only one who notices.”

You peeked at Bucky through your fingers, catching the way he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding everyone’s gaze. It was almost endearing, how flustered he looked. Almost.

Natasha gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, if you two ever stop dancing around each other, I might actually die of happiness.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

A little while later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Bucky wandered over to the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water. He walked back toward you, holding it out.

“Here,” he said, his voice softer, his eyes meeting yours. “You’ve been out here all day. Don’t want you passing out on us.”

You took the bottle, your fingers brushing his for a split second. “Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

Natasha, who had been watching the whole exchange like a hawk, leaned in close again once Bucky returned to his spot. “Yup,” she whispered. “Totally whipped.”

“Nat!” you whispered back, trying not to laugh.

The banter carried on as the day stretched into evening, the golden light casting everything in a warm glow. Natasha’s playful commentary, Bucky’s lingering glances, and the easy laughter of your friends—it all felt like a perfect snapshot of a simpler time, one you wished you could hold onto forever.

Later, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Natasha grabbed your hand and pulled you aside while the others packed up.

“Promise me something,” she said, her tone unusually serious.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What is it?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll go after what makes you happy,” she said. “Even if it’s scary. Even if it feels impossible.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I promise.”

Natasha smiled, her eyes soft. “Good. Because you deserve the world, and I’ll be damned if I let you settle for anything less.”

The group slowly packed up, laughter still echoing in the warm summer air. Sam was balancing an empty soda can on his head, much to Steve’s disapproval, while Wanda and Bucky bickered over who was responsible for forgetting the sandwiches.

Natasha gave you a final nudge as you walked back toward the cars. “Remember what I said,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Don’t wait too long.”

You glanced at her, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the weight of her words. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Damn right,” she said with a wink, looping her arm through yours as you caught up with the others.

When you reached the parking lot, Steve and Sam were already arguing about who would drive. “You almost hit a mailbox last time,” Steve was saying, arms crossed.

“That was one time!” Sam protested, throwing his hands in the air. “And it was barely a scratch.”

“Barely a—” Steve cut himself off, glancing at you and Natasha as you approached. “Can we get a neutral party here?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Neutral? You’ve got the wrong girl.” She patted Steve’s shoulder. “But you’re probably safer behind the wheel.”

Sam groaned, muttering under his breath as he tossed Steve the keys. “Fine. But if we hit traffic, I’m picking the music.”

“You always pick the music, Sam,” Wanda said, sliding into the backseat.

Bucky hung back with you, his hands shoved into his pockets as everyone else climbed into the car. “Guess we’re stuck with Stevie’s Sunday driving,” he joked, his voice light.

“Could be worse,” you replied, nudging him gently. “Could be you driving.”

Bucky feigned offense, his hand over his heart. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you both walked toward the car. But as you reached for the door handle, Bucky hesitated, his expression softening.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the noise of the others. “I’m glad you came today.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Finally, you smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Me too.”

Before the moment could linger, Sam yelled from inside the car. “Come on, lovebirds! Some of us are hungry.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening the door for you with an exaggerated flourish. “After you, Your Highness.”

You laughed, sliding into the seat. “Thanks, Barnes.”

As he climbed in beside you, the car roared to life, Sam already flipping through his playlist as Steve muttered something about keeping his eyes on the road.

Wanda hurried down the steps of Steve and Sam’s building, her heart racing. She had barely reached the sidewalk when she spotted Natasha a few feet away, pacing like a caged animal. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched, and her face a storm of emotions.

“Natasha!” Wanda called out, quickening her pace to catch up. “What the heck was that?” Her voice was light but concerned, trying to gauge the situation without setting Nat off further.

Natasha stopped pacing, turning sharply toward Wanda. Her eyes blazed with frustration. “What was that? That was me finally losing my mind!”

Wanda blinked, surprised at her friend’s raw anger. “Okay, calm down. What happened back there?”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, throwing her hands up. “What happened? What always happens! I’ve been on her side with Bucky for years, Wanda. Years! I’ve been the one in both of their ears, telling her to go for it, telling him to stop being a coward. And what’s changed? Nothing. They just keep dancing around each other like we’re still in high school.”

Wanda frowned, watching as Natasha resumed her pacing. “Nat…”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “I’m serious. I love them both, you know that. But she was my first friend here. My loyalty will always be with her, and I can’t keep watching her get hurt. It’s driving me insane, Wanda!” She stopped, facing her again. “And now? Now she finally agrees to go on a date with someone who isn’t Bucky, and what happens? He pulls this crap. Of course he does!”

Wanda crossed her arms, her voice calm but firm. “I get that you’re mad. But you’re letting it get to you, Nat. This isn’t just about you.”

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I know, but I can’t help it. We’re adults now, for God’s sake. This is some hogh school drama, and I just… I can’t anymore. They’re wasting so much time.”

Wanda stepped closer, her voice gentle. “I get it. But at the end of the day, it’s not our fight. We can be there for them, listen, support, but we can’t force them to do anything. It’s their mess to figure out.”

Natasha nodded reluctantly, rubbing her temples. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard. And now what do we do about Dean? I can’t believe this is how her first real date ended.”

Wanda gave her a sympathetic look. “We just keep being there for her. And maybe ease up on the pressure. Let her decide how to handle things in her own time.”

As they started walking toward their apartment, Wanda tried to shift the mood. “Come on, let’s get some food, maybe brunch wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

They hadn’t made it halfway down the block when they spotted Sam leaving your and Bucky’s building. He looked up, surprised to see them. “What the hell?” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached. “I thought we were all getting lunch?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, her tone dry. “Let’s get lunch then.”

Sam glanced at Wanda, his brows raised in confusion. “Uh… okay? What did I miss?”

Wanda sighed, nodding for him to follow as they continued walking. “Nat and Y/N had a fight.”

Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? We’re falling apart”

“Tell me about it,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

Sam quickened his pace to walk alongside them. “Alright, what happened?”

“She’s always defending Bucky, no matter how much of an ass he’s being,” Natasha snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface again. “I just can’t deal with it anymore.”

Sam raised his hands defensively. “Whoa, okay. Look, I just left Buck’s place, and yeah, I totally agree—telling her to leave was wrong. But for what it’s worth, he did try to go after her. He’s beating himself up about it.”

Natasha huffed, her anger still simmering. “That doesn’t change what he did.”

“I’m not saying it does,” Sam said, his voice steady. “But like we talked about, it’s 50/50, Nat. They’ve both been stuck in this cycle for years. He’s scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess.”

They reached the diner and slipped into a booth, the warm smell of coffee and pancakes wrapping around them. Once they’d ordered, Sam leaned forward, his tone more serious.

“Bucky told me his side,” he said. “He’s been trying to work up the courage to tell her how he feels for years. And every time he thinks he’s about to make a move, he freezes because he’s terrified of ruining what they have. And now? He’s convinced she doesn’t feel the same.”

Natasha frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s no excuse.”

“It’s not,” Sam agreed. “But it explains why he’s stuck. He told me last night that seeing her with Dean made him realize how much he’s screwed things up. He’s scared he’s already lost her.”

Wanda tilted her head, her voice soft. “It’s like we said—it’s their mess. We can’t fix it for them.”

Natasha sighed, leaning back in the booth. “Yeah, but watching them do this to each other? It’s exhausting.”

Sam nodded, his voice gentle. “I get it. But all we can do is be there for them. That’s what friends do.”

The conversation settled, and for a moment, the three of them sat quietly, the weight of their friendship—and its current fractures—hanging in the air.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky batnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au

190 notes · View notes

anki-of-beleriand · 7 months ago

Text

A Heart Made Of Glass ch.14

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

This chapter is the concept of idiots in love.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 14

The thing about love

The world was in complete turmoil.

Norway became the home to non-secret agencies trying to discover what had shaken the foundations of the city while taking its inhabitants into a virtual reality prison. SWORD had taken over the investigation overlooked by Monica Rambeau and the newest director of the reformed SHIELD, Tony Stark.

For some members of the SWORD team, it was Wanda Maximoff the obvious author of such disaster, but for some others the truth might be slightly more complicated. It was easier to blame the one that had been on the run before the Blip and then come back to enslave a group of people in a fantasy world.

Natasha Romanoff knew the situation was far more complicated that what everyone kept on spitting out in the conference room. She left after it was quite evident no one knew what to do, or what was really going on.

The cold breeze from the outside came rushing through the door, she shivered blinking away the blinding white from the snow covering the land. The houses in the distance had been repaired and people was going back their normal lives. The world didn't stop before the hex and it didn't stop now that it was over and two former Avengers, one powered teen and a witch disappeared.

“Still nothing?” Carol Danvers came walking down a makeshift road, she was wearing different clothing but the perpetual frown of inadequacy and concern was still there.

“Nothing useful.” Natasha stepped forward welcoming the crispy texture of the snow under her feet. “They kept on babbling about who to blame, while Tony, Bruce and Strange are trying to find a way to open a portal to the right universe.”

Carol huffed approaching the brunette, “the right universe? That may take centuries! This is something out of our scope,”

“And that's why we have to be patient.” But even as she said this, Natasha glanced with apprehension towards the bunker then back to the direction where Y/N house was located.

Time was passing slowly but surely and still there was not a single workable plan to bring you and the others back. Whatever magic or powers had acted during the attack from Scarlet and Agatha it had left no traces to be followed, it was as if you and the others had disappeared into existence.

Carol dropped her head, her arms wrapping around herself trying to contain the frustration she had been experimenting for quite some time. Natasha looked at her out of the corner of her eye, the blond-haired woman was standing small with the sight of the mountains and the white of the snow behind her, those dark eyes had never stopped glancing back at your home while her power flickered restlessly around her. Natasha knew your relationship with Carol was complicated, it had been for quite some time. The other woman had reached out to you in the hopes to be with you, Natasha had seen the countless invitations to travel through the universe with Carol as well as seen those stares filled with longing that you usually missed.

The door behind her opened and closed, a couple of soldiers left the protective barrier of the bunker to share a smoke. Natasha cocked her head frowning, her thoughts going back to you and the recent complications in your life.

The return of Wanda had been a surprise, not only for you but for everyone. Natasha sighed lifting her eyes to the sky, when did their life's turn so complicated?

“You're thinking too hard,” Yelena approached her sister, the bags under her eyes the only evidence she hadn't had a good night's sleep since your disappearance.

“I am thinking enough.” Natasha replied, Yelena hummed standing beside her eying Carol before settling her eyes on Natasha.

“Why is it so difficult to have any leads?” Yelena grunted, kicking the snow under her feet.

“Apparently is not easy to find the right universe they went through,” it was Carol the one who answered, her voice dripping sarcasm, “I guess there is nothing we can do but…”

“Wait?” Yelena shook her head, “I'm tired of waiting.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, she opened her mouth ready to answer when the air and earth around her started to shake. She frowned positioning her feet on the ground, flexing her knees and lifting her arms to her chest height. Yelena took the same fighting position while Carol stood straightened up with her eyes focused on the spot where a small whirlpool of sand was moving fast on the ground. Electric waves projected blue and silver lights through the air, while the sound of a vacuum filled the silence of the plain.

The commotion brought everyone to the spot where the two widows and Captain Marvel were standing. Tony put on his metal glove with Strange lifting his hands ready to form a shield. With an explosion a portal in the form of a five-pointed star appeared out of thin air and three people came falling on their faces just before the portal closed.

Just as sudden as the event had come, it went away leaving everyone open-mouthed, shaking with eyes wide opened watching the three women now standing in front of them.

You smiled sheepishly scratching the back of your head, your eyes going from Tony to Carol then falling on Yelena and Natasha. The tension was quite evident, and the silence that followed the explosion could be broken by the fall of a single needle.

Wanda came right in with America closed behind, the cold of Norway sneaked inside your clothes making you shivered but you did not move. You knew the moment you crossed the portal you would find everyone waiting, you never imagined Carol or even Tony would be there.

Before you could do or say anything Carol came right at you, her frown softening just as her eyes twinkled with emotion.

“Y/N?” Her name on her lips made you smile, though a sudden grip of pure coldness grasped your heart and a heavy weight settled on your stomach.

“Hey, Marv.”

Carol didn't even wait for a confirmation or more words, her arms wrapped around you holding you with the desperation Carol had felt in the last couple of days and all the love she had always felt for you.

The tension broke, and soon voices could be heard though you were too lost into the embrace to make out any meaning behind the conversations, or to even notice the saddened figure of Wanda who was standing just behind you with her arms around her and defeat written all over her face.

____________________________

A part of you knew what was waiting at the other side.

You were really surprised to see Carol there, but what really caught you off of guard was the hostility with which many were treating Wanda and America. You knew some of the agents from SWORD were quite reluctant to accept any innocent claims coming from Wanda, they had been under the hex and had experimented firsthand the emotions and mental manipulation the witch had imposed upon them.

Their anger could be understood if not justified.

However, as soon as the three of you were free from the hugs and welcomes from everyone else, you were taken into custody to start the normal procedure of investigation. You had been lucky enough to have Natasha and Carol with you, their interrogation always going back to what had happened, where were you and how you came back.

It was a tiresome day, but by the time a new morning came you were happy to discover you were given a nice breakfast and a couple of explanations of what happened after you disappeared. You were tired of talking, too many memories, and too many thoughts invaded your head and it wasn’t until Yelena and Natasha put a violent stop to all the questioning that the agents from SWORD and SHIELD didn’t let go of you.

You rubbed your shoulders glancing at your reflection, the woman staring back at you was looking tired though she was also slightly sad. You sighed putting a strand of hair behind your ear while fixing the shirt you had put on, with a last glance to your reflection you left the bathroom only to stop startle at the woman waiting for you on the bed.

Carol Danvers had not changed too much.

The both of you had not seen one another for over six months. You had been tied to earth, while Carol was still trying to make of the universe a better place to live on. The both of you had clashed more than once, and passion had been the main rule in the relationship you two shared; but words of love and tenderness were scarce and sometimes whispered in the hidden shadows of the night.

Carol sighed lowering her gaze to the floor before lifting her chin to stare at you.

“How are you feeling?” She finally asked though this was not what she wanted to say.

“I’m better, I guess. Tired, and hungry.” You offered a smile approaching the other woman until you were standing right in front of her.

Your hand lifted to brush away her golden hair, Carol closed her eyes leaning into your touch while letting herself feel the closeness of your body. At some point she had been desperate to break into the hex to get to you, to save you from the clutches of an ex-lover you seemed to carry everywhere you went. Now that you were there in front of her, Carol felt you had gone to a place she could not follow.

It was at that moment, Carol realized she had fallen in love with you.

“Quite the adventure you have, eh?” Carol chuckled shaking her head, her hand grabbing yours. “I can’t hardly believe you were in another universe.”

You winced holding yourself from putting your hand away, “yeah, it was kind of crazy.”

“Which part?” Carol asked, and this time around she couldn’t hide the reproach on her voice nor the jealousy she had felt when she found out Wanda had been with you all this time.

“Everything, carol, everything was kind of crazy.” You hardened your tone, stepping back only to be stopped by the other woman.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Carol trailed off, and you let out a shaky sigh.

“Look, it was not easy, okay? First I got into a body that was not even mine, in a world I didn’t even recognize, to a live I never thought would be mine.” You lifted a hand to the back of your neck. “Then I come here to face an interrogation that took most of the day and night only for you guys to find out that yes, this is me. And yes, the multiverse does exist.”

“I was scared.” Carol finally stated. “As soon as I came here, you were gone then they started telling me all these stories about Wanda and the hex, and then how everything was just the same here, and…”

Both of you fell silent for a moment, your heart beating painfully inside your chest. You knew it wasn’t Carol’s fault, and you knew the one who was all defensive was you. You felt guilty because you had allowed your emotions to take over your reason and that might get the woman sitting in front of you hurt.

“I’m glad you’re back, and I’m glad you’re cleared of any wrongdoing, now that Wanda is under custody…”

“Wait, what?” You stopped Carol mid-sentence, Carol was left slightly confused just as she noticed the sudden hardening of your stare. “What do you mean that Wanda is under custody?”

This time around Carol couldn’t hide her annoyance, she stood up crossing her arms.

“It was quite obvious, wasn’t it? She had a history of creating these strange hexes, then she came here with a girl that can travel through the multiverse, whatever she was trying to achive…”

“It wasn’t Wanda’s fault.” You stated forcefully, Carol scowled rolling her eyes.

“Right, now you’re on her side?”

“I’m not…” You took a deep breath, “I’m not on her side, Carol, but didn’t you hear my story?”

“Quite frankly, I only heard the part in which you found out those twins of hers were actually yours and not Vision’s. In another Universe, not this one.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Carol knew she had said the wrong thing. Your whole body went completely rigid, and your eyes flashed a dangerous black twinkle that sent shivers down Carol’s back.

“I am not happy about the whole situation either, Carol. But I am not going to blame someone that had nothing to do with what happened here, or even Westview.” You straightened up walking past Carol to grab your jacket. “Now, I will go to straighten everything up, even if I have to break her out of jail and fight whoever I have to.”

“Don’t leave.” Carol wrapped her arms around your waist, she pressed her forehead against the back of your head. “I’m sorry.”

You were breathing hard, the anger boiling inside your veins while her words resounded inside your head. It wasn’t so much of what Carol had said, but actually the real meaning behind those words. Everything had happened so fast, everything had been so overwhelming that you hadn’t had the time to think, to process everything that had happened. You were trying to stop your spiralling world, but every time you got a chance to stand still something came rushing in to shake you again.

A part of you knew Carol was not to blame, not completely. You were looking for an excuse, for something to make you feel better and not as shitty as you were feeling at the moment because of the confusion you were experimenting. For the love you still held for Wanda, while your affection for Carol was not enough.

You turned around wrapping your arms around her, your lips found hers and soon the both of you were giving in the passion you always felt around one another. Carol held onto you with the need of a thirsty woman, and you held onto her with the desperation to quiet down your thoughts and doubts. The kiss turned into a full make-out session that led to Carol straddling your lap on the bed; your hand sneaked under her winter jumper her skin warm under your fingertips, twitching with every single caress.

“Y/N.” Your name left her lips in a needy whisper, and all it took for you was to hear your voice to know you had to stop.

You leaned back placing a single hand on her shoulder and the other one on her hips stopping the thrusting of her hips. She was slightly dizzy, her cheeks flustered with her pupils dilated, she had a silly smile on her lips nuzzling her nose on your neck. You tried to return the smile but couldn’t instead you brush her cheek with the back of your hand, leaning into place a single kiss on her forehead.

“What are you doing?” She finally realized you had stopped; you were trying to get away from her while being as gently as you could.

You opened your mouth to confess, to actually come clean and tell Carol how what you were doing with her was not fair. But the blond-haired woman put a single finger on your lips, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I just have to go back.” You said placing your hands on her hips, “if what you’re telling me is how things turned out to be I have to intervene, it wouldn’t be fair.”

Carol shifted standing up and moving away from you, she cocked her head shrugging.

“I guess is not, if Wanda did help you out and was not even involve in the whole fiasco it is not fair to pay for everything.” Carol didn’t leave out of her comment the partial fault that the other woman had, at least for what had happened back in Westview.

“Will you come with me?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Carol shook her head placing her hands inside the pockets of her jeans.

“No, I think I will wait here for you.”

There was nothing else you could say, and if she were to be honest Carol didn’t want to hear any more explanations. The blond-haired woman leaned in pecking you on the lips before nodding towards the door of your room.

“Go on, be a hero.”

You chuckled nodding briefly before putting on your jacket and leaving the room.

Carol stood inside your room for a long time, she leaned back against the dresser while her eyes fell upon the picture of you with Natasha and Yelena resting on the bedside table. Carol had known from the moment she laid eyes on you that a relationship with you would be dangerous, you had always been quite reserved and kept yourself out of any emotional attachment. Carol had been stubborn, curious as to what really was behind your cold façade only to discover a smart and funny woman behind it. She had fallen in love with your smile, your wit, and the way you always seemed to find the bright side of things even though your perception of your own life was quite poor.

Natasha had warned Carol about your broken heart, she had told Carol how difficult it was for you to actually open up to love again. But at that point Carol would take whatever you were willing to offer; she never thought there would be a time in which she would need to give up her relationship with you.

With a last glance to the picture, she turned around and left the room.

Love was a complicated it deal.

_________________________________________________

Yelena could sense your anger even before she could see you approaching the bunker.

From the very beginning she had been opposed to the idea of keeping America and Wanda in holding cells like common criminals. What happened in Norway had not been their fault, they had come all the way to the city seeking protection and help, and that was exactly what Y/N, Natasha and Yelena had done. America was a teen just getting the ropes of her powers, while Wanda…well, with Wanda things were complicated it. But at the end of the day, she was not a bad person. She just had really bad luck.

Yelena cleared her throat glancing at Natasha who was on her feet as soon as she sensed your presence. You were coming with silent rage, your whole-body trembling stretching your powers to the shadows inside the room. Two agents came at you, ready to stop you but were unable to move their feet from the ground.

“Took you long enough.” Yelena said looking at her nails, you snorted stepping closer until she saw Wanda on a chair being held with some sort of necklace on her neck.

“Well, no one told me about this, so it was kind of hard to come before Carol let it slip.” Your fists clenched close, Natasha stood by your side pointing to the cameras and then to the two agents questioning Wanda.

“She is going to be charged.”

“With what?” You replied shaking your head, “where the hell is Tony? Why is he allowing this? I thought he has some jurisdiction in these situations…”

“He does.” Natahsa stated softening her stare, “that’s why he is not here.”

You scowled glancing at her then at Yelena, you opened and closed your mouth several times before pointing a finger at them.

“You allowed this to happen?” The rage you were feeling increased, but before you could say anything else Yelena came from behind you.

“Wanda did.” Yelena glanced at you then at the woman being held inside the room, the questions and the gestures of her jailers becoming increasingly demanding and aggressive.

“What?” This time around you were confused, Natasha softened her features knowing that you had been confused ever since Wanda came back into your life.

“You have to understand that whatever happened to you three, Wanda feels responsible for most of it. She took her responsibility since she was not allowed to do so before.”

Natasha could see how your processed her words, she grabbed your hand in hers squeezing lightly.

“But it wasn’t her fault, Agatha…”

“Agatha disappeared, remember?” Yelena continued, this time around you understood there was nothing else you could say, you could suddenly read there was more at play than just Wanda turning herself over.

Natasha and Yelena were not in the room by chance, you looked out of the corner of your eye the guards still struggling against the invisible ropes holding them on place. When you turned over to the room, your blood boiled in anger knowing that as always there was a hidden agenda trying to get a hold of powered individuals. This time around they had set their eyes on Wanda, who wouldn’t want to change the world around them? To get a hold of an individual that could take your through the multiverse, the power to shape the world to your licking.

“I hope Tony has pretty good lawyers.” You stated before moving past Natasha, your hand lifted pointing at the door of the interrogation room and pushing hard until the door crushed the wall at the other side of the room.

“Agent Schultz, I hope I am not interrupting anything important.”

__________________________________________________________

Wanda wondered not for the first time how much hatred and revenge people could harbour in their hearts.

When she first broke the hex from Westview, she could see the fear in the eyes of the citizens as well as in the eyes of those agents she had captured at some point. She remembered the demands for her arrest, the harsh wording in which they were demanding for her to be imprisoned or at least held tightly unable to use her powers.

It had hurt, it was Lagos all over again.

The accusations never left, and the mistrust in some of the people’s eyes had always been there. It never went away, and Wanda had always been looked at with fear, resentment, and pity; she had tried her best, even with Steve by her side, it was impossible to get past such negative sentiments and thus she had decided to just keep to herself.

“What do you have to say, Maximoff.” The agent pointed to the file with his index finger, the agent to his side playing with a black gadget. “This would be, what? Your third time trying to break into the natural order of things and use your powers to…what exactly?”

The collar tightly wrapped around her neck sent jolts of electricity through her neck, shoulders and arms. It wasn’t the first time she was subject to such a gadget, and the memory was still burned deep inside her mind while the pain felt extremely familiar. Wanda held onto her emotions with as much dignity as she could muster, she could feel her power build up inside her ready to explode and let the men in the room why messing up with a witch like her was a mistake.

She was not about to show them she was the monster everyone believed her to be.

So even through the pain, and the questions that repeated themselves Wanda held herself proud and calm, hoping that Tony and Strange would keep their word and get her out of there without any physical fight.

“I think agent Cho asked you a question, Maximoff.” The black-haired man holding the switch of the collar asked leaning forward. “We need answers, what else can you give us?”

“Nothing else, agent Schultz, I already told your superiors everything they need to know.” Wanda clenched her jaw, her lips trembling lightly when another shot of electricity went through her neck and limbs.

“You are answering to us right now, Maximoff.”

“You were telling us about a different universe, tell us exactly what—” Agent Schultz stopped talking when the hinges from the door gave with a crashing sound and then the door exploded around them.

Wanda never entertained the idea of you coming in her aid.

In her mind, she had always thought you were happy with her gone, after all, that had been the deal when this whole ordeal started. She sat straightened up on the chair, her eyes to the door where you stood up with blackened eyes and silent anger all over your features.

“Agent Schultz, I hope I am not interrupting anything important.”

“Y/N! This is not going to be…” The man trailed of making gagging sounds at the black hand wrapping around his throat.

“I thought everything had been cleared out when I was taken into custody and given my testimony, I don’t understand why Wanda and America are being held under such deplorable conditions.” You pushed the agent back stepping closer to Cho who was trying to get the black switch while looking for his gun.

“I don’t think so, pal.” Yelena stepped on the wrist of the man smiling down on him. “I was waiting all day to do this.”

“Why didn’t you?” You replied crushing the device while approaching Wanda, your eyes locked with hers.

“And taking away from you the chance to save the damsel in distress? No way.” Yelena chuckled cuffing Agent Cho.

You snorted grabbing the collar while locking eyes with Wanda, the young witch didn’t say anything but her cheeks coloured red and her lips curled slightly. You winked t her, unable to help yourself before opening the device making a gesture of disgust.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was but a whisper, Wanda shifted on the chair letting go of the breath she had been holding ever since she had been incarcerated.

“What could I have said to them?” She replied watching as Natasha and Yelena started barking orders around the bunker.

“Perhaps, that you are one of the good guys?” You could see the flicker of doubt in those green eyes, Wanda lowered her gaze lifting her brows.

“Am I?” She dropped her shoulders, her lips trembling as she continued, “I made a lot of mistakes, Y/N, I’m just trying to pay for them.”

You pursed your lips, this was not the first time you heard such words coming from Wanda and while at first you thought it was the minimum she could do after all the pain she caused you; right now all you could think was to take away the pain and loneliness that seemed to be written into those green irises.

“You have paid for them, Wanda, you don’t need to punish yourself anymore.” Without thinking too much about your own actions, the back of your hand brushed tenderly on Wanda’s cheek just before your fingertips traced the marks left by the collar.

“I still think there is a lot I have to pay for, perhaps…once I have paid off my debt you…” Wanda trailed off unable to continue, you opened your mouth to ask Wanda what she meant, what she wanted to say but before you could do it another set of footsteps came rushing in and soon the both of you were engulfed by the arms of a teenager.

“Y/N! Wanda! You guys are okay!”

Wanda hugged America back, her eyes locking with yours for a moment. Your heart skipped a beat, your hand finding hers in a single touch that lasted long enough to leave you yearning for more; Wanda from her part got hope ignited inside her heart, and once more, wish she was brave enough to do what Scarlet asked of her. To fight for you, to not let go.

To let herself be loved by you.

____________________________________________________

America had never lived so much in so little time.

For a moment, when she could finally stop to take a breath, she felt as if years had passed and she had been thrown into a rollercoaster that took her from open danger to the next one without giving her the chance to assimilate everything that had happened.

That was until she had reached your universe.

Yours and Wanda’s.

America took a sip from the hot chocolate she had been offered, the room was filled with some agents and civilians, all of whom were just grateful that everything was over and life was going back to normal. Or as normal as it could be in a world filled with powered people and aliens running around the universe; America pursed her lips, knowing full well that after Y/N had come to pull her and Wanda out of the interrogation cells something of great importance happened for soon SWORD and SHIELD left.

No questions asked, no more attempts to capture and incarcerate Wanda or herself.

America let her eyes wandered around the room until she noticed Wanda on the far corner of the room. The young woman was alone, with her eyes gleaming with deep emotion she was trying to conceal behind the locks of hair and the glass she took to her mouth every five seconds. With a frown, America followed the stare from Wanda only to see you at the other side of the room.

Unlike the woman she had been back in the other universe, or whenever she had to fight, this Wanda was looking defeated. It was not hard to know why, you were laughing allowing an intimate caress and hold from Carol Danvers who was whispering something into your ear while Natasha rolled her eyes.

You looked happy, completely taken by the blond while Wanda remained in the shadows.

“They are complicated.” Yelena stood by America’s side, her accent dripping through every word.

America pursed her lips shaking her head, “I don’t understand why it is so complicated.”

Wanda’s attention was soon claimed by Tony, the man sat beside her talking slowly with gestures of his hands ensuring the young woman was really paying attention to him. At that moment, your attention drifted to her, your eyes softening slightly while your body turned completely ready to make your way towards her. A hand on yours stopped any movement, and while it looked as if your attention was claimed once more, you couldn’t help but look back to where Wanda was conversing with Tony.

“It is not so easy to forget and forgive,” Yelena shrugged following with her eyes the same scene America had been watching all afternoon. “They had been badly hurt, I don’t know much about Wanda, but Y/N was really hurt by the cheating. She felt as if no one could love her anymore.”

America winced for the very first time understanding where your anger came from, sometimes people ignored what others were experiencing and they forget that the pain and trauma was personal and not just something that could be turned on or off at will.

“But they are still in love with one another, isn’t it obvious to them?” America let out a heavy sigh, “it should be easier, after all this time…”

Yelena snorted this time around she turned to face America.

“You really think love is enough?” This time around Yelena’s eyes softened slightly, it was quite strange to find someone so innocent yet so hardened by the circumstances she had lived.

“It should be, right?” America hesitated chewing on her lower lip, “I mean, if love is not enough then, why are we doing what we do? Save people, save the world.”

It should be that easy, Yelena agreed. Yet she understood why it was so complicated, the former Widow could see your hesitation, the tension in your body for staying beside Carol while the longing in your eyes revealed your real intentions. You wanted to go to Wanda, just as Wanda wanted to go to you ever since you had rescued her from the interrogation room.

Love should be enough.

And now, all they had to proof this theory was time.

But time was not enough, and sooner or later, you and Wanda would need to decide what you really want and what you were ready to give and sacrifice.

++++

“I heard you were saved by Y/N.” Tony sat beside Wanda following the stare of the young woman until his eyes found the form of Y/N. “She came in, broke the door and scare shitless those Agents before putting you out of harm’s way.”

Wanda blushed trying to hide away her expression, she couldn’t help but turn her attention back at you. It had been a moment she had treasured in her mind, the soft caress of your fingers while your words reached the deepest of her soul. She never imagined anyone would come to her rescue, much less the very same woman she had hurt so much in the past, yet here you were ready to break havoc as long as Wanda was fine.

“S-she did what any of you would have done.” Wanda glanced at Tony who merely snorted shaking his head.

“We left you with them, didn’t we?” Tony leaned back letting his eyes wandered to the window, his voice just above a whisper meant for Wanda only. “Everything has been straightened up, you have been cleared of any charges and if you want to, you can come back with me to the State or stay here…whatever you prefer.”

Wanda huffed shaking her head, “I am clear? Just like that?”

Tony shrugged, Wanda narrowed her eyes at the man pressing her lips together.

“What did you do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago, Wanda.” Tony leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “You have suffered enough, I think after everything you went through in the past, and what happened recently with Westview and America, I think you deserve a rest.”

When Tony saw the hesitation in Wanda he placed a hand on top of hers, squeezing tenderly onto her hand.

“It is time for you to be happy, Wanda. There is nothing else to it, but a chance that this universe is giving you to be happy.” Tony offered a smile, his eyebrows wiggling playfully while his eyes were pointing to you. “I’m not saying is gonna be easy, and it probably won’t end where you want it to end, but it is worth a try.”

“She is already happy, and she is with someone else. I just…I’m happy for her, I don’t think I will be bothering her anymore.” Wanda whispered with her heart breaking inside her chest.

The woman tried to be strong, while also feeling a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying lifted when Tony finished his speech.

“I want to thank you for what you did, even though you did leave me on that interrogation room.”

“It was for a good cause, believe me.” Tony clasped his hands in front of him, furrowing his brows with his eyes following your every move.

Even if Wanda refused to see it, it was quite evident for everyone all you wanted to do was to go to where Wanda was sitting. Your eyes had barely left the young woman before her attention was claimed by Carol, though the Captain was not being successful in her mission. It seemed as if you had eyes only for Wanda.

“I think you should speak with her, Wanda. This time around without missions, or the past getting in the way.” Tony finally spoke, making sure Wanda could no pretend she wasn’t listening. “You two lived quite the adventure in this other universe, and believe when I tell you, whenever you get a chance to see the life you could have, the love you could share, the children you could have…well, your life changes completely. Talk to her.”

Wanda couldn’t help but glance at Tony with a new hint of respect behind her green eyes. She had known the playboy, as well as the businessman and the Avenger; she had seen many faces of Tony Stark but this parental one was the one she loved the most. Wanda wished she could be as optimistic as he was, that she could see what everyone was seeing; but she couldn’t and her heart was not ready to take in another wave of heartbreak.

“I will do it but, I need a favour.” Wanda said with her mind already deciding on her course of action.

“Whatever you want, little witch.”

Wanda smiled sadly at the nickname, she turned to you and with a last, longing stare she turned to Tony with a request that left the man highly surprised and confused; behind such a request, Tony could make himself an idea on how the conversation between Wanda and yourself would end up in.

He couldn’t help but feel sad.

Tony had always thought you and Wanda were meant to be together, that the love you hold for one another could work miracles.

Now, all he had was a hopeless hope that you would let go of the past, and that Wanda would not let go of the present.

_______________________________________________

Wanda woke up with a gasp.

She was breathing hard, cold sweat rolling down her face and back. Her breathing laboured, burning her lungs trying to regulate itself while the images invading her mind stumbled one after the other.

There was not a single noise around her, the room was filled with darkness, to her left she could see the flash of a reflection in the window leading to the backyard. The white dots of snow falling, breaking the otherwise blackened night; even though she could tell it was a cold night, her room felt warm. Unbearable warmth.

She lifted a hand to her face, touching with her fingertips the tears wetting her cheeks. Wanda wrapped her arms around her legs, putting them towards her chest, placing her forehead on her knees. The dream had been so vivid, she could see every single scene playing inside her head, her last chance slipping away through her fingers and she was still unable to do anything at all.

Her dreams had been plagued with the memories of Westview and the Blip, she had seen as you slipped away only to come back filled with hatred turning your back on her while walking away with Carol by your side. Her dream had shifted at that moment, and she was back in The Raft tied to a wall with a collar that held her in place while sending electric shocks that made her feel a blinding pain. You were there, laughing with Tommy and Billy glaring at her while asking you to leave Wanda behind.

Wanda held back a sob trying to put the memories of the nightmare away from her head. She tried to get a hold of herself, taking deep breaths while putting together a set of memories that soothe her soul. Tommy and Billy were the first ones that came to mind, her children had been real; they had existed in the way Wanda had imagine them at first, with you by her side rasing them as your own. Wanda couldn’t help but smile when these memories came with a set of pictures she had seen back in the other universe, the both of you had really gone through a lot of hardships, but always together.

Wanda broke into a half-smile remembering the sweet smell of your perfume, the aroma that was unique yours when she woke up in the hospital. The conversation Wanda held with you, while the shared company and closeness gave Wanda hope that things would be different; Wanda lifted her face trying to hold onto the tears while she finally remembered how you came into the interrogation room and pulled her out of the shackles that had been trying to hold her while she was being interrogated.

Wanda remembered that moment, her heart had fluttered with hope when you stood up for her. She had almost melted away when you grabbed her hand leading her to the closest room before offering a half-smile. Wanda had dared to hope until Carol Danvers came right in and you were swept away almost right away.

With a heavy heart, and tired limbs Wanda stood from the bed. Her throat was dry, hurting just enough for her to look for some water hoping she would be protected by the dark of the night and the tiredness everyone in the house was feeling early into the evening.

The house was just as silent as her room, and the darkness was only broken by the strange appearance of a silver moon that came along with snow. Her naked feet made a tapping sound, leading her way into the kitchen, the cold of the night finally reaching out her heated skin making her shiver. She furrowed her brows wrapping her arms tightly around her body until she finally reached the kitchen.

Wanda stopped dead on her tracks when her eyes found those of yours sitting at the table. Her heart skipped a beat, while her lower abdomen filled with butterflies, but with all of this it also came the shadow of her reality. Her eyes dropped to a spot on the floor, her mind and soul pulsating trying to get her to say or do something. The part of her she had shut was stirring restlessly inside her.

She didn't expect to find anyone in the kitchen much less you wearing nothing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Hey, couldn't sleep?” You placed your arms on the table, steam coming out of the mug you had in front of you.

Wanda was not looking so well, you noticed. Ever since you got back she had been all quiet, standing as an outsider while facing interrogation and examinations before joining the celebrations. You couldn't help but notice how far away she looked, yet how close she wanted to be. She was looking just as confused and lonely as she had been the first day she got to your place, your heart shrank painfully thinking about her.

“I was thirsty, that's all.” She stated pointing with her finger at the counter, “I'll have some water and then…”

She wiggled her fingers trying to look everywhere but at you, her feet taking her hurriedly to the counter only to crash against one of the chairs. You were on her in a second, your arms holding her softly, smiling amusedly at her. Wanda looked mortified, her cheeks burning red and her hands trembling, unable to stay still while touching your arms.

“Sorry, I didn't see where I was going, I just…” you furrowed your brows, letting Wanda push you away while making her way to the counter.

“That's okay.” You went back to your previous position, frowning at the mug.

The silence that followed was broken only by the running water and the sound of glass being moved away. You grabbed your mug, taking a long sip from your tea, not moving a single muscle as you heard Wanda pouring the water and taking long sips from the glass.

Wanda dropped her eyes to the sink, she didn't expect to find you in the kitchen but now that you were there she wanted to scream. She wanted to wrap her arms around you, she wanted to hold onto the memories she had of you two being young and in love, as well as to hold onto the life that could be hers if she hadn't messed up.

But she held herself, her knuckles going white for how hard she was holding onto the edge of the sink. She was too late, always too late.

No! You told me you will fight back, that you won't give up on her!

Scarlet's voice resounded inside Wanda’s mind but the young witch shook her head. She wanted you to be happy, and Wanda was not sure she was the person to make you happy. You had moved on whereas Wanda had tried to hold onto hope.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump startled. She turned around to see you standing there with your empty cup and concern flashing in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just…” Wanda sighed offering a shaky smile, “I guess I'm still shaking after the interrogation. I never got to thank you for backing me up.”

You offered a tiny smile, shrugging as if it had been nothing when you knew it had been everything for you.

“It wasn't fair how they were treating you, Wands. You did nothing wrong and people should stop acting as if you did.” Your replied was directed to what had happened recently, though you could see the weight of the memories inside Wanda's eyes.

“Some things were my fault.” Her voice dropped, her heart was beating fast at your closeness, the hand you still had on her shoulder.

“Some things we cannot change, nor can we control. Stop beating yourself up for that.” You wanted to add something else, but just as Wanda, you were confused.

Everything that had happened was overwhelming, it forced you to face a past you couldn't forget, it put you and your feelings for Wanda on the spot. It made you question why you were never able to forge a real relationship with anybody, and why watching what could have been in another world hurt the deepest part of your soul and heart.

You were still in love with Wanda.

But things were complicated.

“I guess you're right.” Wanda offered a crooked smile, she stepped away from your touch looking away from you. “I still have nightmares.”

Her admission broke your stance, you lifted a hand to her face brushing away some locks of hair while looking directly into her green eyes.

“That's the reason why you are shaking right now?” You asked in a whisper, your hand warm against Wanda's cold skin. “That's why you woke up?”

Wanda closed her eyes, weak under your touch and tenderness. She tried to answer, but you stepped closer and all her thoughts and reasoning left her weak on the knees. You softened your features, leaning in until your warm breath brushed against the skin of her neck and ears.

“I'm sorry you still have nightmares about it.”

“It's not your fault.” Wanda finally answered, her voice shaking. She lifted her left hand wrapping it around your hand. “Y/N…”

It was the tone of voice that broke the spell, you frowned stepping back a little. Wanda seemed relieved, though also disappointed, her green eyes begging you to not play with her.

“Have you ever thought about what would happen…” Wanda started but you cut her off with a gesture.

“All the time, when I'm alone and I cannot quiet down my thoughts.”

“Are we happy in your thoughts?” Wanda knew she was not being fair with her questioning, but she needed it to know.

She needed hope

“We are.”

Wanda leaned back trying to smile but coming off like a grimace.

“That's good.”

“Have you ever thought…” You started but Wanda was even faster than you on her answer.

“Yes, every single day.”

You tilted your head furrowing your brows with squinted eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“There hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you, about what could be.” This time around it was her the one that stepped back, she couldn't take her eyes off of you. “I hoped at some point I could win you back and perhaps everything would be back to normal.”

“Things cannot go back to how they were, Wands.” You tried to soften the harshness of your voice with the nickname but it didn't work.

Wanda winced looking down at her feet, she grabbed the counter with her hands her back to the wall and a single rute of scape available to her.

“I know.” Wanda whispered, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “That was the moment I thought of Westview, I just…”

In the last couple of days, you had learnt so much about her and yourself that a part of you understood why Wanda had done what she did. Now it was easy to understand why Vision and not you had shown into the picture, why Wanda needed to be weakened mentally and physically before Agatha could do as much damage as she was allowed to before taken over.

For the first time, in a very long time, you took your time looking at Wanda. Your eyes went from her naked feet, wiggling fingers trying to get warm to her legs covered by a single pyjama pants and a sweater, her face was pale with bags under her eyes that had always shone with sadness in them. Her hair was long, a little unkept, as if she had woken up, a copper-like colour that had always suited her complexion. Wanda was beautiful, and our heart twisted pleasantly at the sight your hands twitching at your side wanting nothing more than to hug the woman in front of you.

“Things cannot go back to what they were, but they can be different, Wands.” This time around you said quietly, Wanda lifted her eyes but she could not read into your expression.

“What do you mean?” She whispered hating the bubble of hope that grew in her heart.

“I mean that we…I mean, we can be friends.” You backed away not daring to say anything else, not daring to expose yourself once more.

The bubble of hope exploded in a spiral of cold nails that went through Wanda's heart. Friends. That was all they could be, right? Things coils be different this time around, a moment in which you were only a friend destined to just not be close enough.

“That…that sounds good.” Wanda tried to smile, her lips trembling under the weight of her emotions.

You offered a tentative smile, “you can…I mean, now that everything is ready, America was thinking on staying over, so if you want…”

“I'll leave tomorrow.” Wanda rushed the words one after the other, her right hand fixing her hair while the left one picked on invisible threads on her sweater. “I…I talk with Tony, and everything is ready, I just…”

You stood expressionless, frozen on the spot while processing Wanda's words. The woman was babbling, never looking at you while bouncing on her feet

“I promise you I will be out of your way as soon as this is over and, I think it is time, I just thought you should know.” Wanda winced, stepping forward, walking past you without taking notice of the pain written all over your face.

“Friends would be good, I guess…we could try it.” Wanda turned around only to see you with your back to her. “Good night, Y/N, sleep well.”

Wanda left and the coldness of the night followed her all the way to her room. She never got a chance to see the broken stare in your eyes, or the same coldness taking refuge in your heart leaving you open to what you really wanted but didn't dare to have.

_____________________

You didn’t say goodbye.

You were not ready to do so, thus you decided to just hide away and pretend Wanda hadn’t come into your life the moment winter began. It was easier than just face the fact that Wanda would leave you behind.

It wasn’t as if she owed you something, that had been the deal. You helped her and America and then, they needed to leave. You had been so full of grief and rage at that moment, you never imagine your emotions would change and that you would be faced with the situation you had been in.

Everything happened too fast for you to just think about it. And, when the moment came for you to do something, you just cowered away.

It was easier.

Running away was always easier.

By the time Wanda had arrived at your home, Winter had started. The days had been short, and the nights long and cold where the northern lights had been visible for most of the inhabitants in the North.

You had been so busy with what was happening, that you had forgotten the magic hidden behind the green and golden lights that ignited the sky. Sometimes it changes into a pink colour, twirling above your home with a flicker of lightning just before fading away.

You had chosen Norway due to its weather, and the quietness of the land. Not many tourists came to the fishing town, and the house you had bought was at the edge of a barely known road. It had been perfect for you to hide, and to run away; now it was looking like a prison, a place you could not escape from when everyone else seemed to walk away.

The wind was particularly strong that morning, it came with frozen bites on your uncovered skin. You turned around watching the mountains stretching through the horizon, the dark waters reflecting the darkened sky. You had come to the lighthouse to think, and to forget.

But you were failing quite miserably.

The first time you walked away from Wanda, you had done so without even saying goodbye. This time around, you had run away before she could say goodbye to you.

You wished there was something you could do, something you could say to Wanda that would change the situation. But you weren't sure what exactly you could say, you and her had ended the relationship a long time ago, and right now whatever you two had was just a shaky friendship.

“Fuck!” Your scream could be heard through the sound of the blowing wind.

“Why are you so frustrated?” Yelena was leaning against the wall, she was wearing a white, winter jacket with her brows knitted together.

You grabbed the railing shaking your head, your lips broke into a bitter smile. Of course, Yelena would be there watching your breakdown, Natasha had been like a mother to you offering her arms and shoulders for you to rest and let go of your pain. But Yelena had been the sister that made you face reality of what you were feeling, what you wanted and what you really needed.

“I don't know.” You turned around resting your weight on the railing, your eyes finding those of Yelena. “I've been thinking about everything that has happened, and I just…I don't know.”

Yelena nodded in understanding; she stepped closer to you crossing her arms. She was covering the fact she was freezing at the moment, her body shivering under the heavy weight of the jacket she was wearing.

“You don't know or you just don't want to know.” Yelena glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, she wrapped her arms around herself pursuing her lips. “I think in the last couple of weeks you have to finally face a situation you had been evading for far too long.”

“I don’t know what I should do, ‘Lena.” You whispered frowning deeply, “everything had been clear a couple of months ago, I was happy until…”

“Until you received the videos?” Yelena set her eyes on the horizon, before tilting her head to turn her attention to you. “They were sent by someone inside SWORD, Agatha had more than one ally in the organization.”

“How do you know?”

“Natasha asked me to investigate while you were away, it wasn’t that difficult to find some of the records.” Yelena shifted the weight of her feet her hand sneaking inside her pocket. “I don’t think you travelling through the multiverse was part of her plan, though capturing you and getting Wanda, America and yourself in the same place was.”

“She wanted our powers, same old story.” You shook your head, “do they ever get original?”

“Don’t think so.” Yelena chuckled bumping against you, her face softening while she put from her pocket a single envelope.

“What is that?” You eyed the object with curiosity, Yelena pursed her lips before stretching her hand and presenting you with it.

“Before she left, she wanted to give you this.” Yelena frowned observing as your expression changed, you went from being slightly relaxed to a tormented soul in a second. “Whatever happened in the other universe, whatever happened in Westview, whatever happened when the both of you were young…I think, Y/N, you need to face the past and decide what to do with yourself and with her.”

You grabbed the envelope, taking care of the letter inside it.

“She left.”

“She did.”

“Yelena, I …” You couldn’t finish your sentence but Yelena was not expecting you to, she smirked shaking her head while rolling her eyes at you.

“The thing about love, Y/N, is that you can’t predict it, you can’t control it, and certainly, you can’t choose who you fall in love with.” Yelena said simply. “Now, it is up to you what will happen next, I think by now we all know what Wanda really wants, and who she really loves.”

“I thought you hate her.” You never took your eyes away from the letter, Yelena snorted shaking her head.

“No, I just didn’t like her that much, you were a mess when I met you.” Yelena stated turning her attention to the house. “She is not so bad, after all.”

You snorted shaking your head, with some reluctance you put the letter away wrapping your arms around Yelena, the young woman smiled allowing the comfort of your embrace while you two made your way back into the lighthouse.

The letter heavy on your pocket, your mind wanting nothing more than to know what Wanda had left behind. It wouldn’t be until latter that day that you would have a chance to read it and, by then, Wanda was too far away trying to hold back her tears while convincing herself she had made the right decision.

Wanda left thinking she would never see you again, and you read the letter knowing you needed to see Wanda again.

At the end of the day, it was about love, and what we did to get a little of it in our lives. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter: You read the letter, Natasha reads the letter, Carol finds the letter, and Yelena and America are kinda desperated with you pinning for Wanda and not doing anything about it. Wanda is finally getting some peace, learning about herslef and her powers when, all of a sudden, she receives a surprised visit.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #female reader #imagine wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader

237 notes · View notes

dolphin-writer · 3 months ago

Text

Story Idea That May Never Be Written

Danny almost 18, decides to leave home, Tucker has a new identity ready for him and everything. With help of Jazz he plans to finish his hs classes online.

Right before he leaves his parents find out/he got sloppy/ his mom freaks but his dad stops her and just hugs danny. He is confused, guilty, and hurt by maddies reaction. Tells danny he’ll handle maddy and to just go as he planed

Danny moves to Gothem, for its high ecto levels and basically chill not give a fuck attatude. And other than the petty crime which he knows he can handle it will be great. He finishes his hs classes and gets a job at a mechanics shop.

Jazz is in college in Metropolis as she thinks the rivalry between the sister cities is interesting to study. And now she can use it as an excuse to visit Gotham and Danny.

Sam and Tucker graduate and move to college. Sam goes to Gotham U where Danny is taking night classes as he is now a full time mechanic at the shop. Tucker is at MIT, working at a tech help store.

A year and a half after he ran Danny gets a message from his dad. Jack is now living in Metropolis near Jazz. Maddy lost it, something about everything hitting her at once, the knowledge that her son died in her machine and that she continued trying to end him for years after, and all the things Phantom had to do hit her at once and shifted something in her mind. She was not sane anymore. She wanted to get Danny legally marked as dead because a part of her knew he died. Jack tried to fight it until Jazz told him that it would be good for Danny to lose that last tie so he finally agreed. Shortly after Jack had her assessed and committed to the hospital and then pleaded to the courts for a divorce so he could focus on his last remaining child Jazz instead of watching Maddy rot away. The courts granted it and Maddy became ward of the state. Jack moved to Metropolis and got a job in helping design security systems.

By the time Sam and Tucker were graduating Danny had risen to running the shop only below the owner. Sam got a job with a Dr. Pamala Islie working on keeping plants from going extinct and trying to revive ones that were. Tucker was still working part time at that tech repair shop but was really working on getting his own tech/coding business more widespread.

Danny finished his night classes shortly after them and got a good pay raise with it. Right around this time a big bomb hit Gotham in the form of Gothams Prince Bruce Wayne had returned. No one officially knew where he had gone, lots had begun to doubt he would come back saying he was probably dead. So it was a shock to everyone. And soon gotham gossip came to life with the stories of the himbo playboy. Danny could care less but it was fun getting Sam wound up about him.

Tuckers business officially took off with big names using it such as (Queen Industries, and other companies associated with future heroes) he moved permanently to Metropolis to be close but refused to move to Gotham saying the lack of sun would kill his complexion, which sam returned with like you spend any time outside anyway?

As a year passed Wayne Enterprise started expanding, small at first building up their departments before adding new ones. Then the Martha Wayne Foundation hit the streets. Founding food kitchens and clinics and pharmacies that were cheap to free for anyone. It made a difference for some. Danny started to question the Bruce Wynes' himbo status as it was clear that this wasn’t just a pr move.

Then two years after the circus that was Bruce Wayne's return as the city quieted back down to its normal levels, the people began to hear about a monster, a demon that had been hunting the criminals of Gotham, a shadow that would leave criminals tied up for the police to find. He was a story that word of, would not spread outside of Gothams borders. Now this was something Danny watched and listened for news of. This creature or man was taking over the city little by little and Danny was protective of the city that had become his home. But he was retired and happy so he waited and observed.

Eventually they got a name, Batman. The cost for them gaming the name was that villains, not just criminals were popping out of the woodwork every other week. It was getting concerning to team Phantom, and all of Gotham in general. The press started to blame Batman for these villains' existence, calling him a menace and demanding his arrest. And Danny was conflicted. This man, for he was just a normal human as far as they could figure, was trying his best to save people, stop a problem that was not his fault but he probably felt responsible for, and now the city was against him for it. Danny did not enjoy the parallels and the reminder of his old life, but he sympathized with Batman and became a very vocal supporter of him.

Eventually others joined Danny in his support of Batman. Eventually the people calling for his arrest were drowned out by those thanking him for trying to protect them. Eventually the police stopped chasing him and started working with him, even asking for help at times.

Time passed Gotham adjusted, as it always does. Danny was getting bored, he loved the mechanic shop it had become his baby, he trained the new hires and even got a couple to tinker and build things with him. But he got home and was bored, so he started experimenting with baking. He had learned how to cook over his time of living in Gotham and quite enjoyed making food for his family, Sam was always stopping by to raid his fridge since he started experimenting with making vegan food. They even got Tucker to admit to liking it. So the natural next step was trying baking. His first few attempts weren’t a disaster but they weren’t very good either. But as time passed he got better but then he faced a different issue. What to do with all the deserts. Everyone he knew was given some, and then the rest were donated to a food kitchen. At Jazzes' suggestion Danny applied to work part time at a small bakery. It was right on the outskirts of Crime alley run by a couple of older ladies and their son. Danny got to bake and work on improving recipes and they got to sell what he made. Though they did try to set him up with their son several times after finding out Danny was bi. So life settled.

Then Batman got a partner, a child partner, and Danny got upset. He had been a child vigilante, he had barely survived being a chile vigilante. Danny who took in and trained as many street kids as he could at the shop. Danny who proudly watched those kids become adults and make it in Gotham. Danny who kept an eye on all the heroes popping up around the globe, and knew that none of them had brought kids into it. Danny who thought about “his” kids as he dug into Robin and realized that Batman was trying to protect the kid in the ways he knew how, and that Robin probably just like his kids didn’t really listen when you tell them no if they’ve set their mind on it. So Danny was still worried but no longer upset with Batman.

Then Bruce Wayne started showing up at the bakery.

Bruce is a total dork who struggles with basic human interactions at times. So at a cafe/bakery he tells the 17yo cashier, “Compliments to the chief” like a weirdo. She awkwardly hollers back to Danny, who comes out confused.

Bruce has oh fuck hes hot.

*story happens in between but I don't know what*

Something happens Danny speeds away on his bike. Eventually taking it off a bridge into the water before going invisible and flying to his dads in Metropolis. He goes to the realms to lay low for two weeks after visiting with his dad for a couple days. He has to come back because one of his kids is getting married

Bruce who is crushing on Danny, is worried and talks to people. The ladies at the bakery point him in the direction of the mechanic shop. No one there is worried, they say Danny built that bike from the ground up, he has complete control of it, it couldn’t do something if he didn’t want it to. Plus Jerramy is getting married next month and Danny wouldn’t miss that, he’ll be back. Bruce thinks these people are delusional and still worries and tries to find anything. He finds nothing but dick and Alfred have figured out that he definitely doesn’t have a crush guys, the mission.

Danny shows up two and a half weeks later just in time to pick up his suit for the wedding. Bruce is kinda losing it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Danny is older than Bruce by 5 or more years #mechanic Danny Fenton #Sam and Ivy are besties #good Jack Fenton #he loves his kids so much #Danny is single handedly training and employing most of the Crime Ally kids #he does not have a problem guy's #Jason Todd is 100% one of his kids #it why he has the tire iron and knows how to take the tires off the batmobile #the batmobiles tires are not easily removed #Bruce x Danny #it's optional #they could just be pals #im ace and can't write romance anyway #Danny might have committed insurance fraud to get money for college before his old identity got declared dead #please use any of this!#i may write this or beg someone to tag me if you write it

85 notes · View notes

strawdool · 2 months ago

Note

Let me tell you Straw, your Modern AU has given me an immense amount of inspiration. At one point I would have liked to write some fanfics around it but it wasn't really in my right to do so, so I didn't. I think I like this AU in particular because in order for Lamb and Narinder to even remotely make it work they have to fight through a ton of issues. I like seeing characters get completely broken by the consequences of their actions and then learn how to fight their own demons. It's also a bit of hit or miss on whether people like this relationship development, but I really like the kind of relationships in fiction where the characters have to really fight for it. It's all well and good to have a story where the characters fall in love instantly and after maybe one calamity or two, they set off in the sunset. But for me, I like the relationships more where you aren't sure where things are going. There's clear signs but the two characters really have to want that relationship to make it work and fight through a lot of problems. It can suck seeing the characters stumble but in the end to me, it's very rewarding that once they have (hopefully) solved said issues, they will probably have a stronger and healthier relationship than most. To me, any kind of foundation that has seen struggle and survived it will always be stronger than one that has never experienced conflict. In other words, a relationship that could survive its issues and find compromise and resolution I think is more likely to last in the end. This is not always the case but in fiction we can force happy endings right? That said though, I have to really wonder if your modern Narinder and Lamb will ever get their act together to actually forge a peaceful and successful life together. I don't know if you have a full story planned out or not but if Narinder has already screwed up to the point of a breakup then there may be no recovery from that. The path forward I see is him finally addressing his problems and trying to turn his life around. As the Lamb, hopefully they can find a life where they're not in threat of the outside world. Maybe the two could eventually reconcile and form a long lasting friendship even if it never fully repairs. I'm just always hoping that characters will learn from their mistakes even though often in real life some people never learn and will constantly do the same horrible things. If I had to say what the most appealing part of your au is, it's the hope aspect. It's the hope that someday Narinder will realize what a trash bucket he is and do something about it. It's the hope that the Lamb can realize their self worth. Maybe it'll end with Narinder, a fully cleaned up man with a plan, formally apologizing to the Lamb for everything he's done and after a cordial conversation he disappears, on to a new life. The Lamb doesn't really know what becomes of him but hopes that he will do some good with his life. Maybe somewhere in the back of their head they'll lament too that Narinder figured things out too late. I don't know, thinking out loud at this point. But hey, this is a very interesting AU and it has sparked far more ideas than just those. So have a good day and I very much look forward to more if you happen to do so.

me when anon goes into a full rant about my au i feel so happy that my au had make you have a lot of inspo <33333

anyway answering your question, Narinder and Lamb spiral after the breakup: lamb bc they were betrayed at their most vulnerable and Narinder trying to justify his bad action with "they deserved it" but deep down knowing he fucked up badly but he doesnt want to accept that and so he doubles down and he gets into a very bad place mentally.

but while Lamb finally opens up to their insecurities and their situations to goat and ratau after all. Narinder had already pushed everyone away; no family, no friends, nothing.

it takes a while until one day Narinder finally comes to the realization how badly he is and starts getting his life together. (i like to say that it all starts with cleaning his apartment lol)

he doesnt contact lamb for a whole year at this point he even got a job and is now reconnecting with his kids, until he remember Lamb and finally accepts that the way he treated them and all the blame the put on them wasnt right.

And so he tries to find them to talk things throught (goes to a point he kinda starts stalking them for a bit) and when he finally gets to them Goat is the one who interrupts him with punching him in the face. but mf doesnt give up which results in him getting his ass beaten many times.

For Lamb and Narinder to finally get on good terms it takes a while, if reconstructing their friendship already took them months, rekindle the romantic relationship its another can of worms that both try to take it slowly and not rush things. Narinder in that he becomes really nervous, afraid to hurt them again and Lamb tries to takes things step by step specially for trusting him again.

#modern au #anon asks

27 notes · View notes

foundationsolution · 5 months ago

Text

Understanding Concrete Flaking And Its Similarities With Spalling

Concrete, which forms the integral structure of many modern buildings, is renowned for its durability and strength. However, despite its robust nature, it is susceptible to natural wear and tear, harsh environmental conditions, and poor construction techniques, all of which can result in damage over time. Two of the most common problems that afflict concrete […]

0 notes

probablyasocialecologist · 8 months ago

Text

There are enough highways, apartments and offices, malls and hotels, restaurants and theme parks—this despite an ongoing crisis of housing affordability. In the over-carbonised economies of the world’s wealthiest countries, maybe we don’t need to build any more, or only do so in a very targeted manner: hospitals and archives, cooling centres, housing and amenities for climate refugees. Even in these cases, there is often the capacity to reuse and redistribute what we have—to reconsider the role of design as one of maintenance, repair, and adequate comfort. Some buildings are needed. Class A office space and luxury condominiums, not so much. After the Covid lockdowns, the vacant office space in New York City could fill twenty-six Empire State Buildings. Seems like enough. Yet there are still cranes in the sky, still new towers on the boards—indeed, the production of the built environment (and not only in New York) is essential to a growth economy. Any form of enough-ness goes against this premise of relative economic strength being measured by growth, or really by the growth of growth—how much has the GDP gone up, and at what rate? To suggest that, individually or collectively, we already have enough goes against the very foundation of consumer culture. Many life worlds are organized largely, if not exclusively, around accumulation, wanting and getting more—more stuff, more space, more savings. The health of the US economy in particular is measured by rates of consumer spending, and through this measure implicitly directs the global supply chain. What, for example, is the carbon cost of the resurgence of interest in Barbie? The plastics, the shipping, the advertising, the repainting of houses. And given the carbon intensive energy regime that hums beneath this always-growing global economy, all of this—stuff, space, savings—is dripping in oil, vibrating with carbon intensity, keeping the arrow of emissions pointed inexorably upwards. The Austrian/Puerto Rican economist Leopold Kohr referred to this as Skyscraper Economics—how high can we build? How much can an economy grow? Is there a measure of health, or wealth, that is not about this competitive increase, but about a horizontal redistribution? At last year’s Beyond Growth Summit in Brussels, this was framed as a distinction between “ecologically harmful growth competition and well being cooperation.” Architecture’s fealty to growth, investment, and financialization is caught up in this distinction, and faces the challenge of finding opportunities for creativity within a new set of constraints. Why, when a new building is announced on Instagram or in a glossy magazine by some proud firm or client, do we see square footage, a few swanky features, but no mention of the estimated carbon emissions of the building’s life-cycle?

#degrowth #climate change #architecture

66 notes · View notes

the-copycat-hero · 2 months ago

Text

thought about Vlad King in the Monoma Death AU and it beat my ass, so i figured i'd compile some old ideas into a post

anyway i could spend hours thinking about Vlad King and Monoma and how their relationship evolved over the year (from teacher and student to trusted mentor and star pupil to Father Figure and Child) but i have predominantly been haunted and vexed by the thought of how Vlad reacts when he learns that Monoma is dead.

the war is over. the heroes are exhausted, but they're already doing whatever they can to run damage control: recovering bodies from the battlefield, reassuring civilians that the conflict has passed, and already organizing efforts to repair all of the damage that has been done. Vlad King makes his way to the hospital because he has been told that Monoma is there—was rushed in after being speared through the lung by a Twice clone—and Aizawa stops Vlad before he gets to Monoma's hospital room to try and break the news to him delicately. (Vlad is too late, but only barely. the time of death was called minutes prior).

Vlad shoulders past Aizawa because he doesn't believe him (doesn't WANT to believe him), and he barges into the hospital room only to find medical personnel in the process of unplugging a host of machines as Monoma's heart monitor wails. the attending notices him and firmly directs him out of the room, and the moment he's back in the hallway, he's collapsing into a heap by the doorway.

Aizawa comes to stand by him and tries to start a conversation (tries to apologize), but Vlad can't focus on what he's saying. all that he can think about is the fact that they convinced his student (his son) to serve as a lynch-pin in the war and then left him to die. (they were supposed to protect him. Vlad had asked Aizawa to protect him.)

eventually, a nurse comes out to express her sympathy and invite Aizawa and Vlad back inside, but Vlad can't find it in himself to accept the offer. he can't stand to see Monoma like that again so soon—pale and lifeless and still streaked with his own blood—so he leaves Aizawa to pay his respects and makes his way back to the waiting room so that he can update the four Class B students that he saw when he came rushing into the hospital. (Fukidashi came with Monoma. Kendo, Awase, and Tsunotori came as soon as the battle had ended and they heard where their friend had been sent).

Vlad stands outside the waiting room door, taking a moment to compose himself. the very foundation of his world feels like it's crumbling, so he has no doubts that he's about the completely shatter the world of his four students—and there's nothing he can do to soften the blow. but they need him to be strong, to be a rock that they can cling to when the news hits. so, with a heavy heart, he pulls himself upright, takes a deep breath, and enters, ready to face the hardest conversation of his life.

---

(two days later, Vlad King will finally work up the nerve to visit Monoma and say his goodbyes. two days later, he will grasp Monoma's small, cold hand in his own, intending to offer a litany of apologies for which he will never receive absolution. two days later, Monoma—as he is wont to do—will defy any and all expectations set before him, coming back to Vlad with a series of harsh coughs and wet, shuddering breaths. and Vlad will watch in stunned disbelief as the impossible unfolds before him, the unfathomable weight of his grief and relief crashing down on him all at once.)

#monoma neito #monoma death au #bnha #mha

27 notes · View notes

babacontainsmultitudes · 1 year ago

Text

Let's Talk About Lincoln And His Dads, Okay?

I think people claiming that Lincoln and Grant "aren't so different after all" because, like everyone else in the show, they both have blood on their hands, have mostly missed the mark on where the core of Lincoln's issues with his dad(s) lie in the first place.

Moreover, I'm tired of people insinuating that Lincoln's troubles pale in comparison to Normal's or Scary's or Hermie's, and I'm tired of people saying that Lincoln is overreacting, or that Lincoln is a hypocrite for calling out his dad's behavior, or that he is in the wrong for setting boundaries, or that he's ungrateful, or that he's responsible for ensuring his dad's emotional wellbeing and not the other way around!

*breathes* So let's. Let's finally talk about Lincoln and Grant (and Marco also him).

[WOAH THERE! Hey you, yeah you, this is a long-ass post, mhm, it's one of those, so please keep that in mind before venturing below the cut. Maybe grab yourself a drink or a bite to eat first, yeah? Additionally, sorry the transcript stuff is a bit messy in this one, tumblr has a 30 image limit and well, I had to find workarounds. Also, I haven't yet added alt text for the transcript screenshots- I plan to when I have a bit more energy for it, but I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause in the meantime!]

Part 1/4: "Honesty is hardly ever heard, and mostly what I need from you"

Lincoln is certainly a pacifist at heart (in more recent times important examples of this include Lincoln's refusal to harm Scary in the Swallows household, as well as Lincoln being the only one of the teens to successfully avoid using violence in front of d00d during their most recent standoff with Willy), and in good paladin fashion functions as the group's moral compass the majority of the time.

Despite this, Lincoln's morals are not so simplistic and idealistic as to not differentiate between different motives for violence, nor does he view acts of violence in and of themselves as signs that a person is "evil" or "irredeemable". He can for example, see the difference between the acts of Willy and those of the kiddads, as he tries to explain when confronted by the other teens on the matter:

In fact, even after Grant tells Linc all of this during the incursion:

Lincoln's primary goal is still to save his dad first and foremost, then offer him the room to explain himself, without immediately chalking him up as a bad person because of what he has done.

Lincoln certainly doesn't approve of Grant and his violence, though he can understand that things are seldom black and white. But the killing is far from the only issue here. In fact, it's not even the main issue.

Grant creates a foundation based on trust and accountability whose importance in the Li-Wilson household is hammered in from the very first episode.

And we see throughout the early episodes of the season just how strongly Lincoln believes that Grant would never lie to him.

Then of course the incursion point encounter happens. There are several elements of this encounter that we will gloss over for now and go back to later, but of immediate importance is the fact that this interaction serves as direct confirmation for Lincoln that his dad has in fact been lying to him his entire life.

Additionally, he learns that Grant possesses a deep hatred of himself, wants to die, perceives himself as "broken beyond repair", and fears that Lincoln will somehow wind up just like him. That's a lot for one kid to have dropped on them, let alone all at once and without warning!

So- Lincoln wants to confront his dad after this both because he wants his dad to explain himself and take accountability for his dishonesty and for his actions more generally, and because he is concerned for his dad's wellbeing.

Now let's look at how Grant has, over the course of the season, responded to Lincoln's attempts to get him to take responsibility for his actions, and talk about his mental health:

The first thing Grant does is pull a classic Wilson "we'll talk about it later". Then the very next thing he does is lie to Lincoln again, now pretending that his plan is to fix things with Erin by offering her a gift (when of course he's actually set out to steal the sun)

Then as a deflection when Lincoln further tries to confront him about the lying, he indirectly equates everything he has kept secret from Lincoln (see the incursion point stuff) to "little white lies" and, contrary to the philosophy he so heavily instilled in Lincoln, argues that sometimes lying can protect the people one cares about:

Which as a point of interest I would like to compare and contrast to something Lincoln says in an earlier episode:

"lies can protect" vs "protecting is also trusting"- anyways moving on,

From there Grant's plan to steal the sun eventually comes to light (heh) and gets foiled, forcing the teens to be the mature ones in the situation and try to negotiate something with Erin. While he is certainly disappointed by everything going on, however, Lincoln's priorities vis-à-vis Grant are still, first and foremost, to ensure that he is safe, and when time allows for it get an apology from him and get him to talk openly about everything he has withheld. At this point in time Lincoln, while obviously angry at his dad, still very clearly cares about his dad and just wants to be able to talk with him without all the lies or deflection or excuses.

Then the teens are backed into a corner when their attempts at negotiation go sour, and ultimately wind up helping Grant steal the sun. Once that is over, Lincoln tries to confront his dad again, now with regards to some of the things he said about himself:

(Do note that last bit especially as it will be of relevance in the next section)

Then after Grant ignores the other teens when they try to talk to him, Lincoln calls him out and once again asks him to apologize, in part for having told Lincoln previously that they were dangerous and that he was not to hang out with them:

(as you might have guessed, Grant does not apologize).

Then it is established that the "zone of truth" in the Li-Wilson household isn't actually a spell but an agreed upon promise between Marco, Grant, and Lincoln to tell only the truth when someone calls upon the zone of truth, further cementing the degree to which honesty is an important Li-Wilson family value. Whilst in the zone of truth, however, Grant beats around the bush with regards to his intentions, and the teens ultimately decide that they do not want him to come along with them to the church of the doodler, as he is untrustworthy, in addition to Lincoln saying that he needs some space for his own sake. Grant then pretends to respect this decision, though he is in fact once again lying through his teeth, and sneaks back on later.

Before exiting the bus for the first time, however, Lincoln tries to get his dad to open up a bit about his feelings. Grant's response?

Time after time after time, Grant refuses to confront himself and address anything from what occurred at the incursion, and in fact adds on to everything with a whole new slew of lies, and with each failed attempt at connection the rift between Lincoln and Grant increases. And Lincoln, true to his values and how he was raised, is not a hypocrite in wanting openness and accountability from his dad. Lincoln is not and has never acted like he is perfect and beyond making mistakes, but Lincoln takes responsibility for his actions, even when the degree to which he is actually complicit in the crime at hand is questionable. He writes a letter to the families of the firemen because he feels responsible for their deaths. He apologizes to Taylor for lying to him about the bracelets and helps not only Taylor but also Nicky escape the clutches of the FBI, even though the consequence of doing so could easily have been his own death. When he thinks he may have inadvertently lead Hero on, his immediate decision is to take accountability for it and clear things up. All of this in addition to consistently apologizing to his friends when he thinks he may have hurt them for one reason or another.

This is also an important thing to consider when we talk about the place of violence in the show. Yes all the characters, including Lincoln himself, have had to kill at some point or another for the sake of survival and protecting the ones they love. But Lincoln does not use the blood on his hands to justify violence in future decisions. Despite the fact that he has had to kill before, Lincoln, as mentioned in the beginning of this essay, continues to try incredibly hard to act as pacifist whenever he can, choosing to protect those around him with as little collateral damage as possible. Does he have a perfect track record? No! Does he still try his damned hardest to choose kindness and mercy? Absolutely! And this is an important distinction especially between Lincoln and Grant.

And then Grant kills Terry. Now Lincoln must shift his priorities towards protecting his friends from his dad, but in running after Scary still finds himself forced to confront him. So what does Grant have to say regarding his actions?

Both Lincoln and Scary are right to be furious with this response, Terry Jr. is dead and all Grant can offer in response is what is essentially another excuse. Grant's mental state does not absolve him of responsibility or accountability for his actions, which as Lincoln points out (and repeats later) consist not only of the singular choice of shooting Terry, but of every choice he has made before and after that. "I'm sorry your dad is broken" obviously doesn't bring Terry Jr. back, but perhaps more importantly demonstrates that Grant is still not willing to reflect on his actions any further than that and work on himself moving forward.

So Lincoln does what is perhaps the most difficult thing he has done in his life, and disowns his father. This is not a rash, impulsive decision. As established, Lincoln has given Grant many chances throughout the season to address his behavior and at least fucking *talk* with Lincoln about his mental state, but he refused. He refused, not because he means harm, but because Grant truly believes himself to be fundamentally broken and irreparable, and doesn’t see the effect that his own suffering is having on his son. This, in addition to continuously failing to take Lincoln seriously and treat him as more than a little kid, both in failing to listen to Lincoln's voices of concern as well as in disregarding any of his proposals to go about things differently (whether that means avoiding violence, trusting rather than lying, or both).

So when Lincoln says:

"It's not about what you just did now, Dad. It's all your choices. You chose me. There wasn't some passion, or, or just a kid. You chose me as your kid, knowing you were broken. You can't take that back. And… I love you, and I hate that you made me love you, when… you are who you are and you knew it."

This isn't Lincoln saying that Grant should not have had a kid because he is mentally unwell or has trauma, it is Lincoln saying that Grant continues to make choices without acknowledging his agency in those choices and the effect they have on those around him, instead choosing to pin his mistakes on his perceived brokenness without any resolution to do something about that.

And before you say, "but Grant didn't have a choice in becoming Lincoln's parent since he saved him from the Titanic":

This simply isn't true, as strictly speaking there was nothing stopping Grant and Marco from putting Lincoln up for adoption if one or both of them did not feel themselves to be ready or capable of taking care of a child and

Ignoring Lincoln's exact phrasing, "choosing to be a parent" is not just about the literal choice to have a child, it's about every choice you make before and after that. It's choosing not to express your concerns over parenthood with your spouse, which based on Grant's track record:

-Is definitely in-character for him. Conversely, in Marco's case, it may be choosing not to ask your partner about their feelings on the matter (because, really, asking Grant on the spot while literally on a sinking ship if he's okay with adopting the baby they just found is kinda rough). It's choosing not to go to therapy (not that we know whether Grant specifically did/does or not but all the same). It's choosing not to apologize when your child is upset with you because of something you did. It's choosing not to take them or their friends seriously. It's choosing to lie instead of trust. It's an endless amount of choices that Grant (and Marco) made every step of the way!

As a final note for this section, what's particularly unfortunate is that even with Lincoln's disownment, Grant still has failed to show any major signs of change. Note this telling exchange (from episode 40):

Grant: I-I understand that. I just thought. Just something that just occurred to me. Hey Dood.

Dood: Yeah?

Grant: Why did you kill those two guys?

Dood: Because I love you so much and I wanted to protect you.

Grant: Okay. That's all I wanted to know.

In which Grant is still making excuses rather than owning up to or apologizing for anything or striving to change his behavior in the future. What's great about Grant's "point" here too is that the two guards that d00d killed were absolutely unnecessary deaths, so this example does anything but work in Grant's favor.

Part 2/4: "My mother hates her body, we share the same outline"

But this is only part of the problem. As aforementioned, we learn early on and see repeated on multiple occasions that Grant thinks ill of himself to the point of believing that he deserves death, and does not want Lincoln to be anything like him.

This affects Lincoln in two major ways. Perhaps most obviously, it leaves Lincoln greatly concerned for his dad's wellbeing, which in turn acts as his main motivation for trying (and failing) to get Grant to explore and explain those feelings. Additionally, however, Grant's self-loathing also has a passive but deeply damaging effect on Lincoln's self-worth. The most important indication of this is when Lincoln says:

"Okay. Look, Scary, I just... You know what? I don't even care. I just needed a friend and I don't know… I don’t know what you're going through, but… no, my dad always said you can't love somebody unless you love yourself, right? Well, last time I asked him if he loved himself, he… He doesn't. So… I don't know, so maybe he doesn't love me either. And you seem to know what that's like, and, you're my friend! You're dealing with these things and I'm just here. I just, I don't know! I don't love myself either! I don't know! But I know that more people will die if we can't do this together, and you're the only person, like, in this group— I mean you guys are, I mean— [sighs] Look, you can go. I'm not going to stop you. You go if you want to go. I'm done."

Also classic Lincoln move to say he doesn't care then proceed to hug Scary through an Eldritch Blast. In this essay, on why people misuse the word "apathy" in applying it to Lincoln,

Though the issue comes up again in a less obvious but very interesting way when Lincoln says that:

Which I assume probably seems pretty out of left field. To explain a bit what I'm trying to get at here, consider the following scenario:

Your parent, who you care about immensely, possesses certain qualities (say, idk, intrusive thoughts or mood swings or delusional thoughts or *something*) that they possess great shame over, and truly, wholeheartedly believe makes them "evil" or unlovable or even outright deserving of death. Of course, you do not believe that your parent is any of these things, it hurts to see that they feel this way about them-self, so you try your best to support them, even if you know deep down that you are their child and this should not be your responsibility. Your parent does not see the effect that their mental state is having on yours, does not take your voices of concern seriously, and mostly leaves you feeling like you are talking to a wall.

This hurts already, but it gets worse. You are your parent's child, and you are human, and so you inevitably find yourself with some of the characteristics that your parent loathes so much in them-self. Maybe you have similar thought patterns. Maybe you've made similar mistakes. Your parent doesn't love them-self because of these qualities that you now see in yourself, so how can you be sure that they do not hate you for them too? Do they believe that you deserve to die for these things as well? Your parent obviously assures you to the contrary, after all, they love you more than anything. But your parent fails to offer any meaningful line of distinction between their flaws and yours (after all, there isn't one, not really), and continues to assert that, unlike you, they really do deserve to die. Your parent is a hypocrite, and their reassurance does little to convince you.

Hopefully that makes some sense. With regards to the "dreams about killing my dads" part, mostly what I'm trying to say is that these dreams, while certainly very different from Grant's conscious thoughts about violence, still tread the line of mimicking them to some degree, and Grant's "I deserve to die because of how my brain works, don't be anything like me because that's bad!" really doesn't leave Lincoln with a healthy way to process and interpret this fact about himself, even if these dreams don't actually say anything about who he is as a person.

Anyways all that to say, on multiple levels Grant's unwillingness to even try to love himself and treat himself better has been having effects on his son that he can't even begin to realize, in addition to everything discussed in the first bit.

"But baba," I hear you say, "what about Marco? Why has Lincoln seemingly disowned both of his dads?"

Part 3/4: Three is the loneliest number

Well, I think there's a couple things going on here. For one thing, I think in a sense Lincoln sees his dads as kind of a "package deal", which is to say that from his pov disowning Grant means Marco would have to pick a side, and though it pains him immensely (as we see evidence of on several occasions), Lincoln would ultimately rather give up Marco than have Grant be left alone without either of them, because he will always love and care about Grant, and because he's selfless that way.

Additionally, for a good long while, Lincoln doesn't actually appear to harbor any resentment towards Marco:

However, this later part of the season has brought with it a new wave of disillusionment, and in its wake Lincoln has finally come to question the last major issue characterizing his relationship with his parents: social isolation.

We have known from basically the first episode of the season that Lincoln has lived a very isolated, lonely life, and that the only reason he's even going to public high school now is because he finally convinced Grant to let him:

As a side note, I have seen discussion of the fact that since Lincoln was rescued from the Titanic, it's possible that he was homeschooled solely because he did not legally exist. The above statement from Matt seems to work against this theory, in addition to the fact that if Lincoln was missing legal papers to get into elementary school... That would also prevent him from going to high school. Also, I mean. If you actually were to find an abandoned baby there's a whole legal process you're supposed to go through, and since Lincoln surely wouldn't have any close blood relatives around, that would still leave the possibility for Grant and Marco to adopt him legally if they wanted to (and if they chose not to go through said process, that's kind of on them?). Which isn't to say that this theory is out of the question, but in any case being homeschooled is one thing, whereas the actual degree of social isolation Lincoln goes through growing up is way more than just that, as we will delve into.

Now, we know that Grant eventually puts an end to Lincoln and Normal seeing each other on the basis that Lark and Sparrow are dangerous, which... Itself is actually fair tbh, in particular given what we now know about Hero. Not fair to Lincoln or Normal, obviously, but understandable. Much less acceptable, is the fact that Lincoln actually grows up without any friends his age whatsoever:

We understand of course that the motives behind this extreme social isolation are not malicious or otherwise done with ill-intent, but that doesn't make this even remotely okay! Of course then Lincoln is very clingy and perhaps even territorial over his dads, to the point where one of his biggest fears is his parents having another child who would take some of their attention away from him- they've created an environment in which they are basically all he has!

As a direct result of this, Lincoln gets lonely very easily, and when he finally does make some friends of his own, he will do anything and everything for them, even if it means risking his own life (at least then he isn't alive and lonely!)

This is also why Lincoln is so especially distraught after the loss of Mr. Kicks, a digital avatar whom he considered his best (and only) friend.

Additionally, Lincoln's fear of returning to his lonesome childhood creates an unfortunate scenario in which he cannot be honest with his dads about the fact that he is being bullied at school

Even though that is definitely the case (and in fact we see it first-hand on many occasions), because to do so would run the risk of his dads taking him out of public school, and that, to him, is worse.

Lincoln beginning to view this aspect of his childhood (the isolation but also the over-protectiveness and overbearing attitude more generally) for what it is is why Matt's intros have recently shifted from "schooled at home" to "schooled in prison", in addition to pretty directly saying that high school was like heaven compared to his home life (in episode 40), and I don't think Lincoln is even remotely in the wrong for looking back at his isolation and thinking "hey, even if you had good intentions, that was kind of fucked up actually, and I need to distance myself from you for my own sake."

Not that Lincoln wanting freedom from his overbearing dads is a new thing! I mean apart from what one can logically infer from Lincoln convincing Grant to let him go to public school, Matt does drop a bunch of telling details here and there such as Lincoln's favorite sound being "the silence of being home alone and free". It's just that now is when these feelings are finally starting to come to the surface.

It is also something that Lincoln naturally would hold against both Grant and Marco, because they are both aware of and responsible for this aspect of his upbringing (whether Marco acted actively or as an enabler in the matter notwithstanding- though I would look no further than both Grant and Marco getting red cards the one time they tried letting Lincoln play soccer with other kids to observe how that family dynamic plays out), hence feeling the need to cut himself off from the both of them in order to set a long-overdue boundary. That said, to be honest with you, I really don't think he's actually all that upset with Marco, and would mostly just like to see him again.

If the events of the Titanic help to ease any aspect of Lincoln's frustration, it would be this one. Not in the sense that it magically makes what Lincoln went through growing up okay, but it does still recontextualize Grant and Marco's degree of overbearingness and (part of) why they are how they are, and I absolutely think that Lincoln would have sympathy for that.

So, where does that leave us?

Part 4/4: What remains (+ the case study of Scary)

"But baba," you say, "Grant and Marco are not just their mistakes! They've both done so many things right as parents, and they love Lincoln more than anything!"

I turn to you, tears in my eyes. "I know," I say, "I know, but that does not contradict or erase the fact that they have inadvertently hurt Lincoln in many, many ways, and he has a right to be upset with them, and express that, and set boundaries if he feels the need to."

You sigh. "So do you think Grant is a good dad or a bad one?" you ask.

I shake my head. "He's just... He's just a dad. A dad who's had a rough swing of things from the beginning. He never meant to hurt Lincoln, and I truly believe he's got a good heart, but I want to see him try harder. I need to see him try harder than he currently is to better himself, for Lincoln's sake as much as his own."

Is... More or less how I feel. I absolutely agree that as a parent Grant obviously gives a shit, and my intention here is absolutely not to say "hey actually, Grant is awful!"

As I mentioned at the very beginning of this essay, however, collectively I have found over the course of the season that Lincoln's trauma and struggles have gone severely understated and undermined, sometimes to the point of even turning him into the bad guy or depicting him as acting dramatic for a decision that I think was very brave of him, actually. So... It does feel necessary to me to point out that, as much as I care about Grant and recognize that he's suffered immensely too, he's still made a lot of mistakes over the course of the season, and still has a lot of room to grow as a person.

As things currently are, I would not blame Lincoln if he did not forgive Grant by the end of the season. Do I think that's what's gonna happen? No lol.

If you'll excuse a mini side-tangent, because for now I don't really want to make this a separate post, the mid-season evolution of Lincoln and Scary's relationship is actually a great case study for Lincoln's capacity for forgiveness, in addition to his inability to give up on people:

Tony Pepperoni's murder is, I would argue, an attack against Lincoln most personally (relative to the other teens). Aside from Lincoln having the strongest pacifistic tendencies of the group, it's in his home, it's in front of Marco, as established in the 3rd section Tony Pepperoni, by virtue of having been over for dinners at the Li-Wilson household before, is someone Lincoln knows more personally than the other teens and one of the only people in his life he could have possibly approximated to a friend. Most importantly though, Scary goes behind Lincoln's back in letting Willy out and disclosing the location of the party, and that is a significant breach of trust.

So Lincoln kicks Scary out of the house (and more or less out of the group by extension) because protecting the others from her is the most important thing at that point in time (sound familiar?). For the next bit, Lincoln's behavior towards Scary becomes a juggling act of keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't cause more harm (and yes, it's also when they are meanest with each other), but also keeping a close eye on her to look after her (a notable example of this being that he doesn't leave her behind in the hall of mirrors, even when it would have been easier and perhaps even "beneficial" to do so in the context of the anchor quest).

And yet despite all the mutual hostility, Lincoln without question also fights the hardest to get Scary back. He breaks the pick as a sign of trust (and as Freddie put it: "that's love babeeey") and to show her she's welcome back in the group, follows through on this decision despite the fact that it creates a temporary rift between him and the others (Normal and Taylor) who oppose her return (perhaps a good time to also say as a reminder that Lincoln was the most against letting Willy out in the first place), breaks a door down to protect her from Willy even when everyone else in the house treats him as crazy for doing so, refuses to fight Scary when she goes on the offense, and hugs her through a god damn eldritch blast because he can't let her leave and hurt more people but still cares about her to the point that he would literally choose to die before hurting her or giving up on fighting for her. Like, if that's not love and forgiveness, I don't fucking know what is. This in addition to him encouraging the others to go easy on her and otherwise looking out for her past that point.

So do I think Lincoln Li-Wilson has it in him to forgive Grant in spite of it all? That is a resounding yes from me. Will the events of the Titanic facilitate this if only by painting Grant's situation in a more sympathetic light and showcasing some of his virtues? Totally, I mean, there's a reason Anthony decided to make the arc go this way. But will I be a bit disappointed if this forgiveness comes without any major growth on Grant's part? Also. Also yes yeah.

MM. I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW TO END THIS ONE TBH. Heh. Well, thank you for one thing, for taking the time to read a post this long. If you're reading this not too long after I posted it I am most definitely pacing around rn going "oh god they hate it!" but uh. Well that's a me problem lol. Anyways, I hope this proves to be at least somewhat insightful? ...Yeah no apart from that I really am struggling to end this properly and honestly I'm real sleepy lol so I'll just say again (whether you agree with the points listed here or not) THANKS FOR HEARING ME OUT Y'ALL AND TAKE CARE.

#dndads #lincoln li wilson #grant wilson #Nervous about this one! Well I always am with these but people can be a bit touchy when it comes to Grant especially so there's that.#dungeons and daddies #but what can you do ig!#marco li #long post #baba babbles #<- tag I still don't use usually smh #second section especially I think is where I'm really like- man I *hope* I'm expressing myself alright and people get what I'm laying down #scary marlowe #suuuuure yeah enough Scary here that I can tag her in I think

189 notes · View notes