#nothing against John Mayer

[starsexplodeatnight]

Cod Guys x Reader!

~First time you’re intimate~

Minors do not engage! You are not fucking wanted here! Go be a kid while you still can! You’ll have 30 chasing at your heels before you know it.

I always start with Price:

3 months into your relationship

M’fucker puts on divorced dad rock. Because he’s not had a lot of time for romance in the past- er decade or so- shut up. He’s a bit… rusty? No, his moves are solid. He’s just a bit of a time capsule from when he was in his twenties and Mr smooth.

What do you mean ‘Hinders’ Lips of an Angel is ‘divorced dad rock’ what the hell’s that mean?

He’ll have planned this sweet, romantic, night for the both of you. He made dinner, look at him: he’s a provider. You try not to laugh but, it’s cute how he’s trying and in a way? He’s succeeding.

Just because you’re onto his tricks doesn’t mean they’re not working.

Then, he puts on his ‘mood music’ he used to put on in the past when he was romancing the ~ladies~ and oh- your lips purse in your best attempt at not giggling. He’s being so cute and you don’t want to pop his bubble.

He sees it though, as he hands you a glass of wine. “Somethin’ wrong bird?” His confidence is there, a little smirk. He wants to know what’s so funny. You shake your head, eyes cast to the side, as you take a sip of wine.

“Mmmmm- nothing, nothing.” He chuckles and sits down next to you, still acting so smooth. “Come on, out with it luv.” And he leans in close.

He’s so handsome…

Then ‘Let her cry’ by Hootie and the Blowfish comes on and you nearly shoot wine out your nose, turning away from him, choking as you try not to laugh.

He, surprised, helps you calm down, patting your back to help you as you cough. “What’s the matter with you? You makin’ fun of me luv?” He cooed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You’re embarrassed with yourself. “Oh John… this is so sweet, very romantic.”

“But?” “You need to turn off the divorced dad rock sweet pea, I’m so sorry.” You say with an apologetic wince. “Divorce dad rock? I-“ He looks at his speakers, then back at you. “The bloody hell is that?”

“Nothing we need to discuss right now.” And you reach over, turning it off yourself. He shook his head, “s’long as you’re happy luv.” And he leans in, pressing his nose against yours as he gives you a sweet kiss. Simultaneously pushing you back to lay against the couch….

Next is Soap!:

This dork is smooth, it’s not fair.

Rough housing after you two come home from a cute dinner date, he’s got you by the waist from behind. He’s giving your neck those dramatic kisses, that are so fucking ticklish. You two are so giggly and stupid and you! And neither of you are even drunk… just… happy.

Both of you pause, his chest against your back as you both try and breathe. Get air back in your lungs…. His face tucks in your neck, both of you staring off into space. Both thinking about the same thing but both waiting for the other to say something first.

It’s been about 1 month of dating and you’d both hadn’t done anything yet, just getting to know each other before anything sexual happened. And it’s been *fun.*

He starts the kisses on your neck again, a lot less dramatic and much more sensual. His arms still locked ‘round your waist.

“S’this okay?” You melt a bit into his arms. “Yes.”

He groans, breathing in deeply and gave your ass a deep strong hump that completely jolts you forward. That made your face so fucking hot.

He puts on ‘your body is a wonderland’ by John Mayer and unlike Price? It works. He’s just- it works! It’s cheesy but, unlike Price who’s trying to have a deep, romantic, moment and chose wrong. Soap is giggly, playful and cheeky during sex.

He’s only ‘serious’ when he’s not in a good headspace, like after a long grueling mission… the rest of the time?it’s so giggly and stupid.

Gaz my darling!:

It’s a curated experience that makes you feel like a princess…. With an impending feeling of being the princess of a porn flick.

Because! As romantic, sweet and charming as he is: he’s still a cheeky fucking shit. Boyish charming and sexy aren’t supposed to mix! … right!?

When you two talk about taking the next step and having sex? He grins his pretty grin and bites his lip before kissing your cheek and darting off to ‘plan’

“Wear something pretty luv’” He called to tell you. The look on his face when you do show up dressed all pretty? You’d think you’d hung the stars in the sky…

Hands you flowers, said he got them from this sweet shop his Captain’s wife works at. They’re beautiful… so much thought and care…

That’s what happens the entire night. So much thought and care and effort has been put into this that it makes you teary eyed. He orders for you at the restaurant, orders something from the pastry case to take home and god-

You get back to your apartment and, it’s lit up with fairy lights. He doesn’t do the typical roses and candles, no. Fairy lights, diffuser with warm vanilla and champagne- yeah it’s time to be sweet on him. You’d think he was going to propose or something!!!

Partners give and take. He romanced the hell out of you and made you feel special? Your turn now. He’s going to take everything you give him, even if he’s trembling.

“Love you Kyle.” “Love you too lovie…”

Classical covers of pop songs in the back… it’s romantic and sweet not too giggly not too serious…

Ghost!:

As much as much as Mr Big and Bad wants to pound your ass into the mattress and crack the wall with your headboard? He… he has issues lovie.

He takes the longest to have sex. Why? His trauma. One second he’s horny as hell rabbiting his hips into your butt then the other he does NOT feel like being touched. He feels bad, feels like he’s cheating you out of something but… how can he apologize for something out of his control?

You two have a talk about it because Simon, as much as he hates talking? He doesn’t want to lose a sweetie like you so he grunts out a few words to explain himself. You piece it together and well, what kind of partner would you be if you didn’t have his best interests at heart.

You understand. This man has trudged through hell over broken glass with no shoes. You can handle yourself in private moments until he’s worked through his problems. As long as he promises to work on them. No more dragging his feet in hesitation.

He needs to work on himself, the thought of being able to take that step with you? That helps. He doesn’t tell his therapist that even when the therapist asks him why he’s suddenly taking this seriously and booking appointments properly instead of going to just the mandatory monthly.

He waits until you’re having fun one night, he can hear the ‘bzzz’ of the toy and he creeps in the room. Lays on the bed on his belly between your legs and takes it away from you. Sets it aside. “This okay?”

Oh, it’s more than okay.

The kids in your preschool ask you why you’re limping. Oh look! Uh- we’re finger painting today!

Another one for inappropriate music choice except he doesn’t change it. He tries to nail you to the beat of ‘in the end’ by Linkin Park… he takes you up on your challenge and says yeah? I can change your mind!

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

part 15 - we’re all misunderstood

"Me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing and there's no way we ever could." -Waiting On The World To Change by John Mayer

Masterlist Part 14

The Watchtower was a marvel of engineering and fortitude, constantly in orbit above Earth among the star-studded void of space.

Just a quick glance out of the meeting hall window had proved to the Regent that her little brother would love it here. He’d inherited the innovative side of Fentonworks more than she, so the combination of one of his obsessions and tech to fiddle with was a dream come true. 

(She’d inherited the ruthlessness of Maddie Fenton.) 

Batman, the Dark Knight her little brother had trusted and the father of her soulmate, tapped away at a tablet in hand before turning his focus to her at ease form, hands clasped behind her back. Wonder Woman stood at her side and Superman at the other. A flanking maneuver it seemed. 

The Regent would’ve been offended if they didn’t consider her a threat, despite her willingness to discuss war prevention between the Infinite Realms and the Living Realm. Her armor alone was meant to be intimidating at first appearance, but it was the woman sealed into it that gave off the vibes of ‘Approach with caution’. She was a Warrior, not a pacifist,and everything she presented about herself was meant to signify that. 

However, the Regent was trained by the Ancient of Peace and would demand a peaceful resolution to a crisis rather than conflict, even if the Liminal had no desire for a battle against the Justice League. 

Constantine was a familiar presence in the room. The Laughing Magician had a soft spot for her little brother, but she felt the claim she had of his soul. It was cracked and missing so many pieces, but it was still a good one. The Sad Trenchcoat Man might’ve been a career drunk and conman, but that didn’t mean he was unnecessarily bad. 

He wouldn’t be here if he was. 

The man in question spoke first, much to the obvious surprise of those present, “How’s Phantom?” 

Her helmet turned to face him down where he sat a few feet away, an unopened flask resting on his thigh, “He is fine. Would you like me to pass on a message?” 

Constantine seemed to relax for a moment before shaking his head, “Nah, the kid bugs me enough.” 

“Regent.” Batman interrupted. “We would appreciate it if you could answer some questions we have regarding some disturbing files we received from Phantom.” 

The Liminal nodded, “I suspected as much. I cannot speak much on behalf of the King or others not present, but I will answer what I can truthfully.” 

“Thank you, My Lady, for your willingness to discuss such things with us.” Wonder Woman offered with sincerity in her words. 

The Regent shook her helmeted head, “I’d rather peace than be across from one another on the battlefield, Princess.” 

“Wisely so.” 

The Knight tapped on his tablet again, a projection of one of the Ghost Files documents spreading across the wall behind the Bat, the man in question returning his attention to her. 

“Why does the King require a Regent?” 

If Bruce was being honest, which he was, he’d rather be anywhere else than here in the Watchtower about to helm peace talks between the Infinite Realms and Earth. He’d rather be eating dinner with his children, questioning Phantom about Jason’s whereabouts, or even on patrol- anywhere but here. 

It wasn���t even the presence of the armored woman who’d answered in place of the King Constantine had been asked to summon, rather Bruce wanted nothing to do with the Death Energy he felt in lapses radiating from the Regent that felt… cleaner than that of what Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia had. 

Bruce wanted answers. 

But he also wanted to be anywhere but here. 

He supposed it was his self-preservation instincts trying to get him away from the being that’s been summoned, he had no choice but to stay though. 

“The King is too young.” The Regent replied evenly, hands clasped in front of her stomach, much like Diana would when trying to demonstrate that she’s prepared to draw her sword at a given moment. “There is still much for him to learn and experience before he is ready for the Crown.” 

Batman hummed, even though Constantine spluttered in shock- “A kid defeated Pariah Dark in single combat?” 

“Yes.” 

“There are some questions that we would like to have recorded for the record, would you be amenable to this?” Batman interrupts, “We would also discuss public use.” 

Regent nods, helmet tinting a darker green as the Watchtower lights slant across it for a brief moment. “I accept, though there are some answers that are not mine to give.” The woman takes a breath, “I cannot give the identity of the King without his permission, nor can I discuss how or when he died.”

“Is there a particular reason why?” Superman asks. “It is considered taboo to ask a ghost anything related to their death because it can cause them to relieve it.” A pause, “Ghosts, or Ecto-Entites, are a fighting-based culture. They are beings of varying intelligence, thoughts, and emotions- sentient and sapient, much like humans and aliens. Capable of great things, both good and evil.” 

Bruce processed those words, a pit of horror forming in his chest. How many times has this woman said those exact words, hoping for them to be heard? They were eloquent, with the formality that hinted at diplomatic training, but with so much hope that it almost physically hurt. 

Capable of great things, both good and evil. 

Wasn’t that the choice Bruce made every time he put on the cowl? Anytime one of his kids got hurt and he felt such rage in his bones? He made the choice every day to do good and while it may not be great in the broader scale of things, it was to somebody somewhere. That was what it meant to be alive, to have free will, to exist. 

Now he finally understood why Phantom gave him the Ghost Files. 

He needed this. This confrontation of what it means to exist outside of Bats and Birds, the cowl and the mask, as a being. Would Bruce have listened had he not seen the Files? If he hadn’t seen the inhumanity committed upon the inhuman? What evil would he have perpetuated had he refused to listen? 

(Tim might think he had been the only one to watch the video of Danny Fenton’s death.)

(He was wrong.)(What if he hadn’t heard the wail?)(What if he hadn’t seen the rebirth of Fenton to Phantom?) 

With all the bloodshed the GIW had on their collective hands, they would not go quietly. 

The Regent had emphasized their zealot tendencies, hypocritical ideology perpetuated by the Drs. Fentons and somewhat lackluster training, but exceedingly advanced technology geared explicitly towards Ecto-Entities in her testimony to the Justice League in the hours that followed. Several examples from the Ghost Files were explained and expanded on, including the destruction of the Casper High Gym which resulted in the death of a faculty member and the maiming of a student. Evidence of the town roads being utterly demolished, what looks like the aftermath of war being the norm for the citizens as they try to go about their daily lives. 

She had prepared to discuss all the above, and gone through various questions she’d been expecting from the League, but she had steadfastly avoided thoughts of the GIW’s unethical experimentation. Naturally, the League began this particular section with the Files’ opened to what Danny, Tucker, and Sam had included, a warning issued to all present that what they were about to watch was grotesque and to leave the room if they felt unable to hold the contents of their stomachs. 

The Regent was an older sister, a daughter, a leader, and a warrior- but she was still only able to take so much. (She hadn’t known the Fentons recorded Danny’s Phantom’s vivisection.)

(She hadn’t known they called each other sweetie and fudge-kins while digging in his chest cavity.)

Fury was a familiar enemy and friend in equal breaths, existing in the space between her ribs and her heart, trapped by a cage of bone and will. 

Fury echoed by her mirror image that entered the camera frame, sword first and merciless as she gutted Jack Fenton. 

(Regret was nowhere to be found.)(Shame had no place here.)

“By Realms Law 2127 subsection 32f paragraph 3: liminals, mortals, all in between may be promptly judged and or executed on grounds of threat to End a protector spirit or child. May also be decreed as battlefield law when faced with a sufficiently armed opponent and or external force.” The Regent recited monotonously. “Drs. Fenton also could have been tried for Invasion by opening the portal, but Phantom was able to give them a pardon.” 

“On what grounds?” Wonder Woman questioned, “He is a protector spirit, yes?” 

“Yes, which allowed the previous Law to be enacted and legal. By him acting within Amity Park and using Fenton tech to catch Ghosts, he gave them a pardon by an unspoken alliance.” 

“An alliance they broke,” Batman this time was clearly angry too in his clenched fists were any indication, “when they vivisected Phantom.”

“Yes.” The Regent continued, “Make no mistake, I uphold the Realms Law to the best of my abilities and expect my subjects and my council to do the same. We are a people and people have societies, societies have structures and without that, we would be no better than what the GIW claims us to be.” 

“Well spoken, My Lady.” Wonder Woman complemented, clearly taken by the Regent’s speech. 

“This is all gory and horrifying, but we still haven’t talked about preventing a bloody war.” 

While he’d been quietly observing the meeting, minor mutterings here and there, Constantine remained the only Dark member present. The Regent was somewhat fond of the Sad Man, even without having ownership over his soul (or the majority of shards) he would remain a fond memory for the Nightingales. 

 “My Lady,” the Magician belatedly addressed her, clearly having recalled to whom exactly he was speaking. 

“Constantine,” Batman warned, “we’ll get to that.” 

“Indeed we shall. In fact,” the Regent twirled a hand in a graceful motion “the Anti-Acto Acts is the main point of contention on the docket and allows that,” now she thrust a pointed finger at the Files’ section on ‘experimentation’, “to be legal.” 

“It’s been discussed, previously, to bring these laws before the UN with a censored version of the Ghost Files.” 

The Regent nodded almost immediately, “If you can, yes, but I would recommend leaking some of the data for the public to judge.” 

“Amity Park, for instance?” Superman asked, “Let the public choose a side and put pressure on the UN.” 

“Perhaps.” WW nodded, “Though there is likely chance that blame will be shifted onto the Ghosts solely for the damage.” 

“We can show the footage of the attacks that caused them.” Batman interjected, “As well as the videos of Phantom protecting Amity’s citizens at risk to himself.” 

The Regent agreed, “There are also videos of teenagers practicing drills for Ghost and Ghost Hunter attacks.” 

“What about sitting for an interview for a newspaper?” Superman suggested, “I can get a reputable reporter to conduct it.” 

“That can be done.” 

The Regent felt a slight tug on her Proto-Core, a shiver down her spine to follow- her little brother was trying to summon her back to him. Nothing urgent, not with just a slight tug, not an emergency. 

It had been quite a while here anyway and she missed her boys. 

“I’m afraid I am being summoned for a council meeting.” The Regent announced, “If I am needed again-“ 

She took a breath before turning to Batman, “You May summon me, Dark Knight, through your Lady’s Claim.” 

A friendly handshake with Superman, “Have your reporter meet me in the Ridge next Friday during the Witching Hours.” 

A clasping of arms with Wonder Woman, Warrior to warrior, “When this is settled, I would ask for a spar, Princess.” 

And the Regent was gone in a torrent of icy green-tinted mist. 

A/N:

Happy new year!

I can't believe it's 2024 already! Feels like I just got used to writing 2023.

As always, thanks to the wonderful beta @meditating-cat, who also let me who use them as a sounding board for ideas for the Regent earlier. I cannot wait to write those ideas, let me tell you.

As always, if you have any song suggestions please feel free to share and check out the masterlist for the rest of the series. It's always updated afterwards!

Thanks for reading!

[melkintoyou]

James Joint

pairing: mark x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, stoner mark, established relationship, not suitable for minors

word count: 1,152

Summary: a summer afternoon spent with your boyfriend of four months as you slowly fall more in love

“don’t say a word.. just come over and lie here with me..”  John Mayer blared through the speakers as you sat on your boyfriend’s lap, trying to roll a joint. He swayed you both to the music. Your back into the comfort of his chest.

The room was lit bright from the golden hour, as the sun was setting. The mixture of warm sun rays and Mark's hands caressing your thighs under your dress made you highly content. 

“whatchu know about John Mayer!?” He giggled into your ear and leaving a kiss behind it. 

“Yes Mark.. you put me on..” You rolled your eyes as you sealed the joint with your tongue. 

“DONE!” You admire your work. “You like?!” You ask for your boyfriend’s approval, after him teaching you to roll for weeks now.

“Yes baby, well done” he handed you a lighter with a grin, as you turned to face him. 

Maybe it was the first hot day of the year, maybe it was your boyfriends hands desperately caressing your body or maybe it was the feel of his heart beating against your back. Something was in the air this evening.

It has been exactly 4 months since you and Mark have made things official. Each day spent with him felt like coming home after a long day. It all started with him asking you, if you had wanted a brownie from his work place one day. Then he asked again. Then again, the next day and the day after that.. Some days you didn’t even want a brownie but he continued to ask and you kept saying yes. 

He would come over almost every day with the brownie and you both spent hours just talking and laughing. Until one day you just kissed him. Shocked at first, he pulled back. “Are you sure?” He asked. 

“If we do this, you know we can never go back to being friends.. you know that right?” Sincerity in his voice. 

“I’ve never been more sure about anything else” you pulled him back into a kiss and rest was history. 

Fast forward to four months, here, now in this room. You were content. This relationship felt like a big sigh of relief from the intensity of the world and you were happy. 

“I wanna try something” he said taking in a drag. “Open your mouth” his lips hovered over yours as you tried your hardest not to melt into his mouth. He chuckled, “so needy baby.. patience.” 

You opened your mouth and fought against your instinct to kiss him. He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled. “Good girl.. just like that” his voice now, lower and raspier.

He continued to do this a couple times before handing you the joint and picking you up, walking over to the bed. Laying you on the bed, he hovered over you. Taking in your features and your frame before granting you the kiss you so desperately wanted. The taste of smoke, mixed with his sweet tongue sent tingles down your spine. You got so lost into the kiss, as if the whole world had melted with your lips connecting. Nothing else mattered. 

“I want you to keep smoking” he looked into your eyes before placing soft kisses along your jaw, down to your neck whilst his hand grazed his fingers along your nipple. 

Weed made your senses work at a 1000 and you unfolded under his touch. It felt like electric shocks across your body as your underwear pooled with arousal. He slowly pulled your dress down to free your breasts, taking one in his mouth and continuing playing with the other nipple. It was getting hard to focus on the joint as your head was close to empty. 

Noticing your reaction, he chuckled to himself. “Don’t go weak on me now baby” leaving kisses across your stomach as he made his way between your legs. Moving your panties to the side, you saw his jaw drop and eyes dark, clouded with lust. He ran his fingers across your folds. “Fuck..” 

“So wet for me” he said in awe of you. Mark began to leave wet kisses along your inner thighs, making you ache for his mouth every second. He looked so majestic as the sun light hit the side of his face. Highlighting one side of his body and leaving the other side in shade. This moment felt like a painting. Unable to form words, you moaned. He licked a strip across from the bottom of your pussy to the top until he reached the clit. 

“baby.. im under your curse” the song now playing Curse by The Internet from your playlist. Mark was taking his time, giving attention to your clit making your breath get caught at the back of your throat. “ba.. I..” unable to form words you let out a moan. “Mm?” He hummed against your heat, making your mind go crazy from the vibration. He looked up at you and stopped. “Yes baby?” His face glistened from your arousal in the sun. His smile looked beautiful as ever. 

“I love this song” you finally formed a coherent sentence. “It reminds me of you” you blushed, feeling your face get hot. He inserted two fingers inside you. 

“Yeah?” His face soft but eyes determine to make you reach climax. He slowly started to pump his fingers inside you. “Is this our song?” 

You felt frustration from the absence of his tongue on your clit and pushed his head back down. “Yes..” 

He started sucking on your clit with fingers still inside you, making you see stars. He stopped and looked up again. Now, teasing you. “So what part of the song is your favourite?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if he’s genuinely curious. 

“Shhhh” you pushed his head back down again.

“Oh you want me to shut the fuck up?” He sucked on your clit one more time, gaining another moan from you. “You want me to shut up and eat your pussy baby?” 

These words went straight to your brain making your synapsis short circuit. “Uh huh” last coherent response he got from you before he grabbed your thigh to pull you closer and made circles around your clit. Fingers finding your g-spot at the same time, making you moan uncontrollably. 

“Is this the spot baby?” He giggled against your heat, no chance of slowing down. “Cum for me baby” and with that, you released all over his hands and face. Joint lost, somewhere in the abyss. Only his name and moans rolled off your tongue as he let you ride your high. He came up smiling to your face, evidently proud of himself. You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a messy kiss, your spit and arousal mixing into one, making you dizzy. 

“I love tasting myself on you” you moaned into the kiss. 

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (13/22)

Chapter summary: It's your birthday, and it's also the day you're forced to confront your true feelings

Chapter word count: 11k+ | Warnings: Angst, Mild Smut (somno) | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader

Author's note: Since the beginning of Part II is set in autumn season, I chose October 25 as R's birthday. Which makes her a Scorpio. Things will pick up quickly after this. Enjoy :) P.S. I kept playing "Edge of Desire" by John Mayer throughout my editing

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Fourteen

--

Thirteen

You’re woken up by a throbbing between your legs, coupled with wet sounds coming from that very place. Glancing downward, you notice the comforter has shifted, your legs are spread as far as they could go with your underwear still caught in your ankles, Wanda’s hair tickling the insides of your thighs as she flicks her tongue up and down against your hardening nub. Her fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt, trying to coax an orgasm from you in a very ungodly way at such an ungodly hour.

You had not anticipated waking up like this on your birthday, given how insatiable Wanda was with you last night. Now, as your senses fully return to you, you realize just how close she has already brought you to the edge.

“I want–God, I need your… Wanda, please,” you utter breathily, words rapidly eluding you as Wanda enters you with a third finger.

“What was that baby?” she asks in the same, breathless way.

You mumble a series of incoherent sounds, a blend of low grunts and sharp sighs, which elicit a grin from Wanda as she playfully nips at your hip, leaving a purple bruise in its wake.

“Do you want more?” 

You nod frantically, mouth open but no words coming out as you buck your hips, trying to pull Wanda’s fingers deeper inside of you.

“More what?” Wanda taunts, slowing her thrusts to an agonizingly slow pace. 

Your only reply comes in the form of a moan.

“Use your words, baby,” she murmurs, eyes locked with yours as her free hand snakes down between her own legs to touch herself. "Come on, you can do it,” she urges, her voice low and sultry, causing a fresh wave of wetness to spill down your opening. 

"I... I want your..." you struggle to say, Wanda's relentless stimulation leaving you unable to articulate your desires.

“Mouth? Another finger? My… fist?” You shudder at the last option, eyes squeezing shut at the image of Wanda’s entire hand fitting inside your pussy. There’s nothing but reverie in Wanda’s eyes–even when she has the upperhand, the look she’s giving you is almost simpering.

“Y-Your cock,” you manage to get out through your hedonistic haze, kicking off your panties to open yourself up more for her. “Please, Wands, baby… I want your cock.” A moan escapes Wanda's lips, and before you know it, all the sensations you were feeling come to a halt as she moves away from you to reach for the drawer beside your bed. You take advantage of this time to catch your breath, your fingers clutching the sheets to prevent yourself from toppling over the edge even as Wanda has stopped touching you.

A few more seconds later, Wanda is back hovering over your trembling frame with a flesh-colored strap secured around her hips. She wastes no time to line up her cock against your entrance, dipping in just the head before pulling out grazing it upwards to your aching clit, collecting and spreading your wetness.

"Please..." you sob, a tear sliding down your cheek as you beg her to stop teasing you. 

Wanda smirks, clearly enjoying the power she has on you. She starts pushing her cock inside you again, her hands grabbing your ass as she tilts your pelvis upwards. And then, she spreads your thighs further apart, the sheer effort to maintain the stretch increasingly becoming difficult. But the moment Wanda pushes the entire length of her cock into you in one, swift motion, every single thought flies out the window, leaving only an animalistic instinct that has you shamelessly meeting Wanda in every push and pull.

"Fuck, Y/N," Wanda exhales, her breath mingling with yours as she gazes into your heavy-lidded eyes. She gets lost in the dark pools of your irises, the pleasure swirling in them reflecting back at her. The speed of Wanda’s thrusts rapidly increases, and you can hear the slapping of skin as she fucks into you with a vigour of a mad woman. 

“I love you,” Wanda professes, the coil in her stomach tightening, the base of the strap hitting her clit in the most delicious way. “I love you so fucking much.”

“L-Love you too…” you whisper back, gasping the words desperately as you chase your own release. 

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, fighting off her impending orgasm so you can come together.

You nod furiously before grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into a sloppy kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and need and want. All it takes is a few more thrusts and you’re both coming, screams muffled by each other’s mouths. Wanda showers your face with gentle kisses as you bask in the afterglow, jogging her hips weakly until the tremors subside.  Once she senses that you’ve calmed down, she lifts her hips slightly, biting her lip at the sticky mess on both of your thighs. But before she can withdraw from you, your hands immediately come up to her ass to pull her back in, both of you moaning at the contact.

"Just stay with me," you mumble, nuzzling her cheek with affection. For now, all you want is to be as close to her as possible. 

"Happy 26th, my love," Wanda whispers in your ear, sucking your earlobe into her mouth and it’s enough to ignite the fire in your belly once again.

“Were you planning on killing me on my birthday, woman?” you teasingly retort. “That was a top ten… of all time.” 

Her laughter fills the air, sending delightful tremors through your sweaty neck where she’s currently seeking refuge. You take this opportunity to roll her onto her back while she’s still inside of you, making Wanda gasp in surprise. 

You position yourself astride her hips, beginning to bounce gently on her lap. With a mischievous grin, you ask, "Want to aim for a top five?"

***

"It's Y/N's birthday tomorrow," Wanda tells Calliope, her smile reflecting sheer happiness at her gratitude for the day that you were born. But a desperate sense of longing taints it. 

Calliope looks on pensively as she rests her chin on the back of her hand, supporting herself on one side of the armchair. "That must be difficult for you," she says softly. "Birthdays can hold a lot of emotional weight, particularly when there have been significant changes in our lives."

Wanda absentmindedly nods, playing with the ears of the stuffed bear that her therapist recently introduced her to. Wanda fondly calls him Mr. Lemon, attributing the name to its vibrant yellow color.

It won’t be a morning where she’d wake up extra early to prepare you a special breakfast on your special day, which you would ignore in favor of having her first, loving on her, until Wanda would find herself squirming from your touch, too sensitive from your hungry attention–

(And of course, she remembers the one exception–your 26th birthday where she had been the one to wake you up with sex, and she still blushes to this day at the detailed memory of it.)

–then she would tease you, claiming that it feels more like her own birthday, reveling in your endless affection. And you would always respond by saying that this is exactly how you want to celebrate your birthdays–each of them, until the very last one.

As Wanda delves into these wistful recollections, her mind effortlessly paints a vivid portrait of a parallel existence, a life that is now out of reach. She didn’t realize that yearning for the unattainable could be just as painful as revisiting the past.

Calliope listens to her, empathic and attentive. Despite their previous discussion on forgiveness, it’s clear that Wanda continues to struggle with it. 

She already suspects Wanda's response before she even asks, "Have you thought about wishing her a happy birthday?"

With a shake of her head and a soft, "No," Wanda confirms her suspicion.

Calliope's intuition was spot-on. "Why haven't you?" she probes.

“I basically ruined her life,” Wanda says matter-of-factly. “I don't want to upset her on her special day by reminding her of my existence and the pain I caused."

And there it is–the profound remorse and guilt that still haunted her. Calliope gently suggests another way to look at things.

"Wanda, I understand your concerns and your desire to protect Y/N’s happiness, but have you thought about the possibility that reaching out on her birthday might bring some closure or healing for both of you?" she says, watching Wanda’s reaction.

"But how can I bring healing when I'm the one who caused the pain?" she questions, letting out a hollow laugh.

“Healing isn't simple, Wanda. It's about facing our mistakes, owning up to them, and showing real regret. By sending a birthday message, you can show her how you've matured and changed. It might not lead to her forgiving you right away or a quick fix, but it can be a big step towards personal development and empathy.”

Wanda considers this for a moment. Things between you have been rather peaceful and ordinary. But the depth of your connection has never gone deeper than the superficial level. It resembles the kind of relationship she has with her doorman or her most loyal customers–polite exchanges, pleasant conversations, but lacking the depth and substance she desires. Not even the topic of Sparky could be considered personal, as she can talk about her dog with just about anyone she encounters on the street. The only relief she finds is in the fact that you no longer recoil at the sight of her or emit heavy sighs that betray your wariness of her.

Other than those things, Wanda has no clue where she stands.

"Would she even want to hear from me?" Wanda questions, her voice wavering. “I mean, we have a lot of great memories from her birthdays. I just don’t want to remind her of the things we lost and unintentionally spoil her day.”

Calliope responds with a soothing smile, but her words reveal a more complex reality. "Only Y/N knows her own feelings, but we should keep in mind that healing and forgiving are very personal journeys.”

She takes a brief pause, letting her words settle before proceeding."If you do decide to reach out, consider doing so from a place of genuine care and understanding. Let Y/N know that you acknowledge the significance of the day and the memories you once shared, without placing expectations or unintentionally burdening her. Ultimately, the choice rests with you, and whatever decision you make, trust that it comes from a place of self-awareness."

“I’ll think about it,” Wanda says quietly, lips lightly pressed together, deep in contemplation.

***

It’s your ex-wife’s dark, green eyes that you see, staring up at you as she pleasures you with her mouth before you’re abruptly sucked into the waking world. Your face burns with the guilt of having dreamed about Wanda, moreso when you find that the sensation in your core is real. 

Except the mop of hair between your legs is blonde instead of brown. 

Yelena’s eyes are closed tightly in concentration, her pink tongue darting out of her mouth, licking up and down your slit in a languid manner. 

“Y-Yelena… what–” Your words die on your throat as her lips closes around your clit and begins sucking on it. You perform your role, moaning at the parts that warrant them.

“Tell me what you need,” Yelena says after some time, pulling back slightly to blow on your engorged nub. You have no idea how long she’s been down there, but you can tell it’s been longer than Yelena had intended when you notice how swollen her lips have gotten and how her chin is dripping with your wetness. 

Despite the tell-tale signs that you’re close, you don’t feel anywhere near the precipice of an orgasm.

You can do this. You can squeeze one out just for her. God you want to come, just so no one ends up being embarrassed.

“Put your fingers in me,” you instruct quietly. Yelena follows them right away, pushing her middle and forefinger and then curling them up slightly for good measure. “Yes, just like that. Then just… maybe massage your tongue on my clit, clockwise…”

Yelena blushes at your specific directions, but she pushes down her insecurity, needing to get you off first as soon as possible. 

“Faster,” you gasp. Yelena rubs you with the flat of her tongue harder while her fingers piston in and out of you at breakneck pace. 

In the end, your orgasm is more like a surrender than a triumph. But in that moment, you feel a surge of gratitude, relieved that you don't have to explain to your girlfriend that you had an inappropriate dream about your ex-wife and that’s why coming was the last thing on your mind this morning.

As you catch your breath, Yelena slowly crawls up to you, resting her cheek on your clothed chest and looking at you with concern.

“Was that okay? I mean, that has always been a fantasy of mine, but it just occurred to me that we didn’t really talk about–”

You caress her lips with the pad of your thumb, interrupting her with a tender gesture.

“You were great,” you assure her, your lips twitching into a slight smile. Your words are genuine. Even if the pleasure hadn't been as intense as usual, you appreciated her early morning efforts to make you feel desired on your birthday. "But I agree. For any future similar experiences, we should definitely talk about it first.”

Yelena whispers an apology, her voice barely holding up against her worry. Her gaze is locked onto yours, seeking forgiveness, even as you reassure her.

Feeling her need for comfort, you gently coax, "Come here," your voice soft as a feather as you tenderly tilt her chin upwards. This enables your lips to find hers in a tender kiss, one that is meant to express your gratitude more than words could. Yelena responds ardently to the kiss, reciprocating the sentiment behind it.

"Happy 30th, baby," Yelena whispers, and as she pulls away, a sense of déjà vu creeps up your spine, the familiarity of her words tugging at your memory. 

It’s the most silly thing, but in the rush of daily life, you had somehow forgotten that today is your birthday. You keep this realization to yourself, not wanting to dampen the moment or make Yelena feel any sense of disappointment.

“Thank you,” you say, pressing your forehead against hers. Wrapped in each other's arms, you finally allow yourself to fully relax. “For everything.” you add as an afterthought.

 "Don't thank me just yet. Your day is only just beginning," she mumbles, punctuating her words with a wink.

“What do you have in mind?” You shift, wrapping an arm around her so she can nestle into you even more snugly. The room is still dark, with the blinds effectively blocking out any indication of whether the sun is up.

Grinning, Yelena says, "It's a secret," before she buries her face into your chest, seeking more rest.

***

“You can open them now.”

Upon her cue, you open your eyes. In front of you is a jigsaw puzzle neatly framed–a puzzle that sends a wave of nostalgia coursing through you. It's the first puzzle you ever completed with your late father, a cherished memory that you believed was forever lost to time. The surprise leaves you speechless; you couldn't have guessed that this would be the gift your wife had in store for your 27th birthday.

“H-How did you…?”  you stammer out. To your knowledge, the puzzle had disappeared long before your high school years, mistakenly donated to a bookstore during a house move when you had to clear out your room.

Wanda’s eyes flicker in excitement as she recounts the story. “I asked your mom where she donated it, and she actually had already forgotten the name of the bookstore. Luckily, she remembers what it looks like, so I just had to look at every bookstore in your previous address on Google Maps, and voila!” 

“Just like that?” you ask, your fingers tenderly tracing the puzzle's features through the glass that protects it. Your eyes moisten as you welcome a flood of good memories with your father.

"Well, not exactly," Wanda clarifies, a hint of amusement in her voice. "It made quite a journey, even ended up in another state. It's a long story, but I tracked it down. I was fortunate to not have to spend a lot to get it back from its current owner. It turns out it's a limited edition puzzle. But when I shared your story, they were moved by it and agreed to let it go."

When your father died, your mother was in so much grief that she tried to burn everything that reminded him of her. It was one of the worst fights you’ve had with her, and you managed to only save a couple of family photo albums that you now keep in a storage rental. The fact that Wanda has not only tracked down the puzzle but also painstakingly assembled the 1000 pieces herself in order to frame it leaves you utterly speechless.

You can’t begin to fathom how in love you are with this woman. You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from her, the gift momentarily forgotten.

“What?” Wanda tilts her head at you curiously after you’ve been staring at her for a long time.

“I love you, Wanda.” you say, and you feel how different this proclamation is from the thousands that came before.

A tender smile forms on Wanda’s lips as she responds, “I love you, too.”

You shake your head, feeling a bit silly as you continue, “No, like… I love you–forever.”

Wanda chuckles, and says, "I was kind of hoping you'd say that, considering we're married."

You laugh along with her before your expression turns serious once again. “No. I mean, come what may, I think I will love you always. Like, if you suddenly die tomorrow, I would grieve til the end of time and then some. But I’ll be content having known a love like ours for the rest of my life.” 

"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, even if it's a little dark," Wanda jokes softly, her heart pounding in secret. "I'll love you until my knees give out and you have to carry me, until every strand of hair on my head turns gray, and then some."

You lean in, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, and then you brush your nose against hers repeatedly until she starts giggling. In that instant, you realize that if you could, you’d marry her over and over again.

***

Agatha is on the verge of contacting the NYPD when she discovers the stainless shutter partially lifted. She's scheduled to unlock Second Chances today, but evidently, someone else has already taken on the task.

Someone who could potentially be robbing Wanda's cafe at this very moment.

Bracing herself for any potential threats, Agatha cautiously nears the main entrance, striving to minimize any sound she makes. Abruptly, she spots a shadow darting inside, instantly triggering a surge of adrenaline in her system. Acting swiftly, Agatha smacks the shutter with her fist, aiming to startle and warn the trespasser.

To her astonishment, it's Wanda who lets out a terrified scream, brandishing a spatula as if it's a weapon.

"Jesus Christ, Wanda! You scared me!" Agatha blurts out, her hand reflexively clutching her rapidly rising and falling chest. "I thought I was the one opening up today."

Wanda grins sheepishly as she continues with her task, mixing something in the kitchen. "I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep," she confesses with slight unease.

Something clicks in Agatha’s head. She really wouldn’t call it a special talent, but she has a knack for remembering people's birthdays once she learns them.

"Oh. I think I know what day it is," Agatha says, placing her bag on the counter.

"It's Saturday, right?" Wanda replies, trying to act casual.

"Not the day of the week. The date. I believe a certain someone is celebrating their birthday today. You're baking her a cake right now, aren't you?"

Caught in the act, Wanda confesses with a faint smile, "You got me."

"Do you plan to give that to her later?"

Wanda shakes her head, her smile dimming slightly. "I'm making this for everyone here. It's just a little something for everyone to enjoy."

Even though she can no longer celebrate your birthday with you, she's found a sense of comfort in remembering it in her own manner.

"Everyone except Y/N," Agatha mumbles under her breath.

"What did you say?" Wanda asks, catching the tail end of Agatha's whisper.

"Just thinking out loud," Agatha dismisses with a casual wave of her hand. “Need a hand with that?”

***

"Is a blindfold really necessary?" you ask, propped against the car window of Yelena’s rental. Yelena’s hand keeps reaching over to give yours a reassuring squeeze. She had been quite persistent this morning, hurrying you through breakfast and practically shoving you into the shower. Her main objective had been clear: to keep you away from any potential distractions, like getting lost in the endless abyss of social media.

“I don’t want you getting ideas for my surprise.” she says, her tone playful.

Surprises. Truthfully, you could do without any more surprises. After all, a surprising event last year had completely overturned your life.

"Would you at least tell me where we're going?" you question, hoping for a sliver of insight.

“Not a chance.”

"Please, Yelena. We're not breaking any laws, are we?” You’d say anything at this point to coax a response out of her.

The car suddenly jerks to a stop. It might be due to your statement, but having ridden with Yelena before, you know she’s never been the most delicate driver when it comes to the brakes.

Yelena decides to play along, if only to entertain you through the traffic delay. "If I said yes, would you have any ideas where it could be?" she asks, curious to see your reaction.

"Is it some clandestine fight club?"

Bursting out in laughter, Yelena replies, "Good guess, but no."

You have to admit, you feel a tad let down.

"Are we going to a covert assignment of yours? Some of those tend to be on the shady side, right?" you probe further, considering whether your daring girlfriend might have arranged something unorthodox.

"I'd never put you in harm's way," Yelena reassures you. 

“You did not just confirm your work is dangerous like Nat’s.”

"No, I didn't," Yelena retorts quickly. "Any other wild guesses?" she proposes, trying to deflect the conversation.

“Come on, just tell me.” you whine. 

"No can do," Yelena grins, finally navigating through the traffic bottleneck.

After a short while, the car begins to decelerate. You discern that you've turned into a narrow lane as the car's parking sensor starts to emit intermittent beeps, signifying Yelena is parking.

With a deep breath, you step out of the car, still blindfolded, and trust Yelena to guide you further. The walk isn't too far, and you can hear the sound of your surroundings changing as you move. 

"You're not going to pull a horror movie plot on me, right? Kidnapping me only to reveal your sinister plan all along?"

Yelena snorts in response, and you can almost hear the roll of her eyes. “At least not this year.” she retorts, tightening her hold around your waist. Her touch conveys more comfort and reassurance than any words could.

Finally, a door opens, and you step inside. The air is dense with an indistinct ambiance, which your blindfolded eyes cannot interpret. Then, the sound of Natasha's voice reaches you; its flat, disinterested tone unmistakably belongs to her. “You didn’t have to blindfold her, Lena.” Natasha remarks with a bored drawl.

At that, the cloth falls away from your eyes to reveal the friends and family that your girlfriend has gathered for your birthday. The room doesn't erupt into the usual 'surprise!', instead, a warm, if a little disorganized, chorus of "happy birthday" greets you. As they rise from their seats to surround you, you hardly have time to identify everyone present.

Natasha is the first to approach, her arms wrapping around you in a quick hug. "Don't hog all the cake," she teases.

Laughing, you retort, "Three slices aren't too many."

A smirk tugs at her lips as she quips, "Not if you cut the cake into four pieces, you goof."

You shoot her a mock glare, which quickly melts into a smile. "Thanks for being here, Nat."

“It’s my third favorite day.” Natasha reasons fondly, having previously stated that her favorite days are Christmas, Yelena’s birthday and yours–in that particular order. As soon as she steps out of your embrace, another person takes their moment with you.

"Happy birthday, bud," Clint, the owner of this house in Staten Island, envelops you in a tight hug, his biceps squeezing your shoulders a bit too firmly. Despite him being primarily Natasha's friend, the two of you have shared enough meaningful conversations for you to regard him as a friend of your own.

"Great to see you, Clint. Thanks," you respond as you return his hug.

The real surprise, however, comes from seeing Scott as part of Yelena's plan. "Hey there, rockstar!" he greets you with a high-five instead of the usual hug, adding to the sense of novelty in the celebration.

“Scott!” You can't help but exclaim, pulling him into a spontaneous hug. He seems surprised at first, but then his arm circles around you in response, returning the unexpected show of affection.

"I heard you're doing really well at Stark Industries," he says proudly. "I always knew you had it in you."

"Wait, how did you know about that?" you question.

"They called me for a recommendation," he reveals with a smile.

The news that Scott played a role in securing your job prompts you to lunge back at him for another quick hug. “Finally, we can now start drinking!” he exclaims with a jovial pat on your back before making a beeline for the fridge to grab a cold beer.

The final guest to approach you is none other than your own mother. You sneak a glance at Yelena, her grin wide as she watches your surprised expression.

"Forgot to tell me about your new sweetheart, did you?" your mother gently teases, diverting her gaze from you to Yelena. "She's absolutely stunning and delightful. Happy birthday, my darling!"

Even though you’re not sure what to make of it, hearing your mother subtly hint at you that she likes Yelena gives you a sense of relief. But at the same time, it also makes you wonder what Yelena has that she never found in Wanda; how she went ahead and warmed up instantly to a month-old flame, but never to the woman who had been an integral part of your life for over a decade.

"Thanks, mom," you murmur, allowing her to plant kisses on both of your cheeks. She then mentions a pie she's working on in the kitchen before leaving you alone with Yelena. The rest of the group disperses, busying themselves with the dinner plans, except Scott, who contentedly sips his beer while puffing on a joint.

"How on earth did you manage to bring all these folks together?" you wonder, leading Yelena by the hand into a quieter bedroom. Yelena responds by draping her arms over your shoulders, as your hands find their place on her hips. This would probably be the moment you two will have alone for the next several hours, and she intends to savor each second of it.

Looking up at you through her dark, enticing lashes, she jests, “Ever heard of ‘preparation’? You might want to give it a go.” Her playful words are swiftly followed by her leaning in to steal a passionate kiss from you. For a brief spell, you just hold each other, appreciating the dear friends who've taken out time to celebrate your special day.

"Thank you," you whisper, planting a tender kiss on her nose.

"So, what do you make of all this? Your friends, your mom–all of them gathered here?" she asks.

Your answer comes in the form of a heavy sigh.

A medley of personalities under a single roof? It’s going to be a long day. 

Dinner is served promptly at five in the afternoon, filling the air with the delightful aroma of home-cooked meals. The dining table is adorned with an array of dishes, a feast fit for a special occasion. The tantalizing scent of smoky barbecue, succulent steaks, and freshly caught lobsters wafts through the room, whetting everyone's appetite.

Seated around the table, sharing stories and laughter are the people who mean the most to you, even as you’d occasionally stare blankly at an empty chair, trying not to imagine a specific person sitting on it. 

And then, when you least expect it, Natasha raises her glass, a sly smile on her lips. "To our incredibly lucky friend, who managed to survive another year without getting themselves into too much trouble. Happy birthday, I guess."

The room erupts in a languorous laughter, glasses clinking together as everyone joins in the toast, and then Scott, already nursing a buzz since around the time you arrived, suggests that your girlfriend give you a toast as well. Both you and Yelena blush at that, and then your mother claps eagerly, prompting Yelena to stand up, your steady gaze the only thing that’s tethering her as she prepares to give her message.

“Fate has a funny way of bringing people back together," Yelena starts her speech, a bit nervous addressing you with everyone, including your mother, watching. “Especially when you thought you’ve lost your chance with someone for good. Years ago, life took us down different roads, and we went our separate ways before college. We only reconnected last year, and I could have never guessed then where we would be now."

"Today, on this most special day, I raise my toast to second chances,” Yelena proclaims, her voice growing steadier with each word. “To the persistence of love that withstands the passage of time, the might of forgiveness, and the firm belief that two hearts meant to be together will always find their way back to each other.”

Tears prickle at the back of your eyes, threatening to fall. Second chances. Those words seem to hold so much more meaning now. They encapsulate both an idea and a reality–a reality crafted by the person pleading for this chance the most. In that moment, you realize that second chances are not merely given—they are earned, fought for, and nurtured. They require courage, vulnerability, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. It's a tender interplay between the echoes of the past and the whispers of tomorrow, a nuanced shift between clutching the remnants of what once was and boldly striding towards what could be.

"To Y/N, the one who holds my heart, thank you for coming back into my life and giving us this opportunity to be together again." Yelena concludes. As the clapping dies down, she strides towards you, her hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “Happy birthday,” she whispers.

You mouth the words, "Thank you," the syllables forming on your lips with an almost reverent hush. She gives you a blinding smile, opting to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, aware of her sister's presence and feeling a touch self-conscious to kiss you where she really wants to.

With the conversations shifting to lighter subjects and laughter filling the air, Clint's voice cuts through the lively chatter to share something with the group. His statement catches everyone's attention, and they turn their focus to him.

"You guys know I own a small practice in Brooklyn, right?" 

Everybody nods except for your mother, who is meeting these people for the first time, with the exception of Natasha.

Caught in his reverie, Clint pushes on. "I believe I've bumped into Wanda a few times in the same building," he reflects. "Although, I don't think she has noticed me." Suddenly, he seems to recall the sensitive nature of the topic, his gaze flitting over to you and then Yelena, perhaps prompted by the pointed glare Natasha sends his way. He adds hastily, "No hard feelings about mentioning her, right? Just an observation, that's all."

Yelena locks eyes with you, as if letting be the judge of that. "It's okay," you tell Clint before taking a generous sip of your wine.

With your permission, he presses for more information. “I've seen her going to Dr. Calliope William's clinic,” he reveals. “The doc is a renowned psychiatrist and therapist who used to specialize in treating celebrities with substance abuse issues. But she's been relatively low-profile lately.”

“So, Wanda is her patient?” Natasha asks for confirmation.

“That’s right, although I never took Wanda for an addict.” comes Clint’s reply.

Though it’s the first time you’re hearing this, you're quick to dispel any misconceptions about your ex-wife. "She's not an addict," you state unequivocally.

Scott steps in. “Well, you haven't been in contact with her for a while. She could've slipped into that lifestyle without you knowing.”

Yelena clears her throat and then smiles wryly and says, “Actually, Y/N, has seen her recently.” 

Natasha’s question slices through the atmosphere, sharp and demanding. “How recently?”

“Last week,” you admit. “And the week before that.”

Upon hearing your admission, Natasha noticeably squirms in her chair, avoiding meeting anyone's gaze. "I need some air," she mutters, quickly excusing herself as she dashes outside.

Noting Natasha's distressed reaction to your revelation, you rise from your seat, gesturing for Yelena to stay put, as you follow after Natasha.

This isn't exactly how you envisioned your birthday unfolding–then again, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't even remembered it was your birthday in the first place. 

Stepping out into the brisk evening air, a shudder ripples through you. Natasha stands by the bonfire, her arms hugging her torso, the fire's enchanting light casting deep shadows on her tensed features.

“You haven't been entirely truthful with me, have you?” she asks, her gaze set on the flickering flames which paint the night in warm hues.

"Nat–"

“You could've told me when I came by your office. But instead, I have to hear it now, from my own sister of all people,” she articulates, her voice steady yet laced with sorrow. “And she seems fine with it, which I find hard to comprehend.”

“What are you insinuating?” you ask, annoyance seeping into your voice as you rake a hand through your hair. “I'm not doing anything that could hurt her. I have been straightforward with her from the onset–”

"If you genuinely believe you're not doing anything wrong, then you would've told me that you're still in touch with Wanda.” Natasha reasons, her gaze piercing as she drives home her point.

You open your mouth hotly, prepared to defend yourself, but Natasha raises a hand to cut you off before you can even begin.

"Because I can't think of any other reason why you would keep it from me–your best friend," Natasha declares.

“Natasha, I–” you really don’t know how to end this sentence, mostly because you’re not ready to admit that Natasha’s right. Natasha has always had an uncanny ability to see through your facades, to understand you even when you don't fully understand yourself.

In the end, you decide to lay it all out, starting from the beginning. You recount the moment when Wanda unexpectedly appeared at your apartment, only to be met by Yelena. You explain how you received a call from Vision, asking for your help to bring Wanda home. You tell her about Sparky’s delicate condition, the sole reason why Wanda sought you out. You explain your desire to have a civil relationship with Wanda, free from resentment, and your intention to move forward without completely cutting her out of your life.

Yet, Natasha just sneers at the last bit.

"Look, I get that you still have difficulty saying no to people and upsetting them because you’re such a fucking pushover sometimes," Natasha begins, her harsh tone making you wince. "But I know you better than anyone, and I can see that you still have feelings for her."

You attempt to cut in, but Natasha doesn't let up. "No, let me finish," she insists. "I've seen you go through this before. You're always trying to find a way to keep people in your life, even when it's not healthy for you or for them."

Her words hit you hard, and despite the obvious discomfort and hurt look on your face, Natasha continues, her tone compassionate yet insistent, "Sometimes, in order to truly move on and find happiness, you need to cut off certain people from your life. It's not easy, and it may hurt in the short term, but it's necessary for your own well-being and for the sake of your current relationship."

A lump forms in your gut as Natasha's words sink in. Deep down, you know she may have a point, yet accepting it feels like a difficult pill to swallow. You value her opinion and know that she only wants the best for you, even if it's hard to hear.

"I understand that it's not an easy decision to make," Natasha adds, her tone softening. "But I don't want to see you hurt Yelena or yourself in the process. You deserve a fresh start. You can’t be living in the present with one foot in the past."

“The world isn’t black or white, Nat. You seriously can’t mean that the only way I can move on is to hurt someone’s feelings.”

"I know you have a big heart, and that's one of the things I love about you," she says earnestly. “But if you hurt my sister because of Wanda, I can’t promise you that this won’t come between us.”

Once again, your mouth opens to say something, but the words continue to elude you.

“I know that’s a lot to take in and I should go. I really do wish you a happy birthday.” Following that, Natasha heads back inside only to say goodbye to everyone.

Your mother finds you in one of the bedrooms, gazing out the window while Yelena and Clint busy themselves clearing the table and washing the dishes after dinner. Meanwhile, Scott has already dozed off in the living room, clearly done for the night.

“You have the same look you had at your dad's funeral,” she says to you, as she steps in and gently closes the door behind her.

You offer a weak smile at your mother’s lack of filter. 

“Thank you for being here, mom,” you say, your steps laden as you approach your mother, who stands uncertainly next to a petite, pink children's wardrobe. It's only then that you recognize you've strayed into one of Clint's daughter's rooms. There's an undeniable innocence to the space, a sense of tranquility that pulls you back to a time when life was simpler, and your family hadn't been burdened by impacts of your father's passing and the subtle strain it has put on your relationship with your mother over the years.

You envelop her in a hug. She feels so tiny and fragile in your arms, so different from the woman whose anger you used to cower from, whose opinion always intimidated you as a teenager–who used to carry you home when you’ve exhausted yourself in the playground near where you grew up. 

Life seems like a long, winding road when you look at it from a child's perspective. And sometimes it stays that way even as an adult, with various distractions vying for your attention. But in reality, while there are still many years left in you, you may very well be nearing the end of your time with some of the most important people in your life. Your mother, at 60 years old, stands before you. Taking into account the current average human lifespan, she probably has about 30 summers left–and among those remaining summers, it's uncertain which ones you'll be fortunate enough to fully share with her. Even if it's just a single day per summer, that amounts to a mere 30 precious days left with her. You're approaching the endgame.

In your mind, you can't appreciate Yelena enough for involving your mother in this intimate gathering.

"She's quite determined, that girl," your mother exhales on your shoulder. "I can see that she's good for you."

"She is," you respond with a faint smile.

"But why does it seem like it's not enough?"

“What do you mean? It’s been a long day. Nat and I got into a heated argument–”

“This doesn't seem like Natasha's doing at all, dear. Every time I've seen you appear as though the world is closing in on you, it's always been because of her.”

Wanda.

Taken aback, you retreat, needing room to digest her words. Your jaw tightens as you counter, "That's a very unfair assumption you're making."

Your mother gently suggests, "It's merely an observation–"

“You don’t get to tell me what I feel–not when you never gave Wanda the chance you’re giving to Yelena now. Don’t pretend now that you knew anything about how important Wanda is–was to me.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think–”

"Of course it matters!" The words exploding from your mouth would likely echo downstairs, if not for the loud music that Clint turned on to mask Scott’s snores.

“It has always mattered to me,” you continue, quietly now. “It mattered to me that the two people I love most in the world loved each other.” Your voice fades into a hushed tone, and the silence lingers, broken only by the sound of your breathing.

“I... I did love Wanda. How could I not? She brought so much happiness into your life. I just couldn't bring myself to like her," she says, defeatedly. Slowly, she makes her way to the window, standing in the very spot where you had previously stood. The view outside is truly enchanting—a moonlit scene painted in shades of blue, casting ethereal shadows that seem to belong only in fairytales. 

If only life were as simple as a fairytale, where everyone could find their happy ending. Perhaps then, on your birthday, all your wishes would have a chance to come true.

“Why?” you ask.

Your mother looks over her shoulder with a questioning look. 

"Why don't you like Wanda?" you press.

"You might think I'm being irrational," she warns.

“Try me.” you challenge, eager to hear whatever her reasons are.

With a sigh, she relents. "Well, I guess I've struggled with the notion that Wanda has provided all the love and support you need, leaving no space for me anymore. And for a while, it seemed that way."

“Mom–”

“It’s true, honey,” she continues. “When your father passed away… being left alone to raise a child was a burden. Your father had always been better than me. He knew how to communicate with you–basically everything there is about being a good parent. So, I relied heavily on him. But when he was gone, I felt utterly lost... I saw you as this enormous responsibility that he left in my care, and that's why, as you've noticed while growing up, I was often a bit angry.” 

She pauses, shrinking away, letting the silence creep back in as she gathers her thoughts. 

“You needed me all along. Just like you sought out your father, you looked for him in me, as if hoping to find a part of him that lives on. And surprisingly, instead of feeling burdened, it became my source of comfort. I became dependent on your dependence on me. I found joy in being needed and believed I could provide everything necessary for your happiness. Your happiness was your father’s priority. I definitely took a backseat when you were born. But then I learned why–because you’re the most wonderful thing to ever happen to us.

“And then Wanda came along, like a beacon.” she says. Wanda entered the picture long before your mother got to meet her. She effortlessly dominated your conversations, each call becoming an ode to her presence. Your decisions and availability always revolved around Wanda. 

Your mother saw the danger in that because it meant that Wanda, while being the key to your happiness, was also your greatest undoing.

“I never abandoned you, mom.” you say, a soft, sad declaration. 

"I know, sweetheart. My reservations about Wanda had nothing to do with you or your actions. It was the fear that if she ever broke your heart, it would change you in ways I couldn't bear to see. And now, I witness that change unfolding before my eyes. As your mother, it pains me to see my daughter living a half-life."

“I'm not... it's not what you think..." you try to protest, but your voice falters; something wet hits your hands on your lap, and it dawns on you that you've started crying.

“You’re not living. You’re surviving,” she softly reiterates. “You may not want to admit it right now, but as your mother, I want you to know that I see you. You never have to hide from me because I will always look at you with love and understanding, never with judgment."

“I don't know what to do," you whisper, covering your face with your hands, your fingers scratching at your scalp in frustration. You feel your mother settle beside you, her arm wrapping around your shoulders, offering a comforting presence.

"Because you love Yelena too?" she asks tentatively.

You nod. “I really do.”

***

In the afternoon, Second Chances radiates a serene atmosphere, bathed in the glowing, honey-hued light of the setting sun filtering through its windows. A scant number of patrons fill the snug interior, sipping their drinks in solitude, lost in their own personal spheres. Wanda is nestled at a corner table, with a piece of cake served on a dainty plate before her. It's the final slice of the birthday cake she had lovingly prepared for you, and she delights in each mouthful, luxuriating in the sweet caramel's contrast with the dark chocolate's bitterness.

As Wanda savors her final bite, Agatha approaches, her fingers already retrieving a pack of cigarettes from her sweater. "Hey, Wanda," she murmurs, gesturing towards the exit. "Fancy a smoke break? The crisp fall air might do us some good."

"I'd prefer a walk, actually. I quit smoking a while ago," Wanda proposes, already on her feet, carrying her plate and fork to the kitchen. With a nod of understanding, Agatha waits patiently by the entrance.

There’s only a few more hours before your birthday comes to an end. She clings to her phone, fingers hovering over the screen, drafting and redrafting messages that remain unsent. Time is slipping through her fingers, and uncertainty clouds her mind. Will you be available to read her words? Will she have the courage to press send?

Yet, the fear of rejection and the unknown continues to hold her back.

"How are you holding up?" Agatha's voice pierces the silence, yanking Wanda back to the present.

"Okay, I guess," Wanda responds, her hands and phone disappearing into her pockets for warmth.

"You can be yourself around me, you know? I'm no longer your boss," Agatha assures, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "In fact, the roles have reversed now, haven't they?"

Wanda closes her eyes, her face tilting skyward, as she lets out a quiet sigh, "I miss her. I miss us."

Agatha nods in understanding. Throughout the day, she's watched Wanda's forced cheerfulness, a thinly veiled attempt to hide her longing for something—someone—gone. Often, she'd see Wanda gazing at nothing in particular, her body present, but her soul evidently elsewhere.

She attempts to find words of comfort, but realizes that a shot of tequila would likely do a better job of it.

“Have you wished her a happy birthday yet?” Agatha gently asks.

"I've been trying to, but I can't seem to find the right words," Wanda admits.

“How about just ‘happy birthday’?”

A soft laugh escapes Wanda at this. It's bittersweet how everyone else can simply wish you with ease, while her own vocabulary falls short in expressing the depth of her feelings.

"I'm overthinking, I know," Wanda murmurs, her foot idly nudging a stone on the sidewalk.

Agatha’s eyes soften. “When you look at it, much of what makes us suffer happens inside here,” she says, tapping a finger to the side of her head. “Our fears are often our own creation.”

Wanda ponders on Agatha's words for a while, the weight of self-imposed expectations sinking in. She wishes she hadn't set such high expectations for herself and instead had embraced the simplicity of greeting you with a heartfelt "happy birthday" from the start. 

Her heart sinks as she contemplates the missed opportunity. The moment feels like it has passed, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Texting you now would seem forced, as if she's just randomly remembered your birthday and is sending a trivial greeting like one you'd give to an acquaintance. But in reality, she had been thinking about your birthday since the beginning of October, carefully crafting and deleting messages, obsessing endlessly over a simple message. 

As she walks with Agatha, the city lights flickering around them, Wanda wonders when she'll finally find the courage to tell you how much you still mean to her. She wants to tell you about the cake she baked for you, how it became an instant hit and customers are already requesting it to be added to the menu. She can almost see the joy in your eyes as you take your first bite, the taste as sweet as the memory.

She wants to tell you about her journey with Calliope, wants to reminisce about your past birthdays, the shared laughter and inside jokes that have never lost their charm even after all these years.

She tries not to think about the last times, however. Or she’ll never stop grieving. 

“I hate to sound like a cliche, but Wanda?” Agatha says.

“Yes?”

“Just fucking do it.” Agatha tells her, no nonsense.

Wanda nods, pressing her lips tightly together.

"Headed straight home after your shift?" Agatha asks once they wind up back to the cafe’s entrance.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes wandering aimlessly in the distance. "No, I think I'm going to go for a run first. Clear my head."

“And then you’ll fucking do it?”

Wanda simply smiles.

***

“I'm sorry about Nat,” Yelena murmurs as you both finally arrive back home. The drive was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated by sporadic remarks about the ever-worsening Manhattan traffic. "And I'm sorry that I probably triggered your fight.”

You let out a weary sigh, the exhaustion of the day seeping into your bones. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “It was going to happen sooner or later anyway. I think I’d be pissed at me too if I were in her shoes.”

Yelena makes a sound of agreement as she begins to undress, preparing for a much-needed shower to wash away the remnants of the day.

“Does it bother you?” you ask. “Me seeing Wanda all those times?”

“It does,” she admits, her gaze steady on you. “But I think I understand it’s hard for you to simply cut off someone who has been your constant for the last decade.

"I can't say it doesn't sting," she continues, her voice calm despite the depth of the admission. "I want you to be able to move forward, but I also know that it's not something you can do overnight. It takes time." she says and then disappears into the bathroom to start filling the tub.

You let out a sigh. You wish it were as easy as flipping a switch. "I don’t deserve you," you say, sincerity in your tone. 

Yelena smiles at you and then says, “Don’t make that conclusion yet because I have one more surprise for you.”

"There's more?" you ask, your gaze flicking up to meet Yelena's in amazement.

From under the bed, Yelena hauls out a sizable box, causing you to laugh and wonder how long it’s been hiding there.

"What's this?" you question as she strides over to you, the box in hand.

"Go ahead and open it," she encourages. It's loosely wrapped in parchment paper, so it doesn't take you long to remove the lid.

The contents of the box halt you in your tracks. A memory from another time flashes before your eyes as you gaze, uncertain, at the identical puzzle that Wanda gifted you years ago, the puzzle you had worked on with your father.

"I know we already have a similar one hanging in our room," Yelena says, "But it's pretty worn out. I came across this copy accidentally and knew right away that it’ll be perfect. We can put this one together.”

It’s unexpected but thoughtful. And you feel like the universe is mocking you right now.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Yelena, drawing her in for a brief, tender kiss. Yelena hums happily against your lips. 

“You’re welcome,” she says, and then disappears into the bathroom.

You sink into the couch to rest for a bit, undecided if you also want to join Yelena in the bath. In the meantime, you unlock your phone and navigate to your Facebook profile, curious to read the birthday wishes posted on your wall. You meticulously scan through each notification, hoping to spot a particular name—the person who had always been the first to celebrate your day and the last to share your joy as it wound down. Yet, as you sift through the comments and messages, both public and personal, her name is conspicuously missing.

Following that, you check your text messages. There's a standard birthday greeting from your credit card company, along with a slew of generic messages from different businesses that have somehow gotten hold of your information.

But, there's nothing from Wanda.

You tell yourself it's probably better this way.

Several minutes later, Yelena steps out of the bathroom, draped only in a towel. The sight of her kindles a warmth within your chest.

“Other than the thing with Nat, did you enjoy your birthday?” she asks.

“I did,” you reply honestly, walking towards her and gently pressing a sweet kiss on her neck. “But after eating so much, I feel like I need to burn off some calories. Would you mind if I went for a run?"

“It’s your birthday,” Yelena's smile brushes against your lips, somewhat relieved. “Do whatever you want for whatever time is left of it. I'll be here when you get back."

***

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time, and just..." you call out to your wife as soon as you close the door behind you. Wanda steps out from the kitchen, cradling Sparky in her arms, her eyes swollen and glistening with fresh tears. Clearly, she has been crying for a while.

Wanda tries to respond, but her voice cracks, and only broken sobs escape her lips.

"Hey," you murmur, hastily discarding your belongings on the floor and instantly making your way to her side. "What's happened? Why are you crying?"

"I've been so worried. You weren't answering my calls. It’s a new town. And I want to be so mad at you right now, but it's your birthday, and I really, really hate you right now..." Her words fragment into disjointed sobs; her voice quivers the more she tries to articulate her feelings.

Gently, you take Sparky from her arms, setting him on the floor so that you can envelop Wanda in your arms unimpeded.

"I'm here now," you murmur into her hair as she nestles herself in your neck impossibly closer. Dinner reservations had been made months in advance to celebrate your 29th, but earlier today, a board meeting took an unexpected turn, forcing you to cancel on Wanda. She had been understanding, deciding to just cook your favorite meals instead. That conversation took place exactly eight hours ago, and since then, Wanda hadn't heard from you at all.

“You can’t do that. I can’t bear the thought of something bad happening to you, not on your birthday or any other day of the year," she sobs, her tears dampening the fabric of your shirt as she buries herself further into your embrace.

Guilt gnaws at you, sinking its teeth deeper with each passing moment. Lately, work has been demanding, occupying your time and energy, leaving you with little to spare for anything else–even Wanda. With Scott's mention of a potential promotion looming over your head, the pressure has only intensified. 

Both of you had hoped that today, of all days, would be different, but it seemed you were swallowed up again – caught in the relentless tide of deadlines and emergency meetings.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm here now," you soothe, peppering her with tender kisses wherever your lips can reach.

You feel Wanda’s meek nod, and then she says, “Have you eaten at least? I can warm the food–”

“Later,” you say, holding her even tighter, as if trying to merge your souls together so you'll never have to be apart again. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

***

Running doesn’t clear Wanda’s head like it’s supposed to–like she’s expected it to. 

As she runs through the sprawling expanse of Central Park, her thoughts race just as rapidly. The rhythmic pounding of her feet on the pavement fails to provide the clarity she had hoped for. Instead, each stride seems to bring her closer to the haunting words she had crafted but never sent to you. They dance before her eyes, tormenting her with their unsent weight, urging her to confront them.

Breathless and weary, Wanda slows her pace, finally acknowledging that literally running away from her wants will not trump them down. On the contrary, they amplify, persisting stubbornly until she finds herself reaching for the phone strapped to her arm, determined to compose the message she's been contemplating, but still uncertain of what to say to you. 

Wanda patiently waits for her heart rate to return to normal as she types a tentative opener. 

Hey! Y/N!!!

She grimaces at the excessive use of exclamation points.

Hey, Y/N

But that doesn't feel quite right either. Doesn’t sound cheerful or celebratory at the very least.

Wanda shivers as a cool breeze sweeps over her, causing her drenched t-shirt to cling to her skin. She’d probably catch a cold faster than she can hit that send button.

Your legs are burdened, yet not as heavily as your heart. This birthday has turned out to be the most emotionally taxing event of your life, surpassing even the first one you faced after your father's passing. The physical weariness from your run does little to alleviate the thought that Wanda didn't reach out to you at all.

You start questioning why it hits you so hard—why receiving a message from her feels so crucial. As you search for answers within yourself, you're confronted with a disquieting realization: you don't want Wanda to get over you.

Or maybe it's not the fear of her moving on that you struggle with. Because that would be utterly selfish on your part (wouldn’t it?). 

Maybe–just maybe–you don’t want to be forgotten. Not by someone who left an indelible mark on your life and had stripped away every piece of your identity. Someone who held your heart in her hand for more than a decade. 

Being forgotten so easily makes you feel insignificant. And you’re shocked that it could even hurt more than her initial betrayal–that it could leave you questioning your own worth. 

It’s pathetic that one text can unravel you this way. 

Your footsteps gradually come to a halt as you walk away from the running path. And then as you approach a quiet intersection that’s dimly lit by a single, flickering lamp post, you find the very person you’ve been waiting for all day.

There, under the shelter of a Sugar Maple tree, stands Wanda. She’s anxiously nipping at her fingernails, caught up in something that’s unknown to you.

Central Park is a sprawling oasis, a world of its own within the bustling concrete jungle. Its vastness is almost overwhelming, with winding paths and hidden corners that seem to stretch endlessly. The chances of stumbling upon someone you know in this labyrinthine expanse are incredibly slim, like finding a needle in a haystack.

In spite of the odds, there you are, simultaneously existing in the same space. Watching Wanda pace and clutch her phone sends waves of amazement through you. That you've both somehow found each other in this vast park at this exact moment overwhelms you with incredulity—it's bordering on unnerving.

For now, you remain undetected. You quietly take in her every action, the soft furrows of her brow as she broods, the subtle parting and pressing of her lips as she attempts to vocalize her internal monologue.

It’s an endearing sight, and it’s only then that you realize how much you miss Wanda. Maybe not in the way that you miss her when you were married to her, but just her steady presence. There is a certain peace that comes with her being in your life, a feeling that is difficult to put into words.

Wanda, oblivious to your watchful gaze, finishes the final(she swears it) draft of her greeting to you.

Hey, Y/N! I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! I hope you had an amazing time. I simply wish you happiness and good health–always. Thank you for being born and the privilege of knowing you.

It’s all she wants to say–except for one thing:

That she loves you and always will.

But it doesn’t need to be said. Not by her. Not right now. And Wanda figures that’s okay. If her love for you needs to survive on its own, she is more than willing to hold it close and let it burn brightly within her. 

Love always has somewhere to go.

It's because of her love for you that Wanda will continue to nurture the Chrysanthemums she has at home. She will care for Sparky with all her heart and give him the love and attention he deserves. She will keep growing and striving to be the person you've always believed her to be. 

And before she can retract what she's typed, her thumb accidentally presses the send button. Wanda's eyes widen in panic as she realizes what she has done. She quickly takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing herself to calm down. It's out there now, and whatever happens, whether you read it or not, she won’t have to think about it anymore. She surmises that, in itself, is a win.

The message lands in your inbox within seconds. Your forgetfulness to switch your phone to silent mode means its arrival resonates in the quiet, drawing Wanda's attention.However, by then, your intrigue has already taken over, causing you to miss the exact moment her gaze finds you, concealed in the dimness. The glow from your phone screen illuminates your face as you digest her message.

You go over the message repeatedly, with every word causing a wider smile to form on your face. By the time you decide that you’ve had your fill of Wanda’s text, she’s gotten close enough for you to catch the green in her eyes. 

“Y/N?” Wanda blinks, questioning whether she's just imagining you.

“I got your message,” you say, laughing a little, the sound of it coming off a little watery. “I… thank you.”

Wanda instantly forgets what she has just written. All that matters is that you’re there in front of her, and you seem happy about what you’ve read. 

"I’ve–"

"I–"

You both start talking at the same time, then stop, chuckling at the coincidental timing.

"I'll defer to the birthday girl," Wanda whispers with a playful smirk.

"I've missed you," the words leave your mouth before doubt can dissuade you. Wanda seems to freeze at your admission – she wasn't expecting to hear from you, let alone those three words.

Before Wanda could respond, she feels herself being drawn into your arms, your warmth seeping through her being. “Me too,” Wanda sighs against her will, as if she’s finally returned home. 

Eventually, you both break away, wearing matching bashful smiles on your faces.

“I was wondering if you, maybe, want to get a bite to eat?” she asks.

The vigorous run made you a little hungry, and you’re not ready to let go of Wanda just yet. 

“As long as it’s my treat.” you say.

Later, you find yourselves seated in a well-lit restaurant in the heart of Chinatown. Your conversation revolves around stories from your shared past, reminiscing about college and the friends you haven't seen in a while. You tease Wanda about only learning how to use a chopstick when she met you.

You ask about Wanda’s coffee shop, and express your genuine happiness for her to see it thriving. She shares random anecdotes about her customers, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride for Wanda and her ability to create not just a business, but a world of its own.

When Wanda inquires about your work at Stark Industries, you eagerly explain the current project you're managing. You throw around some financial terms that she might not understand. Still, Wanda's eyes light up with genuine interest as she absorbs your words. Even if she doesn't completely get the complexities of your job, she does see how passionate you are about it. The excitement you exhibit when discussing your work is infectious, and it makes her smile to see how much you enjoy what you do.

You and Wanda carefully skirt around discussions of the divorce or Yelena. Nonetheless, Wanda voices her joy at seeing you thrive in your work and new relationship–to which you merely respond with a restrained smile.

Throughout your evening together, a pair of envious eyes watches from afar. They hold a storm of jealousy and deep yearning, overshadowing the pure moment you and Wanda share.

Vision wonders if it’s too late for some kind of revenge.

***

You return to Yelena late in the evening.

"You seem in high spirits," Yelena observes, her tone barely audible as she busies herself tidying up the kitchen.

"It's probably the endorphins from the run," you respond, peeling off your shirt which has dried since your time with Wanda.

Yelena gives a knowing nod. "I can see that. You were gone for quite some time."

You hum noncommittally as you move towards the shower, not picking up on Yelena’s subtle hint, leaving her alone with her thoughts about how a simple run could bring you more joy than all the thoughtful surprises she'd planned for the day.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife | @justagurlwholikes

[desswright29]

On Bended knee

Pairing: Shuri X Fem reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Contains: Sexual content (not really smut), Angst, Cheating, Physical fighting, Drama!, Lots of tears, Shuri begging

A/n: Enjoy the drama! 🥰

Song inspo: Dreaming with a broken heart- John Mayer, Since you been gone-Day 26, Shame-Tyrese

Present

“Shuri are you going to be ok? Do you need anything? Nakia was very worried. Shuri seemed to be going into her mind. Her eyes had been consistently glassy, but no tears fell. They’d finally made it to the hotel and Okoye and Nakia escorted Shuri to her room. “I’ll be fine both of you. I just need some time to myself. Okoye please inform everyone I would like to be left alone for the rest of the evening.” She said peering between the two women. “We’re here for you Usisi. If you need anything.” Okoye says, reaching to touch Shuri’s arm. Shuri flinched stepping out of her reach a bit. She nods. “ I know. Enjoy your night.” She walks away entering her room. 

 Shuri looked around the luxury hotel room. Finally alone. She leaned back onto the door, taking a deep breath, blinking fast trying to stop the tears from falling, still one stubborn tear fell. Wiping it away quickly she walked over to the fully stocked bar, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon. She poured a generous amount, and took it with her to the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Alone. Taking a sip of her drink and leaning forward, her knees on her elbows, drink still in hand. She let her head fall forward allowing the tears to fall freely now. Big silent tears fell down her cheeks as she placed her drink on the night stand and crawled to the middle of bed laying in fetal position, fully clothed from the day. There she cried long and heavy until she fell asleep.

————————————————————————

Flashback

“OMG Shuri! Yessss! Fuuuckk meeee.” Shuri pounded into Eve. They were in the back of the car Shuri had bought Eve a few months ago. Shuri was silent, biting into her bottom lip eyes shut tight. Eve dug her nails into Shuri’s back as she got close to the edge. “Omg! Baby im sooo clooosseee!” Shuri drilled faster reaching between them to play with Eve’s clit “I’m cuuummiiinnngg” Eve quickly reached her climax. Shuri pulled out pressing her kimoyo bead, retracting the strap and immediately fixing her clothes. 

“Shuri you didn’t even cum. I wanted you to fill me up baby! You weren’t as into it today.” Shuri remained quiet as her eyes began to water. What was she doing. “Baby, what’s wrong.”

“Stop”

“Stop what?”

“Calling me baby. I’m not your baby.” Eve scoffed. “Then what am I. You pay for my house, you bought this car, and you fuck me. I’d call that a relationship.”

“I’d call it bribery.” Shuri looked at Eve incredulously. “No. Don’t do that. I didn’t make you start fucking me again. You came to me.”

It was now Shuri’s turn to scoff as she buttoned her slacks. “You’re right. You didn’t make me fuck you again. But, I never came to you for shit! I ran into you. You looked good. I fucked up and you bribed me into buying shit for you and I thought I might as well get some pussy for my troubles. Don’t flatter yourself. Because I stopped wanting it a long time ago. You’re the one begging. ‘Shuri, I neeeeed it, I’m feening, you don’t want Y/n to find out do you.’”

“Puh-leez Shuri! For all the shit you put me through after you met that bitch. I deserve everything I get from you!” Shuri sat back with a huff. Rubbing a hand down her face. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Sighing she leaned her head back against the headrest closing her eyes. Once again she attempts to speak. “I-I’m sorry.” Eve immediately straightened up. She dared not say anything. She needed to hear the rest. “I know I never said it, I get it. I waisted four years of your life and when Y/n came along I threw it all away with no explanation. I get how that would make you feel less than.” A tear dropped from Eve’s eyes, she’d never expected to get an apology from Shuri. “I guess I never apologized before because it made me feel better making myself believe I did nothing wrong. So I’m going to say it now. What I did to you was wrong and I sincerely apologize. What we’re doing now is wrong and I’m once again being inconsiderate of your feelings, because I love that woman Eve.” 

“If you love her so much Shuri why are you here!?”

“Because I’m fucking stupid! I’m an idiot Eve and I’m going to loose her if I keep this up! You are a connection to my past. Everytime I think about Mother, o-or brother, or Baba, I find myself running to you because you were there and you knew and loved them just like me. But that doesn’t mean we’re good for eachother Eve. The truth is I was scared to move forward, scared to be happy. So I continuously do things to sabotage myself. It always feels good in the moment but afterwards I always regret it. Now it doesn’t even feel good anymore. I’m not scared of happy anymore Eve. I want to move forward.” 

They both sat in silence for a while before Eve broke it. “So what now?” Finally turning to face Shuri, she saw her staring at the car ceiling. Shuri reached up wiping at her nose. Turning to Eve, she spoke “Your house is paid for, this car is paid for. I can set up an account where I send you a monthly amount that we can agree upon. But we can’t see eachother anymore. I want to do better. Let’s let bygones be bygones, and leave this here.” Eve huffed.

“ You think it’s that easy for me Shuri? What if I love you.” Shuri’s head dropped shaking it from side to side. “You don’t Eve” She reached over gently touching the side of Eves face wiping a tear with her thumb. She closed the distance and placed a kiss onto her cheek. Pulling back she gave Eve one last once over before saying “I’m sorry” once more. With that she exited the car, and never looked back.

That was a year before she asked for your hand in marriage.

————————————————————————

It had been five months since the proposal and Christmas was near, snow was falling and the smell of cookies and eggnog was in the air. You were at the home Shuri had built for you both in Manhattan. You called it the entertainment home. It had a full studio, A bowling alley, A fully equipped theatre room, 3 kitchens a huge backyard built for entertainment and three Five bedroom Five and a half bathroom guest houses attached to it. It was were you worked with and entertained other artist and industry people. And if things ran late. They could always stay. You were here working; and starting on the planning for your wedding that you both decided would be in October. Shuri was in Washington on business with the avengers and would be joining you in Manhattan for awhile once her business was complete. 

The past few months had been some of the happiest of your life. Spending time celebrating with your fiancé. Actually doing sit down interviews together for the first time. Making love over and over and over. It didn’t matter where you were. You’d be quick to excuse yourselves to enjoy eachothers bodies. Currently you, your mom, your sister, your best friend Bruno, and his girlfriend Zoe were gathered at the kitchen island going over wedding destinations. Bruno being more so in the way. 

“Mommy, we have to have our first ceremony in Wakanda. The elders have to bless our wedding and I’ll be crowned Queen. I’m not marrying just anyone. We have to follow protocol. It’s going to be beautiful!” Grabbing an olive and a peice of cheese from the charcuterie board, your mom frowned. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be beautiful, I just want everybody to see my baby getting married and crowned Queen. Why won’t you guys televise it.”

“Absolutely not! We could never give outsiders any view of Wakanda. You all were allowed in on the strength of me and were thoroughly investigated before you were granted entrance.” Your sister cuts in to save the day. “Mommy it is what it is. The first wedding will be private and in Wakanda case closed can we get to the second location. So we can get to the fun stuff!” Your mom rolled her eyes a smile ghosting over her lips. “There’s a fun part of planning a wedding” Bruno jumps in looking bored elbow on the island chin in hand as he scrolled on his phone looking agitated. “Why don’t you go to the arcade or something babe. I’m tired of looking at your pathetic little grumpy face.” Zoe says. “Please” “head on out” “make your exit” You all excuse Bruno at the same time, laughing. “Thank you ladies that sounds amazing. I’ll be taking these.” He grabbed a cup of the spiked eggnog and picked up the entire plate of cookies. “What are you doing!” All of you yell as he ran off laughing. “There’s literally so much food in the Ar-“ 

You were cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Which was odd because you weren’t expecting anyone and Griot  usually notified you of visitors. The only way you could be granted access to the property without being announced is if you had a specific kimoyo bead connected to the gate. So, you figured Shuri was home early with her hands full and couldn’t enter the code. “Bruno! Put that stuff down and make yourself useful. Answer the door!” He rolled his eyes as he put the drink and plate back on the island and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door Bruno was met with Eve. She wore a tan trench and brown leather gloves. A brimmed hat tilting slightly over her eyes. Her way of being inconspicuous. “ How can I help you?” Bruno asked curiously, eyes scanning the stranger, until they fell on a large Manila envelope. “Is Y/n here?” She said her Wakandan accent thick. 

“Yes. I could go get h-“

“No!” She quickly cut him off. “Just give her this for me.” She lifted the envelope to give to him. He hesitantly took it. But she didn’t immediately let go of the envelope causing him to look up at her. “Tell her I thought it was best she knew all of the information first. Only a small portion will be national. Tell her I’m sorry. It won’t be enough, but it was all I got for the hurt I was caused.” She let go of the envelope and strolled away. Bruno stood at the door watching her hop into a Jag and drive away. “Y/n!” He yelled before closing the door heading back into the kitchen. “Yo, that was some weird cryptic shit!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some lady was at the door. She told me to give you this. Said something about you should know all the information and She’s sorry” Your heart immediately jumped into your throat. Something in the atmosphere had changed. And something told you things were about to be different. “What did she look like? Did you get a name.” Your sister says.

“I can’t really tell you she had on a trench and her hat was covering her face but she sounded Wakandan.” You walk over to him eggnog in hand and take the envelope. “This is probably Shuri playing some type of kinky game” you laugh as you open it. You dump the contents of the envelope onto the island. Spreading them around with your hands. The mug slides out of your hand and crashes onto the floor.

————————————————————————

Shuri sat in the meeting manspread leaning back in her chair head perpendicular to the ceiling. Rocking a black turtleneck and black slacks with black and gold heeled boots. Accessorized with her Kimoyo earrings, a three layer gold chain, a gold Rolex, and her fingers adorned with several rings. Her perfectly tailored trench coat was draped across the back of her chair. Your fiancé was scrumptious as usual, and she was anxious to get back to New York to be with her fiancé; but this pointless meeting was the only thing holding her up. “Could you atleast act like your interested” Peter exhaled.

“But I’m not and I took a vow of honesty”  She rolled her eyes.

“Panther, I think you have bigger problems right now” Colonel Rhodes announced as he walked into the room changing the monitors to CNN. 

News Anchor One: -Young lady claims to be the ex-girlfriend to recently engaged Queen of Wakanda, Who we all know is engaged to pop super star y/n y/l/n. She released documents proving the Queen has been paying her off to keep quiet about the illicit affair. 

News Anchor Two: That’s right Nadine. There are also some explicit photos and videos of the pair that have been leaked it’s pretty clear who it is. The young lady is well known model Eve Wanimi. I can only imagine how Y/n is feeling right now this is such a sad situation.

The voices slowly fade from Shuri’s ears as the walls close in around her. Everyone in the room was dead silent. Heat radiated through her entire body. Her eyes watered and her hands were clammy, and shaking. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. Nakia, and Okoye had accompanied Shuri on this trip with thoughts of celebrating the holidays with You and Shuri and helping with wedding planning. They rushed inside the room beside Shuri who was stuck staring at the screen that she’d tuned out long ago. A look of disbelief frozen on her face. Nakia placed her hands on top of Shuri’s hands, that were frantically twisting and pulling on the rings upon her fingers.

“Shuri.” Nakia spoke softly. “Shuri let’s get you out of here. Ok” She didn’t move. She couldn’t if she wanted to. She’d done everything she told Eve she was going to do. The affair ended almost two years ago and she hadn’t missed a payment. Why was she doing this? A tear fell from her eye. “We’re going to have to move her Nakia. We’ve got to get her to the ship before the media figures out she’s here and starts to swarm.” Nakia nods as they both get on either side of Shuri grabbing her arms and wrapping them around their necks. They lift her to her feet, snapping her out her trance. “Hey, we gotta get you to the ship Shuri. Are you good to walk?” Shuri nods. “Let’s go” She grabbed her coat from her chair and stormed out of the room fast not acknowledging anyone in the room as she left, Okoye and Nakia trailing behind her. 

All eyes were on her as she walked out of the room. Her usual perfect posture slightly slumped. She was starting to feel like she was choking, her breathing becoming irratic. ‘Just get to the ship, just get to the ship’. Once at the glass doors of the building they could see media gathering at a respectable distance; but they saw her and the flashes began. “Take off your jacket Shuri.” Nakia grabbed at the sleeve helping her pull the sleeve of the trench as Shuri pulled her arm out. She takes off the jacket and they cover her head guiding her out of the building to the car that would take them to the hanger. As soon as the door opened they began to rush. “Your highness, is it true that you’ve been having a salacious affair with your ex!” “Is it true she’s stayed in you and y/n’s shared home when she was away?” “Are you Ashamed your highness?” Other Avengers immediately came out to help. “She is not making any statements today!” “This is government property please remove yourselves” “Leave her the fuck alone!” 

They got into the car, the driver honking as he pulled off, giving the reporters warning to move out of the way. The ride was quiet as Shuri sat forward elbows to knees her fingers locked into her curls, as her forehead pressed into her palms. The car came to a stop as they finally reached the hanger. They exit the car and enter the ship. Upon entering Shuri immediately began to pace. “Shuri what the hell is going on. Are you cheating on y/n with Eve.” Nakia gave her the most disgusted look she could muster. Shuri looked into Nakia’s eyes shaking her head. “I I-it. I need to call her. Maybe I can get ahead of it before she sees huh? Griot call umfazi wam” She says voice rattling in her chest. “Calling umfazi wam, Panther” They all stare at the projection as the beads chimed. Once, twice, three times. The call ended. Shuri continued to stare at the projection. You’d discontinued the call. “Panther, It seems Umfazi wams beads have been destroyed.” 

Her heart dropped into her stomach. You knew. Shuri sat. Slouching into her seat, a tingling numbness taking over her body. She bit into the pillow of her bottom lip chewing nervously. A wet exhale escaping her lungs. “Take me to her.” Okoye walked away getting ready for take off as Nakia sat across from Shuri. Tears began to pool in Shuri’s eyes and she turned to look out of the window as they took off. Her thumbs nervously fiddle with the rings on her fingers as her bottom lip began to quiver and the tears fell. She began letting out painful huffs of breath to try and settle herself. Nakia got up kneeling in front of her grabbing hold of her hands. “I’m going to *deep breath* I’m going to lose her Nakia. She’s going to leave me.” Her head falls as she began to sob.

“No, no. I don’t know what the story is. But, you can’t panick now. You have to get yourself together so you can talk to her. You have to prepare yourself to tell her the truth, and see where it goes. But you can’t unravel right now.”

“I’m scared, I’m not afraid of much, but I’m afraid of loosing her Nakia. I love that woman with all of my being. She’s already given me a chance when I didn’t deserve it. I fear this is it.”

Shuri looked at Nakia searching for reassurance that wasn’t there. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for what awaited her once they landed.

————————————————————————

They all sat in silence. The ship had landed about fifteen minutes ago. Shuri sat staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Whatever happened once she stepped off this aircraft would be final. And no secenario she conjured up turned out well. “Prolonging speaking with her won’t change the outcome Shuri” Okoye spoke. “I just need a moment” 

“You’ve had several. The longer you sit here, the less likely you are to go through with this.” Shuri swallowed. Suddenly she stood putting on her trench, she placed a skully on her head covering her hears, her curls that lay neatly on her forehead still making an appearance. Putting on her gloves. She took a deep breath and made her way toward the exit. Leaving Nakia and Okoye behind. 

The walk from the ship to the front porch of the house felt too short. Like she was being sent to the electric chair. Walking up the steps she decided she’d ring the doorbell instead of just walking in to give herself time to think. She pressed the button and immediately her entire body went hot. She stood waiting shuffling from one foot to the other. And then the door opened.

Bruno stood before Shuri. His face draining color once he saw her. “Ay, Shuri. I gotta be real with you. I don’t think it’s the best time for you to be here. Maybe give her a day or two.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in the living room with my girl, Dani, and her mom but I-“

“No I’m right here.” Bruno’s shoulders dropped as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Moving slightly over but still standing between you and Shuri. Shuri’s lips began trembling the moment she connected eyes with you. Your eyes were swollen red and puffy, face bare wearing large pajamas and your hair was wild. 

“Come in Shuri it’s freezing out there.” Bruno said before you quickly intercepted. “No Shuri, you stay right there. Why are you here?” Suddenly, Shuri felt the chill of the snowy night all too well. Your mom and sister appeared behind you staying at a distance. “I-I came to talk. To explain myself” you let out a chuckle that sent chills down her spine. “Oh she’s here to explain herself guys. This should be good. Let’s hear it!” You smiled, and it was chilling. Crossing your arms over your chest tapping your foot and raising your brow, you give her the floor. Shuri licked her lips squeezing her fists as her anxiousness kicked up a notch. “Y/n can I come in and we could just talk about this alone.”  Her voice trembled as she spoke.

You scoff, “Alone! Everybody in the world knows you’re a fucking a cheater Shuri, no need for privacy now, so you can speak were you stand or get the fuck off my porch.” In the years you’d been with Shuri, you always handled her gently. Hardly ever raising your voice. Today, you spoke hard and callous. Looking deep in your eyes she searched for the love that was always there. It was missing. Shuri began to panick. She felt out of breath just standing, trying to speak as she looked inbetween all of you. “I-It’s t-true” she let out. “But I ended it a year before I proposed. I swear I haven’t cheated since. I’ve changed Y/n I promise you.” You nod impatiently, biting your lip to control your anger. “Thank you for the explanation. Explain something else to me. Will you? Tell me how long had we been together before you proposed Shuri hm?” 

“T-two years.”

“Two fucking years. Ding ding, correct! Your a genius for a reason huh… so tell me mathematician. If we were together for two years before you proposed and you ended things with Eve a year before. That would mean you cheated on me for a year of our relationship. Not to mention the five months you spent pursuing me! ‘Making it right’ for the last time you had me fucked up with Eve. Would I be correct?!” Your voice was coming out hoarse with emotions but your point was coming across crystal clear. Shuri was continuously blinking back tears as she tried to control her breathing. She nodded as she used the back of her glove to wipe at her eyes. “Yes” She let out with a breath. “During that time you bought her house, and if I’m not mistaken that Jag she’s riding around in too?” Shuri bit the inside of her cheek as she turned her head away nodding again, not bothering to speak knowing her voice would betray her. “$300,000 a month, that’s the amount of hush money you send her so she can maintain her lifestyle. While you also still cover all of her properties expenses. Don’t bother. that one wasn’t a question.”

Shuri’s head dropped in defeat. “Anything else you want to explain yourself about? Or is that everything Shuri?” Her head shook from side to side breathing becoming shallow, she could feel herself weakening. “Oh really?” You walk out of eyesight into the kitchen grabbing the envelope, quickly coming back reaching over Bruno and dumping the contents inside at Shuri’s feet. “That there says there’s a whole lot more to tell.” Shuri looked at the photos that were facing upward and that was the moment she lost hope. “Multiple. Several fucking women in the span of a year.” You say calmly. Shuri officially couldn’t breath. “You bitches were having orgy’s! Ha! She brought you all the hoes huh? While I worked and stayed faithful. Missing you! Seems like she was a blast! Huh. She was nice enough to leave that out of the media for you though.” You were now in a puddle of tears. Your sister began to step up now but your mom held up her arm holding her back for the time being allowing you and Shuri to have your moment with Bruno tucked safely between you two. 

Shuri opened and closed her mouth not having any words. Her head was swimming and she felt faint. All she could muster was an “I’m sorry.” And with that something snapped inside of you. “Sorry.” You repeated. “She’s sorry! You hear that everybody THE QUEEN is sorry!” You threw your head back in manic laughter, your sister already clocking the signs stepped forward, but not quick enough. You charged toward the door clearing Bruno before he could get a hold of you. Just as your hand was about to connect with Shuri’s face She stepped back in shock slipping on a patch of ice. She fell back on her butt, but you continued charging as everyone tried pulling you back, you broke free again, and tried to making contact with her face again. She fell all the way back and threw both hands up crossing them over her face as you threw blows that only connected with her forearms. Okoye and Nakia heard the commotion and ran over to assist. “FUCK YOOOOUUUU!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Tears streaming down your face. 

“I loved you all the time! I was faithful to you all the time! And you had me out her looking ssstuuuupiiiid!” you were still struggling to break free as Shuri still lay on the ground hands still blocking her face her legs curled in fetal position as she rocked from side to side, hyperventilating and repeating “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“LEAVE! Stay the fuck away from me! Get her away from me! Get her away from me!”

“I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go” Shuri repeated hysterically. Everyone was in tears. 

“Get her in the house!” Your mom yells to Bruno and your sister as Zoe comes out and helps them pull you inside shutting the door behind them. Leaving your mom, Nakia and Okoye outside with Shuri who now lie on the snow covered porch in fetal position clutching her stomach she lets out a blood curdling scream that was accompanied by body racking sobs “Pleeaaassseee! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. I changed, I changed!” 

Your mom sat in the snow next to Shuri and placed her head in her lap, rubbing her back. “You gotta try and calm yourself Shuri.” She said calmly as Nakia and Okoye watched shedding tears. Shuri couldn’t calm herself. She’d run hundreds of scenarios in her head. Never did she picture it turning out this badly. Shuri’s sobs became hoarse and shallow and she began to wheeze. “She’s gonna pass out. She’ll be alright her body needs it that’s the only way she’s gonna be calm” No later than your mom said the words Shuri’s body went limp. And she was silent save for a few whimpers. Your mom stroked the side of her face and leaned down placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I wish it turned out different baby girl.” She looked up at Okoye. “Take her” Okoye approached lifting Shuri from the ground laying her head on her shoulder. “Thank you” Nakia says as they take Shuri back to the ship and head back to Wakanda.

————————————————————————

Shuri woke up in a bed on the aircraft. Her head was pounding and her eyes were glued shut with the crust of her tears. Nakia got a notification from griot that Shuri had woken up, and hurriedly grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, heading to the bedroom. 

As she entered the room. Shuri was pulling herself up to lean against the headboard. “Hey there Usisi.” Nakia whispers. Shuri looks at Nakia as she hands her the opened bottle of water. She took a large gulp feeling extremely parched. Looking back at Nakia, she asks the question that had been on her mind since she’d opened her eyes. “Was I dreaming?” Nakia looked down, hesitantly shaking her head side to side. Shuri nodded to herself, looking away, jaws clenching. The feeling of loss flooding her chest once again. “So, I lost her?” Nakia didn’t have words, but they all knew the answer y/n was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Shuri couldn’t think of a gesture in the world that would make up for her transgressions. She could see it in your eyes that this time you were done. “I lost her.”

————————————————————————

Opening the door to the place you and her had called home in Wakanda, a waft of air brushed against Shuri’s face. The smell of you both combined hit Shuri like a ton of bricks. Knowing that over time the lingering smell of you would slowly dwindle and all that would be left was hers. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it taking in her surroundings. The memories flood her mind, she felt as though she was drowning. Releasing a low groan she slid down the door, as she hit the floor she heard a ruffling underneath her. She reached under her finding a Manila envelope. Her heart rate picked up as she slowly opened it. Inside she found a picture of her and Eve with a note attached. In the photo they were younger. Teenagers, about sixteen. Shuri’s head lay in Eves lap, on a couch in the common area of the palace looking up at her smiling, as Eve looked down adoringly at Shuri. Shuri began reading the note. 

I did. I did love you Shuri. And watching you love her was killing me. How could you throw us away so easily?

Shuri threw the picture and note to the side as her tears reappeared. “Bast.” She whispered. Now she understood. She’d underestimated the amount of love Eve had for her. It always seemed as though she was just in it for the status. Figuring that Eve would let her go if she took care of her financially had ultimately been her downfall. Feeling sick to her stomach. Shuri crawled to the bathroom, crying so uncontrollably she began to dry heave until the contents of her stomach released themselves. What kind of person was she really? Nakia had been right. She should’ve healed before continuing a relationship with either of these women. Now she’d scorned her first love, causing her to lose the love of her life. 

“I made a promise to you Bast. That I would give my all to her. That I would be better and I am better.” She sat on the floor of the bathroom at one of the lowest pointsof her life. Hiccuping from all the tears she was shedding. Once again finding herself finding solace in Bast. “I will continue to be better. I want to make my family proud. And Bast, I want to make her proud. I want her to know it wasn’t a front. I became better because I wanted to be better for me, so that I could be the best for her. I need her to know that.”

————————————————————————

Living without you proved to be difficult. Shuri couldn’t sleep in the room, so most nights she spent working tirelessly in her lab, not sleeping, not eating. She’d closed herself off and never ventured out of Wakanda for the first year. She’d find herself still sending gifts, and letters of apology. All of them going ignored. Your mom and her would speak often but she wouldn’t give information about you. Just let Shuri know you were ok, and make sure that she was doing ok as well. She wasn’t. Not until one day, after about three months, she finally collapsed. 

She was walking the halls feeling ill and her body gave out. A Dora saw her falling and caught her just in time. She was starved, dehydrated, and overworked. They’d taken her to the med bay and made her stay. Force fed her through tubes and gave her meds to make her sleep. There she had to face herself. And with the help and the guidance of those who loved her. She became strong again. When she’d been released back to her home, it was a little easier. But she looked in the mirror and what she saw didn’t resemble how she felt. Grabbing the clippers from the drawer she cut her hair as low as possible. She was now 27. She’d grown and learned so much. Now she looked in the mirror and saw the mature woman she was. Afterward, she ran a bath, taking the time to reflect, only shedding a few tears. Progress. Putting on her silk pajamas once she was out and applying her shea butter, for the first time since you left her. She slept in her bed.

————————————————————————

Present

Shuri woke up still in the center of the bed, fully dressed down to the shoes. Groggy, from crying. Sitting up, she saw that it was now dark outside. Checking the time she saw it was 2:33 am. Standing from the bed she walked to the bathroom, running the tap and splashing water on her face as she looked into the mirror. She took a towel drying her face and ridding it of all the dried tears. Still not having the energy to get undressed, she just unbuttoned her blazer and walked out. Grabbing her drink off of the night stand and taking a sip, she walked towards the living room. Sitting in an accent chair in the corner across from the door to the hotel room. Placing her drink next to the lamp on the table beside the chair, she turned on the dim lamp. Manspread, head leaned, backeyes closed, blazer opened so far it barely covered her breast. “Griot, play American soul music” 

“Playing American soul music” 

Piano sounded softly throughout the room as “Bended Knee” by Boyz II Men began to play. Taking a deep breath she took another sip of her drink. Suddenly, she heard a card being swiped at the door. Not bothering to look up or open her eyes as the door opened, already knowing who it was. Shuri called out softly “Nakia, I thought I told you I wanted to be left alone.” She heard the door shut and a couple of steps were taken. When a voice responded softly “Hey. Sweet Lady”

Shuri froze, she unconsciously squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Believing she was hearing things. The room was silent, except for the music, as you waited for Shuri to process. “Open your eyes Shuri” you finally say, realizing that she wasn’t going to move. Slowly she opened her eyes, looking forward seeing your silhouette, the lamp casting a soft glow onto one side your face. Her chest felt tight at the sight of you. Your perfectly curvy body, clothed in a white form fitting maxi dress. Your beautiful natural hair had been taken out of it’s updo and it fell heavy at your waist in all it’s full kinky glory, just the way she’d always liked it. You looked like an Angel. Shuri’s hands shook as she reached for her drink. Taking a sip and placing it back down as you two stared at one another from your respective places. 

“How did you find me?”

“Nakia.”

“She sent for you?”

“No. I reached out to her.”

Shuri was taken a back. ���Why?” She whispered. “I don’t know” you answer honestly. Once again Shuri grabbed the drink, at this point it was just there to give her hands something to do. She leaned foreward knees on her elbows both hands cupping the glass. Her voice shook as she spoke. “Congratulations are in order yes?” You look down at your feet unable to maintain the intense eye contact. You had forgotten the effect Shuri had on your body. She’d matured beautifully since you’d last seen her and it made you feel things you weren’t allowed to. Why did you come here? “Married. Wow.” She chuckled with no humor behind it. “I really fucked us up.” You remained silent, looking down. Shuri stood as another song began to play. A song she’d listened to many times since you’d left.  One that said all the words she couldn’t find as she made her way toward you. 

I need your forgiveness

And your mercy too

I must be all kinda crazy

For what I've done to you

I hope you understand

That my heart is true

Mistakes, I've made 'em

But I'm making change for you

Shuri was now in your space, her powerful presence starting to feel suffocating. She stood in front of you intense eyes trailing your body up and down, before settling on your face. “Bast, you’re more beautiful than I remember.” Walking away she drained the rest of her drink and placed the glass on a nearby table. The last time you saw this woman you’d left her in a literal ball in the snow. Now you couldn’t gather your thoughts enough to speak to her. Next thing you knew she was back in front of you. “May I touch you, sthandwa”. Without looking up and without thinking you nod. Slowly Shuri’s hand came up to grab your chin. Pulling your eyes up to meet hers. That’s when you finally saw the tears. The red rimmed eyes. You noticed the shake in her hands. 

Have I learned is your question

And my answer I have

“I never got the chance to express to you how sorry I am. But I don’t t-think there are words that I could say that would suffice. Ndophukile (I’m broken). I’ve learned to function, but everyday I suffer with the loss of you. And sorry will never be enough. I know it’s too late. But I wanted to say it now that I have the opportunity. I was young and dumb, and hurting and I should never have dragged you into it. I should’ve waited, healed and come back to you better. But I was also selfish, by the time I’d gotten better, the damage had been done. Everyday I lived in fear that the things I’d done would catch up to me. And they did. And it hurts baby girl. It ( trembling exhale) Hurtssss” The S turned into a sob as tears streamed down her face. She grabbed ahold of both sides of your face. As if on command your hands came up to hold her wrist. Placing her forehead against yours, you trembled under her touch.

I know why you left me

But since you've been gone

My understanding

Has more than grown

I've come to this conclusion

Over and over again

I don't want an enemy

I just want back my friend

You step closer, removing a hand from her wrist you place it on her bare skin revealed by the open blazer. She lets out a soft breath closing her eyes basking in your touch, as your hand lingers on her toned stomach before gliding around her waist pulling her closer to you. You both released shuddered breaths as your bodies connected. Shuri dropped her hand from your face. One going to your waist the other went underneath your hair to grip the back of your neck as she nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent. 

Oh, I'm ashamed of me 

I wish I never done you wrong

Every night of us I dream

That I wake up in your arms

Shuri sang the lyrics into your neck, sending vibrations throughout your body. You’d always loved Shuri’s singing voice. You’d begged her to do a song with you, but she’d always say her voice was for your ears only. The combination of her voice, the meaning of the lyrics, and the feel of her pressed against you again after so long, sent signals straight to your core. Both of your hearts thumped loudly against one another. As you stood in the embrace.

Wish I could say sorry

Oh, and you come back home

Hey, baby, yeah

I was diamonds can do it

So I wouldn't have to be alone

Yeah, hey

If I knew then what I know now

Everything would be fine

I’m soooo ashaaamed

Shuri’s voice broke as she sung. And suddenly you both were on your knees in a full embrace. Both of your hands around Shuri’s waist inside of her jacket. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your noses brushing against eachothers, wrapped up in eachother like you never wanted to let go. “I wish I’d never done you wrong” She speaks through her tears. Unwrapping her arms she slides down your body head lying on your chest. As she completely broke in your arms. 

I'm ashamed of me, yeah

I'm ashamed of all the lies I told

Wish I’d come home, wish I’d  come home at night

Girl, I wish I've never creeped, oh, Lordy

(I'm ashamed of me) said I'm ashamed

Baby, I thought there was something better out there for me, yeah 

You broke with her. Lifting her head to face you as sobs shook her body. The powerful woman that was before you when you entered was long gone. Before you, was a woman aching for your love, someone who had learned long before she lost you, but still had to suffer the consequences of her betrayal. With everything she’d lost, she’d learned and grown and become a better woman. And you wanted her, you wanted nothing more than to fall back into the arms of the woman you loved. But you were married. You leaned down to Shuri and placed a peck on her lips. Then another, then another as she sat up onto her knees, allowing her better access to your lips. The next peck lasted longer until you were in a full blown French kiss. She’d pulled up your dress, picking you up and placing you in her lap. Both of your hands going to the back of her neck, as you tried to swallow her mouth. You began grinding against her as her hands gripped underneath your ass spreading you apart. You released her lips and hungrily began to attack her neck. “Ssssss fuck y/n”. The sound of her pleasure sent a jolt through your body, causing you to moan out as your core leaked with want. The feeling made you pull back. Snapping out of it, both of your breathing was heavy as you looked into her eyes. You knew then you were still very much in love with Shuri Udaku. You immediately hop out of her lap. 

“I-I gotta go. I’m sorry I came here.” You say as you head to the door. 

“Y/n baby wait! Please!” You stop still facing the door. 

“I’m married Shuri.” You spoke in a shaky voice. 

“I can’t do this without you sthandwa. I-I just can’t.” She pleaded. Finally you turned to look at her. Fresh tears falling. 

“You can and you have to, because we’re done.” Turning away, you walk out and close the door behind you. Leaving Shuri, The Queen and Black Panther on her knees, for the final time. 

Baby, I’m ashamed

I'm so sorry, babe

I'm so sorry

—————————————-————————————

A/n: This is the Final Chapter of Shame!! Thank you guys so much for reading I hope you all enjoyed this series as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😘

[cazzyf1]

John Watson on the racers he knew - from Motorsports magazine

Ronnie Peterson:

Ronnie, first of all, was a good friend. He was an exceptionally quick racing driver, and one of his great skills was he could jump into anything and drive it quickly. He wasn't as adept at developing a car. Ronnie's skill was phenomenal car control, balance, natural speed, but most of all he was a genuinely lovely person. Lots of drivers have lost their lives and I've never been upset. But Ronnie's death upset me. I still feel it now.

Jody Scheckter

James Hunt called him Jonathan Livingston Seagull, after a book which is an allegorical fable about a seagull with ambitions beyond flying and scavenging with the flock. I met Jody when he came across in the early 1970s and he was wild. A high level of driver ability. In 1973 at the French GP he and Fittipaldi had a collision. He was a loose cannon then, a little like Riccardo Patrese a few years later. But following Watkins Glen that year he was transformed after being one of the drivers who stopped at the scene of François Cevert's fatal accident. What he saw had a seminal change on his outlook and philosophy of being a racing driver. He said later that it brought home to him that the sport he loved could kill. Jody wasn't someone I had much to do with in the paddock, but I'm not sure he had much to do with anybody.

Bernie Ecclestone

He made a profound impact on me, not necessarily as a team leader, but he's a pragmatic and lateral thinking person. Again, Watkins Glen 1973 and Cevert's accident... a wonderful, beautiful gut lost his life and it felt disrespectful to jump back in the car and go back out. That's what I believed, how I was brought up. And Bernie said, "Get in that car, you're here to race. Whatever happened to François it's over and what you are doing is not going to make any difference." It helped me throughout the rest of my career, when a driver was injured or killed. I was able to erect a kind of barrier around myself. It enabled me to put up a blinder to however awful or ugly it may have been, to get back into the car and race. At Niki's accident at the Nürburgring in 1976, I was one of the early cars through and I had him lying with his head on my thighs, looking into his fave and comforting him as best I could. Then I had to jump back into Mt car and do a Grand Prix. I never gave it a second thought. That was the influence Bernie had on me, to detach emotion from what is your job. If you can't do it, get out. Later I had the same thing with Gilles Villeneuve at Zolder. I saw his body in the catch-fencing. I looked in his eyes and the lights had gone out. I got back in the car, drove back to the pits, told Teddy Mayer and John Hogan, and went for a coffee. Nothing. If a psychologist heard me say that, they would claim there is something wrong with me, to have that high level of detachment. But soilders, firefighters, the police - they need such mechanisms. You have to find what works best for you. That was Bernie's influence on me.

Niki Lauda

The Niki of the 1970s was very driven, very focused and very ambitious. He had a vision of where he wanted to be and how to get there. When he drove for March initially it wasn't a particularly good car, then he jumped ship to BRM and did an extremely good job. Monaco in 1973, he was outstanding. But he saw through Louis Stanley and realised the team was essentially going nowhere. He needed to move on to a better place, and he's done enough to attack Ferrari's interest. He formed relationships with key people in the team who become 'your' people. He did that with Mauro Forghieri and Luca Di Montezemolo and might have won the world title in 1974, but was going through a process of learning how to get there. By 1975, with the car he then had, he had done all his learning.

James Hunt

James was a pure animal, a pure athlete. He turned out to have a lot of skill, probably against many people's expectations. I saw him first in 1973 in the March at Monaco where he did a brilliant job. He was a bit of a contradiction in many respects because he seemed to have all the ability and skill, and a huge amount of intelligence as well which is fundamental. He was also a caged animal that needed to be controlled and some teams, principally McLaren, saw how to do that, holding him back and the lighting the blue touch paper and letting him go. What Teddy Mayer realised in 1976 was, don't let James screw around with the car, just get a good balance and throw rubber at it. James was like a lion trying to eat you alive. Bang, out he'd go and he'd deliver incredible laps. The other thing about James, in spite of his off track behaviour, he was a fit guy who played a lot of sports at very high level as an amateur. He was mercurial in that second half of the 1976 season. OK, he had a very good car in a very good team, but he dragged out every last ounce of performance from that car.

[jalwyn21]

She wants to punish him for daring to exist without her, after her.

I think that's the thing that really turned me off of Taylor completely. It's one thing for her to sing about bad relationships (even if she doesn't hold herself accountable) but to actively want to punish someone that she once claimed to love and has done nothing to even defend himself and someone she knows doesn't have the power and influence she does is actually sickening. And it's obvious that the power imbalance is what's motivating her to keep doing this because she actually did tell fans to stop harassing John Mayer (even if it was vague, people knew what she meant) when he spoke out. Same with Calvin Harris. As soon as he struck out against her, she stopped talking about him. And even Tom Hiddleston because not only does he have a massive fanbase, she knows she really doesn't have a leg to stand on with that one. The only other person that has had the same type of backlash is Jake Gyllenhaal and even then, he has a large fandom and he made it clear he's not having it. Idk, maybe she really does feel burned by Joe but I have a very hard time believing she didn't play a major role in their breakup. If it really was a case of two people simply growing apart then that takes two. And if there was emotional abuse or manipulation happening then well we know from Taylor's own music who the one doing that was. Revenge is one thing but to me, if someone is willing to cross major lines (like exploiting someone's trauma) for the sake of revenge then at that point that person no longer deserves sympathy

This, but I'll just add something.. I despise the "she is singing about her feelings and her story" narrative. 🙄

She’s not only singing about her own feelings and her own story! It's also the story of the man she dated and she is now writing about. It's her narrative, her side of the story. But then her narrative becomes fact, and that is not right! 🤔

Imagine a billionaire singer unilaterally deciding how to tell what is also your story to the entire world. Her side of it, anyway.... I would feel sick, honestly. Was ts singing about Joe's anxiety and his cascade ocean wave blues just her story to tell? 🙄

Let this sink in..

[squanchys-standup]

I think TS' biggest danger is that she is just a cipher for what anyone wants her to be. Her aesthetic, identity, values, squad, boyfriends swap out like the 'paper doll' clothes John Mayer accused her of adopting in his song. The white supremacists thought she was one of theirs. LGBTQ+ folks thought she was one of theirs. Conservatives like Harrison Butker AND liberals have all thought she was one of theirs. She wants to be a Kennedy, British, now a football wife. She wants to be politically active and then never talk about it again. She supports women's social causes but only when the woman in question is her. She's totally 'sane' but co-opts stories of historical and ongoing psychiatric abuse against those lacking her privilege. She's a deep ~tortured~ artist but floods the market with variants and tries to sabotage other artists and manipulate the charts in a way that is anathema to producing quality work. She writes her own songs except when having a better artist like Liz Rose in the credits generates the hit of her career. THE DANGER IS SHE IS NOTHING AND EVERYTHING. oh and she'll never be a decent actress sorry tay x

“When it comes to politics and activism, Swift's true beliefs have always been opaque. The star exceeds at always being one foot in and one foot out, saying just enough to support a cause (and receive praise for it) but never enough to follow through on any of them.”

- kelly pau

this is a quote i’m including in my video and yeah. you hit the nail right on the head my friend. and said it very well! i sure do appreciate the insight.

blessed be

[meaningtotellyou]

just saw a tiktok of a man telling other men to pretend to be against john mayer to get girls. i feel sick and disgusted by that like glad you find supporting woman as nothing but trying to satisfy your disgusting incel self

men are so fucking disgusting that’s why i hate all these guys on tiktok just lip syncing her songs like shut up

[penny-hartzs]

As someone that has grown up a swiftie nearish KC (grown up cheering for the chiefs), I NEVER would have put Travis and Taylor together, mostly bc of their previous dating history. But, as someone that followed Travis casually since 2014 (💀I’ve always thought he was cute) and also saw the deterioration of his long term relationship, it makes more sense. The most likely reason they ended was bc they weren’t good enough friends. Travis has always had a specific sense of humor, and I totally see Taylor’s corny self (affectionate) being one of the very few age appropriate, successful and beautiful women that genuinely thinks he is funny. but I’m going to need swifties to STOP bashing his ex bc it’s giving racist. Use your malice towards her against Joe bc learning YLM was written 2 years ago pisses me off.

I have to say, I'm enjoying getting anon messages so much it's giving me flashbacks to when i was actually active here and not treating my tumblr like a yearbook. Thank you for sending me this message ❤️

I knew nothing about Travis before Taylor, apart from watching his snl episode (and also thinking he's cute so no shame here) but everything i discover about him seems endearing and goofy and fun. I'm a genuine fan of his podcast with his brother and the way he seems to be embracing his newfound fame because of taylor is such a different approach from everything we've seen from her exes. And Taylor seems to have an amazing time with him so I'm definitely rooting for them

I had no idea his ex girlfriend is receiving racist messages but sadly it doesn't surprise me 💀 i hope she has great people around her to balance out the craziness.

And tbh i don't think any person should be receiving actual hate apart from John Mayer. It's one thing to discuss these things and another to send messages to the people involved and to be nasty.

[going-faster]

Assista a "John Mayer - Edge of Desire (Live at the Hollywood Bowl, August 22, 2010)" no YouTube

"It’s a sunday night, a night never to be trusted for emotions. So, a lot of you guys are gonna head home and either receive texts in the dead of night or actually compose them that are not going to be fully representative of how you feel for the rest of the day, for the rest of your week. Then you’ll be reaching out, and if you’re not reaching out you’ll have someone else reaching out to you. And your friends, and your brain, and your morals, and your conscience have all trained you not to respond. But I’m gonna go against the brain and I’m going to suggest that the next time you get a message from the one you love, the only person in the world you love and can’t talk to, that you respond. And you just write back when they ask you if you’re up, and you’re up, just write back, “Yup, come on over.” Cause life is just too short to keep playing the game. Cause if you really want somebody, you’ll figure it out later. Otherwise, you’ll be laying in bed with a Blackberry on your chest staring at it, doing nothing for the rest of the night, hoping that it goes, “PRRR, PRRR, PRRR”. If you love someone, if you love somebody. Say, “don’t say a word, just come over”.

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Midnights' - Taylor Swift

What keeps Taylor Swift up at night? 

A lot, apparently: Past lovers. Romantic nostalgia. Old enemies. Made-up scenarios where her future daughter-in-law kills her for her fortune. 

Or as Taylor herself puts it: ‘[A] momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now, it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.’ 

Shrugging off her cardigan, Swift teams up once again with Jack Antonoff to turn her late night ruminations into yet another surprise release entitled Midnights. 

It’s easy to think of her latest body of work as Taylor’s own Melodrama: indebted to slick electro-pop with a taste for vengeance while riddled with self-loathing and insecurity. But, as the title might suggest, it’s a lot more low-key than Lorde’s critically-acclaimed 2017 album, made up of languorous loops of sound and the singer’s dense storytelling. You can also detect hints of Reputation and its bitter edge. 

Taylor makes a few stark confessions throughout the record. ‘I have this thing where I get older/But just never wiser,’ she admits on ‘Anti-Hero. ‘Midnights become my afternoons.’ And yes, this is the ‘sexy baby’ song. I get the point: She’s starting to feel like she’s being surpassed by younger, more provocative artists. It’s a 30 Rock reference, relax. 

Taylor also says ‘so long’ to that goody two shoes ‘Daisy May’ on ‘You’re on Your Own, Kid.’ which was probably followed by the singer setting fire to her cutesy folklore cardigan (retailing at $75 at the time) in some ritualistic bonfire. 

Insecurities regarding body image also bubble to the fore as Taylor searches a glitzy industry party filled with ‘better bodies,’ while realising that her dreams of stardom aren’t all that rare. The twee ‘Sweet Nothing’ features one of Taylor’s better verses (‘Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors/And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other/And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"/To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it’).  

But just as she begins to show a glimmer of self-awareness, Taylor ends up doubling down hard, every well-spun bit of wordplay surrounded by a sea of clunky, often childish lines. But she knows that they’re bad and she knows everyone’s gonna talk about them, so Taylor wins again. 

Metaphors feel forced (‘Don't put me in the basement/When I want the penthouse of your heart’), while the cliches are out of control. ‘Question...?’ suffers from a serious case of Main Character Syndrome, the whole room cheering Taylor on as she makes out with the most popular boy in school. It’s a scene straight out of a Netflix original, able to envision the crane shot swirling above the two as they tenderly suck face. 

Taylor also swears yet revenge yet again on ‘Vigilante Shit,’ this time with a cat’s eye ‘sharp enough to kill a man.’ She talks as if karma is her own personal pet she can just sic on her enemies at will, which is especially galling as someone who’s cultivated such a rabid fanbase, constantly weaponising them against those who supposedly cross her. Not that long ago, they went after a grown man and his sister over a red scarf that DIDN’T ACTUALLY EXIST.  

Although it sounds like Taylor’s planning to kill Scooter at some point, presumably on a weekend. Remember when she revealed on ‘this is me trying’ that he had a couple of side chicks?  

Even ‘Anti-Hero’ has some pretty flawed logic: You can’t complain that you’re treated like said anti-hero one minute, then act petty and vengeful the next. It’s been almost 15 years – which one are you at this point? 

Naturally, Midnights also comes with its own labyrinth of easter eggs. No, I won’t be going through them all, ‘cos I really don’t give a fuck. I shouldn’t need a guidebook to tell me which song is about John Mayer and which one contains the Knives Out reference. If anything, the album only further proves that Taylor doesn’t need to commit every single thought to tape. Sometimes, it really, really isn’t that deep. 

Final track ‘Mastermind’ offers the most telling glimpse into Taylor’s psyche - ‘No one wanted to play with me as a little kid/So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since/To make them love me and make it seem effortless.’ She even calls herself ‘Machiavellian’ at one point. Whether it’s in jest is kinda hard to tell, but it’s certainly a... choice. 

Musically, Midnights is also a pretty mixed bag. ‘Vigilante Shit’ is a highlight, with bass throbbing its way around dark corners in a way that’s rather Billie-esque, which just makes the ‘sexy baby’ line from ‘Anti-Hero’ feel even more glaring. ‘Lavender Haze’ also utilises those subterranean bass groans, creating a murky, seductive groove beneath metallic gears shifts. ‘You’re On Your Own, Kid,’ meanwhile,’ is a more grown-up ‘Love Story’ from the point of view of a more jaded Juliet. ‘Anti-Hero,’ though, is just a lazy rehash of ‘Blank Space,’ right down to the complaints of feeling misunderstood. 

‘Karma’ is a more stylish and euphoric take on Washed Out’s ‘Feel It All Around.’ ‘Snow on the Beach’ also twinkles; delicate and windswept. But for all of Swift’s excitement to be collaborating with Lana Del Rey, the singer is relegated to backing vocalist. ‘Cos, let’s face it, Taylor would never let herself be upstaged like that. 

And yes, there’s a 3am edition of Midnights, ‘cos Taylor’s gonna milk those late night ruminations for all they’re worth, dammit.  

‘The Great War’ is okay, but not that great. Honour, truth, treaties, poppies, calling off the troops, we get it. ‘Bigger Than the Whole Sky’ has a hypnotic country twang, returning to the lush, cloudy nostalgia of folklore and evermore. ‘Would’ve Could’ve, Should’ve’ is a stormy, Fleetwood Mac-esque riposte at Mayer (found it), reflecting on the power imbalance in their romance while pleading: ‘Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.’ 

Midnights is a well-produced but rather unnecessary record. Even with its slick, shimmery wash, it’s everything you’ve heard before in some form or another: A song about John, a song about Tom, a song about Calvin. ‘Yes, I know I can be quite a divisive character, but I’m really just like you!’ Revenge. A couple of love songs dedicated to Joe. Probably something about Kanye and Kim. More revenge. Oh, and here’s a dossier full of clues for you to connect together like Charlie Kelly trying to track down the elusive Pepe Silvia. Boom, critical acclaim!  

As cynical as I felt about folklore and evermore, at least those records possessed some growth and a few interesting ideas. But as those albums were to indie folk, Midnights feels late to the party when it comes to brooding noir pop, the kind that’s already been perfected by other artists in every way imaginable. It’s really just a CHVRCHES or Purity Ring record in a quirky jumper.  

But what do I know? The record’s already gone to No.1. Buying presale tickets for her US tour turned into a bloodbath. Taylor could release a full hour of silence, and stans will hail it as an artistic statement and critics will write one in-depth analysis after another. And Stereogum will probably write the most positive negative review of it ever. Taylor’s no longer capturing the zeitgeist at this point, she is the goddamn zeitgeist.  

- Bianca B. 

[rachelminetti]

room for squares, 9.18.2001

i have a few john mayer related rituals i (sometimes) keep up with over the year, but none as sacred as this one. why do i have john mayer rituals? probably in some attempt to tether myself to myself. i wrap my years around it, i measure time against it, i keep my clocks in sync with it. so every year on september 18th i listen to room for squares, start to finish, followed up with some favorite live versions. this is the week when i no longer wonder when summer will wrap itself up, when the humidity disperses and i want to be home by 7. my hands are starting to show signs of age this year, my sentimentality has waned, renewal feels less likely, more daunting. 

but this tradition persists, i reconnect, i let the new year begin. this album has been given the gift of context, 22 years to settle in as an early 2000s soft-pop-rock-coffeehouse-easy listening delight. it is by no means my favorite album of his, i do not think it is a masterpiece, and this is the only time of the year i listen to it in full. but it is a great comfort and there are some stellar live renditions of its songs, exemplary of their time, their longevity and lack thereof. so, here are some of my favorite versions of each song, dug up from my personal john mayer archive. 

no such thing, live sometime in 2001.they listen to phish, but they can’t find the answers. added to my library sometime before 12/26/2012 (the day i got my MacBook, lost date-added data for most of my music up to that point), probably ripped it from the youtube link above. my library would be nothing without clipconverter, mystupidmouth, that giant torrent, and, of course, the internet archive. you’ll get a lot from this version: long, fun intro, alternate lyrics, an everything she does is magic tease – all wrapped up into a 9 minute, pretty solid recording. essential listening for those looking to dip their toes into the world of live JM.

why georgia, go anywhere intro. i have no idea how i found a download of this, i can only find the lyrics online. it’s been in my library prior to 2012, i must’ve downloaded from mystupidmouth. it’s a different version than the portable intro that’s easier to come across. after about 30 minutes of trying to track it down, i’m led to believe that it is from 9.06.02, thanks to a reply from Humming6ird on this post. going to spend another 10-15 minutes trying to track down a download, we’ll see if i’m successful. side note: cool to stumble upon an old self while tracking this down, i’m all over this page. ok, no luck. it’ll find me one day.

my stupid mouth, probably 2002-2003. i’ve had this labeled in my library as (Soundstage 2005) but i think that that is very wrong. great improv intro to a song i’ve never cared for. this is like level 2 deep cut live john mayer.  

ybiaw, 3/11/23. there’s nothing worthwhile about this song, so here’s a link to a nice transition from HOME LIFE earlier this year. 

neon, live 9.24.05 with the trio. 10/10 must hear version of this song. now this really is one of his masterpieces, take some time and listen to its versatility over the years. i was also going to share a version from what i thought was from 05.18.00 but i cannot find confirmation anywhere that this actually exists. it’s wonderful and i have no idea where i downloaded it from in 2021. oh well.

city love, i don’t really care for this song so here’s a trio video of covered in rain. 

83, live 3.26.04. this whole show is great – early version of don’t trust myself and a back to you closer, can’t lose here. this song very much feels like early fall, light and crisp. “83 was the vibraslap.” 

3x5, yet another mislabeled live version in my library. downloaded BMB (before MacBook). well, here’s a nice one from july 7, 2003. full show video available, always nice. 

love song for no one, i was going to link the one i have from 3.29.00 (terrible recording, live at the 40 watt in athens), but, of course, i have no idea how i even have my hands on that. it starts with tell me what to say, so it’s a real deep cut. here’s one from eddie’s attic in 1999, same vibe. 

back to you, live any given thursday. bring back back to you! bring back FULL BAND back to you! an all time favorite, one of my atlanta songs. here’s a link to any given soundcheck. 

great indoors, i was going to link a mysterious undated 2003 version with a lovely intro, but of course i cannot find it. this one from tower records on 6.31.01 holds up nicely. 

not myself, a lovely version from THE eddie’s attic shows in 2005. it will all come around again…

[estrellami-1]

Hello sweet star baby 😇🌞😘 seeing that you missed me was such a sweet thing to wake up to 🙈💜 thank you love 🥰

I wish I could invite you over, I have to cut the lawn in a little bit and it would be so much more fun if you could come over and keep me company 😅

I am absolutely no where near good enough for any sort of chess test yet lol I am very much still being taught by the kiddie chess app but I’m having fun with it

How did your performance go?

What kind of music do you like?

That does sound like a great day, I hope today went just as well 💜💜💜💜💜

My darling Hope, of course!! Honestly the highlight of my day is getting a notification saying you sent me an ask 😂❤️

Haha I would absolutely do so. Sit in the middle of the lawn in a lawn chair and wolf whistle at you while sipping sweet tea 😉😂

No jk I would help. …….maybe 😂

Ah yeah that’s fair 😂 thankfully once you learn what moves each piece makes, it’s kinda easy… as long as you’re not playing against a super advanced player! 😂 or at least that’s how it was for me, idk.

It went well, thanks for asking!! It was a little challenging at first lol, sound check was a bit chaotic but we got there in the end and I’m really happy with how it ended up going. And I was invited back! There’s nothing next week but the week after, on the 30th, there’s an extended worship night, so we’ll do 5 instead of the 3 we did tonight! 😊

Honestly my music taste is… very varied. Lol I recently got into Metallica and my favorite song is “Enter Sandman”, I like Harry James and old-timey big band stuff, and I’ve been obsessed with Taylor Swift since Fearless! 😂 my childhood was filled with U2, Maroon 5 and Switchfoot. Later on it was John Mayer (though that was mostly just listening by proxy (is that the correct term?); my brother was obsessed with him for a while), OneRepublic, Adele… honestly basically top 100s in like 2012-2015 😂 name a song from then (and with that criteria) and there’s a good chance I’ve heard it or even have it on a playlist somewhere! 😂

How about you? What kind of music do you like?

Once again yes today went well even if I only got 3 1/2 hours of sleep 😅😂❤️ and the same to you, of course, darling! ❤️

[allamericansbitch]

okay for example, the narrative people have of her never being able to move on, constantly ‘using’ her exes and being immature... that’s all her fans. i’ve mentioned this before, but every time this women does anything, people automatically bring up one of her exes and how whatever she is doing is somehow related to them. when all too well 10 minute version was released, jake gyllenhaal was in the news for weeks. fans brought him into the conversation, never taylor, and fans made up entire lore about their relationship simple because they had decided the song was about him. when the lavender haze video was announced, fans thought she was ‘being petty’ because john mayer happened to announce his tour that same morning... he was immediately brought up even though he has nothing to do with the song. did some people actually think taylor waited until the exact moment he announced a tour and then in the moment decided to announce the video? was she waiting by her computer and had his notifications on? because that's the image some fans painted. 

the idea some people have of her lyrics not being deep or that they’re corny is fully because some fans get way too investigative into her lyrics in order to prove some idea they have of her life. tell me why i saw a viral tik tok of a fan going through every line in the bridge to coney island and having the names of her rumored exes on screen to prove that every line is a reference to every ex. a song shouldn’t have a fbi-level investigative journey to be able to be proven good. why does that matter? how does that help anyone? taylor writes these songs about her life, sure, but why do they only continue to be only about her life once they are released?

there is that famous joni mitchell quote about a good song makes you see yourself in it and a bad song makes you see the writer in it, but i think that could be applied to listeners as well. a bad way to consume art is to only consume it through the lens of the creator and not for yourself. once you absorb art, it is yours. by hearing a song by taylor and only focusing on how it relates to her is disrespectful to the work itself. when you’re doing that, you’re not analyzing art, you’re analyzing gossip. that exact gossip is what taylor has been so adamant about not liking for years and why she has distance herself so much from her writing. there’s a reason she doesn't do those ‘hidden messages’ in her lyric books anymore, why she barely gives interviews, why she’s so private about her relationships now, etc. she no longer wants to give breadcrumbs to her life, she no longer ants to provide ‘clues’ that can be used against her work later. she no longer wants to feed this idea that these songs are only about her and incentivize people digging through her personal life to be able to find meaning in the songs. but because she doesn't do that anymore, people have taken it upon themselves and overanalyze everything, even when it’s ~not that deep~. 

the reason she has been viewed as ‘obsessive and crazy’ is because the loudest parts of her fandom have become that. the reason her work and creativity is being disrespected is because those people are actively disrespecting it. 

just came to the devastating conclusion that swifties are basically the creators of most of the reasons people have to dislike taylor exist in the first place

[captainsourwolf]

okay hear me out.

everyone knows about link’s crush on john mayer. it’s no secret, he happily told everyone on camera his crush is the singer. nobody is surprised of course, least of all rhett, because rhett is the one that gets to hold his hand and love him and fuck him and kiss him and do all the things john mayer just wishes he could fucking do with link neal.

which okay, maybe rhett’s a little jealous sometimes. but he can’t help it. john mayer gets brought up and link’s eyes light up, this spot on his throat that ticks when his pulse rate spikes starts jumpin’, he gets this weirdly euphoric look on his face because he gets to talk about his stupid crush. the last time he reacted like that to rhett was when they were in college and he thought he was being smooth hiding his feelings.

okay so rhett is a lot jealous. sue him.

one day at the creative house he walks in and link’s playing an old john mayer cd and rhett’s blood instantly boils. he follows the source straight into link’s office where link is bebopping his head along to some stupid song about something stupid and rhett clenches a fist before he can even stop himself.

“link,” rhett would huff when he’s ignored only to feel bad a second later. he’s had crushes before. he remembers what it feels like.

but this different. this is link getting weirdly giddy when the other man is brought up, this is him bringing the singer up any chance he gets, it’s link acting like a teenager experiencing his first boner because someone made him feel all tingly.

rhett hates it. supremely. with everything in him.

which is why he can’t be blamed when he slaps his hand on link’s dumb boom box he just had to have and effectively stops john mayer’s crooning. link jumps in surprise and finally notices rhett has entered the room.

“hey—! i was listening to that!” but he isn’t angry, just peeved, cheeks flushing a bit when he glares at rhett and gets up to turn it back on.

rhett is taller and bigger so he blocks the boom box and crosses his arms.

“maybe im tired of listening to john mayer all the time,” rhett snips and link huffs and his mouth pops open into a perfect ring and he looks a bit murderous for a second if rhett’s bring totally honest. “your crush is cute, but come on, do we gotta listen to him all the time?”

link gets all huffy again and throws his hands in the air. “it’s not a crush, shut up, man,” he grumbles. but the spot on the back of his neck that gives him away all the time flares up and he reaches up to scrub at it.

“you loooooove him?” rhett teases. he can do that. he can tease, even if it means reverting back to when he was a high schooler that thought the way to a girl’s heart was through jokes and rude comments. he grins a little when link looks away, to the side and down, rubbing that spot even harder.

“shuddup, rhett.” there’s no venom to it, just a bit of amusement and embarrassment to go with the pinkness rising up his neck.

“you wanna hold his hand and swoon over him while he sings to you?”

link’s blush disappears under the collar of his—surprisingly enough—john mayer sweatshirt. the one that’s cream colored and splashed with pinks and blues, and looks soft against his skin.

“rhett—“

rhett grins a cheeky little grin and leans against the table the boom box is on.

“want him to wine and dine you? show you a good time?”

link’s tells are starting to pop out: shifting on his feet, scrubbing his neck, pushing at his glasses, fidgeting with his wedding ring. rhett is hitting every button and it sends a thrill through him knowing he’s making link a bit hot under the collar.

and of course that’s when he notices the blush deepen when he says “show you a good time” and the subtle way link is trying to adjust his pants. rhett swallows and licks his lips and thinks he could have some fun with this. he is jealous after all. get link hot, get him off, remind him rhett is the one he should be blushing for.

“want john mayer to kiss you, link?” rhett shoves away from his perch and stalks towards him. link licks his lips and looks down at the floor, shuffles his feet.

“you don’t—“ link shrugs and huffs. “you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

rhett bumps link’s chest he gets so close. dips down and kisses his hot cheek, his ear, tugs on it with his teeth a little.

“you wanna fuck him?” rhett whispers and tugs again. link whimpers a little, a tiny thing rhett almost doesn’t hear. when he registers that’s what he heard, he rears back enough to see link’s cheeks ruddy and hot and giving him away. rhett swallows, shuffles closer, feels an unmistakable bulge pressing into his leg.

link is hard. the realization makes the jealousy burn in rhett’s gut.

“do you want him to fuck you?” rhett murmurs and that’s the clencher. link’s cheeks turn tomato red and it disappears down his neck into that silly sweatshirt and his cock twitches on rhett’s hip.

link swallows so hard his throat clicks and he shoves rhett back, hardly far enough to put any space between them, but still. he glares up at rhett with no heat, digs fists into rhett’s shirt, yanks him down into a kiss that’s more bite than anything.

they don’t do things half-assed that’s for sure. link is naked and bent over his desk in no time, rhett naked and two fingers deep with spit and lube they keep hidden in the desk and leaning over link’s backside to get at his ear. breath hot and damp and making link shiver.

“wonder how good it’d feel to have john mayer’s fingers up your ass, baby? think his are as thick as mine?” link moans so loud rhett feels it in chest. his dick twitches at the sound.

link is a needy whiny mess. looks fucked out already spread out on his own desk, back heaving, cock dripping a sticky trail on his thigh and the floor. rhett can see his eyes where he’s leaning close, can see how dopey and unfocused they are just from rhett finger fucking him and talking about another man. the jealousy only makes him harder, makes him get a little rough with it, crooking his fingers just right to make link jerk and moan.

rhett pulls his fingers free and link whines and chases the feeling. he’s on his knees behind link biting an ass cheek and dragging his thumb over link’s stretched hole, teasing and kind of all over the place, not really knowing what he wants to do just that he wants to do it. so he makes link turn over, gets his mouth on a thigh, on a hip, on his balls, at the base of his cock.

“such a good singer, must have a nice mouth, too. surely he does.” link’s head thunks on the desk and he whines again, raises his hips to try and get rhett’s mouth on him. “think he can suck a cock with that nice mouth?”

“rhett—“

rhett licks him from root to tip, sloppy and messy, precum and spit wetting his beard, shining up his lips.

“want him to suck you off, link? fuck his mouth the way you do mine?” rhett gets a weak kick to his thigh and fingers winding in his hair. link leans up, on his free elbow, peers down at rhett all fucked out and horny and desperate. he growls and yanks rhett’s head back to look at him, at his flushed and sweaty face and his perky nips, taut belly, his cock throbbing and wet. “admit it,” rhett huffs a laugh and digs his fingers into link’s thighs.

“what if i do?” link admits, voice too rough around the edges.

that just won’t do.

rhett growls this time and shoves link’s hand off his head then stands, fits himself between link’s thighs. they stare at each other a moment, link smirking in challenge, rhett glaring. he roughly grabs link around the knees, hikes his legs up till he’s resting his calves on rhett’s sweaty shoulders. he drags his cock along rhett’s, the tease, and moans, smirk widening when rhett chokes a little.

“come on, then, fuck me, rhett, bet john mayer—“ it’s enough for rhett clamp a hand over his mouth, use the other one to slick himself up and line up and slip the head of his cock in link’s tight hole. link’s clipped off moan and the way he shudders it out makes rhett’s head spin.

again, they don’t do things half-assed, ever. rhett gives him his time to adjust, barely enough, and fucks into him messy and quick. link licks his palm and bites at the meat of his hand but rhett doesn’t budge. he keeps his hand there and pulls out and thrusts back in, starting up a steady rhythm. doesn’t take long to build a pace that punches the air out of link’s lungs.

link’s legs slip and wind around rhett’s waist. he yanks rhett forward and down, brow knitting when rhett’s cock hits deeper, smoother. rhett finally removes his hand and winds it through link’s hair and presses their chests together.

this close he can see the thin ring of blue left, the freckle beside his eye, the sweat beading on his upper lip. he tilts link’s head back and bites at his throat, takes his time sucking a bruise into the delicate skin over his jugular. he soothes it then goes back in for more and fucks link harder, making the desk rattle and groan under their combined weight and pace.

“this good enough?” rhett asks, having to stop and catch his breath before he can continue speaking. he starts a slow grind, barely out and right back in, making sure link feels it when he shoves his cock deep and presses his pelvis right up against link’s ass. “could he do it better?” the legs around his waist tighten.

“want that crooner to fuck you like this?” link’s breathing changes, hitches a little around his throat, and he’s scrambling to get his fingers in rhett’s hair, on rhett’s body. they slip on his back and end up around his waist, back in his hair, down again to his belly before finally giving up and squeezing around rhett’s neck. “want him to screw you against your desk all nice and slow? or get you on your belly and hold your head down and make you feel it?”

link gasps and rhett is done with the grinding, the slow pace, and sits back, holding onto link’s thighs. link can’t get a grip on anything in time and nearly bangs into the wall behind him, moaning loud and strangled, and reaching for rhett.

it’s always a punishing pace when they’re like this. rhett can’t help it. he likes to watch link fall apart like this, a sweaty mess, mouth open around choked off and desperate sounds, back arching as rhett fucks him. and he likes it when link finally blissfully falls apart.

rhett watches link’s face contort, his brows knitting so tight he’ll have a headache later, hands searching for something to hold onto. he’s almost there and he hasn’t even been touched since rhett got him up here. rhett loves it when he’s so horny for it that he cums untouched.

this time there’s an edge to it, a sting, and rhett can’t help himself from catching link’s eye, watching when he finally focuses enough to catch on.

“he fuck you better than i can, baby?”

and link loses it, jizzes all over himself in thick spurts, seemingly never ending as rhett screws him through it and he keeps cumming, speechless with it. he clenches around rhett’s cock, still a tease even when he’s just blown his load so hard he’s probably seeing stars. rhett likes that part, too.

link starts muttering little yeah’s and come on’s, fighting the over sensitivity and squeezing around rhett’s dick to milk it out of him. doesn’t take much, he was already about there, so when link sits up and drags fingers through the mess and reaches between them to feel where rhett’s fucking him and slick him up, that does him in. his hips stutter and he moans and folds in on himself, nearly loses his footing and takes link with him.

after a moment he finds he’s got his face buried in link’s neck, breathing evening out, mouth still hanging loose in satisfaction. link’s got him held up with an arm around his back, other propping himself up on the desk so he doesn’t fall.

takes a second but he gets himself together enough to unstick himself from link’s body. his dick slips out and with it a trickle of his release. link’s quiet moan and the way his ass clenches makes him chuckle and use his middle finger to plug it back in.

“it’s so gross when you do that.”

“you love it,” rhett laughs again and link flutters around him, sighing in resignation.

his blush is back. rhett sees it traveling from his cheeks to his neck to his chest. he’s embarassed, probably a little turned on still if the way his dick gives a valiant effort at twitching is anything to go by. but overall he’s spent and he lays back.

it’s quiet for a moment as rhett just waits for link to chill, to get himself together enough to face rhett’s amused stare. when he finally looks he has this softness there, in his eyes and around his mouth, only for rhett.

“you know you’re the only one,” he states it simply, quietly, pink in his cheeks flaring up for a moment.

rhett gathers him into a hug and kisses his temple.

“as if id ever believe john mayer could fuck you as good as me,” he whispers.

“oh my god. i hate you.”

rhett shakes his head, knowing better.

“nah, you love me.”