#after his first short hair cut she doesn’t let it go

[starshideurfics]

Can’t go home alone

steddie, aob, hurt/comfort, established secret relationship

I just can’t leave this concept alone 🥰

Pain pulses over and behind and around Steve’s eye along with the beat of his heart. It isn’t as bad as it was even an hour ago, and definitely not as bad as when he and Robin puked their guts out in the movie theater restroom.

But his head hurts. His chest hurts. And he just wants to curl up in his nest and hope his parents don’t come home in time to see him like this. 

But the paramedic checking him says he’s definitely got a concussion. “Have you got someone who can keep an eye on you for the next 48 hours?”

“I… Yeah, I do.” Steve leans his head on Robin’s shoulder, needing the support as he’s hit with a sudden dizzy spell. He really doesn’t want to hurl again.

“Steve,” Robin whispers, “There’s no way my mom is letting me stay at your house for two days. Or letting you stay at mine. She would freak if I had an omega in my room.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles back. “‘Preciate the offer, Robbie, but I’ve got someone.”

“Steve. You can’t just shrug this off!”

“I’m not! I do have someone.” He pouts, breathes deep, her scent sour still from the truth serum leaving her system. His face is hidden in her short hair as he mumbles, “I’ll stay with Eddie.” Steve’s so tired. 

He just wants to rest his eyes a minute, but Robin shakes his shoulder.

“Eddie? Steve what are you talking about?”

“I’ll stay at Eddie’s. He’ll take care of me.”

Robin is struggling to focus, her brain not as scrambled as Steve’s, but after a day and a half without enough to eat or drink coupled with everything else, she’s just as tired and confused. “Eddie who?”

Tires screech to a stop at the edge of the Starcourt parking lot, the closest cars can come now with the barriers up. Steve whips his head around to look towards the noise and his head spins. But then he sees a familiar, shitty van, the driver’s door opening and closing loud enough for Steve to hear the slam over the surrounding hubbub.

Pushing himself to his feet, Steve starts walking towards the streak of denim and dark curls racing towards him. He’s grinning like an idiot as Eddie stops just short of barreling into him, the rangy alpha delicately cupping his face. “Steve, baby, what the hell happened?” His fingers brush gently along Steve’s brow, over the cut on his lower lip. “I saw on the news—about the fire—called your place a dozen times and no one picked up. Been half-crazy worrin’ over you, and it looks like I was right to.”

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s touch.

“No, baby, not your fault. I’m just glad it isn’t worse.” He pulls Steve close, guides his face to the scent gland at his neck, and kisses his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Steve begins to purr, feeling safe for the first time in two days. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait! I gotta tell Robin!”

“What? Is Buckley here, too?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just pulls out of Eddie’s grip and stumbles back to the ambulance where Robin is still waiting, wrapped in an emergency blanket, her blue eyes glued to him as he approaches. “You’re dating Eddie Munson?” The, ‘and you didn’t say anything about that when we were spilling our guts literally and metaphorically on the bathroom floor’ is implied.

“Yeah. Eddie’s the best. He’s really sweet and he’s got a big—”

“Please don’t make me barf on you by finishing that sentence. I do not need to know what you and your alpha get up to behind closed doors.” Robin reaches for his hand. “Just… Call me in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve squeezes her fingers before loping back to Eddie and snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest.

Eddie rubs at Steve’s back. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.”

“Want me to make you a grilled cheese when we get back to my place?”

“Uh-huh.” Steve nods enthusiastically, only to bring on a wave of nausea, forcing him to shut his eyes and put all his weight on Eddie.

“Maybe I should just get you into bed.”

Steve moans wordlessly, lets himself be manhandled into the van, barely noticing anything beyond the bumps in the road that make his head ache more.

Once they reach Forest Hills, Eddie plops Steve on the couch, brings him water and a bag of frozen peas for his eye, and turns his attention to frying two sandwiches.

After Steve is fed, Eddie helps him into the shower, washing his hair in the tiny bathroom, and getting rid of the dried blood and days’ worth of sweat. 

They dry off together, and Eddie bundles Steve into his bed, their naked bodies pressed close beneath the covers. “I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie whispers, dropping a kiss to Steve’s unbruised temple. “You rest. And if you need anything, let me know, I’ll get it for you.”

“I know,” Steve hums, snuggling impossibly closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Now sleep.”

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #ficlet #stranger things fic

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi. So Rafe request for season 3.

Established relationship with the reader. Him and reader get back to tannyhill, alone obvi, and reader starts flirting with rafe and complimenting the buzz cut. How hot he is, always, but like especially now. And she points out that they r all alone in the hosue for the first time in years… and ya know no one would be around to-ahem- hear👀 them-… and Rafe is like: it’s on.

I do not like Rafe's buzz cut (I hate buzz cuts in general), but let's pretend

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Neither of you expected to be back to Tannyhill so soon, but Ward needed someone to take care of Cameron Development — sell the estates, sell the company, everything —, and who was better suited at the task than his — albeit unstable and impulsive — son?

You set foot on the island in mid-afternoon. The air was humid and the sun high, just the way you remembered.

When you got to the house, Rafe got your bags in while you opened a few windows to air the place and pulled some of the curtains to let some light in. Tannyhill was beautiful, but the air was stale from being locked.

‘’We can’t just show up and sell your dad’s whole business. We’ve been gone for weeks, Rafe. It’s gonna raise attention.’’

Rafe hummed from the ensuite bathroom of his room. He had not thought about that. None of the Camerons had been seen in Kildare in a while. A sudden appearance to sell estates and close offices would raise attention.

‘’We can say that Ward’s will have been read and that he bequeathed all of Cameron Development to you, but you aren’t interested in the business,’’ you suggested, taking out clothes from your bags and putting them away in the drawers.

‘’Yeah, that should work,’’ Rafe said, finishing with his toiletries and turning off the bathroom light. ‘’I’m gonna go and call my dad.’’

You nodded and finished unpacking.

When everything was put away, you wandered through the house and found Rafe in his dad’s bedroom, still on the phone. You had never been in that room before. It looked straight out from a decorating catalog.

‘’Dad, no. Dad! Are you being serious?’’ There was an irritation in Rafe’s tone, but you would only raise an eyebrow, silently asking what was going on. ‘’Of course you can trust me. I’ll go to the offices tomorrow and call you after, okay?’’ He hung up with a tight jaw.

‘’Is there a problem?’’

‘’My dad doesn’t trust me.’’ Rafe drew his eyebrows together. ‘’I don’t get it. I do everything he asks, make decisions for the good of our family, yet he fails to see that I’m doing good things. He only sees when I fuck up.’’

The relationship between Ward and Rafe will never be the father-son one Rafe desired. He'll never be the favorite regardless of how hard he tried to get in his father's good graces. It made your heart ache to see him constantly — and desperately — try to win his approval knowing Ward will never change his mind.

You stepped over to him, running a hand over the newly-short hair as Rafe’s arms wrapped loosely around your middle. ‘’It’s not so bad, it feels nice.’’

Rafe pulled his head back and looked up at you. ‘’What? My hair?’’ You hummed, running your hand over it again. It felt soft under your palm. ‘’I thought you hated it?’’

Hate was a strong choice of word. You simply weren’t a fan of buzz cuts...on anyone. It didn’t look bad on Rafe, though. It made his blue eyes stand out more.

‘’It's growing on me.’’

‘’Is it?’’

You let your hands slide down to his shoulders and chest, playing with the collar of his polo. ‘’We're alone in this huge house…’’ you pointed out, your eyes catching his and holding his gaze.

‘’Are we?’’ Rafe grabbed under your thighs and guided you to straddle him.

The skirt of your dress was riding up, but you didn’t care. It’s not like there was anyone to catch you in that position. Rafe slid his hands under your dress, exposing more skin as he attached his mouth to your neck.

You raised an eyebrow. ‘’On your dad's bed?’’

‘’Why not? It's not like he's ever gonna come back here.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #outer banks imagine #outer banks

[lilypadlys]

Haircuts make Dew uncomfortable.

A product of his element transition was that his hair got badly singed and most of the length had to be cut off. Dew loved his platinum blonde, practically white hair. Took immaculate care of it. Adored its body and how it rippled like water. And suddenly it was burnt and matted and gone. Then to add insult to injury, even after it grew back it became a harvest gold.

Dew hates it at first. No matter how much Aether and Mountain insist that his hair is prettier than ever, that it suits him so well, he hates it. At first, he wears it back and under hats and beanies, refusing to deal with it. Eventually it gets so bad though that he tries to bleach it. Unfortunately the bleach further trashes his already damaged hair and he has to get it cut short all over again.

His packmates know he needs help but they aren’t sure what to do. Compliments and affirmations are all well and good but they don't really help. Doesn’t fix it. He knows his packmates mean well but he can’t really take their words to heart.

Then one day, Cumulus asks Dew for his help with doing her hair. Says she’s trimming it to avoid split ends and could he help her with the back sections? He agrees and helps her out. He helps her straighten her hair so she can trim it, then helps her work in product afterwards to help it regain its curl. Then she asks if he would like her to do his.

He refuses immediately. His hair has just gotten back to a couple inches below shoulder length, still too short for his liking, and even an end trim seems like too much. She doesn’t take offense though, just nods and changes the subject; has him pick what scent of hair mask she should use next.

And then next time she does her hair, she has him help her decide how to style it; braids or in space buns. And the time after that if she should cut it all short for summer. He immediately gasps at the thought, and waxes poetic about how pretty her hair is until they’re both giggling. And then he regards his own tangled mane in the mirror.

He asks in a quiet voice if he can borrow her hair scissors. She agrees, handing them over and watching him carefully. He brings the scissors up to the ends of his hair, but he stops. Freezes. He can’t do it.

“Would you like me to help?” She asks gently.

He hesitates and then nods, passing the scissors back over. She gestures for him to sit on the edge of the tub and stands behind him.

“I’m just going to get the ends, alright? Just to help your hair be a bit less tangled. Is that okay?”

He nods, not trusting his voice.

She brushes through his hair gently, mindful of the tangles. Asks one more time if he’s okay with this. When he nods again she wraps a towel around him. She works as quickly as she can while still being careful to make sure everything is even. When she’s done, she sets the scissors aside and uses her air magic to sweep the cut ends of his hair away into the trashcan and out of sight. Then she brushes through his hair again and grabs the curling iron.

“Okay if I style it a little?”

“Sure.” Dew shrugs noncommittally.

An ironic perk of Dew’s hair now is that it’s a lot more fire resistant. Still Cumulus is careful not to turn the iron on too hot and risk burning herself. She uses it to add a slight wave to Dew’s hair before finally letting him look.

Dew gets up and shyly glances at himself in the mirror, eyes going wide once he does. Even though it’s not perfect, there’s still damaged ends left from lack of regular care, Dew has to admit that it looks a lot better. Cumulus had to take about three inches off but as he runs a hand through it and doesn’t get caught on a rats nest of tangled ends he sighs in relief. The slight wave has the corner of his mouth quirking up even as he begins to blink rapidly.

“Feel a little bit better?” Cumulus asks.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

They both ignore how Dew’s voice cracks a little. Cumulus definitely doesn’t notice that dampness around Dew’s eyes. She busies herself cleaning up while Dew turns away and rubs his eyes.

“If you’re up for it, I know what might really help. A nice deep shampooing and conditioning will go a long way towards helping maintain your hair. You can use my stuff and I’ll even help you wash if you want.”

Dew knows how protective over her hair products Cumulus is. The fact that she’s offering makes him smile. He nods.

“Thank you.”

Cumulus gets the both of them ensconced in the tub, Dew using his magic to keep the water steamy while Cumulus massages shampoo through his hair. The way her claws gently card over his scalp has him purring in no time despite the stress he’d been feeling. By the time she’s rinsing the conditioner, she practically has to hold him up so he doesn’t fall asleep right there in the bath. After, she helps him stand and wraps him in her fluffiest towel before wrapping a smaller towel around his head to dry his hair.

“Why don’t you get some comfy clothes and I’ll get a nest ready. Sounds good?”

“Uh huh.” Dew’s too worn out and sleepy to fuss about being taken care of.

He dutifully pads off to his room to change and Cumulus makes good on her promise and sets up a blanket and pillow nest. She’s just fluffing the last pillow when Dew returns in an oversized tee and sleep shorts, and mostly dry hair. Without complaint, he hops up on the bed and sinks into the blankets with a happy chirp. Cumulus finishes drying her own hair, changes into pajamas and joins him.

“Okay if I braid your hair? It’ll help with tangles and it’ll be wavy in the morning.”

“Kay.” He murmurs, already drifting off. She giggles and retrieves her brush from her nightstand. Dew is fast asleep before she even ties the braid off with a silk scrunchie.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #fluff #fluff and comfort #lys writes

[themultifandomgal]

Oh, oh, I have a request! ~~

I have had this one in my mind for a long time. What about Tommy Shelby X sister!reader where before the war he knew her as his sweet naive sister that chokes on cigarette smoke, doesn’t like whisky and looks exactly like their mother. After he returns she is a complete different person, while the men were at war she had to take on the family business with Polly, so she has become a kind of criminal genius? Cold, calculated, unhinged at times and highly intelligent. Tommy is so shock that at first he can’t even recognize her, the look in her eyes is completely different. Maybe that shock turns into fascination, and that fascination into concern as soon as he sees what she has become.

I hope I’m not in difficulty to you with this request, I just need to get it out of my mind. Feel free to ignore it. Thanks. 🫀

Shelby Sister- A Different Girl

Before the war YN was an innocent sweet girl who never smoked or drank. She was the Shelby's pride and joy having being the only one who would rather sit and read a book instead of going out getting pissed. Tommy remembered the first time John gave YN a drink and she almost threw up from it. He also remembered when she tried one of his cigarettes and couldn't stop coughing. YN was your typical sweet doe eyed girl. So when Tommy and his brothers returned from the war they almost didn't recognise the sweet girl. Before the war she would wear dresses, have her long hair braided with a bow now she was in trousers, her hair cut short and the smile she once wore on her face was now gone.

While the boys were away YN took on the family business with her aunt Polly, dealing with many men she had to learn to grow up and how to keep herself safe.

YN walks through the door of the betting shop with her head held high. She walks over to John who's writing the bets on the bored. Rolling her eyes YN snatches the chalk from her brothers hand leaving him shocked

"Your doing it wrong" YN says rubbing off his work "oh and since it's a Friday, Mr Johnson will be in. If you don't deal with him straight away he will cause issues"

"Issues" John scoffs

"Don't say I didn't warn you"

"YN go home. Your not needed" YN turns around to see Tommy walking in with Arthur. YN raises her eyebrows

"You need me"

"No we don't. We dealt with the shop fine before we went away"

"Polly and turned the shop into what it is today. So no. I'm not going home" YN and Tommy end up having a stare off which Tommy becomes fascinated with how much his sister has changed.

YN stays at the betting shop dealing with difficult men with ease which surprises all of her siblings. One man in particular enters the betting shop, a man YN has dealt with many times. The shop had not long closed

"I told you last time to piss off" YN says barley looking at the man while she carries on doing the books

"And I told you last time I'd be back"

"Look" YN sighs now looking up at the man "Mr Harris. I'm a bit tired of removing you from the the shop. So since my brothers are back I'll let you keep that last shred of dignity you have and let you walk out of here on your own" Mr Harris starts laughing as YN stands up from her seat. Tommy watches from his office ready to intervene and any second. But what took him back was seeing his once sweet and innocent sister take out a gun and give the man a warning shot. But when the man started laughing Tommy whiteness his sister shout the man in the head. Fascination turns to concern as he watches YN place her gun back in her holster then wipe the blood off her face

"I actually liked this top" she sighs

"YN?" Tommy slowly walks out of his office slowly "why did you shoot him?"

"He's been a pain for months. Good riddance if you ask me. Now I best get rid of this body" YN says placing her hands on her hips. Long gone has Tommys sister, and she's been replaced with almost a new person. Someone Tommy knows doesn't need protecting, someone he knows he can rely on.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader #tommy shelby #sister shelby #shelby sister #peaky blinders sister #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic

[sky-scribbles]

Shepard holds a funeral for her clone.

The paperwork is almost harder than the ceremony. Turns out it’s tricky to register the death of someone whose birth - creation? Decanting-from-vat? - was never recorded to begin with. Then there’s some kind of question about whether the clone needs to be retroactively registered as a Council space citizen to have her death put on the official record, and if so, whether she counts as a member of the Systems Alliance or as an ‘undocumented alien’. Which is pretty fucking ironic, considering how utterly she’d have loathed having the word alien attached to her.

And once Shepard’s ground her teeth through a dozen calls and bludgeoned through the first layer of formwork - a death certificate still needs a name.

‘I have to put something,’ she says. She’s aware that her voice is ragged, and that Kaidan is watching her as he brews her fourth coffee of the evening with concern heavy on his face. She must look barely alive, up near midnight in a kitchen that was Anderson’s and still feels nothing like hers, hair falling forward, eyes shadowed grey. Datapads and empty mugs strewn around her. Fine. She’s felt barely alive ever since she woke up in a Cerberus lab.

‘You could choose one for her,’ Kaidan says gently. A lot of people speak to her gently, these days.

‘She’d hate that. A name makes you individual. She didn’t want to be an individual; she wanted to be me.’

The cofee machine whirrs softly, sounding louder than it is in the open space of the apartment. It still doesn’t feel right, all this space for one person. Someone could drown in this much space.

‘She didn’t want to be you, though. Not really.’ Kaidan pours out the coffee, his eyes only leaving her face for a moment. ‘What she wanted was to be the symbol. The face on the vids.’

He carries the mug over and sets it down beside her hand. Shepard grips it tight. The unfinished form blinks up at her from the datapad screen, and she looks away.

‘I’m not asking this because I don’t support you doing it, or to judge you for it, or anything,’ Kaidan says, after a moment. ‘I just want to understand. Can you tell me why this is so important to you? I mean - I get that you were trying to save her, and she... she let go. But...’

He hesitates, and in his silence Shepard hears, she tried to kill you. She tried to take you away from me, and everyone who cares about you, for a second time - because she was jealous.

Shepard sips her coffee. It hasn’t had time to cool down, and her lips smart. She ignores it. She thinks.

‘What you said about... being the symbol,’ she says at last. ‘I get why she wanted it, or thought she did. I understand feeling that Commander Shepard is someone bigger than you are.’

Kaidan breathes out slowly, and takes a seat beside her.

‘I get feeling that you’re so small, so nothing, next to everyone’s idea of what Commander Shepard is. And when I fall short -’ She sees him prepare to protest, and cuts across him. ‘I do, I do all the time - I feel like it’d be easier if I were the symbol. Not...’ She waves a hand, indicating all the sleep-starved mess of her. ‘This. I don’t even know when what would Shepard do and what will I do stopped feeling like the same question.’

She lets her hand fall back onto the table. Kaidan takes it and holds it tight.

‘And I think of her, the clone, waking up in some Cerberus med bay. Confused. And Brooks - Brooks was there, feeding her things to believe, manipulating her, turning her into the symbol she wanted. And I get it.’ Shepard bites her burned lip. ‘Because I woke up in a Cerberus lab. And I was scared. And they used me, and I let them.’

What she does not add is, and sometimes I don’t feel any more real than her. I don’t have any way to prove that I’m the woman who died in the wreckage of her broken ship. They wiped away that woman’s scars. There could be all kinds of tech in my head, feeding me a lie, telling me I’m real.

She swallows. Her throat feels raw. ‘And now the clone’s dead, and no one cares. We’re planning a fucking party. If I don’t push for a funeral, she’ll just go unregistered and undocumented and everyone will keep joking about how crazy this whole mess has been, how I fell through a fish tank and a mad clone tried to steal my life, and it’d be like she never existed at all. I don’t have to fill in these forms. I could take the easy road and let her be a ghost. But I can’t do that, Kaidan. I can’t.’

He looks at her, his eyes steady and patient and full of worry. Then he slips an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in, and Shepard leans into him, needing the surety of his touch, his warmth. Anything that tells her she’s something more than a force piloting a set of N7 armour.

Kaidan presses a slow kiss to the top of her head. He holds her until she stops feeling ready to howl. Then he sits with her and helps her fill in the forms, helps her choose a name for the clone, one that fits. When morning comes, he calls C-Sec and stays on the line until they agree to release the body to the Normandy, into the custody of the only person who could be considered the dead woman’s relative. 

He doesn’t ask Shepard any more questions as to why she needs this done.

In the end, they bury her in space, as Shepard would a crewmate. And no one has stories to tell of what she meant to them. They have nothing to say about the achievements of her angry little life. But they wear their dress blues, and speak softly, and they turn the lights down low.

Shepard doesn’t know if this is what her clone would have wanted. Maybe she never learned to want anything for herself at all. It doesn’t matter. A funeral doesn’t help her clone; it helps her.

They lift the casket into the airlock. EDI opens the outer door. And the casket leaps away into space in a blur of silver-grey, like the body within is hungry for the stars.

#anyway the clone is a walking tragedy and ill never be normal about it #yes this is still a cr blog. but im doing a mass effect replay and i have feelings #mass effect #femshep #shepard #kaidan alenko #shenko #sky's writing #oc: sita shepard

[mikeysw1fey]

falling for you

pairing: tara carpenter x female reader

warnings: embarrassing y/n.

a/n: the requests are being written guys i apologise for the time it’s taking

The first time I see her is on my way to my bio lecture. She was walking in the other direction, books tucked comfortably under her arm as she laughed with some curly haired girl.

It was crazy how fast I managed to fall for her, both physically and mentally.

Stumbling forwards I brace myself for the pain as I land face first into the concrete. “Oh shit are you good?” I curse whoever the higher power of this world is as the girl rushes over to my side.

“I’m good, just clumsy.” I manage to laugh through my embarrassment as I push myself to my knees, wincing as I run my hand over my face. “Your bleeding.” She contradicts monotonously as her eyebrow raises.

Seeing her up close made me want to fall over again, her perfect brown eyes that could swallow me whole and her nose adorned in little freckles that made a trail all the way down her cheeks. “Did you get a concussion or do you always stare this hard?” She asks scrunching her nose slightly.

“Neither?” I chuckle awkwardly willing the floor below me to open up and take me away from this pride shattering situation. “Ok, well if your ok then I have a class to get to. Try not to hurt that pretty face of yours anymore alright?” And with that she sends me a smile and a wave before heading back to her curly haired friend and continuing on her path to class.

………

“You fucking fell over in front of her?”

“Shut up ok, I didn’t mean to.” I hiss at my best friend Charlotte who doubles over in laughter earning a glare from our bio teacher.

“Oh that’s beautiful. I wish I was there.” Charlotte cackles wiping a tear from her eye. “Did you at least get her name?” She asks still recovering from her laughing fit. I run a hand down my face once again forgetting about the cut running across the side of my cheek. “Fuck ow.” I inhale sharply making sure it hadn’t re opened before turning back to my friend. “And no I’m a fucking idiot. You know this. I can’t talk let alone flirt with pretty girls. Especially ones who flirt back and call me pretty.” I sigh and rest my hands under my chin. “Besides this campus is massive, I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

Charlottes eyes roll playfully. “Your life is sad. So pathetically sad.” Her hand rubs my back as she turns her attention back to our teacher.

………

With an aching head I manage to sit through the rest of my classes for the day and answer the many many questions on what happened to my cheek. None of which I answered honestly.

And with my last class over I go to head back to my apartment with Mac Miller blasting in my ears but a light tap on my shoulder forces me to pull out my airpods and turn around.

“Hi, sorry for interrupting your music session, just wanted to make sure you were ok after your… fall, earlier.” The same short brown eyed girl from earlier smiles up at me, her eyes lingering on my cheek.

My heart skips a beat (or five) and my hands rush to tuck my stray hairs behind my ears. “Oh uh that’s ok. I’m alright just got this to deal with when I get home.” I shrug nonchalantly as if the cut on my cheek didn’t make me sob in a bathroom for ten minutes.

The girl laughs, a sound that makes me believe I just ascended into heaven. “Yeah you better make sure that doesn’t scar. Although it’s a known fact that chicks dig scars so.” She smirks cheekily and winks.

“My names Tara by the way.” She extends her hand and I take it slowly. “Y/N. My names Y/N.” I shake her hand gently, our hands remaining intertwined for longer than is considered normal.

“You know how to take care of your cheek?” Tara asks leaning on her tippy toes to get a better view of the wound. “Uh, I’ll just have a shower and hope it gets better I guess.” I laugh awkwardly as Tara shakes her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“This might be forward but can I come to your apartment? Just to make sure you treat your cut well. I’ve had my fair share of wounds I know what to do with them and I’m sure you don’t want your face scarred forever.” Tara shrugs before looking down at her shoes that dig awkwardly against the pavement.

“I’m ok with it. So long as you don’t plan to murder me.” I chuckle causing Tara to place her attention back on me, her eyes rolling playfully. “Please, I’m five foot basically nothing. I think you’ll be fine.” She retorts as the two of us slowly begin walking towards my apartment.

“You never know. They say the small ones are the ones you need to watch out for.”

……

Arriving back at my apartment, Tara is quick to ask where my bathroom is before tugging me towards it. “Have a shower and hope.” She scoffs as she mocks my earlier words. Shoving me against the bathroom sink, although she apologises at the unnecessary force used, Tara rummages through my medicine cabinet until she finds what she’s looking for.

Antiseptic.

“This is gonna hurt.” She smiles apologetically before moving to stand between my legs, her brown eyes catching mine. “Is this alright?” She asks, slowly reaching up to grip my jaw. “Better than ok.” I scrunch my nose up as she blushes before letting out a whine as she finally presses the liquid to my wound.

“I knew you were trying to kill me.” I breathe, trying my hardest not to look like a wimp. Tara’s eyes flicker to my own filled with worry before returning to my cheek as she dabs away. “Trust me, this is the least painful part.” She chuckles. I don’t reply, simply fixated on her concentrated face.

Once again I find myself following her trail of freckles and losing myself in her brown eyes. Only this time I don’t have a concussion to blame it on when she catches my stare.

“So what’s the excuse this time?” She whispers, her nose basically brushing mine as she gazes up at me.

I can’t reply, my voice stuck in my throat as her dimples appear following her toothy grin. Mustering up as much courage as I possibly can I let my hand fall upon her waist pulling her further into my legs. “I don’t have one.” I manage to breathe out as her breath hitches.

I watch as Tara’s eyes fall to my lips, her tongue running over her own. “Just kiss me.” I whisper surprised at my own confidence.

But confidence is key as Tara’s lips connect with my own, her hands leaving my jaw to tangle themselves in my hair as I squeeze her waist gently.

Capturing her tongue with mine is something that I had yet to even imagine, the feeling of euphoria rushing through every nerve in my body.

Only when breathing becomes a problem do I pull back and grin at the flushed face of the brown eyed girl before me.

“Your beautiful.” I sigh moving a hand to her cheek and caressing it lightly. Her lips twitch upwards as she shrugs. “Your cheek is still not treated. Let me finish my job and we can finish this later.” She teases softly before leaning in to peck my lips once again.

“And I promise you. We will.”

#wlw post #lesbian #fluff #jenna ortega #scream #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter

[miscfandomwrites]

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Scientist! Reader Fluff

Warnings: None

Words: 876

Requested by:

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“When are you coming home?” my girlfriend’s worried tone makes me wince as I change into my secondary clothes.

“I’m almost done with this, Nat. I’m so close to being done and then-”

She cut you off: “It doesn’t matter, (Y/N), you’ve been working on this for the past two days straight. I haven’t seen you since tuesday. I miss you.”  

I sighed as I finished buttoning my pants up. “I don’t know Nat. I don’t want to go home unless I’ve made a breakthrough. I’m so close.” I told her as I picked up the phone, shoving my other clothes into my duffle bag.

“Fine, I’ll come to you.” She replied with a huff, and then hung up. 

She’ll come to me?

~~

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my exhausted and almost burnt out girlfriend, (F/N), (L/N)?” Natasha said to the clerk.

“Thirteenth floor, beware though, I’ve heard she’s on her third pot of coffee and hasn’t slept in two days.” The man replied, waving her through to the elevators. Natasha nodded at the man and headed up to your floor.

~~

“Shit, not another failure…” I muttered as I peered into the microscope, awaiting for the reaction between the cells. Faint lofi music was playing from one of the computers, amidst the sound of another pot of coffee brewing.

“(Y/N)?” Natasha’s voice had me jerking my head away from the scope, nearly making me hit my head on the shelf above me.

I cleared my throat and winced. “Hey, Nat..” I spoke softly. She looked around at the mess of papers, empty coffee cups, mostly papers, the occasional energy drink, and the few notebooks I had around and open.

“C’mon, Любить, let’s go home. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?’ She asked as she started gathering my scattered belongings.

I scratched the back of my head as I took off my lab coat. “I honestly don’t remember.” I told her.

She paused and looked at me. “The last time I remember seeing you eat was when we had dinner on tuesday. What sounds good to you?” She questioned with a worried tone.

“I was thinking-”

“No takeout. Something we can make at home that’s semi-healthy." She cut me off.

I chucked, then started taking down my hair. Wow, when was the last time I washed my hair? 

“Chicken sounds good.” I replied, finger-combing through my hair.

She nodded and shouldered my bag, before holding her hand out for me. I took it, and we headed towards the elevators.

“FIREROX, System save and shutdown.” I called over my shoulders, letting the A.I. take the rest of the task off my shoulders.

“Do you want me to text Natasha that you are on your way home, miss?” it asked me.

I smiled at the redhead holding me hand.

“There’s no need. Thank you and good night.” I told it as the elevator doors closed. 

Once inside, she pulled me into a hug. “Yeah, yeah, I know you smell. I don’t care. I missed you.” She whispered as she held me close.

“I could tell, love.” I replied, hugging her closer to me and breathing in her scent.

Once out of the building, I took a second to breath in the fresh air and roll my shoulders. 

“C’mon, nerd. Let’s go home.” 

~~

Finally back at our house, Nat’s first instructions were to take a shower then do whatever else. Well, she was going to cook and then we’d eat after that, then whatever else.

However, once I got under the warm water I started to realize how exhausted I really was. We’re not made to run on constant caffeine and no sleep for a few days. I did my best to quickly scrub down and get out, drying off as quickly as the cloud of exhaustion would let me. Wrapped in a towel, I headed into our room and pulled on some underwear and a pair of my shorts, and then one of Nat’s hoodies. Drying my hair and dropping the clothes into the room’s laundry basket, I headed out to the kitchen.

“Hey, Любить.” Nat said as I padded into the kitchen. I hummed and sat at one of the barstools, making grabby hands at her. She laughed and tossed the kitchen towel on her shoulder before coming around and holding me. She kissed my cheek before fully holding me, arms wrapped around my torso and her face pressed into my neck. Her hair was tied into a ponytail and wearing one of my black t-shirts and a pair of jeans, she was beautiful. 

After a few minutes she wiggled out of my grip to go finish dinner. Once that was done, and we finished eating, she dragged me over to the couch and yanked me on top of her. 

#miscfandomwrites #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

[lume-nosity]

zzz

when you sleep on the same bed as them

ft: xiao, scaramouche, ganyu, yoimiya

style: fluff

notes: gn!reader, not proofread, use of you/your, minor dialogue is only on scaramouche’s part, can be perceived as modern or canon genshin verse, i forgor how to grammar

reblogs are appreciated!

adeptus xiao

while you’re sleeping, xiao was still up. he was thinking about a lot of things, but hearing your snores snapped him out of his thoughts.

he looked over his shoulder and saw you sleeping peacefully. the sight made him muster up the tiniest smile known to man.

he was admiring your resting state… for a little too long.

when he realized what he’s doing he instantly looked away and his cheeks tinted pink. he covered half of his face with the shared blanket as he was trying his best to calm down.

(he doesn’t, his heart is conflicted)

he started to close his eyes in an attempt to escape to the realm of dreams as a way to have him relax.

well, that was cut short real quick. because you decided to shuffle a bit and move your hand to touch xiao’s arm.

if there’s a deeper red color then that’s the color of xiao’s cheeks.

surprisingly, despite his disliking to physical contact, he stayed still.

he didn’t want to wake you or anything, so he lets you do as you wish despite the intense blush on his face.

for your sake and comfort, he (slowly) moved his hand to grab your hand and gently squeezed it.

this made you smile in your sleep and xiao lets out a huff of relief as his eyes were still closed.

maybe this isn’t so bad after all..

scaramouche

hearing you snore, he just gave you a soft kick to the leg. but that just made you snore a little louder. 

he sighed in annoyance as he moved to face you. he propped his elbow on his pillow and rested his head against his hand. he shook his head lightly. 

‘what am i going to do with you?’ he whispered.

but he has to admit, at first, he thought it was a waste of time to be acquainted with someone who would most likely leave him in the end much like the others.

but you didn’t. (because you aren’t like other people) you’re sleeping on the same bed as him.

and you’d need a reasonable amount of trust for something like this to happen.

when that thought came to mind, it did make him feel a little warm inside.

his eyes moved away from your sleeping figure to his free hand. he was observing it for a bit before he closed it.

he chuckled softly before choosing to lay down on his pillow and shuffled a bit to get comfortable. but he’s still facing you. he didn’t turn his back on you, because you didn’t turn your back on him. (this sounded cheesy i’m sorry)

with a low and quiet voice, he whispered:

‘sweet dreams.’

ganyu

unlike the other two, she’s actually sleeping with you.

she’s smiling in her sleep, because she finally gets to rest. (she deserves it)

until… you hugged her in your sleep.

ganyu’s eyes shot open as she turned her head to see you having a rather firm grip around her body.

her cheeks gradually grew red as she shifted a little to have you feel more comfortable in holding her. she didn’t seem to mind the touch somehow.

but this action made you snuggle closer to ganyu, your face coming into contact with ganyu’s soft and fluffy blue hair.

a squeak left ganyu’s mouth but she quickly covered her mouth with her free hand. she sighed in her hand before choosing to shut her eyes.

she thought it may be best for you to be as comfortable as you can whilst the both of you are sleeping on the same bed.

if you were to touch her horns, not only would she be more flustered than she is now, she’ll most likely cease to exist.

but you should consider yourself lucky for being well acquainted with her, because she will let you touch her horns. doesn’t matter if you’re sleeping or not.

she’s that comfortable with you. despite her bashfulness.

yoimiya

yoimiya is the only one where you and her are up just chilling on the same bed.

playing with plushies, building pillow forts, watching movies together, stuff like that.

she’s your go-to person when it comes to who you’re staying up with.

but when you start to become a little drowsy, she’ll open her arms and let you rest in her embrace. and vice versa.

she’s also the only one who’s confident with physical contact on this list. giving or receiving. (preferably giving)

and she will also sing lullabies to you as you rest in her arms. maybe rocking you back and forth as well.

a smile even crept on her face as she cooed at your sleeping face.

an: guys i wasn’t lying when i said i was blushing over my wip.. i was hiding my mouth in my hand as i was giggling like a little child. (idk if reading that made you give off the same reaction but whatever) i’m starting to have fun writing mini scenarios like this, because it’s cute and simple. i’ll likely write scenarios similar to these often <3

#✏️ lume writes #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #ganyu x reader #xiao fluff #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #ganyu fluff #yoimiya x reader #yoimiya fluff

[dollfaceksj]

my cal 17 prediction : after the question yoongi will be like ???? and confusion + miscommunication = long awaited kiss <3 but i think im choosing to be delusional

hm… short update but some important info!!

can’t afford love | myg (m) #17

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WHAT DO YOU DO?

“Is Yuna the person you slept with?” — 83,4%

SAY NOTHING — 16,6%

319 votes

you chose:

“Is Yuna the person you slept with?”

↓

“is yuna the person you slept with?”

the question catches him off guard, that much you can tell

he glances over his shoulder at you, dropping the shirt he was folding

“what?”

ouuu

the ‘what?’ sounded

hmm..

confused? annoyed? weirded out? you’re not sure

you fight the urge to roll your eyes. you know he heard you

“did you sleep with yuna?” you ask, sliding your jacket back onto your arms

he blinks a few times

drags his gaze down your body and back up to your face

“and why does that matter?”

ah..

dodging the question?

“it doesn’t. can’t a gal be curious?”

he shrugs. “you worded it weirdly.”

girl what😭

he’s so infuriating

you frown in annoyance. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs again. so fucking nonchalant. “you just worded it weirdly.”

you fight the urge to groan loudly. “when you asked me if i’d been with anyone, i said no. i asked you the same and you didn’t answer. clearly that means you have. i was wondering if the person in question was yuna.”

he stares at you for a moment longer before chuckling and shaking his head

he stares at the wall for a moment, tongue rolling against the inside of his cheek

he raises to his feet

walks up to you

puts his hands on his hips

can he STOP getting into your proximity like this omg..

you fight the urge to reach out and hold his arms

squeeze his biceps

pull him closer

STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.

he slightly shakes his head and tilts it to the side whilst he stares you down, his long black hair messy and beautiful. “what makes you think i fucked her?”

you shrug. “she was staring at us the entire time yesterday. figured she must’ve been jealous.”

he tilts his head to the side. “jealous? well, i suppose she was.”

huh??

so

?

they did fuck?

“she was?”

damn. u didn’t think he’d confirm it just like that

“hm,” he hums in confirmation. “but probably jealous of me. not you.”

at this, you frown

why would she be jealous of him?

“huh?”

he rolls his eyes as if you should know what you mean

“yuna’s gay, einstein. thought you were really pretty. said i was a bastard for letting you go or something like that.”

oh.

OH.

“oh,” you breathe out

she thought you were pretty?

oh

she was also really pretty.

:))

but

if she didn’t sleep with yoongi

that means there’s still someone else out there who has

“so then,” you start, scratching the back of your head. “you didn’t have sex with her.”

he bitterly chuckles

“no.”

you slowly nod your head

okay

OKAY.

he starts, “but why do you care? i mean–”

you cut him off. “the exact same reason that made you ask me that question in the first place, you dickhead.”

ouuuu

smack cam

like is he serious?

why did HE ask it in the first place!!

he licks his lips. crosses his arms. “i’ll be honest since you can’t be.” he takes a step forward, closing the gap between you two.

his breath fans down on your face

makes you look up at him

your eyes big and doe-like exactly how he likes them.

he says, “i asked because i can’t fucking stand the thought of anyone else touching you. happy?”

ah

there it is

it was pretty obvious to begin with but you’re satisfied to hear it now

“since you wanna be so honest,” you begin, “why don’t you go ahead and tell me who the hell you fucked?”

he squints his eyes at you

drops his eyes down to your lips

then back up to your eyes before he shrugs

“i don’t remember.”

???

does he think he’s being funny

“what?”

“i don’t remember.”

what the fuck??

oh he’s about to piss you off forreal

“what do you mean, you don’t remember?”

he sighs in exasperation. “that i don’t fucking remember who i slept with, y/n. jesus.”

you angrily frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “how the hell did that happen?”

his lips twitch and so do his eyebrows

he does this when he’s mad

or annoyed

or both

“you wanna know how that fucking happened?” he doesn’t let you answer as he wraps his hand around your bicep and pushes you flat against the wall

you were already close to the wall but now you’re caged

his body keeping you trapped against the wall

seems like he’s still doubting whether to tell you

seems like its on the tip of his tongue

seems like your eyes simply break his resolve.

“it happened after the divorce was finalized.”

ah fuck

he’s telling you

are you even ready to hear this?

well, you asked for it

“i cried my fucking heart out. what the hell was i supposed to do? the love of my life wanted nothing to do with me anymore. i drank for months. i drank so fucking much that i’d pass out in my own vomit.”

oh

you remember seokjin and jimin talking about how bad yoongi was taking the divorce but so were you

you were in your own world of pain

but the thought of yoongi crying, drinking until he vomits and passes out in his own puke is gut wrenching

you brows furrow together as you stare up at him

his voice sounds so angry yet delicate

like it’ll break any moment

and the look on his face

is heartbreaking

“so, when the boys told me to go out with them for the first time in years, i didn’t decline. i literally don’t even remember that night. woke up in some random lady’s bed. condom still on my dick and i didn’t even fucking cum cause there were no traces anywhere. i left immediately. that what you wanna fucking hear? i don’t know her name or what she looks like. just know that she sort of looked like you.”

oh

wow

okay

silence.

complete

and utter

silence

your nose starts heating up

eyes start tearing

fuck

your bottom lips starts to quiver as you try to swallow your sobs

he lets go of you

and you both just

stare. in silence.

his feline eyes are so intense. it’s like it’s the only thing you can see in this moment

you part your lips to say something

anything

but nothing comes out

and just on cue

there’s a sound ripping through the room

his intense eyes tear away from you when he hears the sound of his babyphone

it’s jun

he sighs and shakes his head

runs his hand through his hair

whilst you stand there trying to process this information, yoongi slides his bathrobe on and leaves to go check on jun

it’s quiet in his room

cold

lonely

you wonder how many times he was in this room and just cried over you

over losing you

but

by the time he comes back to his room

you’re nowhere to be found

to be continued.

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@pamzn @jknoah @ahgasegotarmy116 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @Teddytaee @pnkmyg @yoongallery @agustdswifey @purp13st4r @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @kookssecret @p34rluv @xumyboo @jojowantstocry @minjenna @codeinebelle @Futuristiclovedreamland @rirushu @taegicity @namgihours @ultminyoongi @swinterr @butterymin @partyparty-yah @bettybloop @secfir @coffeedepressionsoup @keroppitae @manuosorioh @whoa-jo @etaerealboyv @kaiparkerwifes @Luvjiminandyoongi @luvbeomkai @petalsofink @paradiseyoongies @gaby-93 @MMFranklin @llallaaa @vickyyy97 @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @shabbamadapot @rrrapmonste-rr @jjeonjennie @yoongisducky @s3l3n0phil3 @Itsmina29 @namjoonsbuspass @hoseokshobagi @laurenrodr @keshiadeija @acquiescence804 @swga-ficrecs @sato-hana02 @honsoolhour @kimseokgen @Imene1609 @joonsmagicshop @yunki-yunki-yunki @ellesalazar @casual-death @minyoongiswife0293

#clover’s drabble series: cal | myg #yoongi #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #min yoongi angst #yoongi drabble #bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader #bts reader #yoongi fic #yoongi fics #minors dni #dollfaceksj #yoongi au #suga x y/n #suga x reader #suga x you #suga smut #bts fics

[taeraemisu]

i found you ; gunwook zb1

synopsis ; gunwook and reader were lovers in their past life but a certain accident kills the two, separating them. gunwook, who remembers all his past lives, made it his personal mission to find reader over and over again, even if it meant living multiple lifetimes without them

genre ; based on see you in my 19th life ! (was listening to one of their ost while writing this) reincarnation, soulmates if you think, angst, i-love-you-in-every-universe, deaths

pairings ; gunwook x reader, mentions of junhyeon

word count ; 1.5k words

“look at what i got!”

gunwook looks up and sees you wearing a new semi-formal outfit. the both of you were in his house, just wanting to spend the day together. gunwook shows you his signature smile and ruffled your hair. maybe there are good things to look forward to in life. “i think you look great, what’s the occasion?”

“no occasion, i just wanted to look good.”

gunwook smiles again and pokes your cheek. he does not hesitate to show you how much he adores you. he had lived so many different lives that he never bothered to find love, but yet you, were different. knowing most of his lives were short-lived, he never hesitated to tell you how much you mean to him. this time though, he is praying for a life where he could grow old with you. “you always look good,” he says, admiring you once more.

you blushed slightly and hit his shoulder playfully. “you and your way of words-“

he grins and gives you a hug, cutting your words off. “let’s go out today. we can’t let that good outfit go to waste, can we?” he holds your hand and picks up a few of his belongings, before leaving the house and heading to the car. he opens the car door and lets you go in first. “after you, my lady,” gunwook says in a british accent. you laughed at his words and get in, gunwook closing the door after you before getting into the driver’s seat.

you both drive off, you admiring how gunwook looks while driving. how could you get so lucky? you were not that affectionate of a person but gunwook knew that he means to you as much as you mean to him. “hey gunwook have i ever told you-“

the screeching of the tires rang throughout your ears, causing the both of you to flung forward and back, your foreheads bleeding upon impact. glass shards flew everywhere, cutting your skin before you passed out momentarily.

no, no, no! gunwook panicked when he regained consciousness, barely able to open his eyes. the both of you were now on the ground, the car flipped over. he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled his way towards you, unbuckling yours and trying to drag you out of the car with as little energy he have left. “yn! wake up! please!” he pleads, tears pouring out of his eyes. he pokes your cheek softly, hoping you wake up. he feels his energy start to drain away and he knew he did not have that much time left.

“yn, you can’t hear me but-“ his voice cracks and he lays down beside you, losing his energy. “i will find you, please, remember me.” gunwook was crying by now, you weren’t responding to him. “i will remember you so promise me you will, please?”

sirens were ringing in his ear and he wanted to see you do any sort of sign that you heard what he said. why was life so unfair? why did his current life end so early when he was finally happy?

“yn, i-“

and it all went black.

first life without you . .

gunwook groans. he was reborn as the son of a conglomerate family. although his current life is luckier than most, he could not enjoy it.

you weren’t here.

he did not know where to start. how could he find you? what are the chances you will remember him? or your past life? he was currently 23 years old, twenty-three years without you.

“i arranged a blind date for you,” his father enters the room, giving gunwook the details. he sighs but doesn’t protest. going on blind dates was the fastest way to find you.

he went on the date, but he did not like it. she was someone who was arrogant and believed she should get her way, which was so different from you that it disgusted gunwook. he left halfway through the date, not wanting to deal with her further.

how much longer could he live without you?

third life without you . .

gunwook was reborn as the son of a nice couple that owns a family restaurant. gunwook took full advantage of the fact, serving and helping out as much as he can. with more customers, the higher the chance he could find you.

he has now lived forty-eight years without you, his previous two lives being short, but it wasn’t worth living if it meant you weren’t around.

“this is for table 2.” his mother handed him a tray with stir-fried noodles with mayonnaise all over it and tempura on the side. gunwook looked at the dish. it was your favourite food. he remembers the first time he has seen you eating this particular combo and how unappealing it looked, but you were adamant on how good it was. gunwook had once took a bite and realised it was actually delicious but because he did not want to admit you were right, he would make the dish behind your back.

the memory brought a smile to his face and he quickly went to serve the dish, a little hopeful but to his dismay, it was someone that he immediately knew wasn’t you.

“enjoy your food,” he says, a little disappointed before turning away.

sixth life without you . .

gunwook has now lived a hundred and fifteen years without you. in this life however, he was blessed with the ability to sing and dance. in fact, his name was the one he was given when he first met you. he was park gunwook again.

“you should audition to be an idol!” his friend, kum junhyeon, would constantly tell him but gunwook would always shake his head, disagreeing. he does not want to bring any attention to himself, when he still could not find you.

“you being an idol or famous could help you find that person you have been wanting to find-“

gunwook did not have to listen further. he immediately recorded and posted a video of him singing to a song and it went viral almost immediately. he has been scouted by companies to train under them but he declined them all, hoping to stay independent. junhyeon, however, has taken the role of his manager, helping gunwook edit videos and secure any deals.

a year or so have past by since then and gunwook made a small name for himself. he performs at small cafes and restaurants and holds small fanmeetings every now and then. only to find you, of course, but yet, he was making very little progress.

“the fansign starts in a few minutes,” junhyeon mentions, preparing gunwook before he gets on stage. “maybe the person you like is here?”

gunwook sighs. he does not want to give up but his chances are getting slimmer and slimmer. “i don’t know man, what if they aren’t here?”

junhyeon gives his friend a sad smile. “even if they aren’t maybe …” his eyes goes all over the place, finding a way to cheer his friend up. “i am sure they are cheering for you from afar!”

gunwook returns a smile before heading onto stage, greeting fans and soon, the autograph session begins. an hour or so passed, the autograph session ending but with no sign of you. he has lived over a hundred years without you, how much longer must he live till he finds you again?

“no luck?” junhyeon asked, patting him on the back. gunwook shakes his head, disappointed but not surprised. junhyeon drops him off at home, assuring him that there is a right time for everything. he drives off, leaving gunwook standing in front of his apartment block.

disappointed and sad, gunwook heads to the nearby convenience store. he did not have the urge to cook anything. he goes in and bought a few items for himself, planning to have his late-night snack in the store itself. he opens a bag of chips and pops a few into his mouth when-

“i didn’t go to the fansign.”

gunwook, intrigued, turned to look at the person who was sitting a few chairs away from him, talking onto the phone. for a moment, he thought it was about him but he wasn’t that famous so he dismissed the thought away, not wanting to stare.

“i wanted to okay! but my boss needed me to work and i just … didn’t go. it’s probably better that way, i would have panicked and not talk at all as soon as i see the park gunwook.”

gunwook’s ears perked up and looked right back again. the way the person said his name felt all too familiar.

“there will be another chance in the future-“ the person turned to looked at gunwook and that’s when everything clicked.

it was you.

“i have to go, bye.” you hung up the phone and stared at gunwook, embarrassed that you were just fangirling over him when he was right beside you. but an unknown feeling came over you as you look at him. then, everything clicked.

“i found you.”

“it’s you.”

© taeraemisu do not copy my works !

#taeraemisu #zb1 #boys planet #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone #park gunwook #gunwook x reader #gunwook imagines #zb1 gunwook #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 oneshots #zb1 scenarios #zb1 reactions #park gunwook x reader #zerobaseone x reader

[youweresomagnetic]

Say Don't Go // Tom Blyth

Pairing // Tom Blyth x reader

//known it from the very start, we’re a shot in the darkest dark.//

You knew coming into this movie a several months ago that you couldn’t let your feelings for your co-star, Tom, go to your head. From the first reading you two shared, there was something inside of you that longed for him. You couldn’t decipher whether it was his wavy brown hair that made his baby blue eyes stand out, his charming British accent, or his easiness that made being around him so comfortable. Probably all of it. Meeting him flipped some sort of switch inside of you that made you think about him 24/7 and you couldn’t turn it off.  If you knew taking the movie was going to hurt this bad, you probably wouldn’t have taken it. But how could you not? This was your first big break after doing smaller acting gigs for years, and with the movie being based on a New York Times bestselling book it was already going to be a hit. The internal battle naturally ended with you convincing yourself that you could suppress these feelings until filming was over and then move on to your next job. If anything, you could use these feelings to your advantage and allow them to show during takes. You knew you were a great actor. It was proven when you landed this role of a lifetime, but there was no need for acting when it came to you two playing love interests. At least on your side anyway. You’ve come to love him, but you knew you couldn’t. He had a girlfriend.  

You quickly snap back to reality from daydreaming about him as he casually calls out “hey,” from across the room where he just finished shooting his last scene of the day. He swiftly throws on his jacket, slings his bag over his shoulder and then walks towards you with a delicate smile on his face that makes your heart do a small flip in your chest. His smile is the most beautiful smile you swear you’ve ever seen. 

“Want to go grab a bite?” he asks breaking you from daydreaming. Again. 

Of course you want to say yes, but spending a million hours a day with him already has your heart in shambles. No need to add to the heartbreak. Although recently, you’ve been filming scenes separately and haven’t seen him around as much. It’s hard not to miss him. Feelings aside, you’ve found a true friendship in him. You just wish your heart would’ve allowed the feelings to stay at a friendship level.

“I don’t know, it’s been a long day and I-”

“No excuses,” he playfully cut you off. “I was getting used to having you around so much.” His smile faded slightly as he paused and looked into your eyes like he wanted to say something more, then decided not to. A short moment passed then he continued, “I know even if you’re not hungry you’re always down for a drink.” He winked as he finished that last sentence. He was right. He doesn’t know that you drink around him to swallow your feelings though.  He grabbed you by the arm and said, “come on, first glass on me.” You can’t help the pink that rushes to your cheeks as he leads you towards the exit.

There’s a small pub about a block away from where your movie is being filmed. It’s become an all too familiar place as it’s where you find yourselves whenever you get a chance for a break. The food is decent, the drinks are good, and it’s a chill, private atmosphere. No one bothers you and you can simply just be. A pang of bitter sweetness hits you as you realize you’re going to deeply miss this place when filming wraps.

You find your usual booth near the back while Tom stops at the bar for the drink that he promised you. You take in the warm and comfortable atmosphere and feel thankful for evenings like this. A few minutes go by before he slides into the seat across from you with drinks and some fries for you two to split. 

“So where is your girlfriend tonight?” you ask genuinely curious because it’s already getting late, and you’re surprised that he didn’t want to head home to her. Or to the hotel rather since she sometimes comes into town to be with him. 

“She’s out of town right now on a job, and currently working crazier hours than we are.” he states. 

You found it shocking that anyone could work more hours than you’re already putting in, but his girlfriend is also in the film industry, so you understand that it just comes with the territory.  “Ah, I see.” you say before sipping down some wine. You smile lightly at the fact that he knew your favorite without having to tell him. 

Before long you check the time and realize that 2 hours have flown by. You’re shocked every single time by how quickly time goes by when you’re with him. You wish it didn’t. Then you start realizing how quickly the whole thing is flying by. The filming, the long days on set starting to feel like short ones when you look back on them, the early mornings spent around your hair and makeup crew, the coffee runs to make it through the longest days, the laughs shared between everyone, and of course evenings like these. Fuck you’re going to miss these evenings. You feel a deep ache in your chest as you already feel this moment turning into a memory. It’ll all be over and gone too quickly. He will be over and gone too quickly. Suddenly your thoughts are racing one hundred miles per hour. You want to tell him that you hope you can still stay friends even after all the press runs and you’ve moved onto future separate projects. You want to tell him how much you love his friendship and how it's come to mean so much to you over these past several months, and how much you’ve loved every memory that you’ve made together, and how much you love him-   “I love you.” you spit out before you even had time to stop yourself.

Time stood still. 

You are in utter disbelief with yourself and more than anything you just want to run and hide. You would do anything to be anywhere else in this moment.  You knew it was the alcohol talking. You knew you should’ve only had one glass. But one quickly turned into three, and anyone who knows you knows that three may as well have been five or six. 

You stare blankly at each other. His face is unreadable. You secretly pray to whoever is listening that this is just a dream. 

“I just mean that I’m so thankful that you got cast with me. I couldn’t have asked for a better person… I’m going to miss this, and I love you for everything you’ve done to help make this something unforgettable.”  you ramble hoping that was a nice enough save to cover your ass. 

//the waiting is a sadness, fading into madness.//

There’s only silence between you two. There are a few other people in the pub enjoying drinks in comfortable presences around you, sharing laughs and you find yourself jealous that you’re not them right now. You feel yourself slipping into madness as the stillness between you and Tom drags on. You find yourself holding your breath in fear over the fact that you can’t tell what he’s thinking right now. You and Tom have always been able to read each other ever since you got close. Spending countless days with someone allows that to happen eventually. But right now, you’re even more scared that he could read you. Did he see past the excuse you tried to make? What if you haven’t been hiding your feelings as well as you thought you have?  Does he know how you feel about him? You’re convinced he knows now. You can’t wait for him to speak anymore; you need to leave. You need fresh air. Or literally anything else. You begin sliding out of the booth and you feel his rough hands land on top on yours, stopping you. His eyes demand eye contact with yours. His eyes as blue as the prettiest ocean you can imagine, his eyes that feel like home, you give in. 

“Tell me.” He begs with a softness to his voice that you aren’t sure you’ve heard before. 

This time there’s no questioning what he’s thinking. You know he’s asking for truth. Of course he knows you well enough to have read through the lame excuse. You retract your hands and fall back against the booth seat trying to regain comfortability, but there’s nothing comfortable about this. 

“You already know,” you whisper then sigh before continuing, “I meant it.”

//why’d you whisper in the dark just to leave me in the night?//

You brush your anxieties to the side and look up at his face. He looks…sad? Are tears forming in the corners of his eyes? You’re not talking anymore, it’s his turn. 

“I love you, too.” 

You’re paralyzed by his words, but you can tell by the way he said it that it’s not that easy. There are too many improbabilities forcing you two apart. You should be happy at his confession. Instead, you’re left feeling emptier than before. It’s almost worse knowing he feels this way but will ultimately return to the one he loves most. You wish you never would have spoken. You wish he would’ve just pretended to not hear you say it. Anything other than this, because you know what comes next. Work will continue around drowned out feelings that can’t be acknowledged from this moment forward. Neither of you have to say it, you can feel it. This night will stay a secret. 

Through falling tears, you and Tom share a look of understanding. You love each other. But you can’t. This time when you slide out of the booth and walk toward the exit of the tiny pub that was once a happy place now turned into a heartbreaking memory, he doesn’t stop you. Halfway to the door, you’re holding out hope for him to say, “don’t go.” You would’ve stayed forever if he did.

#tom blyth #taylor swift #say don't go #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth fic #tbosas #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth imagine #coryo snow #tom blyth x you

[fushironi]

Will You Show Me? | Experienced!Todoroki x Virgin!fem!reader

TW: Loss of virginity, slight spanking, praise, fingering, hair pulling, biting, slight degradation (only once), pet names (snowflake, baby girl, angel, etc.), 18+ characters, MDNI, overstim, cowgirl, doggy style

Summary: You and Shoto had been together for about six months and every bit of it has been great. It wasn’t until a sleepover with the girls where you played a game of truth or dare that would take your relationship to another level.

——————————————————————————

It was like any other school night; you were hanging with the girls, laughing, joking, and having a great time. That was, until you started to play truth or dare.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” Mina asks as she hugs her pillow. You let a smile spread across your lips as sink back into your chair, your arms wrapping tighter around your boyfriend’s hoodie.

“Truth!” You smile as you take a sip of your tea.

“What’s your favorite position?” Mina smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. You raise your own as you didn’t understand her question. Favorite position for what? Sports?

“Excuse me?” You ask, wanting her to repeat the question.

“What’s your favorite position? Like for sex,” she says with a chuckle. You feel your eyes go wide and your cheeks flush red. You hadn’t told anyone that you were still a virgin, feeling as though it wasn’t anyone’s business. Guess that’s about to change.

“Ha. Funny story. Shoto and I haven’t actually, uh, we haven’t really-“

“You’re still a virgin?!” Mina exclaims, her voice louder than she intended. You nod your head in almost a shameful way, burying your face into Todoroki’s jacket. You felt embarrassment wash over you, not really wanting to be around people much longer.

“Girl! You are too pretty to still be a virgin! Shoto doesn’t know what he’s missing!” Mina giggles as she comes to give you a hug as she clearly sees the embarrassment on your face. You lean into her, your cheeks still burning.

“Thanks. I just didn’t -and don’t - want to rush things. What if he’s not ready?” You ask, looking at your pink friend. You were aware that Shoto wasn’t a virgin, something that he told you when you first got together. You didn’t mind it as it was nice to have a more experienced partner, even if it wasn’t by much.

“Is it him that isn’t ready, or you?” Mina asks as she raises her eyebrow, her eyes scanning your face. You pull your lip between your teeth as you take in her question, your own eyes casting downward.

“That’s what I thought. Just talk to him honey. It’s going to be okay,” she smiles as she gives you one last warm hug, returning to her spot in the circle. You girls continue to play the game until everyone slowly starts to fall asleep, your mind racing as you take in Mina’s words; ‘is it him that isn’t ready, or you?’ You shake your head as you try to fall asleep, making a mental note to address the matter with Shoto tomorrow.

>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>

“Hey Sho? I have a question.” Your voice was small as you entered your boyfriends room, your eyes landing everywhere besides his face. You had gone the entire day filled with anxiety about this moment, not sure how it was all going to play out. He turns away from his computer, his eyes falling on your figure.

“What is it my love?” His voice was soft, his frame opening up to you as you slowly make your way over to him. You stand beside his desk, your teeth chewing the inside of your cheek.

“The girls and I were hanging out last night and playing truth or dare and uh, they found out I - we - hadn’t had sex yet and it got me thinking,” you pause, trying not to hyperventilate. “Do you want to have sex with me? If you’re not ready it’s fine! I just know I’ve been wanting for a wh-” your rambling is cut short by the force of your boyfriends lips crashing into yours, your body instantly molding and relaxing into his. Your hands find his hair as you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer. You two break away after what feels like forever, a string of saliva the only thing connecting you both.

“I thought you would never ask,” Shoto breathes as he plants another kiss to your lips. This time, it was soft and loving. Warm. You smile against his kiss as you feel his hands around your waist, slowly guiding you to the bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as your back hits the plush mattress, Shoto’s frame now towering over your own. You let out a small squeal as his hands squeeze your hips, a soft giggle following as he tickles your side.

“What are you doing?” You ask between soft giggles, your hands gently running under his shirt. This part was nothing new; something the two of you did often but never crossed. Shoto wanted you to be the first one to bring up the idea of intercourse, not wanting to make you feel pressured.

“Making sure you’re comfortable,” he smiles as his eyes scan your body, his hand snaking under your shirt. He gently squeezed your breasts as he watches your body for a reaction. A smile plays across his lips as a small moan slips passed your lips, your body arching into his touch. Of course you are slightly nervous, but you were more than ready to give your all to your boyfriend.

“M-meanie,” you whimper as you look into his mix-matched eyes. All you saw was love and affection floating in his irises. It made you feel safe in this moment, something that Shoto made sure of often. You let your hands wander down his chest, stopping at the band of his sweats. You felt lightheaded ever so slightly as your nimble fingers gently push his pants off his hips, exposing his deep v-line. Your breath hitches as his cock slaps against his stomach, showing his excitement to you. You mouth literally waters as you stare at his cock, your brain spinning.

“Words, baby,” Shoto’s words break your trance as your eyes meet his once more. You feel your cheeks flush red as you turn your head away.

“S-sorry. It’s just so pretty,” you say shyly, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Shoto let’s out a deep chuckle as his index finger gently turns your head, his lips finding yours once more. You moan into the kiss as his hands push your shorts down your hips, the cool air of his room waving over your cunt. You squirm slightly under his body as his fingers dance lightly over your hips and under your naval, but never fully touching you. His eyes look to meet yours, his fingers hovering over your clit.

“P-please. Need it,” you whine, your hands going to his hips. Shoto smiles as he kisses you passionately, his tongue slipping past your lips as his fingers gently press onto your clit, circling the bundle of nerves slowly. Your back arches into his touch, your moans being swallowed by his lips. Your hips buck into his hand, wanting a bit more friction than what he was giving you. Your hands move to take off your shirt, causing you to break the kiss.

“So beautiful. And all mine,” Shoto purrs as his lips trail down your your neck, sucking and biting your skin softly as his fingers slowly dip inside your walls.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as his large digits slowly work your virgin hole. You tug as his hair as his lips latch onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around your hardened bud. Your mind was going hazy at all the sensations, your body reacting in the most sinful ways.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Shoto purrs in your ear, his teeth biting the plump of your breasts. You nod your head as you let out soft pants, his fingers dancing within your walls. The slight stretch of his two digits made your head spin, his teeth gently grazing your nipple. “Tell me what you want, baby doll. Talk to me. Want to make my princess feel good,” Shoto’s words were enough to have an unfamiliar knot in your stomach snapping, your eyes squeezing shut as your hands grip his biceps, your body jolting as a feeling of bliss washed over you.

Your chest heaves as you start to come down from your high, your eyes opening slightly to look up at Shoto. His pupils were blown wide, his lips turned up into a smirk.

“So pretty when you cum. Want to see what my cock can do, okay?” He asks in a soft voice, his cum covered fingers tapping your bottom lip. You open up as you suck on his digits, a moan leaving your lips as you taste yourself on his fingers. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, your eyes closing. “Fucking hell.” Shoto groans as he pulls his fingers away, his lips finding yours. You pull him closer as you deepen the kiss, wanting to feel him as close as possible to you. A soft moan leaves both of your lips as he runs his cock over your soaked cunt, gathering your slick before he slowly begins to push inside you, his head stretching your cunt beautifully.

“Oh shhiit,” you moan as your lips just barely break from his. Your nails dig into his biceps, a whine leaving your lips at the stretch. Shoto stops his movements, watching your body. You take a breath before nodding your head, telling him he’s okay to continue. Shoto smiles as he pushes in further, slowly bottoming out. A shared moan leaves your lips as he slowly rolls his hips, his thick, veiny cock rubbing against your tight walls. You had never felt so full before today and it was a feeling you could get used to.

“F-faster,” you breathe, not wanting Shoto to hold back. He chuckles as his lips kiss down your neck, his hips picking up speed. You let moans fall from your lips as your nails rake up his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him deeper access. Shoto groans as your walls clench around him, sucking him in as he pumps in and out of you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so tight. Shit,” his groans make your cunt clench around him, loving the way he felt and sounded as his hips drove into you. Your head was fuzzy at the new feelings, but it was all amazing.

“Feel s’good Shoto. You’re s’big,” you moan as your body bounces from the pace of his thrust. The way your tits bounced as rubber against his chest was enough to have you spiraling into a world of bliss at the sensations. Your body jerked and squeezed around him as you felt warm liquid spill passed your cunt.

“So perfect,” Shoto smirks as he continues to snap his hips inside you, his hands holding your waist. Soft whines fall from your lips as your body grew sensitive, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more. You wanted to do all the things your girl friends talked about. You wanted to know what it felt like to be on top, to feel his tongue against your swollen pussy. All of it.

“W-wanna ride you,” you whimper, your hands feeling up and down his chest. Shoto slows his hips as he takes in your words, making sure he heard you. “P-please,” you whine, your eyes meeting his. The pleasing look in your eyes was enough to make him cum right then and there, but he wanted you to go until you were tired. You let out a squeak as he flips you both over with ease, your body now hovering over his. The new angle has his cock sinking deeper inside your walls, your hands resting on his chest as you slowly roll your hips.

“Look at you. Already knowing what you’re doing. Such a pretty girl,” Shoto purrs as his hand lands a soft snack on your ass before resting on your hip. You whimper as you start to ride him faster as you chase the feeling of euphoria once again. You roll your eyes as you start to move your hips up and down, squeezing around him as you go up on his shaft, releasing your grip as you sink back down, a moan leaving both of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter as you continue to repeat your actions at a faster pace, feeling that knot in your stomach snap once again, your body falling forward as your hips continue to roll as you ride out your high. Your chests heaves as your body goes limp, your hands on his chest. He was still hard inside you, your walls squeezing him.

“Fuck. You keep that up, and I’ll cum inside you right now,” Shoto growls as he flips you back over, but this time on your hands and knees. His hips snap against yours at a faster and harder pace than before, moans and the sounds of skin resounding in the room as he pounds you into the mattress. His hands slap your ass a few times, your whines and moans filling the room as he takes you to another world.

“Gonna cum baby. Your pussy feels too good,” Shoto moans as he grabs your hair, lifting your head as he wants to hear your moans. Your mouth falls open as your body feels like jelly and pure bliss, a fucked out expression displaying over your features. “Fucking cock drunk slut, wanting my cock until I cum,” Shoto chuckles as he pulls you against his chest, his hand around your throat.

“Y-yes baby. Want your cum so bad,” you whimper as your nails dig into his thighs, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. The familiar knot in your stomach threatens to break as your head spins, Shoto’s hand moving from your neck to your clit. A deep moan leaves your lips at the combined sensation, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“G-gonna cum baby. Nngh- where do you want it,” his words were dark yet silky, his hips never losing their rhythm as they drive into you harder and harder.

“I-inside me. Please,” you whine, your head falling against his shoulder. Your arms go to wrap around the back of his neck, your fingers pulling on his hair as your body shakes, your lips capturing his as you cum for a third time, Shoto cumming right along with you, his cock twitching inside your warm walls. His hips begin to slow as he rides out your shared bliss, the kiss shared between you slow and passionate. His hips come to a stop as his hands continue to run over your body, wanting to provide gentle touches after his assault on your core. You smile into his lips as he gently taps your tits, making you giggle.

“That was, amazing,” you breathe as your eyes meet his. A smile lays across his lips as he pecks your lips once more, his fingers rubbing circles in your hip.

“And so are you.”

#mha #fanfic #anime #shoto torodoki #mha x reader #shoto todoroki smut #shoto x reader #virgin tw #virgin reader #mha smut

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Can I ask for a gn! Yuu that has very long hair like atleast that's touch the ground?

No need to do the request do ill wait and

P.s. I love your monster au❤❤❤

Awww, thank you! If I had to say, I think my Monster!AU is my most popular AU so far 😂 It’s just so much fun, and while I love doing the worldbuilding, the wholesome silliness and found family vibes just always get me ;;v;;

Anyway, you most certainly can! I couldn’t help but get flashbacks to my high school years when my best friend would call me Rapunzel because of how long my hair was…and the sheer panic and horror she felt when I came to school one day after getting a haircut and my hair was up to my jaw. Don’t worry, it grew back! I’ve only had it cut that short once, but never again. :V It took three years to get it back down my spine. >.>

So while you asked for a gn!Yuu with long hair (and I’m assuming it’s in Monster!AU), you didn’t necessarily specify any scenario, so I hope you enjoy the random silliness based on my experiences with critters and long hair! >w<

////

When Yuu was finally able to get out of the ceremonial robes and into more comfortable clothes on the first night in Ramshackle, it came as quite a shock to Grim and the ghosts when they unwrapped their hair to the point the tips touched the ground. Given how dirty it was, however, Yuu had to quickly tie up their hair to keep it away from the dust.

“Where did you put all that?!” Grim asked, patting a paw against their hair as they tried to run their fingers through the long strands. “Why is it so long?!”

“Because I wanted it to be long?” Yuu replied with a shrug.

“Oh…do all humans have long hair?”

Despite being a chaotic gremlin in the beginning, Grim is more curious about the length and texture of Yuu’s hair than anything. At some point he realizes just how warm it is and will often be found practically wrapped up in it, snoozing away and just enjoying the comforting scent of their shampoo.

And then there were the monster students.

Hair is not a foreign concept by any means to these monsters, though the fact that there was someone who had hair this long? It reminded so many of those who knew the story of the Sun Kingdom and the princess with long hair who used incantations on a golden flower to bring her lover back from the dead!

“…your hair doesn’t glow, does it?” Ace asked, bouncing Yuu’s hair in his hands as he held it up to see it in the light.

“If it starts glowing, feel free to freak out, because I sure will!”

An issue that they came across, however, was how often the long strands got caught underfoot by monsters near them. More than once did their head jerk back because someone happened to step on it, whether they were trying to stand up or move to another spot. It happened more than once to the point Yuu’s neck started to hurt from the frequency. Such things didn’t go unnoticed by a certain unicorn…

“Honestly, you’re going to ruin your hair and your posture if you keep letting it drag on the floor like a mop,” Vil scolded them, the unicorn’s lion-like tail swishing in agitation as he worked through the newly formed knots.

“I can just put it up in a ponytail or a bun,” Yuu told him. “It’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not! If you’re going to keep your hair this long, then at least do something more presentable and functional to keep it healthy and strong.”

So began the long process of Yuu having to sit through lessons on hair care from Vil. They watched as he worked in the mirror to fashion their hair into new styles, referencing videos he’d watched online and resources for hair that closely fit their own to ensure he knows how to care for and teach Yuu. They listened as he instructed them on how to braid or twist their hair into styles they never even considered, and before long they were walking out of Pomefiore with hair care samples and a long, thick braid that hung at the back of their knees. It was a little heavier than they were used to, but not unmanageable.

It certainly made it easier to dance and run after their friends when a certain gremlin chimera got up to mischief!

When Cheka comes to visit, Yuu can’t help but notice how much he acted like a kitten that they just…couldn’t help but let him play with their hair. It was adorable to watch at first, but—like all things in Twisted Wonderland—something inevitably goes wrong.

“How did he get tangled up in your hair this badly??” Jack asked as he tried to figure out how to unravel the giggling child from their hair.

“Ow…Cheka was just so cute playing, and I only looked away for a second,” Yuu said, their hands on their scalp to keep the tugging at a minimum. “I didn’t think he’d get tangled up like this!”

“Halp!” Grim cried out, squirming around Yuu’s hair as well.

“Ow ow ow ow! Grim, stop! You’re pulling on my scalp!”

“I’m starting to think that human hair is used to trap prey,” Ruggie commented with a snicker, though his fingers were still combing through and untangling the hair quicker and easier than Jack.

After all is said and done, Yuu’s hair is quite fascinating even to Cater’s Magicam followers, leading to some crazy hairstyles and designs to be created (and lots and lots of safe hair dye and hair spray to be used). If Yuu wants to use a rainbow of colors or specific ones for their hair, Vil and Professor Crewel will find ways to help do so without damaging the roots or strands with harsh dyes or bleach!

Straight? Curly? Wavy? Dreadlocks? Afros? Any style and texture of hair a human could have! Imagine the possibilities with styles and colors in a world where Yuu can literally ask someone to use magic to see how something would look! And there wouldn’t be any issue with returning it to normal because magic~!!

Kudos to those of you who are able to confidently dye your hair wonderful colors, I love seeing the hues that can be done ;;v;; I'm too chicken to do it to my own hair, so I live vicariously through seeing others do it. 😃

Anyway, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head! Hope you guys enjoy! >v<

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

[gallusrostromegalus]

Your Ulquiorra plans are very intriguing, he may be one of my faves from the og- How does he survive exactly and how does he end up in the court guard?

Do they let him roam and leave him be like the crow problem or do they eventually have dedicated arrancar babysitters? What is Ulqui the most curious about, is there certain squads he hangs around in more than others? Does his social awareness get better or does he try obliterating some poor sod because they stood in the middle of the hallway for too long? Does he manage to make some friends?

He do be a blorbo fr

Asking for a friend obvs and not for a Squad 9 ficlet at all *clears throat*

...so he actually ends up in the Royal Realm, not the court guard.

Specifically, when everyone else finally manages to subdue Aizen, Gin yoinks him off to the Royal Realm to be fed to the Life Machine, Ulquiorra zips through the portal after them, because he's determined to finish actually kicking Aizen's ass.

Instead, Ulquiorra ends up inside the Actual Soul King Palace, with exactly no supervision.

Being as the total population of the royal realm is 5 super-captains, a couple dozen assistants of dubious autonomy, and Gin, it's not hard for Ulquiorra to go do whatever the hell he wants undetected for several weeks, and when people do start noticing that things are amiss-

Kirinji is having a deeply paranoid reaction to the sudden appearance of masses of black hair in the drains of some of his hot springs. 

At first he thinks he’s going bald, but then he begins to suspect the other guards… and then that this is, somehow, a message from Tama.  The Kodoku is almost done, isn’t it?

Not wanting anyone to learn his secret, he tells no-one.

Hikifune notices that some of her food is missing- high protein, fat and iron stuff like pork belly and calf liver, but also candies and fruits.

At first she thinks there’s rats again, but then realizes- This is what someone used to starving takes. She prepares a more nutritionally balanced care package for him, along with a note that he’s welcome at her table any time.

...Hikifune didn’t kill the Mod Konpaku- she smuggled as many as possible into the royal realm with her as sous-chefs, but she couldn’t get all of them, and some still shuffle in, drawn to their mother.   She hopes her lost children will all come home soon.

Not wanting to jeapordize the safety of her children, she tells no-one.

-Senjumaru is initially *pissed* that SOMEONE not only stole a pair of denim short pants from her latest collection, they used her good fabric shears to CUT HAIR, but then she gets a better look at the black fur and WOW this is terrific long fringe stuff what is it it’s too soft to be horsehair, too long to be rabbit and there’s LOTS of it??? 

Well.

She supposes they can have a pair of Jorts in exchange.  She leaves him a note to make an appointment next time, she’ll make him something that fits instead of whatever is on the rack.

Not wanting to lose her position or the possibility of a new friend, she tells no-one.

Ichibe gets up in the middle of the night because he’s feeling restless- something is nagging him, trivial but irritating, like a pea irritates a princess, and goes into his studio to practice strokes and katas to soothe himself. 

But in the middle of the studio, standing over the good paper, is some sort of DEMON with glowing green eyes and horns and terrible bat wings and… jorts?  He’s so startled he doesn’t immediately strike the wretched thing down OR read it’s name and it scrambles away, the tail knocking over everything in the middle shelf of his inkstand and splattering it *everywhere* before it jumps out the window and flies away.

Ichibe curses and gnashes his teeth- everything is MESS, and FURTHERMORE, The Damn Thing has used up his good hot press paper and written the most AWFUL poetry… in unfortunately extremely good calligraphy.

Deeply embarrassed, he tells no-one.

...They're all WAAAAAY too paranoid and secretive to actually *tell* any of their colleagues that something weird is going on.

Except Oetsu, who assumes Ulquiorra is a Zanpaktou spirit that's crawled out out the pit from which all spirits he builds swords for emerge, and that absolutely nothing unusual is going on at all!

Sure, Batboy is a little bit weird and talks like a Bryonic protagonist, but it's nice to have somebody to actually *talk* to for once.

Oetsu has never actually *been* to spirit world for any extended period of time, and is maybe a little iffy on some of the specifics of some of the latest happenings of the last 2,000ish years.

Like that Arrancar exist.

Sure, Batboy's got a weird hole in his chest, but Oetsu does not immediately associate weird negative space in a dude's torso with him being a hollow. He deals with MUCH weirder-looking spirts all the time!

Eventually, Gin realizes Ulqiorra followed him into The Royal Realm, but he doesn’t seem particularly bent on Destruction.

If anything, he seems to have gotten a good bath, filled out a little bit, gotten a sword, some MUCH better-looking trousers and some mysterious ink stains and overall calmed down and looks better.

...Good for him!

But Gin’s got a lot of work to do, so Ulquiorra is now his intern! Ulquiorra: What’s an Intern? Gin Uh. An intern is a guy who lives in the office closet who brings you snacks! Ulquiorra: …That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about internships to dispute it. Gin: Whatever, just bring me a rat or something. Ulquiorra: …How about some ham? Gin: That’d be great actually. Ulquiorra: Get hammed, idiot. *throws ham at Gin but he catches it in his mouth like a dog catching a frisbee* Ulqiorra, after a few minutes of watching Aizen get taffy’d: So what’s all this… for? Gin: *Explains The Life machine, and it’s subsequent befuckening* Ulquiorra: We should ask Orihime to do this.  She’s the smartest person I know. Gin: You know like four people, and the other three are the SOB in the taffy puller, a cat, and me.  That ain’t a high bar. Gin: …she is still smarter than both of us though. Hm. 

Ulquiorra spends a few months like this- wandering around exploring, visiting and gradually getting better at deciding to do things on his own initiative, and to just... enjoy existing.

Meanwhile, Orihime has been working on working out the math behind how Kido Spells are composed, and cracked into the language of Soul King and The Life machine. She’s worked out that there’s something squiffy about some of the spells- two kinds of logic, like there are two authors. (One is the Life machine’s original programming, the other is Soul King’s edits to Reality to improve the wheel). The second logic makes more sense for how reality actually operates, but isn’t as complete. -She’s puzzling over this discrepancy when Shiro wanders over and makes a bad “Maybe he’s Dead?” joke Orihime: ...that would explain a lot actually. See this line right here? It’s like. Half of a new spell. And also the most recent change I could find.  It’s like whoever was writing this got interrupted halfway through and just. Never came back to it. Shiro: Oh. Shiro: …Can you finish it? Orihime: ...I think I can, actually, but.  Well, I can’t figure out how he was making the edits stick? Like? Where was he inputting this that the spell actually changes reality? Ichigo: Aizen was trying to go to the Royal Realm where the Soul King lives, right?  Maybe the terminal to edit the mainframe is up there? Orihime: ... Orihime: Oh my god. I think you’re right. Orihime: Well, the universe didn’t implode so I'm pretty sure Aizen isn’t editing there, but… Orihime: *Takes out Matsumoto’s old spirit phone which she stole along with Hitsugaya's when she got kidnapped to Las Noches, frowns at it for a while, then dials a number on it* Ichigo, shiro: ?? Orihime: *Holds up a finger to indicate she’s on an important call and they need to be quiet. Someone answers Orihime: Ulquiorra? Ulquiorra: Bwah? Ichigo and Shiro: BWAH?? Orihime: We have a lot to talk about, but I need you to answer a few questions for me, please? Ulquiorra: ok??? Orihime: Where are you, right now? -- Ulquiorra is in Hikifune’s kitchen, snitching food again. Ulquiorra: …A Kitchen. Orihime: in broader terms.  Living world? Hueco mundo? Soul Society? Ulquiorra: uhhhhh… none of the above? Orihime: is it an additional plane of reality? Ulquiorra: yeah? Orihime: Is there a large palace or something like that in it? Ulquiorra, worried: Yeah?? Orihime: is there, anywhere in that plane, but probably in the palace, a place with a lot of math text in it, like I was writing on the walls of Las Noches? Ulquiorra, alarmed: Yeah??? Orihime: Oh, good! Ulquiorra: It is? Orihime: Well, yes, but listen- Listen, okay? UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU, OR ANYONE ELSE, TOUCH **ANY** PART OF THAT WRITING. Ulquiorra: Why? Orihime: the universe might end. Ulquiorra: …I’m gonna go lock that room real fast. Orihime: Thank you. Call me back when you can and we’ll talk, okay? Ulquiorra: Yes Ma’am! *Hangs up* -- Ichigo: WHAT Shiro: YEAH, WHAT Orihime: Good news! Nothing broke yet! Both: Yet? Orihime: I uh. I’m pretty sure. That nothing broke. And that Ulquiorra is kind of technically guarding the place where God edits the computer code that makes up reality. Both: … Shiro, despairing: THAT FUCKING MORON?? Ichigo: yeah, that’s not “Good” news. Orihime: It’s fine! Just so long as nobody breaks in there, it’ll be fine!

Anyway, I hope that helps, and it's GRIMMJOW that ends up drafted into the Court Guards :)

#ulquiorra cifer #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach fanfic

[sunlightmurdock]

mav finding out about his daughter and bradley's affair in the worst way possible

hehehehe so I’m imagining it’s a night that she and Mav had a really big, really public argument. She was at the Hard Deck being fake flirty — fake it til you make it type confidence that Bradley can see straight through, but Mav can’t. Mav just thinks it’s dangerous.

And where does she go after Maverick embarrasses her in front of everyone?? Bradley’s place.

It’s a night that he had stayed in, and she’s supposed to still be out, so he’s confused when the pounding on his front door is revealed to be her.

“He’s insane! He’s actually fucking insane! I was just playing pool and he came over yelling about being careful and respecting myself and..” Bradley just watches as she ducks under his arm, letting herself into his house and starting to pace furiously around his living room. She’s wearing a fitted dress, it’s cute, but short.

He doesn’t need to ask who has upset her, he already knows. Rooster just swings the door shut behind him and lets her rant.

“He didn’t ever care about being a parent when I was a kid, who does he think he is? — Acting like he gets to tell me what to do now.” She growls angrily.

Just wearing a pair of sweat shorts, Bradley sits on the arm of his couch and waits for you to be done. It takes a while, but he doesn’t mind listening.

The story finishes abruptly, mainly because she has been staring at his bare chest and shoulders for long enough that her anger has faded and been replaced with something else entirely.

It’s one of the reasons she loves Bradley. His ability to get her mind off of things. And how good he is in bed.

He makes her cum on his tongue, his fingers and then his cock. First on the couch, then against the wall in his hallway, finally in his bed. It’s wild. She knows that she’ll be left with bruises on her thighs in the morning and it just spurs her on.

She begs him for more as he fucks her hard, facedown onto his mattress, and he just complies. And then, when she’s a whimpering, trembling mess afterwards, he brings her a damp cloth and tells her to hang tight while he gets her some water.

Bradley passes by the front window as the pounding at the door starts. He makes brief eye contact with Maverick and knows he can’t pretend to already be in bed. He opens the door gingerly.

“She didn’t come home tonight!” Maverick pushes past Bradley without warning, starting to pace furiously around the living room. Bradley pales. “We had a big fight, and maybe I was out of line — I know she’s not stupid enough to fool around with any of those guys, but— fuck, she hasn’t come home and I’m out of my mind. Should we call the cops?”

Bradley tears his attention away from your dress poking out from between his couch cushions. Your heels discarded on the floor. Your panties by the hallway door.

“Cops? — No.” Bradley decides quickly. “She’s… probably just cooling off at a friend’s house.”

“But what if—“ Maverick stops talking as he catches sight of the heels on the floor. He looks up and examines Bradley’s dishevelled hair and love-bitten neck. “Oh. Oh, you have company. I’m sorry, I’m just so worried. Could I call her from your phone? — She won’t answer if she knows it’s me.”

Bradley swallows, then shakes his head. “Just give her some time to cool off, Mav. She’ll be fine.”

“How could you possibly promise that —“ Maverick catches sight of the dress and stops berating the Lieutenant for just a moment. He squints, trying to piece together the familiarity. He looks between the shoes and the dress.

Cut to Maverick absolutely tearing Bradley’s place apart looking for her, finding her hiding in his closes in one of his shirts and all hell breaking loose.

#I could genuinely write 100 dif scenarios in which they get caught lol #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #thots night (: #bradley x Mav’s daughter #top gun smut #older bf bradley

[ginnsbaker]

In Flames I Sleep Soundly (2/2)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

Word Count: 9k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Non-graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience, I hope... I don't know what I hope. I'm just grateful that you guys took the time to read this piece and leave comments in my inbox. I do have more to say later, but for now I just needed to post this. 

Let me know if you have some questions or clarifications. (yes, I wrote this sentence after sending a work email)

AO3 / Part One / Masterlist

--

Part Two

You’ve always thought that life is like a train ride. 

And as a passenger, you know only two things: the direction of the course and its scheduled stops. And so, it’s like this: get born into the world, take your first steps, go to elementary school, go to high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have children, have grandchildren, and then die in your sleep. If there’s an afterlife, perhaps get resurrected into a young version of you, and move into another train. And then begin another journey. 

But what the passenger doesn’t know is that a train can only move forward when it’s on its rails. And this is where the helplessness of every individual in that train becomes apparent. Your life–or at least how you want it to go–is not entirely in your hands.

For you, a single phone call managed to completely derail your train from its tracks. And then, as if still unsatisfied, it plucked you violently from it and left you on your own in the middle of nowhere.

You didn’t know where to go, only where you’ve been. Like a diamond blade that cuts through steel, it segmented your life into just two parts: Before and After.  

Before was going home to your wife after a tedious day, resting your head on her lap while she threads her fingers through your hair.

After is knowing those same delicate fingers raked through someone else’s tufts of blonde in throes of passion. 

Before was her telling you she loves you and feeling it to your bones.

After is her telling you she loves you and only hearing a lie.

Split in the middle, you presume you can simply choose to live in one or the other. 

***

“Love’s a fucking bitch.”

Inside your car, you’ve been quiet the whole time, just staring at the photos in Natasha’s phone. You stare at Wanda walking out of the theater, hand-in-hand with a tall, lanky man you don’t recognize. 

“His name is Victor Shade. Goes by ‘Vision’. The only son of a high-profile neurosurgeon on the East Coast.” Natasha tells you, eyeing you closely.  

You brush your thumb against the image of the laughing woman in the picture. She wore your wife’s face and smile, but all you see is a stranger. 

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks.

Briefly, you consider this could all just be a prank. Maybe Wanda is watching you fall apart right now, giggling in hiding because she got you this time. At least it’s the sort of cruelty you’d fight over for a day or maybe a week, and then laugh about in ten years.  

“Y/N?” Natasha tries again.

You finally look up at her and immediately hate the look of pity on your best friend’s face.  

“I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight.” you say, handing back her phone. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should talk to Wanda.”

The laugh that bubbles up your throat is nothing short of deranged. For almost a minute, you laugh into your steering wheel until tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Natasha watches you with a worried expression, her hand hovering over your back hesitantly. She thinks about the beautiful person she met in kindergarten, the girl who gave her own blue crayon so Natasha could color the sky properly while she was left to color hers with a red one. It hurts her to witness the light snuff out of the person who was her own light in her darkest moments. And when your laughter subsides into muffled sobs, she cries with you. 

When you’re done, you systematically wipe the tears and snot off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. Natasha patiently waits for your next move.

“Did you get his address?” you ask with a surprisingly steady voice. 

“Yes, apparently it’s in one of the luxurious apartments near the university.” Natasha says as she texts you the exact address. 

“Good,” you say, then turn your attention to the empty roads ahead of you. 

You lied when you had implied to Natasha that you didn’t know what you’re going to do. 

***

A Victorian style of housing is unheard of in this part of New Jersey, but here you are, standing outside of one. His rental is on the second floor at the end of the street where a sports car is parked carelessly in its spacious garage–an august flex coming from a college kid. Wanda crosses your mind once again as you take in this grandiose lifestyle before you. Was it money that attracted her to him? You never pegged her for a gold-digger, but then again you also didn’t peg her for a cheating whore. You screw your eyes tightly shut at the unpleasant adjectives you now associate with your wife as you lose some of yourself in the process. There’s something frightening and unfamiliar threatening to consume your entire being, and you have no clue what to do with it. 

With a deep breath, you walk to his doorstep and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, you jerk in surprise as the door swings wide open towards you, the lock stile of the wooden panel narrowly missing your forehead.

“Sorry, I keep meaning to get that fixed and it’s easier to push,” A man in his early twenties with yellow blonde hair comes into sight. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

You have to tilt your head back slightly in order to meet his cerulean eyes. 

“You’re Vision?” you ask.

“Actually, it’s Victor Shade. But yes, everyone calls me Vision.”

“How old are you?” 

Vision shuffles his feet, uncertain if he should answer your question. It’s rhetorical of course, a question you didn’t mean to actually come out of your mouth. You could guess–but truthfully, you’d rather not now. 

“Who are you?”

“Y/N Maximoff.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, your name not ringing a bell.

“Wanda’s wife.” you supplement domineeringly, as if declaring it would stake your claim on her once and for all. He drops his gaze at the mention of your wife’s name, like a child that has been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter that he’s at least half a foot taller than you are. He isn’t quite a man. Not to you.

“May I–May I come in?” you ask as politely as you could. 

After a second of doubt he smirks, and then says, “Sure.” You can sense the shift in his stance. He knows you’re onto him, and this is a showdown. Like any Alpha male scrambling to be on top of the food chain, he finds you to be an exciting piece of challenge. It makes you wonder if he was looking forward to this moment as much as you were dreading it.

You didn’t notice before that he’s barely covering his naked torso with a peacoat, and you try not to think about what brought on his current state. If by chance, you had just narrowly missed one of your wife’s regular visits.

Once you’re inside his apartment, you immediately scan your surroundings. There are papers and books scattered all over the floor. You can make out a thin trail of smoke coming from an unfinished cigarette in his living room, where the couch is covered by a tarpaulin smeared with ink and acrylic paint. 

On an easel beside it is a painting covered by a dirty towel you assume he’s been working on before being disrupted by your presence. “Can I look?” you point at it. 

“No. Sorry,” he says, before taking the painting from the easel and bringing it to his room. “It’s not done yet. An artist’s rule.”

You nod, and then noticing the only thing that he has organized, you say, “Nice vinyl collection.”

“Thanks.”

You stare at each other for long seconds. It feels ridiculous to expect an apology from him, but it’s something you think you deserved at the minimum. 

“So, tell me. How did you meet my wife?” you ask when it becomes apparent that he doesn’t have any intention to be an active participant in this meeting.

“Art History 101. I’m one of her–”

“Students.” You complete his sentence with a grimace. Somehow that just makes things more fucked up than they already are. Jesus fucking Christ, Wanda, you curse in thought. Yet in a twisted way, it also kind of makes sense now. What they have is the stuff of sexual fantasies–a goddamned kink show is what it is. You’d never guess she’s capable of this. 

“Yeah, and she was really knowledgeable in the subject. Not to mention, a natural teacher. Everybody in the class was awestruck by her.” Vision continues to talk about Wanda as though he’s talking about her to a person who didn’t know her down to the ground. You don’t need to be told how spectacular your wife is. You knew better than anyone. How dare he?

“How’s it going?” You cut him off before he could accidentally trigger something fatal inside of you.

He looks at you, bewildered at the random question. He waits for the punchline that never comes, and then chuckles, “It’s been swell.” 

“This is where you meet?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“And she likes it?” You mean this place that looks like it’s been ransacked ten times over.

“Well, I guess. She never complained.” he says, and then cowers at the dirty look you throw his way at his callous comment.

“Do you stay in all the time or do you go out too?” you ask.

“It depends. We actually like to drive to new places in and out of town. Especially in the first week since she’s never ridden a convertible.”

“She likes that? She likes…aimless drives with no particular destinations?” 

“Oh, yeah. More exciting than being stuck in a routine, I guess.” 

It’s an obvious jab at a lifestyle he thinks you saddled Wanda with. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and you walk closer to him. “Did you know that we’ve been married for five years? And before then together for six?”

That you have a dog. Plans to have kids in the future. Plans to retire in a beachfront property. The rest of your lives together. Does all that mean nothing? 

“I know,” Vision replies, his tone devoid of any sign that he might be sorry for fucking a married woman. “She also told me you asked to move here because of your banking aspirations.”

“My aspirations? You…talk about me?” You manage to blurt out incredulously. Vision shrugs at that, and actually regards you with mild concern when you start blinking rapidly behind your glasses. You can hear your heart hammering in your chest as all the blood in your body suddenly rushes to your head. 

He doesn’t answer “Would you like a drink?” 

“Yeah, why not.” you say and lean against the closest wall to you for support.

“I have water, orange juice…”

“Got anything stronger?” 

“I think I have some vodka left.” Vision mutters and then disappears into the kitchen. You take his absence as an opportunity to sneak into his bedroom. It’s smaller than you’ve imagined. A huge mirror is hanging across the foot of the bed and you instantly know what it’s for. 

Is this where it all happens? Where they happen? Did they watch themselves fuck? Did Wanda watch herself fuck someone who isn’t you and felt guilty about it? 

Did she think about you at all?

You sit on the mattress and stroke its silky sheets with shaking fingers. The bed is unmade, and you know there’s evidence on them if you try to look for it.

A framed painting peeking out from his dresser takes your attention. You walk over to it and pull it out of its hiding. 

Your eyes go round in recognition. It’s the painting Wanda asked you to retrieve in Soho. You turn the painting over and discover a small piece of paper plastered on it.

‘To Vision, the only secret people keep is immortality.’  - W

You crumple the note tightly in your fist. Suddenly, all of it becomes more real than you can envisage: on a Tuesday morning, you’re perched on the exact spot your wife’s been betraying you over and over. You can almost smell Wanda from where you’re sitting–can feel her damp, soft skin, can hear her little sighs as she catches her breath.

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming rage that consumes you next, as you abruptly get up and walk the small distance to the kitchen.

-

You come to thirty seconds later, to broken pieces of porcelain and an unconscious man lying on a puddle of blood on the floor.

Your first instinct is to call Natasha. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Nat,” you say in a rush. “I need your help. I-I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down. What happened?” 

“I’m at Vision’s. I did a horrible thing a-and I’m so sorry, Nat, I–”

“Focus, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice is eerily collected. “Is he still alive?”

You scramble to place your index and middle finger on his neck, and let out a sigh of relief once you find what you’re looking for.

“I got a pulse. Should I call 911?”

“Don’t, I’ll handle this. Just grab a towel and wrap it around something cold like frozen vegetables or ice, then apply it gently to the area of the injury.” Natasha says. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to absorb the instruction. Getting a grasp of the situation has started to feel like an impossible task. 

“Did you hear what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Natasha says. “You’ll be fine, okay? I’m on my way.”

And then she’s gone. And you’re left to deal with the vestiges of your crime. You have no idea how much longer Vision will have a pulse. You try to do what Natasha told you to, but you find yourself unable to move a limb, stuck in the loop of wanting him dead and wanting to do what is right. 

That is, until you hear the familiar tone of a message notification. It came from the rear pocket of Vision’s bloodstained cargo pants. You fall to the floor and dig out his phone. To unlock it, you take his cold hand and press his thumb against its screen. 

There’s a new voice message from a certain ‘W’ in his contacts.

Wanda.

You hit play.

“I hate to do this here,” Wanda’s voice is tremulous and you can easily tell that she’s been crying. “But this is the only way I can trust myself to go through with this decision. This needs to end. I can’t live like this. I’m tired of lying and hurting Y/N. She’s my family. Whether you believe it or not, she’s everything to me. I’m sorry. And I hope,” Wanda’s voice breaks on a choked sob. “I don’t know what I hope. I’m sorry.”

You listen to it again before making the decision to delete the message. You slip the device back into Vision’s pants.

Afterwards, you try to save his life.

***

Five Days After 

You wake up with a start. The clock on the nightstand reads 4:34 A.M. 

The dreams are more vivid now, and they have progressed to you jabbing a kitchen knife into Wanda’s chest as Vision takes her from behind. 

In reality, Wanda is lying half-naked beside you, snoring softly. She looks like the Wanda from Before, but your mind knows better. You want to trace her outline with your eyes and your lips, as you’ve done countless times whenever you’d wake up first. You want to kiss her temple and whisper how you love her even if she can’t hear you. You want, and want, and want. But you know what she’s done and with what little dignity you have left, you don’t fall into the trap of your remaining feelings for her. 

In reality, her ex-lover is in some hospital in New York with his family waiting for him to wake up.

The first two days were the hardest after finding out about your wife’s infidelity. Wanda could read you like an open book, but for some miracle she didn’t see past the calm demeanor you put forth. You still comment nice things about her cooking, hug her goodbye, kiss her good night. 

And then the nightmare starts all over again the minute Wanda leaves the house. Because when she’s near you, you don’t have to wonder where she is or who she’s with. You don’t wonder if she notices the empty seat in her classroom that used to belong to Vision. You don’t wonder if there are another pair of eyes like his, looking at her intrepidly with desire. The longer you carry on with your life as if nothing’s happened, the more you realize how much of your existence the past several months were built on lies. 

Maybe the wife next to you is no longer yours, but how do you reconcile that with the truth that you’re still hers? 

“Y/N?” you hear Wanda speak as you get up from bed. “Where are you going?”

Wand hugs the comforter to her more securely. You want to scoff at her question.

“Going out for a run.” you say after a beat. 

“Want me to come with?”

“No, thanks. Just go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Wanda glances briefly at the time and then says, “It’s still too dark outside.”

You shrug. “So?”

“Could be dangerous, don’t you think?” 

“It’s Westview,” you repeat the same thing she said to you the first night she came home late without calling. The night in which she probably fucked him for the first time. “What’s the worst that could happen to me?”

“Be careful.” she acquiesces softly. “Do you want anything for breakfast?”

“No.” you say, grabbing your running gear from the dresser. 

Sparky tries to follow after you but you lock him in the bedroom with Wanda, and head out to change in the guest bedroom. 

-

There’s a slight itch at the back of your throat and you’ve stopped sweating just a while ago. Nevertheless, your tired legs refuse to stop their strides as you reach your tenth mile, and end up in a deserted farmhouse where Natasha is waiting for you.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” Natasha announces, handing you a bottle of ice water. “And while I got rid of the paintings, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take a swig from it like someone who’s been left in the desert for days, before leaving just enough of the water to pour over your head.

“What do you mean?” you ask after you recover from your run. 

“His family is suspicious. They refuse to believe it’s an accident. You should expect cops to visit your house soon. Don’t panic. I scrubbed that kid’s apartment, they won’t find any traces of you.”

“How many years are we looking at?”

“It’s too early to worry about that. We don’t even know if he’ll ever wake up.”

“If he doesn’t, then I’m a murder, Nat.” you say candidly, like you’ve already accepted the monster that you now see yourself to be. “If he does wake up, then it’s attempted murder. Again, how many years are we looking at?”

“Even if he dies, you’re not going to prison. I promise you.”

“I don’t need you to promise me anything. Just answer the question, Nat.”

“Up to twenty years in the state of New Jersey.”

It figures. Despite it being more than half the amount of years you’ve been alive, you deem it a short punishment for the years you’d be taking from the boy. In twenty years or less, you’d be stepping out of prison to live out the rest of your life, and Vision would still be six feet under and being mourned by his parents. 

You look down at your dirty shoes, and say, “I see.”

Natasha puts her hands on your shoulders and ducks her head, trying to meet your eyes. 

“You’re not going to prison. I won’t allow it.” 

You step back and out of her hold. 

“Now, about that other thing. I already contacted this lawyer who owes me big time. You’ll just have to pay 30% of her regular rate for the entire divorce process.”

You look at your best friend, considering it. You could give Natasha the go signal now to hire this lawyer, but in the end all you say is, “Thanks, Nat. For everything.” as you turn your back on her.

Natasha’s brows snap together. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing that for so many years ‘home’ was a person you felt the safest, a person who you could be with as you are. Wanda didn’t just cheat on you, she left you homeless. Home, in every sense, no longer exists.

“On foot?” 

“Yup.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Just get in the car, I’ll drive you.” 

But you’re already bouncing on your feet and moving in the other direction.

***

The next day, you sleep on your alarm again. It’s the second consecutive week you’re calling in sick late in the morning, and your immediate supervisor at work is understandably worried. He offers you take the rest of the week off, partly fearful for anyone at your branch catching whatever illness he assumes you have. Ironically, broken marriages are arguably endemic in this country. So perhaps, you really should stay away from people for a while. 

The blinds were shut, so that as little light as possible dances through the gaps between them. You are encouraged to stay in bed by the lack of sunlight, but as your mind starts to wake up, something about the gloominess of the room urges you out of bed. It’s a Monday, so that means Wanda should be gone already. If you’re missing work, then you could make use of the time to think about your next course of action.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the sound of Wanda’s voice reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. 

“This will be our little secret, okay? Y/N can’t find out.”

You nearly miss a ladder in your step at the implication of her words, only to see she’s speaking to your dog. 

Wanda is sitting in the living room with Sparky who is thoroughly enjoying the morsel of cheese she’s feeding him with. If this was any other day before, you’d already be walking towards her to give her a morning kiss, and she’d complain that you didn’t brush your teeth long enough. You’d impishly lock her in your arms while you blow puffs of breath on her face, and she’d squirm and fight you off until the both of you are nothing but a blur of two idiots happy and in love. 

“Wanda,” you blink at her in confusion. “Aren’t you late for your morning class?”

You watch Wanda’s eyes light up before she could spot you at the foot of the staircase. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Actually, I quit my job.” Wanda declares, wide-eyed, her green pools swimming in starry fervor that you almost squint.

“Since when?” 

“Since today.” Wanda shrugs, and you can see that she was hoping for a different reaction and not the mild indifference that she’s currently getting from you. 

“Why? Did something happen?” You ask as you pick up Sparky and bring him to the kitchen for a proper meal. You hate to see Wanda give up something she seemed so passionate about. But then you recall her recent affair with a student, and there’s really no telling where that passion was truly directed at. 

“Honestly, I’ve been meaning to for some time.” she muses while playing with her wedding ring. You leave a generous amount of boiled chicken in his food tray, before moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch, conscious to put much distance between you and Wanda.

“For a while it looked like I finally found a worthwhile career that isn’t so ambitious,” Wanda says. You glower at her allusion that her prior dreams were too extravagant to come true. “But in the process, I also lost myself to it. I sort of left you behind, while you always brought me to every milestone of your achievement. And for that, I wanted to apologize.”

It’s the closest thing to a willing confession you’ll ever get from Wanda. Her quitting her position at the university is her way of burying this and moving on. Maybe it would’ve been better if you simply waited for your marriage to fix itself instead of snooping around for her secrets. You wish you weren’t so addicted to the truth. If grace exists in this world, then it comes in the form of ignorance to all of the things that bring so much suffering. 

You’re thinking of something to say, but you’re afraid that the dam inside you will burst if you open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry it took a while for me to really comprehend how I feel about you.”

“We’ve been married for years, Wanda,” you remind her in disbelief. “That’s something you should’ve comprehended fully before you decided to say yes to a life with me.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” she hurries to explain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please, Y/N, don’t get mad. Of course I know how I feel about you. I simply didn’t care to explore the magnitude of it, because I was complacent. And selfish.

“And when it comes down to it, you’re all that matters.” Wanda says and scoots closer to you. Then she takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Your eyes close in their own accord, sighing at the contact. This might be the only thing that stops you from falling further apart. Even through the worst thing she's ever done to you, you crave to be this close to her. 

Wanda tries to read into your thoughts, and then says, “I know, I know. Acta non verba.”

“What?” you ask distractedly. 

“It’s what you always used to say back in college: deeds, not words. I’m going to show you. I’m going to make you feel how you make me feel.” she smiles at you tearily.

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re to wait it out until the matter with Vision is resolved, and then serve her the divorce papers. She’s not supposed to declare her love for you and for those words to still have a substantial effect on you. 

“Wanda, I–” 

“Here,” Wanda retrieves a box from underneath the pillows and pushes them into your hands. “An advanced anniversary gift.” 

You try to stop your hands from shaking as you stare at the box in your lap. 

"Wanda, there's something we need to talk about."  

"Later, baby. Please, just open it." Wanda says and you try not to cringe at the pet name. 

You're about to pull the lid off when the doorbell rings and Sparky comes rushing to the door, yapping away. 

"I'll get it." You mumble and yank your hand from Wanda's grasp. The haze in your head instantly clears up the moment you’re no longer touching her. 

You open the door to two gentlemen in a dark suit. You remember Natasha’s warning yesterday, not really expecting them to show up this soon. 

"Wanda Maximoff?"

"No, I'm her wife, Y/N. Can I help you?"

The taller one with blonde hair makes the introduction with, "I'm Detective Rogers and this is Detective Barnes.”

You wipe your hands on your pajamas before shaking their hand and inviting them to come in.

“We're here to ask your wife a few questions about Victor Shade." Rogers says. 

You hesitantly glance back to Wanda who suddenly looks so stricken.

"They're here for you." you tell her. 

"Mrs. Maximoff, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rogers walks over to her and introduces himself and Barnes to her. 

He gets on straightaway with the questions. “Where were you last Tuesday afternoon?"

"I was at work, attending a departmental meeting. Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

The two men look at each other. Then the shorter one, Barnes, says, "Your former student, Mr. Shade was involved in a serious accident."

Wanda gawks at their news. "I–I was told he dropped out of school for reasons that were not disclosed to me and the class. I had no idea. My god, that's... That's terrible." 

“Yes, we’re aware. His family wanted the whole thing in the wraps in case it turned out to be more than just an accident.” Rogers explains with 

“Why would they–” Wanda tries to ask but Barnes interrupts her abruptly.

"Were you close?" he asks. 

He watches your wife as you do–closely, and observing every crease in her features that would give her away. But after months of lying, it's evident how she’s become so good at it. 

“Uh, no,” Wanda shakes her head and smiles through her absolute lie. A strange feeling creeps at you at having to see your wife display such confidence in front of authorities. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can share apart from how he performed in my class.”

Rogers and Barnes exchange even-handed looks again. Barnes glances at you briefly, before nodding at his partner to continue.

“Here’s the thing, Ma’m,” Rogers takes out a small notebook from his pocket and flips through it. “We found your name and contact in Mr. Shade’s call history. There are dozens of back and forth calls between you and him. This is actually the reason why we wanted to get in touch with you, because you’re the only one aside from a classmate of his that he’s spoken to for the entire semester. We want to know if he ever confided in you or if you knew someone he might have had a disagreement or altercation with.” 

You can feel Barnes studying you again, but you refuse to meet his gaze, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible with just a tinge of curiosity. 

Wanda remains unfazed and says, “We do communicate over the phone. But again, it’s strictly about his studies.”

“What about his studies?”

“He was having a hard time with his final project. It can be any form of art–a sculpture, a painting or maybe even a video, and they need to emulate their deepest and darkest desires to it. H-He needed my input every now and then.” 

“Sounds quite a challenge,” Rogers mutters as he writes on his pad. “And have you seen his painting?”

“No. I highly discourage them from showing me their works in progress. Why?”

It’s Barnes who answers her this time. “There was no painting found in his apartment.”

“Oh, he must have kept it someplace else then.” Wanda says, more to herself. 

They don’t comment on that. 

“When did you see him last?” Rogers again.

“Monday of last week. He came in late to class. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“May we ask why ‘it doesn’t matter’, Ma’m?”

“I no longer work at Westview Institute.”

“Really,” Rogers lifts an eyebrow, taken aback. “Since when?”

“This morning,” Wanda answers. “Personal reasons. You can talk to the dean for the details if you want.”

Rogers simply nods and scribbles on his pad some more.

“Have you ever been in his neighborhood? Ever been to his apartme–” He badgers on but you interrupt him. 

“I think that’s enough,” you say with authority. “I don’t see what other questions could be relevant to your investigation, but my wife’s told you everything she knows.” 

Barnes tries to protest but Rogers signals to him. 

“Very well. Thank you both for your time.” Rogers says as you usher him and Barnes to the door. 

“Wait!” Wanda yells, chest heaving. They both look over their shoulders, waiting. “Is he… is he okay?”

You catch the knowing smirk on Barnes, but it goes away as soon as Rogers warns him with a look. 

You weren’t expecting she’d ask about him despite their obvious suspicions on what kind of relationship they had. It hurts you in a way that you can’t even begin to describe.

“Last we’ve heard he’s stable. But I’m afraid he’s still in a coma. For all we know he might never wake up. But let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Rogers says, and then with a polite nod, leaves with Barnes in tow.

“I, uh, I forgot that I need to formally file a resignation letter.” Wanda says after you close the door behind them. She frantically grabs her purse, all the while avoiding your gaze. She’s not appropriately dressed to go outside, but you don’t point it out to her as you continue to act the part of the oblivious spouse.

***

Wanda returns home three hours later. A nostalgic smile finds its way to the corners of her mouth, when she spots the note you left for her on the fridge.

Went to the park with Sparky, it says. 

The post-it notes were a long-standing tradition. Sometimes you’d put one on her rearview mirror, something along the lines of “have a great day ahead, I love you” written, and Wanda would stick one on your lunchbox that said “don’t skip on the vegetables”. 

And while she blames herself for your recent aloofness, she was hoping to remediate it on your anniversary. She already booked plane tickets to Hawaii and made reservations at a 5-star hotel. Your boss and probably the entire staff of your branch already knows about it, when she filed a week of vacation leave on your behalf. And then she put all the documentation and details of the trip in the box she gave you this morning. 

She planned for everything, except the part where two cops showed up at her house to talk about Vision. Admittedly, he was another thing that was never a part of her plans. Wanda used to deride people who make mistakes, and when asked to explain, could only say ‘it just happened’. She’s heard it too many times in the past, mostly from her ex-boyfriends. 

It just happened. There’s no better way to put it should you ever find out what she did. She wasn’t lonely or unsatisfied or neglected. The only struggle she could think of about her marriage is thinking about what to have for dinner, because you neither complain nor you ever know what you’re in the mood for. 

In actual sense, her life was perfect. Because of you. Because you work for her happiness. The guilt eats at her everyday. But she knows what she’ll lose if she comes clean. And she can’t afford that. She’d rather confront her demons than risk losing you. She tells herself she can’t put you through this kind of pain.

Wanda pulls herself out of her thoughts. She needs to focus on you. She truly hopes Vision would make it, so he can go on to live his life and she’ll live hers with you. 

Wanda pads through the bathroom to run herself a bath. While waiting for the tub to fill, she pensively walks around the bedroom, noting how the room still smells of you. That’s when she  finds her gift on your work desk, next to your laptop. It’s still wrapped in a bow. Wanda frowns, wondering why you didn’t bother to open it. 

All of a sudden, your laptop makes a sound. Acting on impulse, Wanda unlocks your computer with your password–her birthday–and then opens your email account. 

There’s a new email from Natasha. The subject reads ‘in case you need them’.

An odd, overwhelming feeling consumes her, and without thinking, clicks on the email. 

Wanda waits for the message to load with its attachments and then–

She freezes and her stomach drops. 

***

About four pairs of couples attend your small dinner party that you have planned several weeks ago. Your boss, Scott Lang came with his wife and daughter all the way from New York just so he can, in his own words, ‘taste your wife’s famous Paprikash’. Wanda reminded you that you were hosting, and you had spent the rest of the day shopping for ingredients and red wine. She asked if you should cancel, but you figured an evening with seemingly elementary lives would do some good for the both of you. 

And you’re right. It’s not a nuisance as you thought it’d be when you were roped into it. In view of the recent episodes that no doubt defined the lowest point of your life, it feels nice to experience a little normalcy in your home. Your introverted nature makes you a disastrous host to these events, but Wanda is the opposite–she’s a natural at hospitality. She’d go around and entertain people, exchange gossip, and make them take shots. She’d dance in the middle of the room, with that devil-may-care attitude of hers, attracting people to her like moths to flame. But at the end of the night, she’d go home to you and sleep in your arms, because she’s yours. As you and Wanda grew older, you became a more exclusive sort of couple. But on rare occasions like this one, Wanda would put on the old party hat while you’d watch her be the best part of it.

The only problem right now is that Wanda went away. Physically, she’s in the receiving room with everyone, nodding and smiling at whatever warrants a nod and a smile, but you can tell that her mind is off somewhere faraway. 

“So, Y/N, what’s the first thing you wanna do in Maui aside from stuffing yourself with Poke bowls?” Scott asks. 

“I’m sorry?” You tilt your head at him.

“You know, the…” he starts doing what looks like a hula dance, but you shake her head, still not getting any of it. 

“Wait, what? Wanda hasn’t–” Scott looks at Wanda, in panic. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

Wanda’s been keeping to herself the entire night. And she’s been drinking a lot, the contents of her glass never quite reaching the bottom before it gets another refill.

“It’s fine, Scott.” Wanda says.

You look at Wanda expectantly, but she just studies her drink. Increasingly annoyed, Wanda downs the rest of her wine and then says, “I was planning to take us to Hawaii on our anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s pretty awesome.” you say.

Wanda huffs out a mirthless laugh, before standing up and telling everyone she’s going to take a nap.

“Good idea, dear. You’re looking puffy around the eyes.” Emma, another co-worker of yours that Wanda never really warmed up to, quips at her.

Wanda clenches her jaw tightly, but chooses not to engage.

You excuse yourself from the group and follow her out of the room. Wanda feels your presence behind her and spins to look at you for the first time tonight.

“I’m okay. Just go back to your friends.”

“They’re not my friends and you don’t look well.” you say.

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” Wanda offers you a smile, but it’s wobbly. “Please.”

You can’t deny her anything and you can’t stop caring about her. She heads to the stairs before you can utter another word. 

***

After Wanda sees the last of the pairs to the door, she finds you in the bedroom with all the lights off. She can only make out your silhouette–shoulders hunched and perfectly still, while you look out the window to watch the couple trade playful kisses before getting in their car and driving off into the distance. 

From your peripheral view, you watch Wanda approach you slowly, cautiously, like a hunter stalking its prey. It’s easy to guess that she already knows. She has her arms wrapped around herself as a defensive stance, probably afraid of what you might do to her. You nearly let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, because you don’t think you could ever hurt her the way she’s hurt you.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from where you’re standing. 

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she carries on with the questions despite your refusal to even acknowledge her existence. 

“Y/N?” Her voice is frantic and presumptuously privileged. 

You don’t owe her anything. Especially answers. Anger burns in your chest like a candle–fragile but with the potential to burn an entire field. You imagined the many ways she’d beg you when you discover each other’s skeletons in the closet. You imagined she’d be on her knees, clinging at your ankles, insisting she loves you and that it will never, ever happen again. You imagined you’d kiss her for one last time, right before you’d tell her that you’re done. 

You hate yourself for allowing her to beat you to a confrontation. For coasting through this mess until Wanda takes the mantle of the interrogator herself. She gets to nag you with questions as if after weighing each other’s transgression, yours turned out to be worse than her cheating. 

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No. You tell me what you did.” you whisper menacingly, finally letting go of the restraints you placed yourself in for her sake.

You abruptly turn on your heel in her direction, and then stalk towards her in quick, menacing strides. Wanda cowers, but doesn’t yield. She stands her ground like the courageous heroine of her own movie. 

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me…” Your chin begins to tremble and your vision begins to blur. “...over and over and over.” 

“Y/N, please–” 

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now.” 

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, the weight of her sin materializing in the form of your bared teeth and the vein pulsing in your neck and temple. 

“You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you!” You hear yourself yell, as real as the wetness you feel running down your cheeks. 

“I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!” 

“Oh my god,” Wanda sobs out in anguish, cupping a hand around her mouth. “Y/N…”

There was a time, from long before you were married to her, when loving her broke your heart more than it made it whole. You didn’t think it’d happen again, but even if it did, you thought you’d find a way. You’d always find a way for Wanda.

You were happy together, weren’t you? Before this happened, she never gave any indication that she wasn’t. She made plans with you. Five-year, ten-year plans that meant she wanted to continue being with you. In return, you gave it everything you have and more. You turned the dreams into blueprints, and from blueprints into milestones. 

The arbitrary nature of her infidelity is what shocked you the most. It meant you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this. It wasn’t up to you. Love is a gamble and you’ve lost.

You’re both on the floor now. You, leaning against the side of the bed, and Wanda, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs continue to rack her body. 

When both of you can breathe again, it’s Wanda who breaks the silence. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

As much as you need to hear it, an apology now is just a drop in the ocean. Wanda can’t unfuck Vision. You can’t un-crack his skull. 

A thought suddenly occurs in your muddled brain.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask.

“No.”

“He must be really special then.”

She shakes her head furiously, denying it.

Against your better judgment, you ask the one thing that’s been plaguing you since you learned of her lover’s name. “Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda mumbles without a second thought. “I thought I did, but no.” 

She didn’t love him. But it still kills you to know that it definitely crossed her mind that she might’ve felt something for someone else.

“Did you…” You stare intently at the ceiling, willing gravity to pull back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “...ever love me?”

“I love you,” Wanda says, her voice low and trembling, though she dares to look you in the eye. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You know,” You wince at the way your voice falters. You’re so tired and dehydrated, and your head is starting to hurt. Your lips quirk up in a bitter half-smile. “You have such a lovely way of showing it.” 

Wanda lets her legs slide straight in front of her as she openly weeps into her hands. Under different circumstances you’d be out the door right this second, getting all her favorite snacks and a bouquet of flowers. You have loved her for so long. 

“You should’ve just killed me. I don’t see any difference. At least there’s no pain in being dead.” you say after some time.

“Baby, don’t say that.” Wanda hiccups, struggling to control the spasms in her chest. 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.”

Wanda looks away, like she’s been slapped.

“You can stay,” you say, and Wanda looks up at you with hope. “In this house. For as long as you want. But I’m leaving.”

“No. Don’t leave.”

But you’re already pulling your wedding ring off your finger even as she rushes to kiss you roughly. Wanda pours everything in this one kiss. She has played all the cards she’s dealt with, and this is her final, desperate move. 

As for you, you take it for what it is: a goodbye. It’s messy and salty, and everything anyone could ever hope for in a last kiss. When it’s over, Wanda ducks her head under your chin. She finds purchase in the area just above your heart, trying to commit to memory the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

You don’t have it in you to push her away, but you take the hand of hers that’s still cupping your face, and put the cold metal that once symbolized your commitment to her, in her fevered palm. And then very gently, you force her fingers to close around it. Albeit the numbness in your legs, you manage to push yourself up into a standing position and out of Wanda’s grasp. 

“This isn’t over. It can’t be over.” you hear Wanda speak, but you’re not sure if it’s to you or to herself. 

Out in the hallway, you examine the finger where your wedding ring had been. It’s going to take some time before its mark on your skin completely fades away.

***

A Week Later

“He’s awake.” 

Natasha sits across from you in the diner. She’s back in town to pick you up and drive you back to her condo in Manhattan, where you will be staying for a while until you find your own place. 

You swallow and take a breath, poking at your scrambled eggs. 

She’s wary of you–this zombie-esque version of you. And it’s not only apparent in your behavior, the gauntness of your cheek is more noticeable, and your clavicle more protruded. You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight in as little as two weeks. 

“He doesn’t remember anything.” she adds and this gets your attention.

“How convenient.” you say.

“Look, Y/N. You don’t need to act tough around me. Because I can see right through every mask you have on. You want me to prove it? Let me prove it.”

“Nat, just–”

“You’re more relieved to know that he’s woken up, than him not remembering anything. You’re compassionate to a fault. There can’t be a purer soul than yours.”

Your best friend’s impassioned speech puts a small but genuine smile on your face. Natasha does a little victory dance with imaginary pompoms, and the laughter comes easily to you. 

“I know I have no right to say this, nor do I really understand what you’re feeling right now. But, Y/N, someone will come along and take every broken piece of you back together. They will love you so hard, you’re gonna have to actually beg them to ease off.”

You humor her. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

In all honesty, it’s hard to think about the far-off future without the stinging reminder that Wanda is not in it. But as you sit idly in diner for a very late brunch–and might as well call it lunch–you realize that you’re not left entirely empty-handed. You have Natasha. You have the rest of your friends back in New York, although you haven’t talked to them much lately. You have your career that is getting a fresh start at a new company. Wanda has gotten custody of Sparky. As much as you love him, you have a feeling that she needs him more than you do. 

The point is, you’ve already seen the bottom of the sea, and it’s time to break the surface.

“As much as I hate your wife…soon-to-be ex-wife… or whatever,” Natasha shoots daggers at someone behind you. “She’s here to talk to you.” 

“Did she put you up to this?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“She called me to collect a favor, and this is the best bargain we managed. She’s not going to contact me anymore after this.” Natasha says, and then she gets up from her seat and takes her plate of bacon and eggs to enjoy at another table. 

You hear tentative footsteps approach the booth and brace yourself to face Wanda. 

Much to your chagrin, she looks as immaculate as ever in her parka over a simple white v-neck and high-waisted jeans, her glossy red hair cascading in perfect waves past her chest. 

“Hey,” she says and slides into the booth with you.

You take a huge bite of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.” 

“Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules.”

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. 

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” Wanda pauses to catch your eye, and you see no traces of sharpness in them. Her green eyes are bright with determination. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

You look at her from beneath your dark lashes. “Okay.” 

Wanda swallows nervously and interlocks her fingers on top of the table. You can’t explain it, but your eyes automatically search for the wedding band in her left hand.

It’s still there. 

“I, uh, got something for you.” she says. 

“No, thanks.” you say.

“But it’s yours.” she argues softly, digging for something in her jacket. You watch her pull out a ring box and place it in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Your wedding ring.” She says matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t want–” 

“I don’t care. I’m giving it back to you, and I’m keeping mine. You can do whatever you like with it. But I can’t keep it for you.”

You consider it momentarily, what she’s asking of you. In hindsight, it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to hold onto the residual love you have for her that the ring represents. 

“Fine.” You reach for the small box and Wanda heaves a sigh. 

“So, you have your ring back, and I’ll sign the divorce papers when they’re ready.” Wanda recites mechanically, her voice thinning towards the end of her sentence, as if she’s not at all prepared for what she needs to say to you next. 

“Then, I’ll come for you.”

You almost spit out your coffee. Some of it actually dribbles past your lips and you quickly grab a napkin to wipe your mouth. She tenderly smiles at your little accident, finding your clumsiness endearing. 

You gape at her, unable to think of a response.

“I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” Wanda’s smile turns into a sad amusement at herself. 

“I don’t hate you, Wanda,” It’s the truth. Even though anger is the only emotion you can process most days, you’ve only ever hated the way she makes you feel. 

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

You can tell she has more to say and you wait. 

“I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.” Wanda says, giving you a long, level look. 

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you. I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.” 

“Wands,” The nickname rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “You can’t torture yourself like this.” 

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” 

You’re my dream, Wanda had written in her vows. You remember it, clear as day.

Wanda gets up to leave. “I’ll see you soon.” 

As soon as Wanda exits to her car, Natasha returns to the booth with a strawberry milkshake in hand. 

“Is it over?” she asks offhandedly, referring to your conversation with Wanda.

You hesitate, then look at her with an unreadable expression on your face. You give her the only answer that feels right to you:

“For now.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss #my writing #category: angst #natasha romanoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen