#shadow vision 8
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lueton · 24 days ago
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(LUETON)
we decided to keep building no matter what
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shotmrmiller · 10 months ago
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When Johnny takes Simon to his home, and you open the door, Simon's heart stops beating. You direct that lovely smile he's fallen in love with at Johnny as you hug him and usher him inside. Simon's frozen in place, his body refusing to move, because gods, you're a fucking dream.
And then you turn your attention towards him, with ruddy cheeks and pink lips and a delicate neck he could easily wrap his hand around—
"You must be Simon!" and his cock starts to stir. All you said was his name, in that angelic voice of yours, and his blood started to rush to his groin.
When you move to wrap your arms around him in an embrace, he finally breaks from his trance and returns it. Barely. It's awkward— one arm coming up to inelegantly pat your upper back a little too hard, and the other stiff at his side. But you seem completely unbothered, just giving him one last squeeze and step back, holding both of his arms in your dainty hands, and you say, "It's great to meet the one that keeps my Johnny safe. Now, come on in, make yourself at home!"
Simon timidly walks inside, and closes the door behind him, and utters, "Thank you for lettin' me stay here."
The joyful laughter you let out sends exquisite prickles up his spine. "He actually speaks! I'm surprised, Johnny said it took a bit for you to warm up to others," and you give another stomach-fluttering giggle. "You're welcome here any time, Simon. Now let me take you to the room you'll be staying in."
Simon has to carry his duffle bag in front of him as you lead him to the guest room to cover the throbbing erection he's got. When you leave him to freshen up, he wastes no time in pulling his jeans down and taking himself in his hand, stroking firmly. When his imagination paints a picture of you wearing an apron while cooking a meal for him, his vision blurs as he climaxes.
--
Simon knows he's atypical. He has no real decorum. He tells piss-poor dark jokes, inadvertently stares at people when he's lost in thought— and since he's been here, Simon likes to shadow you.
But you don't seem to mind any of it. You laugh at his jokes, the ones Johnny never fails to scoff in disgust at, you tilt your head innocently towards him, silently questioning his intense gaze — and it's so fucking adorable that he's come to that look 8 times in the last 3 days— and you always ask him to reach for things that are out of your reach because you know he's around. (Johnny made a joke once, said that you're being haunted by a ghost, and the quip you replied with as you came to his defense had him dizzy.)
His favorite thing about you though, is how unafraid you are of him. You had rounded a corner and saw his skull mask for the first time, and had you been like any other woman, you would've been startled. But you hadn't been— If anything, you asked him if he wanted it fixed.
"I can see a couple of tears here, Simon. I can patch it up if you like."
It was so deliciously domiciliary that he counted each stitch of his mended mask with his thumb as he touched himself that night.
And then, through the thin walls of the home, he suddenly heard your dulcet moans. He quickly got up and put his skills to use— silently crossing the living room and leaning against the wall closest to your bedroom door.
The bed repeatedly creaked and every choked moan that left you, Simon heard clearly. He hastily took out his achingly hard cock, spit on his palm, and stroked himself to the rhythm of the slapping of skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fucked himself to the thought of him being the one in there with you.
He has no doubt that you'd feel heavenly. Your slick cunt swallowing his turgid length, walls almost painfully tight around him. You'd beg for him to hammer into you, relentlessly, mercilessly. You'd tell him to bite the crook of your shoulder once you were about to come around his cock, and when he actually hears you reach your peak, he rhythmically tightens and loosens his grip, imitating your fluttering walls. His toes are curling inside his socks, he's so bloody close—
And then Simon hears your lascivious voice murmur, "Come in me."
He bites his lip so hard it splits under the pressure as he comes. Tiny, hushed whimpers seeped from behind his mouth, as hot cum spilled onto his fingers, and trickled onto the floor.
The only noise Simon can hear now is his own shaky breath— the fun's over on both sides, it seems. He looks down, gives his softening cock one more stroke, wringing out the last of his seed, before tucking himself away, and sluggishly wiping his mess off the floor with his foot.
He quietly moves, heading back to his room, when he spots your laundry basket in the utility room.
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Simon has never believed in luck until now when he's sniffing your knickers in the privacy of the guest room, and he realizes they've been worn. And by how strong the smell of you is, they've been used very recently. He felt like he won the goddamn lottery.
Wrapping it around his cock, he touches himself. Again. And when he comes, he makes sure to spurt his cum directly onto the gusset of the undergarment.
Come morning, when they're all stiff and crusted, he laments that he didn't lick them first, in a pitiful bid to experience a taste of you, before stowing them into a secret compartment in his bag. He makes a mental note to remember to do just that when he takes another pair.
Simon wordlessly makes a cup of tea later, hissing as the hot liquid comes in contact with the small wound on his lip, when Johnny approaches him.
"Mornin' LT."
A grunt is his only reply.
Johnny then shoots him a sly grin.
"Last night, ye weren't as wheesht, as quiet, as ye thought. But dinnae worry, Bonnie doesn't ken a thing."
He claps a hand on Simon's petrified shoulders. "If ye wanted a slice of the cake, ye could've just asked. I dinnae mind sharin'."
Simon gives him a borderline-demented look, puts his tea down on the counter, and clears his throat.
"When?"
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logansdoll · 3 months ago
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I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one
-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.
Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james
I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good
I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.
contingency
running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.
CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.
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'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'
With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.
Why couldn't he just remember?
He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.
But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.
Something crucial.
"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."
Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.
"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"
Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.
In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.
"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."
A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.
"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."
"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.
Not knowing was tearing him apart.
Who was (y/n)?
What were you to him?
And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?
All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.
Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:
CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.
"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.
He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.
'Fuck it.'
Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.
He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.
Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.
Yet he knew he wasn't.
He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.
For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.
Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.
He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.
EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency
Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.
"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.
So home-like.
Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.
Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.
And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.
Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.
"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"
"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."
"No..."
"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.
He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
"Well?" you asked, nervous.
"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."
"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.
"I can't..."
"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."
"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.
"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"
Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.
"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.
"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.
"She can't..."
"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."
Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.
"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.
"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."
He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.
"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.
"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"
He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.
"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."
"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.
How could he have ever forgotten you?
Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.
Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.
He could remember so clearly now.
You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.
No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.
You were his escape, his safety, his peace.
Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.
Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.
With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.
Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.
He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.
After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.
The softness of your cheeks.
The kindness of your eyes.
The plumpness of your lips.
Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.
Logan couldn't find the words.
The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.
"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.
That's right!
James!
His name was James!
"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"
You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.
"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.
Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.
"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"
"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"
He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.
"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."
Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.
"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"
Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.
'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'
Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.
"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"
In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.
"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.
"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.
Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.
"She's my wife..."
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bonus !!
"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"
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thewriteadviceforwriters · 1 year ago
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Why Writers Don't Finish Writing Their Stories, and How to Fix It
Hello fellow writers and storytellers,
The journey of writing a story is an exhilarating adventure, but it's not without its share of obstacles. Many of us have embarked on a creative endeavor, only to find ourselves mired in the struggle to finish what we started. In this blog post, I'll unravel the common reasons why writers don't finish their stories and explore practical strategies to overcome these hurdles and reignite the flame of creativity.
The Perils of Unfinished Stories
As writers, we often find ourselves in the throes of unfinished tales, grappling with the intricate web of characters, plots, and themes. There are several reasons why the ink dries up and the story remains untold. Let's shine a light on the familiar adversaries that stand between us and the triumphant completion of our narratives:
1. Lack of Planning:
Some of us brazenly dive into our stories without a clear roadmap, resulting in uncertainty about the direction of the plot and the fate of our characters. The lack of a solid plan can lead us astray, leaving our stories wandering in the wilderness of aimlessness.
2. Self-Doubt and Perfectionism:
Ah, the relentless whispers of self-doubt and the siren call of perfectionism! These twin adversaries can cast a shadow over our creative vision, compelling us to endlessly revise and perfect the early chapters, trapping us in a whirlpool of perpetual edits.
3. Time Management:
Balancing the demands of daily life with the ardor of writing can be akin to walking a tightrope. The struggle to find consistent time for our craft often leaves our stories languishing in prolonged periods of inactivity, longing for the touch of our pen.
4. Writer's Block:
The mighty barrier that even the most intrepid writers encounter. Writer's block can be an insurmountable mountain, leaving us stranded in the valleys of creative drought, unable to breathe life into new ideas and narratives.
5. Lack of Motivation:
The flame that once burned brightly can flicker and wane over time, leaving us adrift in the murky waters of disillusionment. The initial excitement for our stories diminishes, making it arduous to stay committed to the crafting process.
6. Fear of Failure or Success:
The twin specters that haunt many writers' dreams. The apprehension of rejection and the unsettling prospect of life-altering success can tether us to the shores of hesitation, preventing us from reaching the shores of completion.
7. Criticism and Feedback Anxiety:
The looming dread of judgment casts a long shadow over our creative endeavors. The mere thought of receiving criticism or feedback, whether from peers or potential readers, can cast a cloud over our storytelling pursuits.
8. Plotting Challenges:
Crafting a cohesive and engaging plot is akin to navigating a labyrinth without a map. Faced with hurdles in connecting story elements, we may find ourselves lost in a maze of plot holes and unresolved threads.
9. Character Development Struggles:
Breathing life into multi-dimensional, relatable characters is a complex art. The intricate process of character development can become a quagmire, ensnaring us in the challenge of creating personas that drive the story forward. (Part one of Character Development Series)
10. Life Events and Distractions:
Unexpected events in our personal lives can cast ripples on our writing routines, interrupting the flow of our creativity and causing a loss of momentum.
Rallying Against the Odds: Strategies for Success
Now that we've confronted the adversaries that threaten to stall our storytelling odysseys, let's arm ourselves with strategies to conquer these barriers and reignite the flames of our creativity.
Embrace the Power of Planning:
A clear roadmap illuminates the path ahead. Arm yourself with outlines, character sketches, and plot maps to pave the way for your story's journey.
Vanquish Self-Doubt with Action:
Silence the voices of doubt with the power of progress. Embrace the imperfect beauty of your early drafts, knowing that every word brings you closer to the finish line.
Mastering the Art of Time:
Carve out sacred writing time in your schedule. Whether it’s ten minutes or two hours, every moment dedicated to your craft is a step forward.
Conquering Writer's Block:
Embrace the freedom of imperfection. Write, even if the words feel like scattered puzzle pieces. The act of writing can unravel the most stubborn knots of writer's block.
Reigniting the Flame of Motivation:
Seek inspiration in the wonders of the world. Reconnect with the heart of your story, rediscovering the passion that set your creative spirit ablaze.
Reshaping Fear into Fuel:
Embrace the uncertainty as an integral part of the creative journey. Embrace the lessons within rejection and prepare for the winds of change that success may bring.
Navigating the Realm of Criticism:
Embrace feedback as a catalyst for growth. Constructive criticism is a powerful ally, shaping your story into a work of art that resonates with readers.
Weaving the Threads of Plot:
Connect the dots with fresh eyes. Step back and survey the tapestry of your plot, seeking innovative solutions to bridge the gaps and untangle the knots.
Breathing Life into Characters:
Engage with your characters as if they were old friends. Dive into their depths, unraveling their quirks, fears, and dreams, and watch as they breathe life into your story.
Navigating Life's Tempests:
Embrace the ebb and flow of life. Every pause in your writing journey is a chance to gather new experiences and perspectives, enriching your storytelling tapestry.
The Ever-Resting Pen: Harnessing the Power Within
Fellow writers, the journey of completing a story is filled with peaks and valleys, each offering us the opportunity to sharpen our resolve and unleash our creative potential. As we stand at the crossroads, staring at the canvas of unfinished tales, let's rally against the odds, armed with the power of purpose, passion, and perseverance.
Let the ink flow once more, breathing life into tales left untold, and watch as your stories triumphantly reach their long-awaited conclusion. You possess the power to conquer the adversaries that stand in your way, and within you lies the essence of untold narratives waiting to unfurl onto the page.
Here's to the journey that lies ahead, the stories waiting to be written, and the unyielding spirit of creativity that thrives within each of us.
Warm regards and unwavering encouragement, Ren T.
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tipsy-scales · 2 years ago
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I’m so tired of working on my long video. I’m very close to being done, but I’m dragging. I think I should take a break from it for just a bit. I tend to tell myself I can do NOTHING ELSE until my one task is finished but that’s not right.
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peachesofteal · 9 months ago
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Simple Math / Part 8
Simple Math masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.
The girl in the mirror hates you.
It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.
You make her sick.
Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.
Until she thought she wanted to die. 
Someone knocks on the bathroom door.
“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.
You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?
“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.
He’s too strong. Too determined. 
You’re an ant. He’s a shoe. 
You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.
You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife. 
You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you. 
You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself. 
“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes. 
“What’s that?” 
“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor. 
There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision. 
“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.” 
You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.
Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.
And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.
You chew your lip.
It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.
Except for your orbital and cheek bones. 
These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.
It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.
For being so impulsive.
So sloppy.
But then again, wasn’t that your fault? 
You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out. 
You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do. 
Fall. 
And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end. 
“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble. 
When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts. 
“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”
“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose. 
“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves. 
“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be. 
Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy. 
This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip. 
This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure. 
For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart. 
You float there. In those feelings, those memories. 
You wish they were here. You wish they could help you. 
The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine. 
You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self. 
Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat. 
“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”
You can do this.
It’s not anything you haven’t done before.
Deep breath. You can do this. 
Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.
You can do this. 
Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far. 
You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.
Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.
What are you going to do? 
The receptionist is calling your name. 
You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief. 
“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?” 
“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else. 
“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.
“For what?” 
“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces. 
On top of everything. Now this. 
The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response. 
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“ 
“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying. 
She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.
You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.
Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.
You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour. 
But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.
You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time. 
You’re dead. 
“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.
“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.
“What happened to you?”
“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”
“Oh my god!”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.
“Yeah, she totally would.”
Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.
The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.
>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday? 
>Bunny :)
There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.
You ignore them.
You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.
You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.
You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth. 
You ignore it at all.
Get it together. You have a job to do. 
Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.
And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.
Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.  
The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care? 
Still-
You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-
“Hey, there you are.”
Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.
Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.
You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see. 
Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.
It’s selfish, and cruel.
It’s unfair.
He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.
There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.
You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess. 
To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.
He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,
“Who did this to you?”
The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.
Johnny is distraught.
Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.
“What in the-“
“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“
“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“
“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”
The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.
You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip. 
You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much. 
“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.
Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.
“I’m okay.”
“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.
“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony? 
No. 
“N-no.” You gasp.
“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."
I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“
“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross. 
“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”
“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“
“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.
What’re you doing?  
“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.
“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.
“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”
“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?
“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull. 
“Why don’t you stay with us?”
“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“
“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”
“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.
“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.
“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”
“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.
But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.
“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.
“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”
You would be putting them in danger. 
“I… I can’t.”
“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”
“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.
You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.
“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.
“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”
If you do this. You have to tell them.
You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they? 
You hardly know them. 
But isn’t that better? 
“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.
“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.
You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something. 
You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame. 
Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.
Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.
“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.
“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.
“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“
“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.
The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.
You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.
But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?
You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.
Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place. 
“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.
“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-
You take the plunge.
A moment in the sun. 
“I’m sure.”
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theplotmage · 2 months ago
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50 Worldbuilding Setting ideas for your fantasy book
Cities and Settlements
1. Capital City - The central hub of political power and culture in the realm.
2. Harbor Town - A bustling port city crucial for trade and naval activities.
3. Elf Village - A serene settlement hidden within a forest, home to elven inhabitants.
4. Dwarven Mines - An underground city where dwarves mine precious metals and gems.
5. Nomad Camp - A temporary settlement for wandering tribes and traders.
6. Market Square - The commercial heart of any major city, filled with vendors and artisans.
7. Sky City - A floating metropolis held aloft by magic or advanced technology.
Natural and Enchanted Locations
8. Mystic Forest - A dense, magical woodland filled with ancient trees and mythical creatures.
9. Enchanted Lake - A serene body of water with mystical properties.
10. Secret Cave - A hidden cavern that might contain treasure or danger.
11. Dark Swamp - A treacherous wetland often home to dark magic and creatures.
12. Forbidden Desert - A vast, arid expanse known for its harsh conditions and ancient secrets.
13. Floating Island - A landmass suspended in the sky, often home to unique flora and fauna.
14. Hidden Valley - A secluded, fertile valley protected from the outside world.
15. Charmed Meadows - Peaceful fields imbued with protective enchantments.
Magical and Supernatural Places
16. Wizard’s Tower - The abode of powerful sorcerers, filled with arcane knowledge.
17. Sacred Temple - A place of worship and spiritual significance, often protected by divine magic.
18. Haunted Castle - An ancient fortress inhabited by ghosts or malevolent spirits.
19. Necromancer’s Crypt - The lair of a dark sorcerer who practices necromancy.
20. Oracle’s Sanctuary - A holy site where oracles deliver prophecies and visions.
21. Magical Academy - An institution where young sorcerers learn the art of magic.
22. Alchemist’s Workshop - A place where alchemists experiment and create potions and elixirs.
23. Time Portal - A gateway to different eras, allowing travel through time.
Dangerous and Uncharted Areas
24. Ancient Ruins - The remnants of a once-great civilization, often hiding secrets or dangers.
25. Dragon’s Lair - The home of a fearsome dragon, filled with treasure and peril.
26. Cursed Forest - A dark, haunted woodland where malevolent forces dwell.
27. Battlefield - The site of a significant past conflict, often haunted by the spirits of the fallen.
28. Volcanic Wasteland - A desolate, fiery landscape wrought with volcanic activity.
29. Giant’s Keep - A massive fortress built and inhabited by giants.
30. Pirate Cove - A hidden inlet where pirates gather to plan their exploits.
31. Shadow Realm - A dark, parallel dimension filled with malevolent entities.
32. Frosty Tundra - A vast, icy wasteland where few dare to venture.
Cultural and Social Hubs
33. Royal Palace - The lavish residence of the ruling monarch and their court.
34. Thieves’ Guild - A secretive organization of thieves and rogues.
35. Warrior’s Training Grounds - A facility where soldiers and heroes train for battle.
36. Arena of Champions - A grand coliseum where warriors compete in combat.
37. Goblin Market - A chaotic and colorful marketplace run by goblins, offering exotic goods.
38. Hermit’s Hut - The secluded home of a wise hermit, often sought for advice.
39. Secret Hideout - A concealed refuge used by rebels or outlaws.
Mystical and Legendary Sites
40. Ethereal Gardens - Magical gardens with rare plants and enchanting beauty.
41. Celestial Observatory - A tower dedicated to studying the stars and celestial events.
42. Sanctuary of Lost Knowledge - A hidden library containing ancient and forbidden texts.
43. Sunken Ruins - The underwater remnants of a lost civilization.
44. Gryphon Nesting Grounds - A mountainous area where gryphons make their nests.
45. Spiral Staircase - An enigmatic, seemingly endless staircase leading to unknown depths.
46. Giant’s Keep - A colossal fortress built and inhabited by giants.
47. Protean Plains - A region where the landscape constantly changes, reshaped by powerful magic or ancient curses.
Adventurous and Explorative Spots
48. Treasure Hunter’s Camp - A gathering spot for explorers seeking lost relics.
49. Relic Seeker’s Cave - A cave rumored to contain powerful artifacts.
50. Explorer’s Outpost - A base for adventurers preparing for expeditions into unknown territories.
***
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mooncleaver · 4 months ago
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Tender Mornings
you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.
ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 
ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel
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"Good morning, handsome."
Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.
Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.
As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 
He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.
Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.
It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 
You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.
You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.
When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 
She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.
Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.
"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."
"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 
Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.
I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 
The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 
You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.
After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.
You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.
You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.
"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.
Now that got him up and alert.
Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 
Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."
"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.
"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.
"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.
You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.
Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 
He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.
"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.
"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  
"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.
He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."
You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.
Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.
Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.
He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."
You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.
"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.
A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."
He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 
You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 
The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 
“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 
“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.
Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”
This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.
While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”
“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 
He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.
What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”
“I love you too.”
“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.
“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 
You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”
“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.
“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 
Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 
As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.
The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”
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AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 
On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.
I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty
masterlist
dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons
(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)
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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago
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A thousand times over - Lewis Hamilton
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request: Hii! Omg, I just saw a comment on instagram that was so cute it made me think a Lewis fic would be so much cuter. You're my favourite writer for F1 so I know you'd eat this up. So a guy commented that when his wife takes off her wedding rings for baking/gardening/painting/etc and he finds them, he waits til she's done then gives them back to her by proposing to her again. - @happy-golden-hour
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: pure fluff
wordcount: +1K
a/n: The three times Lewis reasks y/n to marry him, and the one time the roles are reversed.
a/n.2: Thank you for the idea bestie, took me a while but I couldn't decide on a single scenario, so there's 3 and a surprise one. Hope you like it ❤️
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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The Gardening Proposal
The morning sun made the garden golden, its rays filtering through the leaves and casting long shadows from the pine trees across the lush grass. Even though it wasn’t even 8 am yet, you were already lost in the peaceful new flower bed you had been working on for the past week. The air was crisp and fresh, a bit of fog still lurking deep in the woods that surrounded your country home, adding to the serene atmosphere.
Lewis looked over from the porch at the scene, his ever-attentive eyes lost in thought as he admired you. His fingers played with the golden band of your wedding ring he had found on the kitchen counter just minutes ago. The soft glint of the ring caught his eye, reminding him of the love and commitment you shared.
Before you could even feel his presence, he cleared his throat to catch your attention. Your vision as you turned was him, in only his basketball shorts, kneeled in the grass by the flower bed. In his hand was the band you had left in the kitchen the previous day, placed carefully so it wouldn’t get amidst the dirt.
"Love, would you marry me, again?" Lewis said softly, holding out the ring between his fingers, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. His voice was gentle, carrying a hint of playfulness that always had you melting.
Surprised but delighted by his heartfelt gesture, you accepted the ring, feeling its familiar weight as he slid it back onto your finger. The metal felt cool against your skin, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. "Thank you," you whispered, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.
Lewis chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. "Well, is that a yes?" he began, his voice filled with warmth and humor. His playful tone made you laugh, easing any lingering nerves.
Tears of happiness welled in your eyes as you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Yes, a thousand times over" you replied, sealing your promise with a passionate kiss. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air around you, a perfect moment in your blossoming garden.
The Workout Proposal
The early night lights danced around in your bedroom windows as you read your book. You had just finished an intense workout in your home gym, the exhaustion and exhilaration leaving you feeling both drained and sleepy. So, after a shower, you had wrapped yourself in a plush robe, seeking comfort in your bed for a bit before thinking about dinner.
A while later Lewis found you, curled up in bed. A smile tugged at his lips as he admired your relaxed demeanor, his fingers playing with the ring he had found placed at tv console in the gym, now safely tucked in his pocket. Scooting closer to you on the bed, he gently pulled you into his embrace, his warmth enveloping you. His touch was gentle, and with a contented smile, you nestled closer to Lewis, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. His arms wrapping around you protectively.
In that intimate moment, Lewis gazed into your eyes softly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."
“I love you” You whispered back as you looked up at him, although not without a questioning look, as to why the sudden confession.
He let out a chuckle and reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the ring, his features full of adoration as he asked you for the thousandth time "Will you marry me, again?" his voice barely above a whisper.
Overwhelmed you took a moment to gather your words, your heart pounding just like it had when he asked for the first time. “Yeah, always”, your voice steady and certain. As he slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your renewed commitment, your hands reached for the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.
The Candles Proposal
The aroma of a Sunday roast filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. You were in the kitchen, focused on preparing a delicious meal for Lewis's family. His mother was by your side, offering her expertise and sharing cherished family recipes.
As you started making fresh pasta from scratch, you carefully removed your new wedding ring, placing it in Lewis's hand for safekeeping. He smiled, understanding the gesture, and pocketed the ring, promising to keep it safe.
The meal was a success, filled with laughter, stories, and the warmth his family always provided. As you two got back home late at night you headed for the shower, to clean up and decompress.
When you returned to the living room, you were greeted by the soft glow of candlelight. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, and soft music played in the romantic and intimate background that Lewis had created.
In the center of the room, Lewis knelt on one knee, his eyes filled with love and determination. The ring you had entrusted to him earlier glinted in his hand, catching the candlelight. "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me?” Lewis asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he held out the ring to you.
"Yes, Lew" you replied, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "I would be honored to marry you, over and over again." Surprised and touched by him, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. The love and thoughtfulness he had put into this moment a reminder of the lengths he would go to show the love he felt.
The Surprise
As you entered the newly painted nursery, a smile spread across your face at the sight of the lovingly decorated room. Your heart swelled with anticipation at the thought of welcoming your baby into this home and to finally start your own family.
As you admired each detail, your eyes fell upon the wedding band resting on the dresser. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the ring, a tender smile playing on your lips as you realized Lewis had left it behind, probably had taken if off when he was painting.
Knowing he must be in his study, you made your way there, your heart fluttering with excitement. Entering the room, you found Lewis absorbed in his work, surrounded telemetry and car part’s designs. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against his shoulder.
He turned to meet your gaze, a soft smile lighting up his face as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands automatically resting on your 6 months-bump. "You know, I can't physically kneel like you always do" you teased, a playful glint in your eye, "but there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Lewis chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he waited for you to continue. With a grin, you reached into your pocket, retrieving the wedding band. Holding it up between you, you met Lewis's gaze, your heart overflowing with love and joy.
"Would you marry me?" you asked, your voice filled with warmth and affection. Lewis's eyes shimmered with emotion. Without a moment's hesitation, he nodded, his voice filled with love. "Yes, I’ll marry you, every day if need be"
As you slipped the ring onto his finger, sealing your renewed commitment, you knew that no matter what life had in store, your love would always be the guiding light that led you through every joy and challenge.
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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour
If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.
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lueton · 1 month ago
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(LUETON)
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ditzybat · 8 months ago
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Jason prowled deeper into the tower, it was a struggle to get the speedy kid down, but after multiple tranquilizers (that could put a rhino into cardiac arrest) the kid finally managed to knock out.
He went over his monologue speech in his head, scanning his eyes over this, honest-to-god, pig-stye of a room (seriously, wasn't this supposed to be the meticulously organized Robin? Jason could barely see the floor before him). Finally, gazing out one of the large window panes, on the phone, was his target in his robin costume - sans the mask.
Tim mumbled a tired goodbye into the phone, seemingly exasperated by the phone call, he picked up on the words 'Bruce' and sneered from beneath his mask.
"You sleep in that thing or something Timmy? That's pathetic" Jason growls out from his place from the threshold of the room.
For his part, Tim spins around with a flutter of his ridiculous cape and a twitch of his muscles "Hood, I-"
Jason lurches forward, beginning his speech, counting the sequence of events like he used to in drama class.
"I was raised on the streets of Gotham." 1. Taking off his hood. "Trying to survive." 2. Tearing his clothes to reveal his homemade Robin getup, "Until Bruce took me in." 3. Cornering the brat, only a step or two away in arm's reach - good, "I trained -"
One thing Jason did not account for was Tim to make the first move and interupt his origin story speech, stabbing the side of his neck.
"Did you seriously just fucking stab me with a hello kitty knife?"
Tim has the gall to flush, "I told Cassie and Bart to stop tampering with my equipment, it's unprofessional! I bet Kon put them up to this!" he squaked, Jason reaches up and takes the knife from his neck, putting pressure onto the wound, and examining it.
"You could've hit an artery!" Tim gives a frog blink and sleepily grunts.
"Damn, which side is the artery on again? I don't really know my lefts and rights, I'm ambedixtrious."
"Do you mean dyslexic?"
"No I'm bisexual." Tim looks genuinely confused, a pout forming on his features as he squinted at nothing like he was trying to figure out an especially difficult puzzle.
Jason, with the pit madness slowly receding from his vision, starts to become a little more concerned.
"Kid, when was the last time you slept?"
"Monday."
"It's Thursday."
"Okay??..."
Jason sighs and picks up his jacket, slipping his pants over the tights and scaly shorts. "I'm going to stitch myself up, then I'm going to make you eat something - you're so itty bitty, like an 8 year old with a six pack - then you're going to take a nice long nap while I wait for B to come and I'll lecture him on the importance of keeping his Robin's alive and healthy."
Tim yawns and nods his head, sinking into his cape so he's just a bobbing head in the shadows.
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thesirencult · 24 days ago
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Your Shadow. Messages from the darkest part of your soul.
a reading by @thesirencult
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Sidenote: Personal readings are now open! One question for $11.
Pile 1
4 Of Cups, 5 Of Cups, Justice
You are not that familiar with your shadow, on the other hand, she knows everything about you. She knows how you get pessimistic at times and doubt your own power and God's ability to create a powerful being, you. She knows that you refuse to try hard enough and then blame the law of attraction and all those bloggers and tarot readers for filling your head up with positive bullsh*t. She also knows that you don't want to know her. You cry over spilt milk and the same old stories, never looking around to see that the world has changed and evolved, yet, you refuse to change.
I want you to remember this: Thoughts=Perception=Vision=Action. Your thoughts create a web, behind which you look at the world and that becomes your vision. According to your perception and vision for the future you take action. If your perception is fragmented and your thoughts troubled, then the vision will be blurred and you won't take action or the action you will be taking could further harm you. Doubting that you can transmute negativity to positivity will keep you stuck and it does you no justice. It offends your shadow, how could you think that you are weak when you have such a powerful shadow. Our shadow is analogous to our potential light.
I know that you're feeling jaded. At times you think "Why am I even trying?" Your shadow is the part of you that feels overlooked by the Universe and by Fate. Life has been unjust to you. At the same time, you are well equipped as the Higher Forces wouldn't be sending you all those challenges if you didn't have all the skills and the strength to sail through the rough seas. Don't take for granted your abilities, it's like taking for granted absolute gold. Stop being passive and not taking action then being sad you never see results. Stop sticking with something long enough to see the first waves crushing your spirit and then bailing out, hurting your self esteem and reinforcing the idea that you'll never make it through, thus satisfying your ego! Sweetness, how could you make it through if you don't try to ride the waves?
Facing regret and coming to terms with the fact that what is lost is lost will help you. Taking responsibility for your actions and doing the best you can with what you have will also build your character and show you how capable you are at withstanding storms. Cause and effect is everywhere in the Universe, we can not expect to avoid it, we can only hope that we learn how to work with the energies to make the most out of it.
Pile 2
Queen Of Pentacles, 8 Of Cups, The Tower
Aha! I caught you sneaky little shadow! Be honest Pile 2, how much fun are you having with your Shadow, because you guys are basically eachother's soulmates. You are one of those rare people who have no issues with their shadow. It has made her sympathize with you and actually side with you. At times you let her consume you and that can scare you.
Your shadow, is beautiful. It thrives in chaos and unpredictability. There are times that those cracks in your personal matrix let you see something brighter than what you thought was behind the curtain. It scares you that even though you are tired of shifting and surviving through crises, at the same time you crave the beauty of the deconstruction. You like the pandemonium and the darkness. You like it when your shadow takes the wheel and lets you sit back and relax while enjoying the embers of the wildfire. These type of events let you display your creative potential.
Your shadowy side is the one who craves control and abundance. Wealth and status, while at the same time despises order and surface level interactions. She doesn't like to kiss up to anyone. She is independent and powerful. She doesn't care what others say. She wants to help you see that these parts can be intergrated with your lighter side to make you unstoppable.
Inner voices, echoing your parental figures' limiting beliefs stop you from reaching your true potential. Your shadow feels rage. She wants to burn everything to the ground and rebuilt it again. She wants to be independent cause, duh! there is no one to rely on. You are the parentified child, aren't you? The one stuck in survival, never feeling quite at home, yet craving safety, no, desperately needing safety and hanging on to what's left off from the fire. This is your soul, a master at thriving through chaos destined to crave stability.
Something else I'm seeing is that you think taht you don't deserve to rise up and hold a certain status or position socially or professionally. You say "This is not meant for someone like me." You rush through interactions and the pleasures of life. Never stopping to smell the flowers and regulate your nervous system and root chakra. A warm and charitable soul, made to feel not enough and made to think that they have to enable others' ugly behaviour to be accepted, that they have to mother everyone and excuse all offending words, because "hurt people hurt people, but I'm not hurting, I'm strong enough!"
Strength doesn't have to equal suffering. You don't have to suffer to prove how strong you are. You need to realize that what will help you evolve is to invest in your own self and take a chance to spoil the little kid inside of you.
Self imposed fears are blocking your momentum. You tend to avoid anyone who shows they appreciate you and shed light to your brilliance, while at the same time you hang around those who reinforce the belief you are not enough. You have the potential to be am abundant person in all aspects, don't le your potential fo to waste.
At this moment, you are more empowered than ever before. You deserve much more than what you've been settling for. Your shadow trait is that you want to feel appreciated, seen and spoiled by someone and that's more than okay! You are able to transmute weakness into power. Realize that wanting love is not a weakness, it's a strangth. We live in a world where it's considered a weakness to crave partnership and appreciation. We shame the need for external validation, yet your safety cushion it's just that: your internal validation system is "broken", as you are a high achiever with big goals and objectively better at reaching those heights than others, yet you are less satisfied by your results. This enables you to work more on yourself, your shadow and towards your desires but at the same time you are your own harshest critic. This goes against many self-help books you will come across but, please, focus on how others see you, especially those that shower you with compliments, as they see the real you and your brilliance, while you only see the shadow!
Another thing that you do is that your prefered method of escapism is that you take more time than it is necessary to reach goals, work on yourself or isolate, thinking that you have not done enough and you do not trust yourself and your brilliance. This happens because you are prone to falling for a cognitive bias something similar to the "anchoring effect": you rely too heavily on the first piece of information, in your case feedback, you have received. You have anchored yourself to old stories and you make subsequent jidgements and decisions based on those first experiences. This is a slippery slope and it also leads me to a form of moral disengagement you might have notice din yourself. You let yourself dissolve your boundaries more and more when it comes to others and you let your negative thoughts and self-image influence more and more your decisions through this negative loop.
Give yourself some grace. I want to help you open a positive loop, so I will leave you with this: You deserve love, beauty, nice things and walks with your soulmate at sunset. You deserve the last piece of cake and the first spoonful of ice-cream. You deserve kisses in the rain and smiling until your cheeks hurt by the fire with the love of your life. Cheers to a new era, where you don't let old stories dictate your future.
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anki-of-beleriand · 6 months ago
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A heart Made of Glass ch. 13
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Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.
Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision
Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.
Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.
Oh, I am back and this chapter is a wrap-up for the confrontation between Reader and Wanda. They had been given a moment of solitude before going back to their own reality, can they really get past through everyting that happened to them in the past?
Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue
Chapter 13
Can we change the past?
You never imagined this ordeal would end in the way it did.
The universe you left behind came crumbling down under the weight of its own shaky foundations, it became a cold unfitting world that disappear the moment you and the others touched the land of another Universe.
Everything was kind of blurry from the on.
You knew Wanda was taken away, and soon after you were also being carried to a room in which you lost consciousness after your body finally gave up. Your mind didn’t have the time to think about what had happened or what would happen after you were completely recover. You let things happened, and in that time you gave yourself to a blissful mindfulness in which you knew, sooner or later, you would need to face everything you had been running from.
It soon became evident that time was running out, with people coming in and out of your room checking over your physical and mental well-being before asking uneasy questions. Sometimes you would evade those questions, and some others you would give vague answers that would tell the others you were no fool.
You stretched out grasping thin air in your fist, tilting your head you started making a small sequence of Tai Chi you had learnt from Yelena. After more than a week of being in the hospital, you were finally able to feel your body as yours again. Your muscles flexed, and the shadows under your feet stirred with the silent command of your thoughts. You smiled glancing at your reflection through the window, everything was working just fine and you knew you were ready to go back home.
The door behind you cracked, and the knob turned to the left revealing the single figure of Doctor Jean Grey. The woman was beautiful, and her smile was infectious always putting your mind at ease.
“Hello, Y/N, how are you this morning?”
“Doc, I’m doing better now, thank you.” You spined around slowly, the shadows wavering around until they covered your feet, your smile grew cocking your head to follow the lead of your left arm then your right one.
“I certainly felt much better now.”
“I can see that.” The woman smile stepping closer to your bed while placing a single file on the breakfast table.
“Tell me you cam here with good news.”
Jean offered a single smile while taking a seat, she sat waiting for you to settle down on the bed. The room soon filled with silence that was only broken by the busy morning routine right outside your room. You had learnt your room was in one of the busiest wings in the hospital back in the Tower. Wanda had not been that lucky, though.
“Well, I do come with news, if they are good or not depend entirely on you.” Jean could see the change in you, even through the easy smile you wore the young doctor could see you were being overly cautious.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
Doctor Jean Gray sauntered inside the room with a light blush on her cheeks. Her eyes twinkling merrily glancing at the chart in her hands before settling then on you.
For some reason, the reaction of the woman made you squirm uncomfortably. You had been in this universe for two days now, but it wasn't until now that you were forced to go inside the examination room and get yourself a quick check-up. It was quite evident that in this world mutants and superpowered individuals were treated differently, and the rules governing each one of them were set to get control on the population. 
“You seemed rather chirp today, Doc, good news for you or me?”
Jean chuckled, placing the chart on the bed before putting a chair close to the bed.
“It's my anniversary, and I received quite the news today.” She stated tilting her head, you smiled back at her.
“Congratulations, then.” 
Jean nodded, putting a strand of hair out of her face, “thank you.”
“So that would be for you, what about me?” You finally asked leaning forward, your eyes drifting to the chart in your bed.
“Everything seems to be okay.”
“But…?” You arched a brow when Jean leaned back on the chair offering a serious facade.
“You had been quite silent in the last couple of days, keeping yourself out of everyone's way and most importantly,” here Jean stopped as if measuring her words, “your avoidance of your particular predicament has raised some concerns on our end.”
Silence followed such a declaration, you dared to lock eyes with the woman sitting in front of you well-aware of her ability to read beyond your initial thoughts. Jean didn't move nor did she give any indication of breaking into small talk, I stead she seemed to sit there and wait patiently for you to speak.
“I’m not sure I want to have this conversation.” You sighed, lifting a hand to the back of your head, scratching the nape of your neck. “But I guess it is inevitable.”
“It is.” Jean softened her features, grabbing the file she left on your bed, she opened it in a single page while presenting the form to you.
“How…how is she?” Your voice was above a whisper, but it was loud enough for Jean to hear it.
The woman leaned back letting you read the file while she started talking. 
“She is doing better now, trying to recover her magical core had been quite the challenge but our own team of witches and healers had come together to help around.” 
There was nothing much you could do but nod, your eyes drifted to the file with your thoughts trying to focus on a single issue at a time. Ever since the five of you got to that universe everything had been but a blur; your Wanda was taken straight to the hospital and she had been looked after Tony's team back in the Avengers Tower. 
“That's good.”
“I just want to do one last check-up before clearing you up, America has been waiting for you and the twins are very excited as well.” Jean chuckled, standing up making her way to the closest drawer and putting some surgical gloves out. “They seemed to think that having a pair of moms at their disposal would give them some kind of advantage in their mischief.”
You tried to hide your expression from the other woman, but it was inevitable. Jean offered a sympathetic smile while getting to work. 
“They are just children…” you mumbled feeling your body warm up, your muscles twitching just as Jean started testing your reflex. “I don't think they understand that much.”
“Mm, you would be surprised how much Billy and Tommy understand about the situation.” Jean leaned back, lifting her left hand and letting it hover right on top of your forehead. “They are pretty smart, and sensitive.”
You pressed your lips together not wanting to go into a discussion. Not that you could raise any arguments against that statement, you had noticed just how sensitive they were and how smart they were. They had come that first time into your room calling you mom without a care in the world, telling you about their day while also making you aware of how they had sneaked in to see you and Wanda.
Your counterpart had been amused by your reaction, while her Wanda had been just a tad bit concerned about the confusion the whole situation could create in the children. 
“If I were to be honest, you look more confused than them.”
“You told me you don't read minds unless you have permission.” You replied furrowing your brows, Jean had the sense of looking embarrassed but never lost her smile when looking back at you.
“You kind of scream that thought at me, sometimes it is inevitable.”
Jean then leaned back, grabbing your file and writing some notes down. 
“I think you're ready to go.” Jean cocked her head when the first thing you did was jump down the bed and go to the closest chair holding your clothes. “But Wanda…”
You winced, grabbing your clothes tightly before turning around, this time around Jean was looking serious, her eyes gleaming lightly.
“What about Wanda?”
The silence grew around the both of you, your body was already tensing the muscles you would need to run. Jean opened her mouth only to close it again as if she didn't know what to say or how to say it. 
“I think you should visit her, it can make a difference in her recovery.”
At the end of the day, this last visit from Jean Grey was just that, another attempt from these people to go to Wanda and make sure she was okay. For you to stop running and face her taking ownership of what would happen next.
It was complicated.
And you were unsure as to how to proceed or what was expected of you.
“Look, I just…”
“MOM!!!!”
Not sooner had you heard such a scream, you found yourself being tackled by a pair of bouncing kids. Your heart skipped a beat with your arms lifted at your shoulders height while the kids had their faces up to look at you with toothy grins. They were quite adorable, and in reality a part of you seemed to just instantly loved them, noticing the likeness they had to Wanda and yourself.
“Okay, guys let’s back up a little, remember what we talked to you about?” 
The room was suddenly very crowded, your counterpart came right in followed by America and Pietro. It became quite apparent that everyone was waiting for Jean to finish her last check-up on you before getting into the room and see how you were doing. You placed your hands on the twin’s heads ruffling their hair playfully while offering a tentative smile. 
“That’s okay, I’m getting used to the enthusiastic greeting.”
“And them calling you mom?” Pietro inquired, quaking his brow while placing his hands in his pockets.
You couldn’t help the little wince, recoiling from the comment with your body turning to the chair and grabbing your clothes once more. Billy and Tommy glanced at one another, with Billy opening his eyes really big while making a gesture with his head. 
“Anyway, I’m just glad to know your good to go, because I was thinking we can go right ahead and get a look around and perhaps…” America started babbling making her way to your bed.
You nodded absentmindedly, your attention drifting for a moment to your counterpart and Jean that had decided to step out of the room to have a small conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on, and what they were discussing with your thoughts going over and over to the woman that was still unconscious somewhere inside the building. 
Everything was strange in this universe. 
A part of you knew that sooner or later the conversation of Wanda and you going back to your respective reality would come; but it was quite evident everyone was waiting for the right moment to intervene and perhaps get something done. 
“Well, I think you better change so we can get out of here,” Pietro broke your line of thoughts, his eyes gleaming mischievously with his lips curling into a familiar expression. “Billy and Tommy prepare something for you, and I bet you are dying to eat something that isn’t hospital food.”
“You are completely right on that one, I’m going to change and then…you guys can show me a good time.”
You offered a tentative smile, your heart dropping for a moment when the twins cheered babbling non-stop to America and Pietro. For a brief moment you wondered…
…was this what you were missing back home?
_______________
You had been welcomed inside the household of your counterpart. 
This time around, the guest room had been prepared and you could enjoy the joys of a soft bed and a nice view of the backyard while trying to get some sleep. The day had been quite unexpected, with the twins and America being active participants in different forms of conversations and different sets of games and rambles that you were not prepared to share with these people.
You had tried to get away from it, but Billy and Tommy were very adamant on having you close and including you in every single moment of their afternoon. You didn’t fight too hard to not be there, though. After a while you realised Wanda would not be joining the family outing and actually your counterpart ended up being just a good source of geek material that differed from the one you had in your own world. 
Not for a single moment did anyone mention the white elephant in the room.
And for that you were quite grateful.
But now, in the middle of the night with the stars twinkling above your head and everyone sleeping in the house you couldn't help but think about it. Time was running out, sooner or later you would need to go back and face the consequences of what happened back in Norway and in that other universe. 
Sooner or later you would need to face Wanda once more.
“It is pretty late for you to be thinking so loud.” 
You kept your attention on the stars, the room was completely dark which was one of the reasons as to why you knew she had come home already. The young woman took a few steps forward until she was standing beside you, her face turned to the sky with her arms hugging her tightly.
“I just couldn’t go back to sleep.” You shrugged leaning against the wall, your head tilted to the side. “It was quite an exciting day, I think I’m still in a sugar rush.”
Wanda chuckled, lowering her head, her eyes gleaming lightly, turning her attention to you.
“So I heard. The twins really took you everywhere and made sure you taste everything back in the restaurant, didn’t they?”
Your face fell when the memories of that day came back, the twins had never left your side while telling you stories about their adventures. Not for a single moment did they think or even entertained the idea of them not being part of your life in your other world. For them it had been natural to make sure that you and Wanda did not forget about them. That was one of the reasons why it had been a shock for them to find out you and they didn’t know about that restaurant.
“You should tell our other selves about this place, mom! I know they will love it!”
“Yeah, we love it, and you love bringing us here!”
It still burnt that this life was not yours, but there was nothing you could do. 
Wanda could read your thoughts; she could sense your pain and it was something she couldn’t take. Not with you. Wanda dropped her arms, stepping closer to you. Her hand felt warm on your face, brushing away your hair and mapping out the form of your jaw. It was so unexpected you couldn’t help but freeze in place the tension evident in the contraction of your muscles, your left foot stepping back and stopping waiting for the other foot to join. It didn’t happen, though, you stood there waiting for something else to happen. 
“They are good kids.” Your voice trembled at the very end of that sentence, but your eyes never waver in their hold of those green irises.
“They are. They are very much your children as much as they are mine.” Wanda offered a timid smile that soon vanished, whatever hold she had on you broke and the young woman turned around as if ready to leave. 
The tension in your body didn’t leave, and your mind was poking at you uncomfortably pressing over for you to speak. To say something, to ask the question you were dying to ask but didn’t dare to do so. It looked as if nothing else was going to be said that day, as if nothing else was going to happen and you were trying to get a hold of your beating heart when Wanda stopped by the door turning to the side and locking her eyes with yours.
“You will need to face her sooner or later, Y/N.” Wanda let her words sink in, her eyes softening lightly when she could sense the conflict inside of you. 
“Do I have to?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda lifted her shoulder stepping back. 
“I think you know the answer to that question,” she stated letting out a tired yawn, “what you really need to ask yourself, though is what would happen if that confrontation doesn’t come the way you expect it to be? What if it becomes everything you thought impossible with her? Are you ready to face that conversation? Are you ready to make a decision for you and her?”
You hated the fact this Wanda was so insightful and you hated even more that she was right. That was the real reason as to why you couldn’t sleep, as to why you were trying to bury your emotions and your memories, while also running away from what you were experimenting with. Of the changes that had come knocking on your door all those months ago.
“Have a good night, Y/N, rest and follow your instincts on this one because they…” Wanda left the sentence in the air, and it was you the one to finish it.
“They had never failed me.”
There was a flash of a smile and then Wanda left, closing the door behind her. 
___________________
But trying to follow your instincts was easier said than done.
A part of you knew the meeting was inevitable, after all, the both of you needed to go back to your respective Universe and this would never happen if you two kept on avoiding one another. But then, there was another part, the one you had been carrying with you for far too long, that was afraid of a confrontation that might broke your heart all over again.  
You played with time for as long as you could, taking advantage of Tony’s curiosity and Loki’s infinite questions. You became very helpful of Wong and Hank’s questions, and you couldn’t help but give in the twin’s whims every night before going to bed. Nevertheless, you had the days count on that universe, and it wasn’t as if you really wished to stay. You missed home, and you missed your friends and family; but the final step to get everything ready to go back was something you had never felt ready to do.
On the fifth morning you woke up on a guest room, you knew you couldn't run anymore. America had finished her breakfast and Y/N was reading the paper, no one did or said anything for a moment until you sat at the table with the coffee warming up the mug in your hands.
“Wanda is fully recovered.” Your counterpart stated, never leaving her eyes from the page she was reading, “she is confused, a little weak but ready to talk and go back home.”
“Talk?” You asked a little harsher than you were meant to.
Y/N lifted a single brow, her lips pursing tightly.
“With you.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but a kick on your leg made you stop. America was glaring at you, her head shaking slightly opening her eyes and glancing meaningfully at your counterpart.
“I know, I just…”
Y/N sighed, closing the paper and placing it slowly on the counter. Her eyes pierced you with a gaze filled with emotion, you shifted on the chair trying to look away but unable to do so.
“Whether you want it or not, you will need to have this confrontation. Whatever you are afraid of facing…I think you should get your shit together and face it right away. You are running out of time, and excuses.”
Your counterpart finished her tirade with a slap to the table, shaking her head as she stood up and left the kitchen. You cocked your head until you found America glancing at you.
“I guess there is no running from this, is it?”
America shrugged, biting her lower lip, “I guess not.”
You lowered your eyes to the counter before lifting them to ensure America was paying attention to you.
“Once this is over, are you staying or are you coming back with us?” The question caught her off of guard, America was looking shocked and her mouth tried to form a specific thought but was unable to respond right away.
You chuckled standing up, your hand on her shoulder.
“You would be more than welcome back home, but I know you missed this place greatly.” You squeezed her shoulder before walking away, a single wall of dark shadows spreading before you. “Think about it, America, I'll be back in a few hours and we will talk about me and Wanda going back home.”
“I will think about it.” America mumbled offering a half smile. “Good luck.”
You winked at her trying to show more confidence than you actually felt before crossing over the shadows and disappearing into them. The trip was short, with the shadows embracing you with a cold hold leading through the space until you stepped inside a dimly lit hall.
The place was completely silent, though you could make out the sound of chatter in the distance. You lowered your gaze to the floor, our ears twitching lightly ignoring the rest of the sounds and focusing on your heartbeat.
The last couple of months have been a complete rollercoaster for you. You never imagined, even in your wildest dreams, that Wanda would show at your doorstep with a young woman asking for help. For a very long time, you had put in the back of your mind the confrontation with Wanda. A part of you knew it would come, eventually. But you never intended to be the one to take the first step for the meeting to happen.
When you got to see Wanda face to face, and actually talk to her, your world came crumbling down around you. The barriers you had built around your heart and mind ended up not being as strong and resilient as thought them to be. Your heart still missed a beat at the sound of her laughter, and your hardened façade went away as soon as you saw the suffering and the heartbreak in those green eyes.
Wanda would always be one of your greatest weaknesses. 
And you hated yourself for that.
It was as if your own suffering didn't matter, as long as Wanda was fine and didn't have to feel what you felt. Yet you refused to believe her words or even offer forgiveness for the wrong doings in the past. All of this came crashing down in a single meeting, all the doubts and pain came back, but also the yearning and the confusion you were threatening to overwhelm you and leave you without a way out. 
You took a deep breath, your hand running through your hair helping your uneasiness. You closed for a brief moment, and your mind went blank emptying any thoughts that might come in and make you falter in your actions. The last couple of days, and actually the last couple of months, you had thought about this moment; you had given yourself and her a chance to step aside and let the past in the past and for the both of you ready to face the present without thinking too much about the future.
The room was in complete darkness, the lights were out and the curtains were still closed. You could hear the monitor in the corner, the bed occupied the left side of the room leaving a big sofa and a couple of chairs on the right. Hanging from the wall you could see the TV that was huge enough to almost cover the wall, the only thing that prevented this from happening was the side door leading to the bathroom. Tony was really into luxury, you closed the door behind you a little unsure on how to proceed.
The tension around the room only increased when you felt a pair of eyes on you. It didn't take too long for you to know who it was, you stepped forward making your way to the curtains. 
“Would you mind if I open them up? I prefer the natural light of the day instead of the artificial ones.” You turned lightly, finally locking your eyes with those of Wanda.
Your Wanda.
“That's fine.” She replied, her voice was but a whisper but you could get the strong laced tone that Scarlet used whenever she talked to you.
The room changed under the light of the day, while there was not much sun the sky was cloudless and the position of the tower as well as the floor you two were currently in allowed for the perfect setting for natural light. You glanced around a city that was familiar yet strange, the weight of that stare didn't leave you, not even when you finally turned around to lock eyes with her.
“You look fine.” Wanda lowered her chin, her fingers twitching on top of the bed wanting to do or say something else but unsure where her relationship with you stood at the moment.
“I wasn't that badly injured, but I think I did need the rest.” You took a step forward, then another until you were actually standing beside Wanda.
Wanda hesitated for a moment before moving to the left, she chewed on her lower lip before patting the spot on the bed.
“You can sit here, if … if you want, there is also a chair and…” whatever else Wanda was going to say was cut off by you taking her initial offer of sitting on the bed.
Wanda felt her heart do somersaults, her body tingling at your closeness and the little voice she had come to recognize as Scarlet’s whispering to her telling her to close the distance, to grab your hand, to not let you go. But she held back knowing that her position was precarious at best and whatever you had come to discuss with her needed to be addressed first. 
“How are you?” You fixed your position on the bed, well aware that the only thing you needed was to lower your arm and your hand would be touching Wanda's one. 
“I'm better now, a little sore and getting use to…” here Wanda trailed off with her brows creasing a little, “to be complete, I guess. It's difficult, but I think I am ready.”
Her words held a decisive tone, but her eyes were flashing the doubts running inside her mind. You realised right there and then that nothing much had changed in the last couple of years, there were things you could still read about her. 
“Ready for what?” You asked quietly, Wanda sighed shrugging.
“Going back.” She replied simply. “Getting out of your way, out of your life…I did promise you after all of this was over I wouldn't bother you any more…”
Her words stung your heart, spreading an electrifying pain all through your body until it hit your brain. You didn't understand why, exactly. That had been the deal, to help her out and then get her out of your life. Then, if you knew what was going to happen, how it would end, why were you having these doubts? Why did it hurt?
Wanda was in her own thoughts, a part of her she had tried to suppress, the one she tried to deny stirred in anger. Wanda wanted to speak out, to tell you she didn't want to go and that she certainly didn't want to pretend nothing had happened in the last couple of months. That seeing you had been one of her greatest joys in life, but it had also brought pain and sadness, that being in this universe seeing the twins and facing what could have been…
Without really noticing, tears started falling rolling down her cheeks while her heart shrank with the weight of her emotions. Wanda refused to give in, her fists closing tightly and her tears breaking her composure and without really wanting to she finally broke in front of you.
You observed the full process, the way her face changed and the tears pilling up her eyes. Wanda was trying to bottle up whatever she was feeling, whatever she was thinking. It was so easy to ignore everything the other woman was experiencing; it was easy to hold onto your shared past. 
But this was Wanda.
And you couldn't ignore her. That was the reason why you had to disappear after the breakup.
With a tentative touch, you let your hand fall on top of hers. Your thumb drew circles before leaning in and wrapping her in a hug. Wanda held onto you, her sobs filling the room while her hands tried to grasp your clothes. You didn't say anything, but for some reason you could feel it.
The apology you never allowed her to share with you. The broken heart she had been wearing ever since that day. 
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”
Wanda cried and once she started she couldn't stop. Fixing your position on the bed you made sure she was comfortably resting her weight on your left side, putting comforting arms around her while soothing her body with sweet caresses you had dared to make in anyone but her.
Whatever conversation you were meant to have with her, whatever it was you had come to talk to her about soon crumbled under the pressure of her tears and your own feelings for her. 
And just like that, you knew you couldn't let her go.
Not without a real conversation.
And not without a fight.
______________________
Wanda was not completely sure when she fell asleep, but right now she was completely aware of being awake resting on top of you with the warmth and comfort of your presence soothing her soul.
Her body tensed right away, though soon she relaxed into the embrace having noticed your even breathing and the relaxed posture of your body. You had fallen asleep as well and, at some point the both of you had ended up sharing the small hospital bed without anyone coming over to interrupt that moment.
Wanda nuzzled her face against your neck, she wished this was something she would share with you every day. How she had missed waking up in your arms, to see your smile in the mornings and your hyperactive body demand for the morning routine. Everything was so messed up, and she didn't know when she allowed her world to crumble into nothingness.
Her heart trembled with emotion, and her thoughts formed an idea Wanda knew was not completely hers but a figment of Scarlet. 
You have to fight back! You need to get her back! You need to tell her everything we discovered! Everything we know!
Her voice was demanding, yet it held a hint of desperation that Wanda was familiar with. It was the same voice she had woken up to back in the battlefield after the snap, the same one she had heard countless of times whenever she thought about you or a way to recover her life. Everything had been so complicated, yet it could had been so easy to recover her life to actually try to make a change and reconcile with everyone.
There were no more tears in her eyes, and the sadness and sorrow she had lived with all her life was a burden she was tired to carry with her. With some reluctance, Wanda let go of you stirring in the bed while trying to be careful in her movements, she missed your closeness and the warm that your body had provided but it was time for her to stand up.
You need to fight for her, you cannot lose her. Not again.
The voice echoed inside her head, and Wanda knew this time around she couldn’t allow her fears to stop her from at least getting a chance to be your friend. With that thought in mind, Wanda stood on weakened feet gathering her strength before walking towards the closes wardrobe and grabbing some clothes. She gave you one last glance before making her way to the bathroom, she would need to get ready for what would come next.
It was the cold what wake you up.
The cold and the fact you missed the weight of someone resting on your left side, you sighed blinking owlishly while patting the side of the bed where you were pretty sure your companion had been resting. In those glorious moments between being awake and asleep, you were trying to grasp the reality of the woman you had been holding. Your memory groggily moving through the smell of her shampoo, and the softness of her skin and then…
You remembered.
Wanda had been crying, you had held her, you had fallen asleep…
You stood up so fast that you fell of the bed hitting your head against the night table, while hitting your ass on the ground.
“Ugh, fuck…”
“Are you…are you alright? What…did you fall off the bed?”
You wished you could hide, but instead of that you lifted your face to see Wanda standing by the bed trying to hold back her laughter just as her eyes gleamed with worry. You could sense the blush forming on your cheeks, while your whole body seemed to protest under the pain of the hits you got when falling.
“I…yes, I just…woke up too fast and…I fell off the bed.”
That was all that Wanda needed to start laughing, she couldn’t help herself. She had seen you woke up and then lose all control while getting your feet entangled on the sheets and falling on your ass. It had been funny, and the fact that you now looked all embarrassed and were pouting made for the scene not only something funny but quite adorable.
You huffed trying to stand up, rolling your eyes while the other woman held against the bed trying to control her laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, little witch…” the nickname slipped your lips without giving it a second thought. That made the laughter died and once more the room was filled with a tension neither one of you were ready to maintain.
“I’m sorry it’s just…your face, and the way you fell, so full of grace…”
“I bet.” You rolled your eyes trying to check your head and body before settling your eyes on Wanda.
The young woman had put on some jeans and a white blouse, while her hair was still wet after the bath. You furrowed your brows looking away while catching the time on the clock on the wall. It was almost midday, which would explain why you were so hungry all of a sudden.
“I guess you really are feeling better.”
Wanda bounced lightly checking her hands and body, she wouldn’t say she felt better but she certainly was tired of being in bed while letting everyone come in and out to check her over. This world had a peculiar way to treat people with powers and having so many people with magical abilities come in and check her magical core had been extenuating and rather uncomfortable. The only time she had felt at ease had been with her counterpart, and that had been a whole different situation.
“I just need to get out of here.” Wanda finally revealed offering a half smile, “I heard from one of the nurses they have a nice restaurant right across the street, it has sandwiches and pizza…perhaps…”
You blinked a couple of times at the suggestion, your hand went right away to your pocket and your wallet. You hope the money you carried with you had some sort of value on this place, with a shrugged you nodded your agreement.
“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, then.”
Wanda couldn’t hide her smile at the acceptance, she turned around and grabbing a jacket dragged you out of the room making her way directly to the elevator at the end of the hall. None of them noticed the camera watching their every move or the shadowy figure hidden in a close-by room. Your counterpart smirked shaking her head, she owed her wife a nice dinner. Wanda had always been right. Always.
In the security room, Wanda Maximoff allowed a tiny smile on her face, she lifted her stare to Tony and Loki, both of them shook their heads still slightly confused about the interaction.
“Now, what?” Tony finally asked staring at Wanda then at Loki.
“Now, we wait.” Loki replied waving away his hand. “For now, I think they are right, I’m starving and you ought to feed us, Stark.”
“Why is it always my responsibility?”
“You’re the one with money.” Loki replied ignoring the indignant huff coming from the older man, and the amused chuckled from Wanda.
_________________________
The restaurant was almost empty.
There were a few empty tables in the back, the one you chose was perfect for a nice conversation by hiding you two away from imprudent ears. The place was cosy, with decorations of blue and green creating a magical atmosphere with the dim lights around the establishment and the sweet aroma of spices that made you remembered home. You sat down facing Wanda who was looking troubled at the moment.
The waitress dedicated you a timid smile while putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Welcome to the Sandwich Emporium, what can I get you today?” Her question was directed at you, and her eyes never even bothered to look away as you grabbed the menu she was offering.
“I’m not sure, what do you recommend?” You glanced at the menu then back at Wanda, the redhead was glaring at the menu pursing her lips lightly while you merely frowned.
“Well, that depends on what are you looking for,” her tone of voice didn’t leave anything to the imagination, and you couldn’t help but raise a single eyebrow at that. The young woman opened her eyes wide blushing profusely. “I mean…I…”
“She is having La Tricolore and I’m having La Tartuffo.” Wanda point two pictures on the menu, before handing it over to the waitress, her eyes gleaming strangely while you just blinked slightly confused. “And I’m having some water, and she is having a cappuccino.”
“Very well, I’ll be right back.” The young woman left rather quickly, her ears burning red after having come across the redhead.
You had your eyebrows raised glancing over at Wanda who was trying rally hard to ignore you. After a moment she finally let out a heavy sigh, her head turned away from you.
“La Tricolore has beef, cheese, some hazelnuts, and that pistachio cream you…” here Wanda trailed off opening her eyes when she realized what she had done. “I’m sorry, I…”
“I like it, sounds delicious.” You placed your hands on the table not really bothered by what had happened but rather confused. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“I never forget.” Wanda brushed her hair away lifting her face to finally lock her eyes with yours. “I always…remember, Y/N.”
“I remembered too, Wanda. I remembered everything.” You stated but whatever anger you had held it had given way to bitterness and sadness.
Wanda winced tapping on the table before wiggling her hands together.
“I…I never got to…” She tilted her head, and you could see the tears hidden behind those green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
It didn’t even cover what had happened, all the pain she had caused on that day. But those words made your soul tremble, you scoffed shaking your head leaning back on the seat.
“It is too late, don’t you think?” You could see your words hurt her, and everything you had lived up to that point came rushing in piling up inside your mind until you just put everything away and left what was important.
Wanda nodded defeated, “I know, I just…I never got to say it to you.”
But it wasn’t about asking for forgiveness, and you knew that. And Wanda was also well aware of the fact. The question was not about forgiveness, the question was if you could move forward after everything that had happened.
“I never got to say it, I messed up. I was so afraid, I just…I didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to…deal with everything.”
Wanda spoke with a clear desperation tinge in her words, you could see the crumbling behind her eyes, how her soul would tremble while trying to tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear ten years ago.
“Vision was convenient.” Wanda said, this time around she grabbed the seat tightly her body completely tensed making her neck hurt as she forced herself to keep her head up and look at you. “I was so afraid, so lost and…and It’s not an excuse! I deserve your hatred! I deserved your anger! I just…”
“You could have told me, you know?” You finally said when it was obvious Wanda couldn’t continue talking. “I was there for you, and I could have helped. I thought you trusted me but instead of telling me whatever was happening you…”
This was not the conversation the both of you were supposed to have, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be this way. You weren’t supposed to understand, but to stand your ground and tell Wanda how much of a bitch she had been. But the last couple of days had taught you something about yourself, about Wanda and what could have been. And if Wanda was confused you weren’t fairing any better.
“I know you don’t get it, and that’s okay because you grew with Natasha and then you have Fury and Maria and Yelena…” Wanda waved her hand weakly, her tears rolling down while her eyes revealed the deep sadness she had always carried with herself.
“I lost everything, and I didn’t know how to deal…and you were strong, and brave, you were not afraid of anything and I was only me.” Wanda broke into a sob, with a crooked smile that showed you just how broken she was. How lost she was still feeling.
“I…after it happened I never…” Wanda started but couldn’t finish, you perked up at her words because this was something you hadn’t bothered to find out.
“What happened after I left? Were you happy? Did he make you happy?” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but your words carry with them poison that you had been holding for far too long.
“I didn’t stay with him, Y/N. I tried to look for you, to reach out for you but…but I couldn’t and I didn’t stay with Vision, I didn’t feel anything I just… I messed up! Okay? That’s what I did, and I didn’t know how to make it better and I’ve been trying to be good to make it better all these years…”
You wouldn't know about that.
Just as she was trying to do some good, you were trying to forget. It was one of the reasons why you kept yourself out of everyone's business and dealt with the superhero work alone. When Tony and Steve got into that quarrel and you saw what happened back in Lagos you knew you had made the right decision. Then, everything became more complicated and you just busy yourself with other problems, always trying to keep the team away while trying to get glimpses of news about Wanda. You knew it had been hard for her, and you also knew she was never alone.
Vision.
That had always been the main issue, wasn't it?
“I was on the run with the others, but I just wanted to disappear. Vision…he was helping me with getting a new identity.” Wanda leaned back tilting her head to the wall to hide the tears rolling down her cheek.
It was an answer to an unasked question. The conversation died for a moment, the waitress eyed Wanda before offering a smile to you placing the different orders on the table.
“Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, if there is anything I can do, I'm Anne.” The waitress offered one last smile walking backwards and then leaving you two alone.
The food smelled delicious; you grabbed your sandwich allowing Wanda the moment of privacy. The silence grew heavier just as you distracted yourself glancing around the place while taking another bite from your lunch.  
“I was just trying to live my life, and then when Thanos happened…” Wanda huffed turning to her food, she was no longer hungry if anything she wanted to disappear. 
Everything seemed so pointless, the look in your eyes would never leave, and she would go back to a world in which she was despised by the only woman she had ever been in love with.
“This is really delicious; you should try it.” You interrupted her, offering a full smile while grabbing another bite.
Wanda blinked confused; she kept her eyes on you then back on her food. For a brief moment, she hesitated, she was no longer hungry and if she were to be honest she felt tired. You took a sip from your cappuccino, placing your hand on the table, dangerously close to hers.
“I know you are hungry, Wanda. And I also know…I didn't want to know, but I get it.” You passed your hand on your hair pressing your back on the seat. “I'm tired of this, I just…”
“I can't take it when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” You crunched up your nose, Wanda lowered her eyes grabbing her food.
“As if I am nothing to you, as if you…you hate me and…”
She trailed off putting the food in her mouth and silencing her words. You frowned, pursing your lips while playing those words inside your head. 
“I don't hate you.” You softened your features, your eyes glistening under the weight of memories. “I could never hate you.”
Silence followed your statement, the shivering discomfort of what your words could mean infused the atmosphere with questions Wanda didn't dare to ask. You lowered your gaze and focused completely on the sandwich that was still on the plate, and for a good half hour that was all you and Wanda did. 
When there was nothing else coming in between the unfinished conversation, Wanda put her hands on the table her eyes down casted. This was actually the very first time the both of you came face to face without anyone or anything coming in between. It was a confrontation you never thought would happen about something you had always imagined. It always came with different scenarios, but the outcome had always been the same. With you finally finding peace and never looking back, and with Wanda filled with regret for what she had lost.
This conversation though was completely different. You lifted your face finding those green eyes staring back at you with longing and a deep sadness that had become characteristic of Wanda. 
“How did you end up in Westview?” The question rolled out of your lips with a hint of bitterness you could not hide.
Wanda winced playing the napkin on the table, you waited until the woman started talking again.
“I found the box you hid in your room back at the Avenger's compound.” She stated simply, her lips breaking into a grimace. “I never…after you left I never went back there until after the battle with Thanos and Steve’s funeral.”
Your eyes opened lightly in realisation; you remembered the box in which you had hidden the future you hoped to share with Wanda. The ring, the map, and the picture…everything made sense now; now you understood why Wanda had chosen that place and how everything had fit at one point or another. The only thing that was out of place had been Vision, your expression hardened and Wanda could tell you were thinking about Westview the life she had created there.
“I never thought of him, you know? I went there because I wanted to…” Wanda snorted lifting her face to the ceiling, her voice trembling under the weight of the memories. “I wanted to understand, and in a way, I wanted to find a way to go back to you. Not as…I mean, I wanted to at least be…be your friend.”
You shifted on the chair hearing as Wanda finally tell you her part of the story, how she had been completely alone after coming back from the Blip. Steve’s funeral showed her just how alone she was, and how lost she really felt; she didn’t have a work or a home or even family and friends. She spent her time driving around until she decided to ask for help and went to the only person she could think of: Tony.
In all this time you could see the story behind her eyes, you could read the suffering and the deep sadness in the gestures and the words that carried with them the flashbacks of those days in which you were ignorant of Wanda’s fate.
“I went there to punish myself.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “I guess I did a good job.”
“Wanda…” You started but the words tangled in your throat, the other woman waited expectantly but after a moment her face fell.
“You don’t have to…”
“You don’t have to punish yourself anymore.” You frowned lowering your gaze to the empty dishes on the table, you were fully aware of her eyes on you. “All this time, isolating yourself while unable to reach out to anyone…then, finding yourself in Westview with this Agatha…”
Wanda swallowed down her tears, she was trembling with a flame of hope flickering inside her heart. Wanda knew she had created the world around Westview, she knew that her isolation and her grief had broken out into an explosion of her magic to create a reality she could deal with. But she also knew her magic had been tampered with, and her illusion had been corrupted.
“I never stopped thinking about you.” She whispered with her hands grabbing the chair tightly, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
You nodded standing up while making your way to where she was sitting, you offered your hand though your face never changed. For a brief moment, Wanda hesitated, she glanced at your hand and then with a trembling hand accepted it.
“They do look like us, you know?” You stated flatly, your hand warm against hers.
Wanda furrowed her brows, her tears rolling down her cheeks but her eyes gleaming in confusion.
“Why?”
“Billy and Tommy.” You stated simply. “They do look like us.”
_______________________________________
That night you sat right outside the house.
Music and conversation could be heard in the backyard, with the lights of the kitchen projecting shadows on the grass. The sky above hour head was still showered with white dots that resulted familiar yet so different to what you were used to; the air was cold but nothing you couldn’t take in a night like that one.
You took a deep breath filling your lungs with cold air, inside your mind thoughts came crashing down into a myriad of possibilities and plans yet to be executed. The conversation with Wanda had gone unexpectedly well, yet you knew a lot of things needed to be done and said before things would be okay.
“Aren’t you a little cold out here?” America crunched up her nose trying to balance the two glasses she was carrying with her.
You turned to her, chuckling before stretching a little to help her out.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a part of this great celebration?”
America shrugged offering a tiny smile, “the twins are distracted with Wanda, both of them, and the rest is just chattering around.”
“So you decided to come to me?” You shook your head taking a sip from the beverage the young woman had brought with her. “You’re crazy.”
“Not as crazy as you are.” America wrapped her hands around the glass eyeing you out of the corner of her eyes. “How are you?”
“I guess I’m okay, how about you?” You pointed with your head to the house behind you, “this is what you missed, isn’t it? Now that you are back, well…”
America nodded turning her body to yours, “I feel happy, but I also feel lost. I know that I found them again, and I have so many possibilities right now, I just…”
 “Don’t know what to do?” You asked, America shrugged lowering her eyes.
“I’m finally starting to understand my powers and to get some control over them, if I keep working on them I would be able to travel without getting lost.” America let out a sigh dropping her shoulders, “those are a lot of possibilities and right now I think I need stability and keep learning.”
“Wise words, you have grown some, kiddo.” You bumped against her shoulder; the young woman blushed lightly offering a timid smile. “It may take time, but I’m pretty sure you will learn to control them.”
None of you mentioned the possibility of America finding her way back home, while it was an option it didn’t mean that America would find it once she had some control on her abilities. But for now, the young woman was happy to learn more about her powers and herself, her heart and soul finally finding a place she could call home.
“You don’t mind me coming back with you and Wanda?” America finally asked biting her lower lip while taking the last sip of her drink to her lips.
“No, I think it’s going to be fun.” You replied glancing at the young woman, “but I have to tell you right now, the training is going to be brutal.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.”
You chuckled nodding, “good.”
America straightened up tilting her head to glance at you then back at the house. You knew what the question was she wanted to ask, but you didn’t rush it.
“Are you and Wanda going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” The honesty with which you answered that surprised even you, you turned to America with a serious face. “I’m not sure what would happen, America, but I guess I’m willing to find out.”
“That’s good, right?”
You shrugged, and the young woman went back to rest her head on your shoulder still highly confused by your answer. The sound of laughter, music and conversation filling out the sudden silence that embrace the both of you, your thoughts coming back to Wanda and the day you had spent with her.
Only time would tell what would happen next, and you were waiting anxiously what would happen next.
_______________________________
Billy and Tommy were talking non-stop, they were excited showing Wanda the latest project they had been working on back at school. The young woman could hardly hold her tears while letting her children talk to her about school and their lives as if she had always been there.
At first, it had hurt.
Wanda knew they were not hers, and yet she couldn’t help but love them and see them with the same eyes she had seen the twins back in her universe. A part of her never thought she would see Billy and Tommy again, the moment the illusion had fallen around her and she discovered what she had done to Westview she knew there wouldn’t be a way for her to recover her children.
Yet here they were.
 In another world, in another universe looking the same as she had imagined them once.
This time around everything was as it was supposed to be, with you by her side raising two children being a happy family.  A part of Wanda felt envy for everything her counterpart had and she couldn’t have.
“Are you sure you can’t have a family of your own?”
Wanda huffed turning to the source of the voice, her counterpart stood right beside her with softened eyes staring at the twins that were getting ready for bed. Wanda dropped her arms to her sides, her eyes glancing back into the room then back to the woman standing beside her.
“I’m pretty sure, she…” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself furrowing her brows, “she doesn’t love me anymore. I am nothing more than…and ally, and even that would be to stretch out our relationship.”
The other Wanda pursed her lips, she stepped closer never letting go of those green eyes she was so familiar with.
“You don’t believe that.” Wanda stated holding back a smile when the other woman stepped back scowling.
“I have to believe it, I can’t…” Wanda sighed lifting her chin to the ceiling holding back her weakness, she didn’t want the twins to see her cry. “I have to believe it or I will break my heart once more and I can’t lose control of my magic, I…last time it didn’t go well.”
The room filled with laughter, Billy ran to the bed jumping up and down with Tommy trying to follow up before falling down on his face. Wanda couldn’t help but gasp ready to help out but stopping when a gentle hand wrapped tenderly on her forearm. It was strange to see herself staring at her looking the same yet being so different than she was.
The twins were back in the game, falling on bed while discussing some subject Wanda couldn’t hear pretty well. The fall was soon forgotten and both of them were ready to go to sleep.
“Go on, you can put them to be and I will wait for you here.”
“Thank you.” Wanda whispered to her counterpart entering the room and going to Billy first.
The woman offered a shaky smile, her trembling hand brushing away his dark hair while her lips curved into a smile. Billy smiled back blinking slowly.
“Are you okay, mom?”
Wanda nodded leaning in placing a single kiss on his forehead, “more than okay, Billy. Have a good night, baby.”
“Good night, mommy.”
Then, Wanda went to Tommy who was looking at her differently, he wrapped his arms around her hugging her tightly and this time around she couldn’t help but cry.
“I love you, mom.”
“I love you too, Tommy, now go to sleep.” Once more she placed a kiss on Tommy’s forehead and with that she stepped back walking towards the door. “Sleep well, guys.”
“Night, mom!”
The door close behind her, and Wanda stood there allowing herself the goodbye she had longed to have with the twins. She tried to give the right closure to her emotions knowing full well she would go back a world in which she would be all alone. No twins, no Y/N, only her.
“Thank you.” Wanda whispered locking her eyes with those of her counterpart, the other woman nodded curtly.
“I knew it was important for you.” The woman hesitated for a moment before continuing, “but you shouldn’t lose any hope, Wanda. You and Y/N…”
“Don’t, please.” Wanda said softly. “Don’t give me hope, don’t tell me it is possible because…god, I’ve been breaking my heart over and over again and I just…I can’t take it anymore.”
“Then don’t let it go, don’t let it go without a fight.”
Wanda lifted her face to see her counterpart dead serious, the woman came closer wrapping her hands on her forearms making sure Wanda could not look away.
“You love her, and I am pretty sure she loves you as well, whatever happened in the past it shall stay there.” Wanda then softened letting go of her grip. “Don’t give up just yet, you may be surprised.”
Wanda wanted to talk, she wanted to believe but at the moment she was just tired and overwhelmed by everything that had happened, everything she had lived up to that point. She was overwhelmed by the fact that you were so close to her yet so far away, that she would go back to a world in which the twins were not there and she would be, once more, alone.
________________________________________
It was a sunny day.
America went over the contents of her backpack, her body was tingling all over while a void filled with butterflies settled in her lower abdomen. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath, her hands trembling while she secured the zipper on the backpack.
“You look nervous, you know you don’t have to go, right?” Y/N came into the room glancing around before settling her eyes on America, the young woman turned around offering a tiny smile.
“I know.” She replied shrugging, her hands played with the band on her wrist she tried to look everywhere but at Y/N but at the end of the day she couldn’t help it, she lifted her face and let the tears fall down.
“I’m sorry.” America whispered waiting for a recrimination on her part, for Y/N to finally tell her how bad she had messed up the first time she had fallen on their Universe.
But it never came, nor from her or Wanda, or anyone for that matter. America surrendered to the warm embrace of Y/N’s arms, she let the tears and sobs she had been holding to scape and finally liberated her mind of the guiltiness she had been feeling all this time.
“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” Y/N whispered soothingly her hand drawing circles with a half-smile showing on her face.
“I just…I shouldn’t have run the way I did, I should have fight or something.” America replied, leaning back, she was furrowing her brows while lifting her hands. “I could have stayed and helped around.”
“It wasn’t optional, though. You had to keep going to survive, that’s rule number one in this line of work, America.” Y/N put her hands on her pockets, her hair falling to the side with an easy smile adorning her lips. “You did what you have to at that point and no one should ever blame you for that. If it hadn’t been that way well, I wouldn’t be here telling the story.”
America doubted very much that it would have happened in such a way, but she would never really know it for certain. Ever since she started travelling through universes consciously she had learnt to deal with the different realities, trying to adapt to them and survive them. She never thought she would settle in a single universe, much less that she would get attach to the people in it.
The sound of conversation broke the sudden silence in the room, the twins laughing with Pietro and Wanda yelling for everyone to go to the backyard was the signal America had been waiting for. She stepped closer to give Y/N one last hug.
“Thank you for everything you did for me, Y/N. I couldn’t say this the last time due to the circumstances…”
“Us running for our lives?” Y/N chimed in chuckling, America snorted rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, that, I mean you guys received me in your home and gave me a chance to a family, I just..I will always carry that with me.”
Y/N softened while giving the teen another hug, “anytime kid, you are welcome in our household whenever you decided to come back.”
“I know, I just think I am needed it elsewhere.”
“I think so to.” Y/N stepped back glancing to the open door. “Watch over them, make sure that they are okay.”
“I will.” America smiled grabbing her backpack ready to go.
It was almost midday by the time America and Y/n came out of the house.
The backyard was full with Tony and Loki working around the logistics and the twins just running around between the two Wanda’s and everyone else. You stood by the garden, the conversation that Loki was having with Tony, Wong, Hank and America had lost all meaning as you entertained yourself with the last sight of the world that could have been. Your body was completely tensed, your eyes drifting around until they fell on the form of Wanda, your Wanda.
“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, you turned to her shaking your head.
“Were you?”
“No, I was never ready whenever she was around.” Y/N replied shrugging, “but once we had made our mind there was nothing that could stop us.”
You snorted nodding, “that’s right.”
“Are you going to fight?” Y/N stepped closer, her eyes going from you to Wanda then back again.
“I am going to make things right, I’m not sure if they will end up the same way it did here.” You replied placing your hands inside your pockets. “I guess only time will tell.”
Y/N nodded stretching her right hand to you, an easy smile forming on her lips.
“I hope everything goes well for you and Wanda, Y/N, just remember what’s really important.” Y/N said grabbing your hand with a friendly squeezed. “Please, be happy.”
“Protect them and be for them whenever they need you.” You replied squeezing back.
“I will.”
“Well, I guess we can try the portal once more, are you guys ready? Did you say your good-byes?” Tony clapped before rubbing his hands, everyone went to get in position until the cries of two boys reached them over.
Tommy and Billy came running with Wanda following them close behind, Billy went directly to Wanda wrapping his arms around her while Tommy went to you.
“I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled looking up at you.
You chuckled ruffling his hair playfully, “I doubt it, pal. You have your mom’s here, but I am gonna miss you.”
“Say hi to your Tommy for me, please? Tell him he has the best mom in the whole universe!”
Those words pierced deeply inside your heart, but the innocence and the smile in Tommy’s face made you held back any reaction that wasn’t one of agreement.
“I will, Tommy, be good.”
At the other side of the yard Wanda and Billy were having a similar conversation, Wanda hugged him tightly before trying to let go. Billy called to her, looking around before wrapping his arms around Wanda’s neck, his lips close to her ear.
“Everything is gonna be okay, mommy, don’t worry, mom will come around.” Billy offered a toothy grin to Wanda who was too shocked to talk. “say hi to your billy for me, love you mom!”
Wanda watched as Billy joined his brother right beside their mother, Wanda locked eyes with her counterpart who offered a half smile and a vision Wanda Maximoff would not talk about until several years later. For now, she was just filled with doubts, and hopes, and uncertainties and soon Wanda was drowned by the voices surrounding her.
“Okay, this shouldn’t be that difficult, everyone remembers their roles?” Loki asked once more standing to the side while pointing at America who rolled her eyes.
“I do, I remember.”
“Good, because if you fail the three of you are going to be traveling around without a proper destination and probably die a horrible dead.”
“That’s so comforting, Loki.” You replied rolling your eyes. 2Stop scaring America and do your job.”
Loki rolled his eyes flickering his hands while putting the golden book out of thin air, he sat down crossing his legs while looking to an invisible spot in front of him.
“Very well, your timeline is not that hard to find, it is the only one with a latent anomaly.”
“How can you tell is ours and not a random one?”
Loki glared at you before going back to his work, “I can sense it, and this one lack something, it is missing something, I guess that would be both of you.”
Soon everyone was taking positions, Wanda stood beside you shifting from one foot to the other, her hands wiggling nervously while she tried to keep her eyes right ahead of herself. You could sense her uneasiness, her hands twitching biting her lower lip. America came forward, she was showing off a frown filled with confusion that Tony helped erased with a whispered explanation.
You eyed Wanda out of the corner of your eyes, the woman was completely tensed still bouncing trying to hold onto something but unable to find herself at ease. You doubted it for a moment before you grabbed her hand in yours.
Her hand was warm and soft, at first she was completely tensed and rigid but as soon as she sensed it was you her hand started to relax and give in the feeling.
“It’s gonna be okay.” You whispered; Wanda offered a smile nodding.
“I know.” Wanda knew that as long as you kept holding her hand everything would be okay, she didn’t dare to say anything else but in a bold move she spread her fingers and soon her hand was intertwined with yours.
You jerked around but Wanda was completely focused on America, after a moment of hesitation you straightened up frowning lightly though your hand clasped tenderly Wanda’s hand.
“Okay, it was nice meeting you all, now let’s begin.” Loki closed his eyes and soon the golden light of his magic started gleaming powerfully forming a tight circle that surrounded you and Wanda alongside America.
America could feel the power, she was sensing it through her muscles and her fingertips while her mind became a mask of pure blankness trying to form an idea. She remembered the lesson, to follow the magic around her while also joining her energy with that of Wanda and Y/N, her power running through her arm in electric jolts and then igniting her eyes until she was finally ready to make it explode.
Pulling her arm back, closing her fist America stretched her arm hitting the space in between her and the backyard creating an explosion in the form of a Star. The portal opened until it was as big as America, you peeked in watching the white plains of Norway, or at least that was what you thought.
With a last glance to your counterpart and Wanda, you squeezed the hand you were holding tenderly.
“Ready?” It was all you could say before the young woman nodded and with a single step she dragged you right through the portal.
The world you three had left behind was waiting for you.
And you were not sure what would happen next, the only thing you knew for certain was that you didn’t want to let go of the hand holding yours.
The portal closed behind the three of you leaving everyone behind with many questions and little to no answers.
Billy and Tommy hugged Wanda still glancing the place where the portal had been moments ago. The woman glanced at her children knowing there was something bothering greatly.
“Mommy, do you think they will love us?” Tommy asked lifting his face to Wanda, Wanda furrowed her brows tilting her head.
“What do you mean, baby?”
Billy scrunched up his nose, “You think they will love Billy and Tommy the way you love us?”
Wanda softened at the question; she knelt in front of her boys not really knowing how to explain that in their world they both didn’t even exist.
“Billy, I’m pretty sure that they would be very lucky to have children like the both of you, and they would absolutely love you very much.” This answer seemed to satisfy the boys, and just when Wanda thought the topic was over Tommy talked again.
“They are gonna love us very much, mommy.” Tommy smiled snugging closer to Wanda. “Just like they love one another very much, that’s how you and mommy made us, right?”
Wanda didn’t answer, but a part of her certainly hope that Tommy was not wrong. She had always hoped that her love for you would survive in every universe, Wanda lifted her face to see Y/N looking at her with tenderness and love, and Wanda knew right there and then that her counterpart would be okay.
You never stopped looking at her like that, you just learnt how to hide it pretty well.
You were still pretty much in love with your Wanda.
And now that you were gone with her, only time would tell if love was still possible.
Wanda sighed wishing you would let go of your resentment and doubts and give yourself and her counterpart a chance.
With a last glance to the space where you and the others had been standing, Wanda turned around hopeful that the past would stay in the past.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next Chapter: You are finally back to your universe, everything seems surreal as you and the others are taken to interrogation rooms before resuming your normal lives. Carol doesn't want to leave your side, and Wanda knows she needs to step aside even though that's the last thing she wants to do.
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rise-my-angel · 1 year ago
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Heart of the Great Wolf
Masterlist
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Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)
Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
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Pre Series Content and Extras:
Scattered Memories of the Starks
Shadows of their Hatred
The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow
A New Life's Darkened Lust
Interlude of Jealous Desires
The Trials of Resurrection
The Injured and the Perverse
NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for part 3 and 4)
Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)
Fresh Heals of Old Pain (a modern!au part 2)
The Aftermath of Envy (a modern!au part 3)
Stoking the Flames (a modern!au part 4)
Then Came the Explosion (a modern!au part 5)
A Family Conflicted (a modern!au part 6)
A Small Bundles Flash Forward (a modern!au part 6.5)
Part 1:
Wolves of the Lone Stag
Mouth of the Lion's Den
An Intrigue Drenched in Blood
Standing Behind a Betrayal
A War of Tragic Beginning
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Part 2:
King and Queen in the North
Shadow of a Fiery Stag
Reunion of New Enemies
Pleasure of Conflicted Desire
The Sanctity of Children
What Lies Beyond The Veil
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Part 3:
The Cost of Our Sins
Dragged Through the Violence
Only the Cold
Fire for the King's Blood
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Part 4:
Ashes of Various Grey
Plans of Pain and Horror
Afraid of a Ravens Flight
Trust in the Gentle Rasps
Visions in Eyes and Flames
A Bastard or The White Wolf
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Part 5:
Home of Bloodsoaked Stone
Blazing Fire of Storming Ice
Ghostly Dreams of Old
Sailing Through the Glow
The Last Dragon
The Winter Rose
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Part 6:
The Clash of Three Kings
Shrouded Truth in Sickness
Winged Shadow in the Sky
Light in the Darkest Storms
Peeking the Realms Woes
Blood, Roses and All Lies
Broken Love of the Dead
The Souls Tethered in Death
Wolves of the Past and Back
The Crows and The Sight
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Part 7:
A Brewing of New Mystery
Great Wolves of White Mists
Darkness Heavy in a World
Past Becomes the Present
The Thing in the Night
Waving Tides of Turmoil
Greenish White Boodraven
Dark Blood of Blinding Light
And Wait for the Snows
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Part 8:
Into the Haunted Forest
Fist of the First Men
Through the Frost Fangs
News From the South
Lies Within the Sunlight
Night of Two Distances
Screams of Cracking Ice
The Final Marching Trek
Fear Overtakes a Night
Wolves Teeth and Claws
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Part 9:
Forcing Past Our Safety
One Whirlwind to the Next
Court of the North
Glimpse into the Rains
Scattered Pieces of Truth
Reunions and Realizations
Laws of Gods and Men
A Mockingbirds End
The Cold and the Rats
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shhhsecretsideblog · 4 months ago
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Hi, i hope you don't mind if i request to combine 2 prompts in one scenario.
8. "There's so much pressure..."
12. "Come on, you'll be fine. First labour's take ages.
Scenario: a pregnant woman got kidnapped by her obsessive ex-boyfriend, went into labor and begged him to take her to the hospital because she can't be having the baby in his basement, but he refused. Go as wild and dark as you want.
Thanks 💌
Thanks for the request anon, this was delicious to write. Only prompt no.8 has been included as the other didn’t naturally fit in to wherever the hell this story went. I swear I have no control, these stories take on a life of their own. You said go wild and dark, so… 😈 Trigger warnings; kidnapping, vomit, blood, violence, mental instability, death (not mum or bubs dw), oh and of course fpreg & birth. Hope you like it
Chained
Libby’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her vision to focus but when it did she realised nothing was familiar. The room was dimly lit, no natural light source, only a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Dark grey bricks formed each of the four walls and the floor below was concrete and rough. She was lying down, on old discoloured bedding on a rickety metal bed. Where the hell was she?! She tried to push herself upright, but she discovered one arm could not be moved. It was handcuffed to the bed!
“What the hell…” Libby muttered.
“Ah… you’re awake.” Came a voice from the shadows.
Stepping into the light Libby saw a man walk towards her. It was Scott, her ex boyfriend. He looked awful. She’d not seen him since they broke up 18 months ago. His hair had grown, now matted and unkept, dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his usually clean shaven chin now sported a severe and dishelved five o’clock shadow.
“…Scott? Where… where am I?” She asked confused and still a little bit groggy.
“You’re at home darling. I rescued you.”
Libby’s brain whirled into overdrive. She remembered going to a midwife appointment, it was her final check up before her due date, she finished the appointment and headed back to her car. She had stopped just before opening the door, hearing something behind her, and then…. everything went black.
“Rescued me?! From what?” Libby asked, managing to push herself to a sitting position with her one free hand.
“From making a mistake. Did you really think you could keep me away from my baby?” Scott drawled, his eyes staring hungrily at her pregnant stomach.
“What the fuck are you talking about? We broke up, I moved on. This isn’t your baby!”
Libby’s outburst was rewarded by a forceful smack across the face. The distinctive metallic taste of blood soon filled her mouth. She was shocked into silence.
“We were great together! We were happy; we were going to get married, have a family, and then… Brendon came along. Poisoning our relationship, turning you against me, stealing you for himself. No! I won’t let him take this away. I’ve brought you home baby… so we can be together.” Scott’s hand touched her bump and his eyes widened in glee. “Where we can be a family.”
This man was insane, Libby thought, realising the true danger of this situation. It was one thing having an ex that still held a candle towards you, but this was way beyond that. She knew Scott hadn’t taken the break up well, but since the split he’d clearly disappeared into a realm of utter delusion. The baby in her womb shifted, feeling the fear of its mother. Scott’s mouth twitched into an uncomfortable grin, feeling the child move. Libby daren’t say anything, it was clear he was unstable and there was no telling what might set him off.
“Rest up sweetie. I’ll get you some food, you must be hungry. Eating for two and all that.” Scott said cheerfully, removing his hand from her stomach and disappearing upstairs.
Libby looked down at her stomach and her handcuffed wrist. She didn’t feel hungry at all. Only nauseous.
~•~
Scott returned and brought her food. Libby didn’t say anything, didn’t move, too scared of accidentally provoking him. He left the tray of sandwiches and crisps on the side table next to the bed and disappeared upstairs, offering a firm “Eat” before he went.
Her memories had returned as she gradually came around from whatever drug Scott had administered. Brendon and Libby had decided to have a little trip away this weekend before the baby came. A baby-moon as they say. They’d told all their friends and family they’d be out of town and without signal for a few days, but this morning Brendon called to say he had a work emergency and they’d have to cancel. That was fine, Libby would just go visit her parents instead. Only she never got a chance to call her parents after the midwife appointment. Everyone thought her and Brendon were away, and Brendon thought she was at her parents - no one would realise she’d been kidnapped.
Her stomach rolled with fear. She needed to think, find a way out of here. Wherever “here” was…. Where the fuck had Scott taken her? She didn’t recognise the room, it could be anywhere. She looked over at the plate of food and her heart sank. She recognised the crockery - this was his family’s cabin, in the middle of the woods.
~•~
Days. She’d been there days. Her family and Brendon would hopefully know she was missing by now. But they’d never find her here.
Scott continued to visit, to bring her food, to talk the baby in her womb. He’d offered to bathe her once, disgusted by the thought she refused. When he tried to get more forceful, hitting her again, she faked practice labour pains and he thankfully left her alone to rest.
She barely spoke to him anymore, too fearful to say the wrong thing again, of which she had learnt the hard way. She tried once to play along with his delusion, that he had “rescued” her from Brendon and now they could be a family. Believing her, Scott eventually unlocked the handcuffs, but when she made a break for it towards the stairs of the basement Scott went ballistic. They got into a fight; she kicked and screamed and hit, but he was stronger and in the carnage she fell forward against the wooden stairs she was trying to climb.
Scott was stricter with the handcuffs after that. Libby swore to herself not to try it again for fear of what might happen to the baby if she fell again.
She had been feeling cramps ever since the fall. They weren’t too bad or debilitating, thankfully she wasn’t bleeding which Libby hoped was a good sign and that her baby was okay. The fall was a brutal reminder of the precious cargo she was carrying and she had to be careful.
The next night Libby was awoken by a forceful cramp rolling through her middle, much worse than any of the others she had felt. Curling round her stomach she breathed heavily through the wave until it passed, and she promptly fell back asleep.
It happened again shortly after, pulling her from her slumber and waking every cell of her body as it peaked, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter. She pushed herself up to sit on the bed. The room was pitch black - Scott controlled the lights and was the only way she knew if it was day or night. She rubbed the aching cramp rolling across her tightened belly with one hand, the other remaining chained to the bedpost. She wished she could move, to walk it off, but with the handcuffs and the darkness she had little options. Instead she got on her hands and knees and rocked steadily through the pain.
“Please be practice contractions…” she whispered to herself. “You can’t come now baby, you’re safe in there. Wait until we get outta here okay?”
The cramp eventually eased and after a few minutes waiting for the next, Libby let herself sink sideways back onto the bed. The baby had got the message, it was just practice pains, she thought to herself as she drifted back off to sleep.
~•~
The light to the basement flickered to life followed by the familiar stomping of feet on wooden steps.
“Morning sweetheart. How’s the mother of my child today?” Scott said in such a cheerful caring tone it caused a shiver to roll up Libby’s spine.
She glared at him from the bed, lying down under the covers half asleep and curled around her bump.
“Still not talking to me eh? Oh well. It won’t be long before I have a son or daughter to talk to.” Scott drawled, as he placed a cup of water and slice of toast onto the bedside table.
Another cramp squeezed her belly and Libby sucked in a breath, hissing through her teeth. She could feel her stomach hardening beneath her fingers as the practice contraction squeezed.
“Honey, are you alright?” Scott’s eyes pinched in cautious concern.
“Just a kick.” Libby said, schooling her face back to a neutral expression.
“Excited to meet their daddy no doubt.” He gleefully said making Libby feel sick.
This baby is NOT yours! She cried in her head.
“Get up and have some breakfast. I’ve got some things to show you today.” Scott said, offering a hand to help her up.
Libby ignored his hand and pushed herself upright. “What things?”
“All in good time my dear. It’s a surprise.” And with that he disappeared back upstairs with a gallop.
She could hear banging and thumping above her and wondered what on earth he was doing. Her stomach growled and she reluctantly nibbled on the toast that was provided. After eating she was left solely with her thoughts and the noises from upstairs. Plus the occasional cramps that continued to plague her. Sitting down became too frustrating and she managed to get herself to standing right beside the bed. Her arm was pulled uncomfortably far forward by the handcuffs, but at least it relieved the pressure in her hips.
The baby felt so low, like it was grinding on her pelvis. But she did feel like her breathing was better now. Libby tried to focus only on the positives and did not dwell enough to realise this meant the baby had dropped into position for birth.
She stayed standing as long as she could beside the bed, riding out the braxton hicks and swaying her hips side to side, but eventually her legs ached from the awkward position so she return to sit on the bed.
The practice contractions continued to wash over her whilst Scott was banging away upstairs. Libby was starting to get hot and sweaty and could barely sit still through them. She found herself biting her lips and humming through them, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. She didn’t want to attract Scott’s attention. She ended up back on all fours on the bed, one hand awkwardly attached to the bed while she rocked forwards and back through the rising waves. It was getting harder and harder to stay silent through these pains and it was getting more and more difficult to convince herself these were only practice contractions.
“Ohhhh… we had a deal baby. You have to s-stay in there…. It’s not s-safe…” Libby moaned quietly to her child, the pressure in her hips mounting with every contraction.
The sounds of movement from above made her panic. Scott was coming. Quickly, she moved from all fours and returned to her sitting position on the bed. Sitting down made everything worse - the heavily feeling of the baby so so low caused the pressure to spike. So much so she nearly threw up, gaging slightly at the same time Scott opened the basement door.
She could hear him huffing and puffing as he stomped every step, he was clearly struggling with something, and she saw the “surprise” before she saw him. It was a crib! Oh hell no, she thought to herself. There is no way my baby is being born here and it will never go in that thing.
“Darling…” he cooed as he got down to the basement “I got you something. Well, I got our baby something - a crib!” He said proudly as he placed it at the foot of the bed.
Libby didn’t say anything; saying something negative could earn her a slap, saying something positive he’d think she was up to something.
“Well?” He asked, clearly getting frustrated with her silence.
“It’s… nice.” She said timidly, he didn’t seem any calmer so she added “thank you.”
With that Scott broke into an unhinged smile. “Only the best for my baby. Made it myself!”
Libby felt the familiar tightening of another contraction approaching. Breathing steadily through her nose, she tried to keep any pain showing on her face.
“What do you think of the design?” He urged, unaware of the struggle happening inside Libby’s womb.
“Great.” She gritted out as calmly as she could.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Scott rushed upstairs leaving Libby alone for a minute.
The second he was out of sight her eyes scrunched and she panted erratically. Her hips were on fire, the baby sinking lower and lower. This was no false alarm, Libby finally admitted to herself.
Scott came bounding downstairs with a pile of baby clothes and blankets. “I also got these. I wasn’t sure if we were having a boy or a girl so got a selection of different clothes. And lots of blankets and toys. Everything we could possibly need.”
Libby couldn’t help it but she groaned loudly and curled over her contracting stomach.
“They’re not that bad!” Scott said, referring to the pile of clothes he’d now dumped into the crib.
“Ooooooh Scott….” Libby whimpered, the pain still barrelling through her body.
“Lib? What is it? What’s wrong?” He crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her knee.
“I think… hooooo- I think I’m in labour. You have to take me to the hospital.” Libby pleaded.
“What? Oh no, you’re not fooling me again.” Scott recoiled away from her, and started pacing. “You- you tried that before remember. And then you tried to run away, to take my baby away! You were going to leave me Lib! No!! I’m not letting you out of my sight again. No way. No one else can have you. You and that baby are mine!”
“Scott… please. I’m having contractions… I need help… I need doctors…”
“No… I can’t. You’re just going to leave me again. I can’t lose you.” Scott shook his head, like he was trying to reorganise the thoughts inside. “You’re just pretending again, you’re not really having the baby, you’re just trying to escape. Well you can’t trick me twice. Nuh-uh. I’ll come back when you’ve stopped the act.”
“No! Scott!” Libby cried but the door slammed before she could say anything else.
~•~
Libby shouted and pleaded for 10 minutes straight after Scott went upstairs, but he never came back down. She stopped when her voice started to crack and when she thought she heard the front door slam.
This baby was coming and she was trapped - handcuffed to a bed in a basement in the middle of nowhere, the only person for miles was her crazy ex boyfriend who was convinced the baby was his.
Despite her wishful thinking, the contractions just kept on coming. It was as if accepting they were real had made them more frequent and stronger. There was no clock down here, she had no clue how often they struck, but Libby was aware of the gaps in between getting shorter.
Being in labour was bad enough but the fact she couldn’t move due to her restraints made everything a thousand time’s worse. In desperation she tried to squeeze her hand out the metal handcuff, twisting and pulling, but when it started to peel the skin off the back of her hand she screamed and gave up.
She couldn’t sit down anymore, the pain in her hips too great. All fours was bearable but her arms ached after too long. She tried squatting and kneeling against the headboard, standing and swaying beside the bed. Nothing helped. She felt like a caged animal; frustrated, angry, scared. All the while every contraction brought the baby closer and closer to being born, a fate she was trying desperately to avoid. She feared something might go wrong, and she was scared what would happen the moments after she delivered. Scott was clearly unstable, would he leave her here chained to the bed bleeding out and take away her baby?! She needed medical help, not only for the birth but for her best shot at escaping.
When Scott returned he found her on her knees beside the bed, slumped over the mattress and groaning heavily.
“You can stop this charade Libby! I’m not taking you anywhere!” Scott shouted from the steps of the basement.
“Mnnnghhh! It’s not a charade Scott! Oh god…. So much pressure….” Libby whimpered into the mattress, her knees widening instinctually.
“Come off it. You put on a good show but I know you’re faking it.”
Libby could only grunt, roaring against the building pressure between her thighs. An unmistakable splashing sound hit the concrete floor and she cried out. “My waters…. Hooo- I’m not - faking - it…” she panted and turned around to face him.
Scott’s face had paled and his eyebrows shot up. “Y-you really are in labour?”
“Yes,” Libby breathed, turning around awkwardly with the handcuffs and her large bump, sitting down heavily on the now-wet floor “please please take me to the hospital now.”
He didn’t say anything, instead he disappeared quickly back upstairs.
“Scott!!!” She cried out, worried he would just leave her there forever.
He returned a moment later carrying a plastic box. “It’s happening! Don’t worry darling, I have everything we need for our baby to be born.”
It’s not your baby!!!! Libby shouted in her head.
Sitting on the floor, one arm slung up over a shoulder stuck in the handcuffs, she rubbed her low and heavy stomach with the other as Scott began to unpack the box onto the table opposite.
“Towels. Gloves. Scissors. Clamps. Ooh more towels. Little sucker thing. Wow it’s got everything we need in here. Great Amazon find.” Scott commented as he rattled off everything inside the box.
Holy shit! He wants to deliver the baby here! Libby stopped breathing for a moment, panic squeezing at her heart. He was never going to let her go. She was never going to get her baby out of here before it was born.
“Scott… you can’t… be serious…” Libby said with strained breath.
“Shhhhh. It’s okay sweetie. I’ve done all the research, watched loads of videos. I know exactly what I’m doing and I will deliver our baby here.”
“But Scott I need a hospital, with nurses and medication.”
“No you don’t. Women birth babies every day. I’ve had months to prepare for this. It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be perfect.” Scott’s sinister smile chilled her resolve and another contraction struck before she could continue arguing.
He checked his watched and frowned. “You shouldn’t be having another contraction just yet.”
“I can’t hooooo control it!” Libby snipped.
“Oooo is this the part where you get all angry at me for doing this to you?” Scott joked with glee.
“You didn’t do this to me! This isn’t your baby Scott, please just let me go.”
“Don’t lie!!!!!” Scott shouted, an angry fire flashed briefly in his eyes and his fists clenched tight, but a second later the ire quickly disappeared. “You’re just scared, but it’s okay sweetie, I’m here and our baby will be fine.”
“Ohhh god…..” Libby grunted, the baby slipping lower and pressing against her cervix. She had to move, this position was unbearable, but her legs were useless during the raging contraction. She tried to push herself up, yanking her hands forward but the handcuff rattled and left her arm twisted backwards. “Mnnhhh- handcuffs…. Please undo the handcuffs…”
“You know I can’t do that Lib.” Scott said reluctantly.
“Please…. Mnghhhhh the baby…. I need to move. Can’t stay like this Scott…” Libby groaned and whimpered as the contraction peaked and gradually faded.
“I’m sorry honey, I can’t risk it. But let’s get you back onto the bed shall we, you’ll be much more comfortable there.”
The contraction had left her winded, Libby didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. But when Scott approached and went to help her up she managed to grit “Don’t touch me!” batting his advancing hands away.
“That’s gonna be difficult when I’m delivering our child.” Scott sarcastically replied.
Libby’s stomach rolled, not from a contraction but at the disgusting thought of Scott between her legs. Nausea bubbled inside, rising up her throat. She retched. “I think I’m gonna be sick…”
Scott jumped back as she dry heaved. “Erm…. I’ll get a bucket. Hang on.”
Libby struggled up to her knees, clinging sideways to the bed, and vomited all over the floor. The force of her stomach expelling its contents pushed the baby against her dilating cervix and towards the birth canal. She couldn’t stop herself from bearing down at the same time.
No no no… don’t push. Her brain cried but it wasn’t something she had control over.
By the time Scott returned with a bucket Libby had crawled back into the bed, leaving behind a puddle of amniotic fluid and vomit on the floor.
“Jeeze Libby, you’ve made a right mess. I’m glad we’re down here now, that would have been a nightmare to clean the carpets upstairs.”
“…water…” Libby panted, curled up on the bed and holding her hardened stomach, too exhausted to do anything other than bear through the labour pains tearing apart her body.
“Okay, sure.” Scott picked up the glass from the table and gently poured it into Libby’s dry mouth. “Everything will be okay Libby, our baby is nearly here.” He whispered, placing a grimy hand onto her bump and feeling the swell, his eyes hungrily lighting up as his fingers caressed the curve.
~•~
She was dying. This was how it would end; trapped in the dirty basement of her crazy ex boyfriend. She never got to meet her baby, or get married, never got to buy her own home, or travel the world. The pain was so much she could barely see. Curled up on the bed Libby groaned into the pillow as the latest contraction squeezed her body in on itself. She was vaguely aware of Scott flapping around the room, he was talking but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The only thing she could focus on was the mass of the baby’s head sitting right behind her opening, and she was doing everything she could not to push.
The last few hours had been torture. She’d thrashed around the bed, screaming and begging to be freed, to be taken to the hospital. When transition hit she was brought back onto all fours, grunting and pushing without any semblance of control. Scott rubbed her back and encouraged her through it. She didn’t have the strength to bat him off but she did manage to aim her next round of vomiting onto his feet. And all the while Scott refused to unlock the handcuffs and she remained chained to the bed.
Now she was lying on her side over the covers, exhausted, her body completely and utterly drained. Her knees were curled up as much as she could, her bump squashed between her thighs and her breasts. The contractions were right on top of each other and she panted heavily through each one.
Don’t push! Don’t push! Don’t push! she told herself again and again.
“Right, the waters boiled, everything’s disinfected. Clamps and scissors ready. Towel, check. All we need now… is the baby…” Scott muttered, organising and reorganising the equipment.
Ever since the well-timed vomit, he had kept a grateful distance from Libby. He looked through all the toys and clothes in the crib, talking about all the things he would do with his child, trips they’d make, sports they’d play. He was in his own little world, Libby was just a background character.
Relentless contractions kept hitting her one after the other, she breathed as quietly as she could, tears leaking past her lashes from the effort it was taking not to push. She could feel the baby start to stretch her lips, the head inching further and further even without her active pushing. He’d removed her underwear not long after her waters had broken but her dress remained on her sweaty body, thankfully covering her lower half as she laid on the bed. Libby’s legs slightly parted of their own accord as the baby slipped lower. Still curled up on her side, the baby had a clear exit from its mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Scott was ignoring her when she was lying like this and it was the only position that didn’t make her scream. And yet it also proved to be aiding her delivery.
When the next contraction barrelled straight after its predecessor Libby found herself holding her breath and it was only when the burning feeling started that she realised she was pushing. But she couldn’t stop. Gasping another breath she pushed once more, the baby stretching her wider and wider. An involuntary grunt escaped the labouring mother and alerted Scott to her actions.
“Are you…. Libby - are you pushing?! Is it time?” Scott jumped and rushed over to the bed.
Libby curled further over, her face burying into the pillow, squashing her bump and raising her backside. She groaned long and deep as she pushed the baby further out.
“Oh babe, you can’t push like that! You need to get in the correction position for delivery.” Scott said assuredly with all the delusional confidence his “research” had given him.
He took her bent leg, rolling her over onto her back and she screamed. “Scott! No!” The pain was excruciating, her spine was being stabbed, the fire burning between her thighs. She needed to push but she couldn’t when he kept moving her body.
“You need to be in the right position. Come on now, I know what I’m doing.”
“Stop… I can’t… I need to push…” Libby grunted.
“Wait a minute darling, you’re not ready just yet.”
Scott pulled her up to a sitting position and pushed her back against the headboard, pointlessly fluffing the limp old pillows behind her. Her legs were dragged apart and knees were bent and he jumped onto the foot of the bed and looked up her dress.
“Oh my gosh I can see the head!!!” He squealed. He threw her dress up higher, creasing the fabric just below her baby bump, fully exposing Libby’s vagina and the oval shaped crown of the head.
“Push Libby! You can push now!” He urged.
“I’m not-having a contraction-” Libby panted, furious she had been moved into this ridiculous and torturous position. Nothing about it felt right to her body, she wanted to go back on her side, to kneel, squat, anything but this.
“Oh… erm… well on the next one then. Push. No wait, I forgot the equipment.” Scott bounced off the bed and collected all the sterilised equipment he’d been preparing in readiness. “Ha! All that excitement, nearly forgot these.” He placed the items next to him, by her feet. The metal scissors glinted as they caught the light.
A desperate idea began to form in her head, but a contraction soon swept over her and pulled her focus to the burning ring between her thighs.
“Yes!!! Go on Libby! Push!!!” Scott cried.
Curling forward Libby pushed, her body squeezing the baby lower, its head stretching her wider. She grabbed her thighs, gulped another breath, and pushed. The scissors caught the light again with the movement on the bed. If she could just grab them…
“It’s coming, keep it going honey!” Scott yelled and she could feel his trembling hand between her legs.
Libby huffed releasing the push. It was too much, it was too big…
“Come on baby, go again, you’re so close.” Scott urged.
“Hooo-hoooo- okay…. Here it comes….!!!!” Libby threw herself forward curling over her bump once more. With Scott’s focus on the crowning baby she quickly grabbed the scissors and hid them in the gathered fabric of her dress. She screamed as the baby reached a full crown. Panting frantically her body twitched as the baby stretched her so wide she thought she’d be torn in two. Then it slipped further and with a sudden wail the baby’s head was delivered.
“Wow! The heads out, my baby’s head is born.” Scott awed.
Leaning closer his hands trembled towards the newly born head sitting between her thighs. No! You are not touching my baby! Libby thought, and she grabbed the hidden scissors and plunged them straight into Scott’s neck as she released an animalistic maternal wail.
Scott’s eyes bulged out, roaring in agony as the sharp scissors pierced deep into his muscles. He jumped back, standing for the briefest second staring in horror at her, before collapsing to his knees. A drowning choked sound gargled his throat and when he pulled the scissors from his neck the jets of blood sprayed across the room.
Libby watched, in shock at what she’d just done, as Scott clutched his neck, choking and bleeding. After a few strangled seconds he collapsed face first on the ground.
“Oh my god… oh my god….” Libby trembled, adrenaline and fear pumping through every cell in her body. She had to get out of there.
Twisting awkwardly around, she held the handcuff steady with her free hand and pulled her other through the tiny gap. The skin ripped from her hand, the metal scraping bone, she yelled out in pain but didn’t stop pulling until her bloodied hand was free.
It was as if she had left her physical body, the pain a dull echo compared to the survival instinct to get out of this basement. “I’m gonna get you outta here…” she panted, putting a gentle hand over the baby’s head between her legs. She scrambled off the bed, legs bowed as she cupped the head, and rushed toward the stairs of the basement.
Libby was careful, her previous encounter with this wooden staircase not ending well, climbing wide legged step after step towards freedom. She barely made it halfway when she was struck by another contraction. Holding the head with one hand and gripping the bannister tight with the other, her body squatted as it tried to push.
“Mnghhhhhhh! Oohhhhhh hang on baby…. Mnghhhhhh…. Not yet.” She could feel herself pushing hard, the shoulders starting to press against her, itching to come out, but with a firm hand and heavy panting she made it through the contraction.
When she reached upstairs she was surprised how familiar it all was, Scott had taken her here once when they were dating. It wasn’t much, the furniture and decor were dated, but it was a nice family holiday home in a nice rural location. She shuddered when she thought of the secret prison that was hidden below her feet.
Being familiar with the property made her escape easier, she knew the layout and of course where he kept the keys - in the side dish by the fridge. Grabbing the car keys Libby headed for the door and threw it open. But the baby didn’t want to wait any longer.
She hung on to the doorframe for dear life as the raging contraction took hold. “No no no!!!! We’re so close mnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!” Her legs widened as she squatted, pushing uncontrollably against the wall of her hand that held the baby’s head. The shoulders were slipping through… she could feel them stretching… “Ohhh fuck!” She cried, desperately pushing and holding the baby in at the same time.
When the near constant contraction let up just the tiniest bit, Libby made a break for it and ran to the car, both hands between her legs cupping the emerging baby. Unlocking the car with the press of the button she threw open the back door and clambered inside. She quickly locked the door, scared that Scott would somehow still be coming after her, and when she heard the reassuring click of the locks she huffed an exhausted cry.
But the baby was coming, and it was coming now. On her hands and knees in the back seat Libby finally gave in to nature and pushed in earnest, grunting long and deep as the shoulders stretched and slipped out. Lifting up onto her knees to catch the infant she released a primal roar with the final push and the baby slipped into her bloodied hands.
“Ohhhhhh hey baby, it’s okay it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Libby cried, pulling the little boy to her chest. Wiping his face clear he gave a little cough and started crying, soon matched with the tears of his mother.
“We did baby, we got out.” Libby panted and cried, safe with her baby inside the locked car. After a few minutes she wrapped the baby up against her chest with the towel, umbilical cord still connecting mother and child, and she hesitantly opened the door and got into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, Libby drove herself and her new baby to safety.
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beansprean · 9 months ago
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A commission from andieandiiandee(@TikTok) based on chapter 14 of “Hounds of Love” by @andiforyou!! ❤️
(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: 1. Waist up of human Nandor dressed in a chainmail shirt with chest plating, a silver sword dangling from his left ear, a brown leather belt, and a brown leather baldric over his shoulder attached to a real sword at his hip. His hair is half up, twin braids from his temples forming a bun at the crown of his head and held in place by a leather clasp threaded with a stick. He is leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, and staring offscreen with hooded eyes and a small smile, a pink heart floating by his face. 2. What Nandor is looking at. Waist up of Jeremy and Guillermo from the back as they chat idly, the vague idea of a coat rack in front of them. Jeremy is wearing long white robes. Guillermo, half turned toward Jeremy with a smile as they chat, is making motions to shrug off his puffy winter coat. 3. Extreme closeup of Nandor's eyes as they fly open in shock, cheeks flushing red. 4. Close up of Guillermo in profile, from the bridge of his nose to just below his chest, as he shrugs his coat off to reveal his bare shoulder and arm in a plain black tank top, a golden chain around his neck disappearing into the shirt. His right hand, wearing a leather glove, pulls out a piece of black fabric with a dotted white design. 5. Hips up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV on a glowing pink background, surrounded by golden sparkles, as he drops the coat completely and throws a poncho over his shoulders to complete his outfit. He is paused in motion, eyes downcast, pink mouth pursed, arms raised chest-high as the poncho flutters into place around his shoulders. It is black and translucent, decorated with a silver beadwork pattern of spiderwebs. The end of the poncho hits right at his waist line, edges scalloped like bat wings with silver pearls adorning each peak. Four short makeshift spider legs are sewn to the bottom of his tank top, two on each side. In the background are pink-tinted close ups in Nandorvision: the flex of Guillermo's bicep, the stretch of his fingers beneath the glove, and the roll of his back and stomach beneath the tight tank top as his arms stretch overhead. 6. A pink-tinted Nandorvision fantasy: full body of Nandor and Guillermo in their current outfits as Nandor grabs Guillermo at the waist and dips him, knee pressing forward between his legs and head dipped to mouth at his neck. Guillermo's arms are looped around Nandor's shoulders and he is smiling blissfully, hearts floating around his head, cheeks flushed as he tilts his head to allow Nandor access to his throat. His left leg hitches around Nandor's hip as Nandor's right hand creeps beneath the hem of his tank top. 7. Shoulders up of the real Nandor, staring slackjawed at the visions before him, cheeks flushed red and eyes wide, irises gone pink to reflect where his mind is at. 8. Small corner panel of Nandor, chest up and casting a shadow on a sparkly pink background as he comes back down to earth. He blushes, flustered, and closes his eyes with resignation, thinking to himself: "I'm going to be beating suitors away with a stick..." /end ID
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