#i'll try to make most of the prompts i got some sort of continuation of an already existing au

[tennessoui]

Four word prompts: “I’m not wearing that.”

this takes place in the KUWSK universe! (but can be read alone) The twins are about 9 here, and they've just adopted baby!Rey!

(900 words)

“No way,” Anakin says immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“The twins picked it out,” Obi-Wan replies. “You’d break their tiny baby hearts if you said no.”

“I want a divorce.”

“Haha,” his husband says. “Come on, get changed. It’s four in the afternoon, and you know I hate taking the kids trick-or-treating after it gets dark.”

Anakin is torn between a rush of fondness for his husband and a swell of great hatred. Well, alright. Not hatred. Perhaps annoyance at most.

As if he can feel through the air how Anakin is feeling, Obi-Wan hums and plays with the open collar of his own white shirt. “You’re the one that wanted to let the kids choose what they wanted the family costume to be for Halloween this year,” he points out. “I believe this is strictly your fault.”

“I believe that’s bullshit,” Anakin mutters, turning back to stare at the monstrosity lying on the bed. “Obi-Wan, I’m not wearing that.”

“You know,” Obi-Wan taps his finger on his lips and ties the red sash around his waist. “I was thinking just the other day: how many Halloweens do we have left to dress as a family? Luke and Leia are already nine. I’ve never studied the cut off date for Halloween, but I assume it’s coming up. And, well. Rey will give us another few years—” the baby on her cot exclaims at hearing her name, and cries for Obi-Wan’s attention.

Obi-Wan, absolutely besotted beyond all rationality with their new daughter, sweeps away from the mirror to pick the baby up.

“Aren’t you just the most evil and diabolical Ursula in the entire sea?” Obi-Wan asks the baby, who squeals and flaps her chubby arms like they’re really tentacles. Obi-Wan croons and starts to hum a version of “Under the Sea”, one that causes Rey to cackle and gurgle from the safety of her father’s arms.

It’s mind-numbingly adorable, the way his husband treats their daughter, how absolutely smitten he is with her every move and noise. Watching it almost makes up for the purple bikini top on his bed and the green skirt.

“Why can’t there be two Prince Erics?” Anakin asks, only a little desperately.

“It’s like you haven’t even seen the movie,” Obi-Wan replies, still making faces at Rey. “Put it on now, quickly, we’ll be late.”

Anakin has half the mind to bite out that one can’t exactly be late to fucking Trick-Or-Treat, but he can’t bring himself to muster up the right amount of vitriol. He thinks it’s adorable, the way Obi-Wan reads articles about Halloween violence and car accidents the entire month leading up to the holiday. The fact that he lets the kids go at all without holding his hand the entire time is a testament to how much he’s grown since they were five.

But still. 

“I believe you brought this on yourself, Anakin love,” Obi-Wan tells him, carefully switching Rey to one arm so he can go back to primping in front of the mirror. He’s tried to style his hair in the swoop that Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid is known for. Anakin can’t decide if it’s devastatingly effective or if he just thinks everything that Obi-Wan does is devastating.

“How the fuck—”

“Careful now,” Obi-Wan warns him. “There are baby ears about.”

Baby ears that don’t even understand English, Anakin wants to protest, but he knows it would be useless. He can count on one hand the number of fights he’s won against an Obi-Wan whose protective father instinct has been triggered. “How is it my fault that our kids apparently want me to dress up as Ariel?” 

Obi-Wan shrugs and adjusts his grip on the baby before turning to face him. “You’re the one who’s always singing along to her parts in the movie,” he points out. “They probably thought you would love it.”

“Well, I don’t. You’re the ginger, switch with me. It makes more sense.”

“Fuck that,” Obi-Wan replies. Anakin squawks at the unfairness of it all. “I’m already dressed. And besides, this is what the twins wanted.”

“Why are they the eels?” Anakin asks, shucking off his shirt because he knows a stone wall when he sees one. “Does it say something about our children that they wanted to be the slimy, evil eels instead of the prince and princess?”

“Perhaps that they don’t want to kiss each other,” Obi-Wan points out. Anakin makes a face so full of disgust that he hopes Obi-Wan can feel it aimed at him even with his back turned. “Think of it this way,” his husband says bracingly. “They wanted Rey to be Ursula, which can only mean they’re really and truly accepting her into the family. And they wanted us to be Ariel and Eric, which means that when they look at us together, they see the best representation of true love they’ve ever seen before.”

He leans over and kisses Anakin’s cheek. Weak as he is, Anakin cannot help but lean into the press of his husband’s lips on his skin. Rey giggles and claps her hands together, happy to be somewhat included.

“Fine,” Anakin relents because Obi-Wan’s reasons were so sweet and so good and Anakin is so weak with love for his husband. “But does it have to be the purple bikini top?”

#asks #kuwsk #i think if it's not tragically annoying #i'll try to make most of the prompts i got some sort of continuation of an already existing au #i really want to get ok with reading my own writing whoops lol #and its like fun lil bonus stories for those who know a lot of my stories!!! #anyway #obikin #they're all dressed as little mermaid characters which was the twins' favorite movie for like a solid yeaar

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Closet love | {RenGiyuu}

Theme: Fluff!

"Listen. If you two are going to continue being clueless, go in the closet and fucking figure things out!" Shinobu said, her hands on her hips as she looked upon the two Hashira. "You both are still unfit to go on missions so as long as you have time to kill, might as well make a move, understood?"

Kyojuro and Giyuu stared at her. No, no they didn't understand. 

She sighed. "You two will be the death of me. Fine, I'll give you a prompt. Both of you—stand up," she ordered.

They stood.

"Follow me."

She stalked off to one of the guest rooms and opened the door, raising her eyebrows. "Go in," she told them.

They walked hesitantly inside. 

"Alright, I'll trust you'll use whatever you trained your night vision for the two of you to be able to see. Now, I'm going to keep you two closed in here for some time for you to figure things out," she said, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

"Figure out what?" Kyojuro asked curiously, finally speaking up. 

Shinobu gave him an irritated look and slammed the door shut, locking it quickly from the outside. "I won't forget about you two so don't try breaking the door down. There's a pocket watch in there somewhere so if you find it, use that. If I don't come back by midnight then I probably did forget abut you," she said, walking to the door.

Kyojuro whined and Giyuu stayed quiet, his eyes trying to focus in the dark.

"What about the prompt you said about?" the Flame Hashira asked as Shinobu could be heard  opening the door to go out the room.

"Right! What word starts with an L, ends with an E and is an emotion or feeling you two feel for each other? Four letters in total, should be easy, get it over with," she said, leaving.

"Wha-" Kyojuro started, but he heard the door click shut. "Sorry, Tomioka," he apologized after a minute of silence.

"Mm," Giyuu hummed, his eyes closed.

They sat in uncomfortable positions against the walls, trying to stay furthest they could from one another.

"It's... a tight space, no?" he commented, waiting for any sort of response from the raven—though he got very little.

"Mhm." 

"Can you see yet? I can't really, there's not light coming from under the door so it's a lot harder for me when there isn't any obvious source of light helping me see," Kyojuro said, shifting slightly.

Giyuu opened his eyes, met with a dim outline of Kyojuro and the space around them. "I can see a bit," he said.

Surprised, Kyojuro laughed. "That's the most of you've said to me in a while. Five words!" 

"I prefer to be silent," Giyuu remarked.

"I've noticed! Should I stay quiet?" 

"I admire your talkativeness. You may continue," he said, his voice holding a light quiver in it. Some sort of nervousness.

Kyojuro beamed, his smile so bright it probably could've provided them light if not for Giyuu closing his eyes again. "Thank you, Tomioka! What do you think Kocho meant? About the L and E and uh... I forget!" 

"Do you forget things easily?" Giyuu asked, opening his eyes a bit.

"Not particularily! I suppose I was paying attention to you more so than her words and it slipped my mind!!" the fiery Hashira said thoughtfully.

"Ah."

"Say, Tomioka, she said we both feel this way about each other! Do you know what it is?" he asked, completely from curiousity—he had no idea what Shinobu had meant somehow.

Giyuu had... unfortunately, as he told himself, understood what she'd meant. "...No," he lied. 

"You hesitated!" Kyojuro pointed out.

"I didn't!" Giyuu said defiantly, sounding so childish that Kyojuro laughed again. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing! She said we had to 'figure it out' to get out, so we should try to, right?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Mm."

"Okay! What starts with an L... and ends with an E?" Kyojuro thought aloud, tapping his chin in a comical manner. "Hm! L....Lane?" he said, confused. "No, she said it was a feeling, right? Lonely? No, that doesn't end with an E. Hm..."

Although Giyuu was quite lonely often, he thought to himself. At least he appeared lonely.

"Are you lonely often, Tomioka?" Kyojuro asked, forgetting that he probably shouldn't ask that.

"What?..." 

Yes, he probably should not have. But it was too late to take back the words. "Are you lonely?" 

Giyuu was quite for a moment and Kyojuro was about to offer to change the subject when he said, "Sometimes."

"Awhh, why don't you go hang out with me?" Kyojuro said.

"Because I prefer to be alone."

"But then you'll be lonely!"

"I said sometimes."

"But... Tomioka?" he said, having a sudden thought. 

"Hm?"

"Are you just bad at socilizing?"

Giyuu paused. "Oh." 

"Oh? What does that mean?"

"Uhm..." he stuttered, shifting on his spot on the floor. Fuck.

"Should we change the subject?" Kyojuro offered, not really minding the way they skipped around. 

"Yes. I'd... appreciate it," Giyuu said.

"Okay! I'm going to move a bit, okay? I'm a little uncomfortable," Kyojuro said, moving around.

"You are? Should I stand?" he asked, wanting to move around a bit anyways. 

"It's okay!" Kyojuro said, but Giyuu had already started to stand.

Due to the lack of light, Kyojuro didn't realize this fast enough and his chin went crashing against Giyuu's head. The stumbled backwards against the walls, their legs somehow ending up tangled together in all the confusion.

"Ahhh... sorry," Kyojuro apologized when they finally stopped moving, though they were as uncomfortable as ever, their legs entwined together and their backs pressed against the wall. 

"It's... fine." No, no it wasn't. Giyuu was flushed at their physical contact, never having been so close to someone like this in a long time. He was suddenly grateful for the darkness and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to breathe out the red hue framing his cheeks.

"Ehm... how do we move out of this position?" Kyojuro asked uncertainly. 

"I... don't know," Giyuu mumbled. 

"Okay... Okay, how about we try to sit down? Then maybe we can make sense of everything. I'm starting to see better now," Kyojuro said, nodding to himself though Giyuu only new that for the sound of fabric moving.

"Mm...'kay." 

They descended upon the ground (that sounds... goofy in this context) ever so slowly, seperating from the support of the wall as they did so.

Then they sat quietly on the ground, their legs crossed against each other. Neither said anything for a minute, unsure if there even was anything to say. Giyuu was fighting to keep his breath as normal as it kept rising with his heartbeat with an uncomfortable feeling of... something he'd rather not acknowledge.

"I think I figured out how to get out," Kyojuro said, his voice oddly quieter. 

"Mm... How?" Giyuu asked, not sure if he even wanted to untangle himself.

"We have to uncross our legs in some ways. It's better to just do it, there's now real way to explain I suppose," he explained. He seemed to prop himself up, his legs brushing against Giyuu's. His hand slipped between their entangled limbs and, at the touch, Giyuu flinched.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, am I moving too much?" Kyojuro asked—totally not making the author struggle to not make this sound sexual as fuck.

"No..." Giyuu said, his voice tense. "It's fine, we're almost out."

"Right..." Kyojuro continued until he was free, his hand lightly hovering over Giyuu's thigh—somewhat unknowingly to himself—for a second as he pulled away.

It was silent again and Giyuu took this as a time to gather himself up; his thoughts and his heart. 

But then Kyojuro leaned closer, his hand lifting Giyuu's chin up to face him and the butterflies in Giyuu's stomach went berserk. 

"Are you alright, Tomioka? I could tell you appeared to be as if you'd run around the world a couple times," he asked, obvious concern lacing through his words.

You aren't making it better!! Giyuu thought furiously. He shook his head. "I'm fine... Don't worry about me, Rengoku."

"You sure? Your breathing is faster than per normal and your pulse..." Kyojuro trailed off, his hand brushing against Giyuu's neck. "-is also faster," he decided.

"I'm... you're just..." Giyuu hesitated. 

"I'm what?" Kyojuro asked, not moving from his position over Giyuu for reasons unknown to the both of them. 

"Too... close," Giyuu whispered, his face erupting more so at his own words.

"Oh. I'm sorry!!" Kyojuro said, skittering away. He pressed against the wall as if it would give them more room. 

The warmth of his hand on Giyuu's chin was gone and he let his head hang down against his chest, breathing slowly. "It's fine," he repeated. "I'm fine."

It was quiet, then, growing from an awkward silence to a deafening one, both Hashira shifting uncomfortably every now and then.

Kyojuro couldn't take it anymore, not used to the silence as much as Giyuu was, and said abruptly, "Is it love?"

"What?" Giyuu asked, startled. His finally calmed pulse quickened again and he cursed himself at his stupidity. 

"What Kocho said... Four letter word, starts with an L, ends with an E, an emotion or feeling... we both feel," Kyojuro said, his voice faltering at the end. "I... I can't speak for you, but I certainly feel, what I presume is love, for you, Tomioka. I didn't think it would be this... because you seemed to bored with my talking. Your responses were short and often not much to show you gave care to what I said. But you... just now, you said... you said you were like that because I was close. Other times... other times I've noticed other people or Hashira around you, in similar proximity although not situation... You never reacted with much but annoyance for them. I... I'm sorry, this is just me thinking out loud, pay no mind to it, Tomioka," he rambled.

Then the silence was back. 

But only for a minute.

"I'm going to fucking regret this," Giyuu started, making Kyojuro look up in surprise. He'd not expected a response. Neither of them had. "Rengoku, that might be it. What you said about the... word. If it's true on your side as... as well, then it is most likely the correct answer." He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. "I said I admired your talkativeness earlier. That was only half the truth. I admire you as a whole, as a Hashira and a person and... a friend. I couldn't imagine the Hashira being whole without you—I couldn't imagine myself without you. I don't understand why; I barely speak to you. But it is what it is and... it's true."

He stopped, then, feeling he'd spoken way too much. Said way too much and Kyojuro would get disgusted and burst out the door and tell everyone what a weird person Giyuu was and-

"Tomioka, can you open your eyes?" Kyojuro asked.

"...how do you know they're closed?" Giyuu said quietly. "I thought you couldn't see."

"I got used to the dark," he said, waving off the question. 

"Oh."

Giyuu opened his eyes, blinking several times. Kyojuro was standing now—when had that happened?—and he held out a hand to Giyuu.

He took is and then they were both standing, their eyes locked to one anothers.

"Tomioka, I find such affection for you inside me when I see you, or even think of you," Kyojuo said, his hand entwined against Giyuu's. 

"But why?"

"Why? Is that a trick question? As you said about myself—which I feel is quite rude of me to not say anything to so I will tell you now that what you said just made me the happiest man to exist—I admire you greatly. And I feel that you are one of the most amazing people in my life. One of the people who have made me open my eyes widely and wish I could take you in whole, keep you for myself, no matter how selfish it may be." Kyojuro paused then, averting his eyes. "I never made a move for fear you weren't... into men. Into me, specifically. And I'm still unsure of it. I'm unsure if all what you said came solely from the kindness in your heart and you're simply wanting me to be happy. Or to stop pushing. So if it is that, please stop me. Stop me before I do anything you'll hate me for. That I'll regret."

He got nothing in response, no movement, no words, just... silence.

He looked up and was met with Giyuu's eyes, shining somehow, despite the lack of light. 

Once their eyes met, Giyuu spoke, his voice insistant and almost commanding. "Rengoku... I don't think anything you could do would make me hate you. In fact, if you will go and say all of that, I'm going to put up the same rules. I want to do something right now and... and if I go too far, please push me away. Just... be as harsh as you want, if I'm reading everything wrong that's my fault and I must take the blame."

"Wha-?" Kyojuro started, but lips were pressed against his and his eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn't think, he didn't know what to do. But then he kissed back, his sturdy arms wrapping around Giyuu's waist, almost as if he'd expected it. 

Hashira... are quick to react, quick to focus on what's happening in whatever situation, quick to adapt. 

But they were trained to be like this in fighting. They were trained to be like this while threatened by life or death situations and an art of something magical in such a bad way, forming dangerous days and death right around the corner. They weren't trained for relationships in any way. Nobody ever said how difficult it could be to understand the emotions and feelings of a human being. Nobody ever warned them about... this.

And yet you must collect yourself as you were taught. You must take on the situation, analyze it or just dive straight in. Don't think too much about it, just do it and survive. Even if the situation isn't the dire from the outside, once you're in it... how would you react?

They pulled apart, their lungs aching for air, their face flushed with other than embarrassment. 

Love

It was the answer to the most obvious question ever, wasn't it?

And yet neither had grasped it, not because they were stupid but because they didn't believe it. 

But it was true. It was very much true.

Giyuu... smiled, then. A tentative, hesitant, unsure smile. But a smile all the same. 

And it was bright. And beautiful. And it lit up the whole closet.

Wait, it lit up-

Shinobu's face popped up in their vision and the two Hashira blinked furiously, trying to get used to the light that spilled into the closed space. 

"Why hello you two gay shits. Looks like you've figured everything out? I'll let you out now. I don't want you fucking in my house," she said, herding them out of the closet. "Go back to your rooms. I'll let you two out of here tomorrow because I'm worried what you two might do if I let you out before you think things out more."

Giyuu and Kyojuro stumbled out, less so from the light and more so from embarrassment. 

As Shinobu left, trusting them to know their way back, Kyojuro turned to Giyuu.

"Tomioka!"

"Hm?"

"Tomorrow, after she lets us leave, do you want to go out for lunch?" Kyojuro asked, sounding more nervous than usual.

"I... would love that," Giyuu mumbled, his hands on his cheeks in attempts to cool them down.

Kyojuro smiled, recieving a small smile in return. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

{Word count: 2568}

This was longer than I'd anticipated!! 

and it was cute!! Yayy!!

...nd my mom is forcing me to eat lunch 

please tell me you weren't expecting anything else bc of the name HELP

#kny #sillyness #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #fluff #rengiyuu #rengoku x tomioka #rengoku kyojuro #giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #gay #ships #ds #muahahahahah #fluffyness #silly fluff #mwah #the cuties #i love them sm

[make-me-imagine]

Love is Stored in Post-It Notes

Prompt: Surprise reunion on Valentine’s Day

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @paigewinchester67; you requested smut but I don't write that, so you got fluff instead lol, I hope you like it anyways.

Warnings: Nothing~

Words: 1k

-

Carrying a damp rag in your hand as you slowly made your way through the house, cleaning as you went, you began opening drawers and sorting them out.

Opening another drawer, you moved a piece of paper, revealing an old cigar box. You smiled the second you saw it, taking it out as fond memories washed over you.

Sliding open the lid, you revealed a pile of post-it notes in various colors covered in your's and Bradley's handwriting.

Picking a few up, you read through the notes, some with obvious memories attached, and some you couldn't quite remember.

'I love you!'

'I'll meet you at the spot at 7!'

'Don't forget the chargers this time'

'Dinner is at 6'

'I didn't want to wake you. I will see you later, I love you.'

You don't know why you kept most of them, but every time you found one from Bradley, it felt like he left a little piece of him behind, just for you.

Grabbing another one, you smiled, though it held an air of melancholy with it.

'Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ No'

The memory ran through your head. You and Bradley had been dating for a few months. It was the first Valentines Day you would be spending as a couple. He had stuck it on your phone when you weren't looking.

When you noticed it, you met his eyes from across the room and he winked, before grinning at you and motioning for you to check a box.

You had acted as though it was a tough decision, tapping the pen against your chin as you decided what to check. He frowned playfully as he clasped his hands together, as if begging you to say yes. After another moment, you had checked yes, of course.

Every year since then, he had asked you in the same way, always leaving the note for you to randomly find. On your pillow to find when you woke up, on your car steering wheel when you headed to town, on the bathroom mirror when you went to take a shower.

Each years note was stacked behind the last. All with the same question and always with the same response.

Looking up at the calendar, you noted that Valentines Day was only a few days away. And for the first time, Bradley wasn't here.

Valentines Day was not the most celebrated holiday, nor was it all that important in reality. But it would be the first time you weren't together for it.

It would be the first time you didn't dress up a little more than any other date night. The first time you wouldn't buy each other flowers, or cheesy cards. The first time you wouldn't make a themed breakfast for the two of you.

You both always made it so fun, you loved your cheesy holiday together. But even if you couldn't do it this year, you would live, as long as he came back at some point. That was all you could really ask for.

Putting the post-it notes back in the box and placing it gently in the drawer, you continued with your cleaning, trying to busy yourself.

As you made your way towards the bedroom, you stopped as you heard a knock at the door. Heading back towards the door, your immediate thought was that it was a delivery.

Peaking out the window, you saw no one. Opening the door, you immedietely looking down, expecting a box or envelope. But seeing nothing, you furrowed your brow and looked around, confused.

Shaking your head slightly, you figured maybe it was someone who had the wrong house, or maybe just a bored kid. As you turned to head back in, your eyes caught on something pink on the door, as you did a sharp double take.

On the door, just under the peep-hole, there was a pink post-it note. Your breath hitched in your throat as you grabbed the note, reading the message, written in familiar handwriting.

'Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ No'

Spinning around, your eyes darted around before locking on Bradley just as he stepped out from behind the car, a grin on his face as he removed his sunglasses.

"Bradley!" You laughed out as you rushed to each other, quickly embracing each other.

He laughed as he hugged you, picking you up off the ground as he spun around. "Miss me?"

"Always." You replied with a bright grin on your face as you pulled away. You placed your hands on either side of his face, making sure you weren't dreaming. You pulled his head down and pressed your forehead against his as you spoke "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well then I couldn't surprise you could I?"

Reaching towards his pocket, you watched as he pulled out a pen and smiled. "So?"

You repressed a laugh as you took the pen, before placing the post-it on the wall and checking the yes box. Turning back to him you stuck it on his chest before patting it two times, unable to remove the grin from your face.

Placing his hand over the post-it he smiled widely as he reached out, pulling you to him again before he brought his face close to yours.

He stared into your eyes for a moment before he spoke softly "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." You replied.

"And I love you so much."

You giggled softly "And I love you so much too."

Leaning in, your lips met as you wrapped your arms around him. It looks like you'll get your cheesy holiday together after all.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun/Rooster Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389, @writerfulltime, @readingwithatorch

#Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x you #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x gn!reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun: maverick fic #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw oneshot #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw one shot #top gun oneshot #top gun: maverick one shot

[catalogercas]

Whumptober 2023 Day 2 Prompt:

Not Enough Rain to Wash the Sins Out of this House

"I'll call out your name, but you won't call back."

Thermometer | Delirium | "They don't care about you."

Jamie winces against the tangled memory from the middle of the night, where his dad and Roy were both real and both there.

Keeley and Roy's whispers are a low buzz in the background of their bedroom as Jamie pinches his brow against the throbbing in his temple. His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, too heavy to lift from his pillow, and he can't keep his eyes open so he just listens to Roy rehash what he'd sort of hoped was a particularly vivid bad dream.

Because he hates how he has to carry this with him. Can't escape it. No matter how much he wants to.

Stupid trauma.

"The fucking muppet was trying to get ready for training at 2 in the morning," Roy says. "He was spiking a fever and fucking out of it."

"So why do you look like you want to commit murder then?" Keeley asks. "You know you can't murder a fever, yeah?"

"He...," Roy grunts then continues, "I haven't seen that petrified fucking look in his eyes since fucking Wembley. He was completely delirious, Keeley, fucking apologizing for taking too long to get ready and for almost face planting into his dresser. Took me ten minutes to get him to calm down enough to realize that fucking piece of shit wasn't here before I could get him to down some Paractemol."

"Oh," Keeley says with a sharp gasp. "That fucking bastard, messing with our boyfriend when he's not even here!"

And Keeley's right.

That's what he hates the most. That his dad doesn't even have to show up to make things worse. He's already done enough for a lifetime.

Jamie winces against the tangled memory from the middle of the night, where his dad and Roy were both real and both there.

He'd startled awake to the the open threat of his dad standing in front of him with an empty, broken beer bottle in hand, waving it towards his rear as he told him to hurry up and get his kit on, and Jamie was trying, he was, trying to so he could maybe avoid the sharp cut of jagged glass against his skin. But his limbs were heavy, and he just couldn't get them to cooperate.

Then there was Roy's voice cutting through it repeating that it was okay, that it was just him, and that he was safe while Jamie tried to make him understand that he had to get ready, couldn't disappoint his old man more than he already had, could he, until he'd finally slumped against Roy in complete exhaustion, sobbing until Roy gently led him back to bed and gave him medicine before pulling him in close and wrapping his arms so tight around him he felt like he couldn't get loose. Which he'd really needed. It grounded him. Made him feel safe. Like nothing but being wrapped in Roy Kent's arms could.

The weight of Roy's arms and Keeley's soft snores from the other side of the bed, where she'd somehow slept like the dead through his entire breakdown, had lulled him back to sleep.

"We're sure I can't go up to Manchester and have at the bastard?" Roy asks.

"You're no good to me and Jamie, or Phoebe, if you're in prison, Roy," Keeley says, like she always does.

"Well if it weren't for that, it'd be fucking worth it," Roy mutters, like he always does.

"Mmm," Jamie hums. He has mixed feelings about it. Always has, probably always will, but he feels terrible enough as it is and doesn't want them to keep going on about his dad.

Keeley reaches over for him, "Didn't know you were awake, love. How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Jamie says. "Can't even get me eyes open."

"Oh you poor thing," Keeley says as she rubs at his back. "Anything we can do?"

"Stay with me? And, er, don't talk about murdering me dad right now, even if he deserves it? Still me dad. 'S complicated," Jamie slurs drowsily.

"Of course," Keeley says, squeezing his shoulders.

"Right, then," Roy says, "I'm getting the thermometer. It's got to be lower now than it was last night, but, you twat, I almost took you to the E.R."

"Not the twat here," Jamie says, "fever's the twat."

#Roy x Jamie #Roy x Jamie x Keeley #Sickfic #Whumptober 2023

[the-sinners-paradise]

» i caved in!! i love tsukasa suou with my whole heart!! also i hope i didn't make him too soft? lol!! my older sibling instincts rlly kick in with this kid ☆

prompt: [personal] giving him a dessert as a gift

character(s): tsukasa suou

pairing(s): tsukasa x gn!reader

warnings: N/A, fluff, not proof-read

☆ — TSUKASA SUOU !!

growing up with a friend like tsukasa was probably one of the most amusing experiences in your life. come to think of it, while the boy was pretty predictable, you still found him strange. he was raised so differently from you that it was difficult to understand his need to act chivalrous, nor did you get how he managed to keep up with both knights and his family issues all at once. while it was easy to say you aspired to be like him, you also knew the life he was living was a bit too hectic for your liking.

although.. tsukasa was a whole different person whenever he got to indulge in his childishness; like the way he got excited in gacha games when he got a character he always wanted, or the way his eyes lit up when he passed by a bakery or café because of all the delicious-looking desserts those places had to offer. he has never said it out loud, and you knew he wouldn't anytime soon, but he was clearly trying to restrain himself when he was around you. well, you knew all too well about his insecurities, so you didn't force him into it, but...

here's a plan!

it requires you to miss out on going home together with him every day, but you decide that it's just another necessary step towards your goal.

the first day, tsukasa assumes you're ignoring him, and he looks noticeably less enthusiastic when you meet up with him the following morning, only to hand him a cute pink box with his favorite bakery's logo on it.

he looks a hundred times more puzzled than ever before, and you can't possibly imagine what's going through his head, so you just sit him down and put it in front of him.

“i don't think you know, but i have noticed how you look at the sweets in there.” you said, looking at him in that sort of 'gotcha' way. tsukasa only looks embarrassed though: how could he let that slip?

“i'm sor—”

“nope! don't wanna hear it!” you said and opened the box, carefully pulling out a small cake shaped like a cat.

it had vanilla frosting in the middle and little flowers cut out from strawberries and bananas lining it. the little cat face was drawn on and one of the strawberry flowers was placed on its ear as an accessory. you almost felt bad that it had to be eaten.

“ah, are you sure? this must have been expensive! at least let me pay you back.”

“tsukkun, it's a gift.” you sighed. “you're incredibly kind, but i'm not doing this out of pity..” you placed a hand on his head, gently petting his hair.

oh, he already looked like he was going to cry, but if you knew anything about him, it's that these were definitely happy tears. he still must have been embarrassed though — he was blushing like crazy.

“i'll repay you at some point..!!”

“you can let me feed you. does that count?” you raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk on your face. as expected, tsukasa's face somehow got even redder.

“sure..”

you smiled contentedly and pulled out the little fork you brought with yourself. the plan wasn't to feed him, sure, but the bakery wasn't just going to give you a fork with your to-go order.

you carefully cut off a small part of the kitty cake, still feeling a little bad for it, before stabbing it on the fork and lifting it up to tsukasa, who gladly ate it.

“cutie..” you mumbled under your breath, sighing softly as you continued to feed him.

#sin tells a story #ensemble stars #enstars #enstars x reader #enstars x y/n #enstars x you #tsukasa suou #tsukasa suou x reader

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

I wasn't gonna post anything until I get back from my vacation but I'm reading the prequel to "they both die at the end" and it prompted an idea of a little crossover sad fic with a tragic mcd ending and I'm gonna break my own heart with this one for sure 😂 (@thebravebitch said what I have so far is good and I trust her judgment lol ❤️)

so here's a little snippet I wrote on my phone bc I couldn't help myself and wait a few days 😂

______

His phone ringing wakes him up. At first he's confused, not registering it's his phone, since it's not even his ringtone. It takes him a few seconds to recognize it, and when he does, he looks at his phone and freezes, the words "DEATH-CAST" showing up as the caller ID.

He doesn't panic. When he answers the call, they'll tell him he's going to die in the next twenty four hours - or, twenty two hours, since it's after 2am already, they took their time to deliver this news. But he doesn't panic, he doesn't worry, he just freezes, and wonders if he should answer the call at all. After all, he's not even sure he believes in this whole damn thing.

One thing he does know is that no one will even try to convince him that he's going to die soon. They don't know shit.

*

It's not a new information that Eddie Diaz is what can be classified as a skeptic. He's not a believer in supernatural forces, magic, jinxes, ghosts, lately he even struggles with religion, despite his abuela's best efforts. Everyone in his life is aware of that.

So when this dude showed up out of nowhere claiming he can predict when people are gonna die, with no details or explanation, and give them one last day to sort out their affairs and say goodbye - Eddie called bullshit. He wasn't about to spend money on the off chance that they'll let him know when he's about to die. With being in the army, shot at every day, and even now with being a firefighter, he's aware of his own mortality more than your average person, he's already had more brushes with death than most people.

But he bought the subscription anyway, for his whole family. He had his parents, his abuela, his tía, and his wife trying to convince him, and they didn't succeed - he still thinks it's bullshit - but at least that got them to shut up about it. So, since then they spent thousands every year on subscribtions to this dumb service for himself, Shannon, and Christopher, and it was a waste of money, in Eddie's opinion.

And then, shortly after he moved to LA with his son, when he reconnected with his estranged wife, trying to see where this would go, but no matter what, his son was getting his mom back, and things were starting to look up again - Shannon got the call.

Eddie didn't belive it, but she did, and she decided to live this day like it's her last - which it ended up being, after all, but Eddie's still not sure if it wasn't some freak coincident.

That's what he's trying to tell her, when she's asking for a divorce that they don't have time to get finalized before he becomes a widower. She looks at him over the table in the little café they met, and there's nothing but peaceful acceptance, mixed with a bit of sorrowful regret for what she'll miss, in her eyes.

"Please make sure Christopher remembers I love him. I loved him, and I'll continue to love him from wherever we go after." she says with feeling, but at the same time she's almost casual about it. As if the prospect of dying within who knows how many hours wasn't a big deal. As if the only big deal is leaving her child once again, this time permanently.

Eddie can't take this. He won't believe this.

He still has trouble believing when he arrives on a call to a car accident later, and sees Shannon lying there on the street. Logically, he knows it makes sense, there's been a lot of people he's heard about who got the call and died, there's no reason not to believe it. But there's also not a lot of reasons to believe it, it might all just be a coincidence. Eddie's not about lose Shannon. Chris is not about to lose his mom. It's not fair. And he can't help blaming the stupid Death-Cast program.

____

No pressure tags (I'm on vacation and I'm barely on here so I really have no idea who already did it lmao) @panbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @jamietarts @shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @translasso @alyxmastershipper @silentxxsoul @mrevanbuckley @buck-tartt

#wip wednesday #buddie #buddie fic #fic excerpt #fic sneak peek #wikiangela writes #my writing #upcoming fic #new oneshot #death cast #death cast buddie au

[theoriginalladya]

jaw kisses for whoever you're willing to write for??

Nonny, I have to thank you for this one as well as thank you for your patience! Having so many Shepards in my head, it took a while for the 'battle' for who would get to do this prompt to sort itself out. Surprisingly, that battle ended at 3 am this morning! I got a rough draft down on my phone (and I will say, at normal times typing on my phone is the bane of my existence, let alone 3 am! >.< ).

I've spent most of today thinking about it, about the larger scene around it because you see, I've been trying to sort out a beginning to Caleb Shepard and Kaidan's first story post-Reaper war. I knew what I wanted to do, but I couldn't get it to work.

You just made it work for me! So, THANK YOU! <3 I hope you like it!

For now, I'll just post this here on Tumblr, but you can be sure it'll be showing up soon in their fic!

This prompt comes from this list

~~~

“You’ve come so far,” Kaidan whispered, voice cracking softly as his fingers carefully traced the shape of Shepard’s jaw, “please, come just a little further.  Back to me.  To us.”

Barely two months since the war ended in London, a decisive victory against the reapers to be sure; all of it, save for a moment right after that battle when Shepard had been brought on board the Normandy, a moment where he opened his eyes, stared up at Kaidan and smiled, Shepard had been unconscious.  Half a dozen surgeries and more still needed.  A hasty removal from hospital after the media found his location and forced their way into his room, past guards and nurses and a very irate Dr. Chakwas.  Six agonizing weeks of recovery for both of them as well as Earth herself. 

Kaidan was a man used to the hardships life brought with it, but even he was nearing the end of his rope.

“I need you back, Shepard,” he continued, his fingers now moving to check bandages, IV lines, ports, to make sure all were secure.  He knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it.  Desperate for some reaction, it was all he could think to do.  “Call me selfish, but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t want to lose that.”

The ache that had formed in his throat when Shepard sent him off the battlefield in London returned as he swallowed, making even the hoarsest of a whisper impossible.

At a loss, he turned to the only other way they had to communicate between them.  He leaned over and brushed his lips along the perpetual stubble lining Shepard’s jaw.  More importantly, it was just about the only area of his body not badly injured.  Still, he was careful and brief, pressing his lips close, desperate for the contact, the touch. 

Their path to this point hadn’t been easy, far from it, but despite some of the challenges along the way, Kaidan needed this.  They needed this, even if Shepard wasn’t conscious enough to acknowledge it.

Taking one of Shepard’s hands in his, Kaidan brought it up between them.  He brushed a light kiss to the back of it while gently nuzzling Shepard’s jaw with his nose.  “Please, come back,” he choked.  “The Normandy’s crew needs you.  I,” he swallowed tightly as his voice cracked, “need you.”

Closing his eyes, he ignored the hitch in his lungs and the soft sob that followed in its wake.  One more brush of his lips and Kaidan moved to sit back, Shepard’s hand still secure in his. 

Or he tried to.  He only made it a few inches before he was met by resistance at the back of his head.  Eyes fluttering open and upward, his breath caught more sharply this time as he found Shepard’s gaze locked onto him.

“Mo ghrá…”

Kaidan imagined the sound of Shepard’s voice more than he actually heard it, but it was more than enough.  Trails of tears flowed freely down his cheeks, droplets falling at the edge of his jaw to dampen the bedding that covered Shepard.  Again, Kaidan pressed his lips to Shepard’s hand and somehow managed a wobbly smile.  Using his other, he reached over to run a finger down Shepard’s temple.  He was rewarded as Shepard turned into the touch.  Leaning closer, Kaidan hovered over Shepard’s lips and murmured, “A ghrá mo chroí….”

#ladya writes #mshenko #Kaidan Alenko #Caleb Shepard #OTP: Brothers in Arms #Mass Effect #jaw kisses #Thank you so much!!!!!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Chapter 13: "Gold Rush"

"I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush. Everybody wants you, but I don't like a gold rush..."

You didn't hate places. Most definitely not entire cities, but you were glad to be leaving Berlin again.

You reconciled that at least this time you weren't leaving in handcuffs. 

Though you rationally knew it had nothing to do with the city of Berlin, and everything to do with the choices and decisions you made in your life, it seemed like Berlin never had anything particularly good in store for you.

-

"You okay?"

"I'm not the one that got pushed down an elevator shaft," you quip. 

"Why'd you go after-" Steve starts, a concerned look painting his face. 

"I think you're right, Steve," you blurt.

"Right about?"

"He hesitated. Your friend, I don't- I don't know, but he hesitated."

"Hold on, hold on, just walk me through exactly what happened," Steve prompts.

You nod, taking a large gulp of air. "I was just down the hallway with Nat when the power went down, and I saw him tackle Sam down. He pushed you down the elevator, Nat went one way. And I know I'm supposed to be staying out of it, but I followed him."

"And?"

"His arm, it's made of vibranium like your shield. He heard me coming from behind him, I sort of grabbed his arm. I swear I wasn't trying to shove him that hard, but he fell down some stairs, his head hit one of the steps so I went to make sure I didn't, you know?" you insinuate with a wince. Steve nods, waiting for you to continue. "But when I went to look, he sorta popped back up. Steve, he could've killed me right there. I know that he could've, but he didn't. He just watched me for a second, and then he took off again."

"He hesitated," Steve murmurs under his breath.

"I know what he did to Nick, Steve," you remorsefully mumble. "I wouldn't be saying anything that I didn't really believe."

"And what do you believe?" Steve gently asks.

"He just, he looked..." you falter, fumbling for an accurate portrayal of a moment that was so fleeting but carried so much weight. Steve catches your eye again, silently urging you on. "He looked trapped."

"Want to tell me what the hell that was about?" Tony furiously questions as he strides into the room.

You already had the inkling that Tony saw your actions, or more accurately, your inaction earlier. You just hoped that he would've taken that as you being scared in the face of the Winter Soldier, but from the tone of his words you know that he knows there was more happening. You immediately begin apologizing profusely, "I'm so sorry, Tony. I guess I just- I hesitated-"

"No, I saw you. On the staircase, you had him and you let him go, and I want to know why!" Tony demands, his voice seething with rage.

"Tony," Steve chides, a little taken aback by Tony's vitriol that had never been directed at you.

"I already told you -" you start.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that? How about you try the truth this time!?"

"Tony," Steve admonishes once again.

Your eyes remain downcast as you finally admit what ran through your mind as the Winter Soldier stood in front of you while you did nothing to capture him. "He's a person, Tony. Just a person."

Tony scoffs, throwing his hands up. "Of course, leave it to you to try to find the humanity in the Winter Soldier. He killed Nick Fury. He killed the person who rescued you! Did you forget that? Better question, what happened to staying out of it?"

"I know, I know, but I think-"

"That's the thing, you didn't think!" Tony snaps. "Do you even realize what you just did? All that talking to Ross, making a case for you, all of it gone. You just proved to Ross today that you're a loose cannon."

"I'm sorry, Tony. I- I just I looked at him, right in his eyes and -"

"Oh, that's great, really great! I'll be sure to tell Ross you spared the guy because you thought he had pretty eyes."

And while you and Tony both knew you weren't talking about the color of his eyes, and though you most certainly weren't going to admit that to Tony, you were captivated by the vastness carried in his eyes.

For those few short seconds, you were mesmerized by what you swore upon every star that you saw. It was like there was an entirely different person trapped, begging and pleading for help as he was drowning in the depths of those ocean blue eyes. 

"That's enough, Tony," Steve curtly warns for the last time. "You're asking her to apologize for having mercy."

"Mercy?" Tony incredulously repeats. "That's mercy? Mercy is sending him to a psychiatric facility instead of a Wakandan prison. Not letting him go!"

"I didn't-"

"But you did!" Tony angrily exclaims. "And if anyone else gets hurt, that's on you two."

-

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam remarks, gesturing to the private jet you three are about to board.

"I'm a Baron, Sam," Zemo explains, a slight undertone of disdain in his voice. "My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country."

Zemo offers a greeting to the man waiting at the foot of the plane's staircase. They exchange what sounds like a warm greeting followed by a peck on each cheek. "Please, ladies first."

You nod at Zemo with a grin before beginning your ascent up the stairs, "Thank you."

Bucky watches you for a moment before he feels a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Eyes a little higher, Bucky."

"I wasn't-" Bucky starts, stopping only to glare at Sam. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, turning away from Sam to climb up the stairs. By the time the two of them are aboard, you've already taken your seat in the left aisle seat. Zemo steps out of the aisle and turning to the seat in front of you. 

"Oh no, you don't," Sam warns, grabbing Zemo's shoulder as he tries to take the seat in front of you. "What did I just say about staying away?"

"Sam," you admonish with slightly widened eyes. "Like he's going to try anything with all three of us right here. Unless you want him to sit with Bucky?"

"Fine," Sam begrudgingly huffs, releasing his grip on Zemo's shoulder. "But I'm watching you."

Zemo nods, a mischievous grin on his face as he slowly sinks down to his seat, "I expect nothing less."

Bucky takes the seat in front of Sam, who sits in the aisle beside you. He watches you for a moment. He wants to ask what Sam's talking about. What danger is lurking so closely that Sam is this mad at you?

His mind is flooded with millions of questions and wondering. He refuses to satiate his curiosity in front of Zemo. The last thing he wants is to give Zemo any more ammunition to use against either one of you. 

But he can't help that his eyes just keep wandering back to you. It's not just that you're oddly quiet, sitting with one of your knees propped up and your elbow resting on it as the plane takes off. It's not that your head rests against the window. It's the fact that you've yet to say more than a few words to him or anyone else on the plane, like you're pretending that they're not even here. 

He knows it's his fault. He knows that.

But a part of him wanted you to yell at him, to call him a jerk, an asshole. He could work with anger. He could even work with it being as it was. Friends was better than this.

Because right now, there was nothing.

You offer no quick-witted, off-handed remark. No goofy jokes or off-kilter anecdotes. It's a coldness in a person that was so warm. It's a masterpiece torn to shreds. 

"Apologies if it's a little warm," Oeznik says, bringing Zemo a flute of champagne once the plane is coasting in the sky. "The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the gallery."

Zemo quietly mutters something in Sokovian to his butler why a wry smirk on his face. You look away from the window, tsking and shaking your head at Zemo with a chuckle, "Guys, don't eat the food."

"What? Why?" Sam questions.

"Just trust me," you warn.

"You speak Sokovian," Zemo observes, tilting his glass to you in praise.

"Since when do you speak Sokovian?" Sam guffaws.

"You weren't the only person I hung out with on the Compound." You shrug, fumbling with one of the laces on your shoes. "Wanda taught me a little."

"It's good to have you back, sir," Oeznik chuckles, shuffling back to the front of the plane.

This time you don't continue watching out the window, instead you watch the man for a moment as he takes a large sip from his glass. Zemo holds your gaze for a moment, a calculating look in his eyes as he begins speaking, "You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell."

He pauses for a moment, turning to Sam first, "Oh, that's right, you do."

And then he turns back to you, the same wry, prying smirk on his face. "And I suppose you're more well versed in captivity than the two of us combined."

"Watch it, Zemo," Sam warns. 

"It's alright," you dismiss, brushing the comment off. 

You're not really sure what to make of the man. You know he hates people like you, people like Bucky. You know that he's the reason the Avengers imploded. But there was a sincerity in his voice when he said he meant you know harm that you can't ignore. But that wicked glint in his eye definitely doesn't match his previous sentiment.

"Why don't you just tell us where we're going?" Sam prompts.

"I'm sorry, I was just fascinated by this," Zemo says, peering into the book in his lap. "I don't know what to call it, but this part seems important. Who is Nakajima?"

Before you can even blink, Bucky is out of his seat, a hand wrapped around Zemo's throat. "You touch that again, I'll kill you."

"Bucky," you hiss, though you're not even sure if you're saying it to console him or to warn him. 

Bucky's eyes flicker to you, slowly dropping his hand from Zemo's throat. He snatches the small notebook from Zemo's hand, tucking it back into his jacket as he returns to his seat. 

"I'm sorry," Zemo apologizes, smoothing his jacket back down. "I understand that list of names, people you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."

"Don't push it," Bucky seethes, sparing Zemo one last cold glare.

"I've seen that book," Sam redirects, nudging his head toward the small notebook. "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?"

"I like 40's music so..." Bucky trails off, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Oh, no," you sigh.

Sam turns to Bucky with an incredulous expression. "You didn't like it?" 

"I liked it," Bucky half-heartedly offers.

"It is a masterpiece, James," Zemo explains. "Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience."

Sam's eyes follow Zemo for a moment before turning back to Bucky with a vaguely annoyed expression on his face, "He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everyone loves Marvin Gaye."

"You said that about Star Wars too," you mutter under your breath.

"Those movies defined a generation!" Sam angrily exclaims. 

"Who said that?" you dramatically ask, theatrically looking over your shoulder to scan the rest of the plane.

"I'm surrounded by people with terrible taste. Steve loved Marvin Gaye!" Sam admonishes, his head turning to glare at you and Bucky. "And he loved Star Wars too."

"How interesting," Zemo muses. And even with those few words, you feel a vague sense of dread creep down your spine. "The three of you had such admiration for him."

He probingly looks at Sam. "As a mentor."

Then to Bucky. "A brother."

"And you," Zemo starts, pointedly eyeing you, "Steve Rogers meant a lot to you too."

Bucky almost freezes, his eyebrows furrowing as the statement that so easily leaves Zemo's mouth. Logically, he knew that Zemo was just trying to provoke you. Zemo would say whatever he could to do that. 

But there's always some truth buried in Zemo's words. 

Bucky had seen you interact with Steve on a handful of occasions. Seen you hold hands. Rest your head on his shoulder. Laugh and share exchange whispered words of kinship and understanding. From what Bucky saw, Steve had a real soft spot for you. Steve even encouraged Bucky to be friends with you, he pushed the two of you together whenever he could manage to.

But that was before you all became fugitives.

And two years is an awfully long time to get closer to a person. 

"Yes, he did," you plainly state, your voice not defying a single emotion. You knew he was bating you, trying to get a rise out of any one of you that he could. "He was my friend."

"Are you that close with all your friends?" This time you don't respond. And it solidifies Bucky's unfounded suspicions, there's something that you simply don't want to say, something worth hiding. Zemo turns back to Bucky with the same mischievous gleam in his eyes, "James, you would know, is she that close with all her friends?"

You grit your teeth, refusing to dignify his question with a response. You already knew what you meant to both super soldiers, and you weren't going to give Zemo the satisfaction of that answer.

"Watch it, Zemo," Sam grunts before Bucky can respond. 

It was a good thing too, because Bucky finds that picture so clearly in his head.

How close you were with Steve.

How close you could've ended up. 

Bucky only had stolen, fleeting moments with you. But he has to wonder: Did Steve get those too?

Zemo continues his tangent without even acknowledging Sam's warning, "But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him. America's super soldier, the enhanced human, is that we put them on pedestals. They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That's why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor?" Sam asks. "You talk about it like it's Skull Island."

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago," Bucky quietly explains, his mind still helplessly reeling with Zemo's insinuations. "It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800's."

"It's kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in like ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."

"That's enough, Zemo," you snap, not caring that you're falling right into Zemo's trap. "Bucky is not the Winter Soldier, so just tell us what we're doing and stop antagonizing him! Okay?"

Bucky's eyes slightly widen at your warning to Zemo. You'd been fairly quiet this entire plane ride, only offering the occasional quip and comment. You haven't even clarified or defended a single one of Zemo's borderline accusations.

But you defended him.

He's not sure whether to be elated that you so adamantly defended him against Zemo's blatant insinuation that the Winter Soldier still resided inside of Bucky.

Worried that you just gave Zemo more ammunition to use against the both of you.

Or if he should be upset that you definitely just called him Bucky again. 

Zemo tilts his head in your direction, a vaguely triumphant smile on his face. "My apologies."

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

#anonymityisfunwriter #anonymityisfun #grumpy sunshine trope #grumpy x sunshine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sam wilson #reader insert #tfatws #x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier

[newwwwusername]

The Umbrella Academy (Netflix) - Viktor & Klaus - Mental Health Awareness Month Prompt 7 : Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Prompt : Write a fic in which a character has Generalized Anxiety Disorder (canon or not canon) or just generally a fic focused on a character's anxiety Headcanons : Viktor has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, the power suppressants that Reginald gave him doubled as anxiety medication

Viktor had always been a rather anxious person. Ever since he was a little kid, he'd always been jumpy and nervous over every little thing. It's the main reason why he hadn't questioned when Reginald started him on the pills, because he was told they would ease his nerves. Whether it actually did or if it was just the placebo effect hardly mattered because they helped keep his anxiety in check.

When he stopped taking the pills so he could use his powers again, his anxiety spiked to levels he never thought possible, as though all the anxiety the pills had been suppressing through the years was coming out at once. After a little while, though, it leveled out, but his anxiety was still far worse than it had been while he still took the pills. A part of him almost wanted to take them again just so he wouldn't have to feel so anxious, but he knew he couldn't do that.

But then, the universe got reset and they all lost their powers. And his anxiety got bad again. And he didn't know how to deal with it.

So, he went to Klaus. Not because Klaus was the most knowledgeable or the most grounded of his siblings (those titles easily went to Five), but because Klaus had never treated him with the same level of judgment that the others had all throughout their fucked-up childhood.

"Why don't you go back on those pills dad gave you?" Klaus suggested. "I mean, you don't have your powers anyway"

"There's always the chance we could get them back" Viktor countered. "Besides, I don't want to become dependent on medication that he's prescribing me again. He could sneak all sorts of stuff in it, just like before"

"Fair enough" Klaus nodded in understanding. "You could see a doctor and try some different meds"

"I shouldn't need meds just to not be scared all the time"

"It's not a bad thing" Klaus reasoned. Viktor rolled his eyes.

"Right" the shorter Hargreeves chuckled humorlessly. "Says the addict"

"Hey" Klaus said, firmer than Viktor had heard him in... Ever. "I am trying to help you" he continued. "You do not get to take jabs at me for that part of my life, understood? I've actually been trying to go somewhat sober"

"I'm sorry" Viktor said meekly. A part of him wanted to shrivel up and die. "I'm sorry" he repeated. "It's just hard to grapple with"

"Well, do you want it?"

"...Yeah" Viktor admitted. As odd as it was to think about drugging away his anxiety again, he didn't want to feel this bad all the time. "I do"

"Okay, then" Klaus smiled. "I'll help you make the call"

Do not repost on other sites! If you want to participate in this month's challenge, there are 15 mental illness prompts that you can find here

#the umbrella academy #tua netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic challenge #mental health awareness month #generalized anxiety disorder #anxiety #viktor hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #medication

[amrv-5]

T R H for ask prompt :))) happy holiday <3

HELLO LIVV and HAPPY HOLIDAY!! wishing you continuing safe travels...!!!! Also this is so fucking long I'm so sorry. It was the writers question. It got me................

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

Heh. I have a distaste for anything that -- this isn't a wildly common trope, notably, just one I see on occasion -- anything that portrays Hawk as helpless / passive. I think he gets fandom-ified sometimes into somebody who Needs Saving (and given some canon events, like, I Get It), but part of why I love him as a character so terribly much is his ridiculous scrappiness. He really doesn't take mistreatment / his situation / even his own negative emotions lying down. Guy's a fighter, even when he wishes he wasn't, and I don't really gel with fanon takes that leave him without some degree of agency in action (with the notable exception of him being literally drafted).

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

[sickos voice] YES!!!! HAHAHA!!! YES!!!! I'm sure I've said some of these before, so sorry for repeats, but addition of fanwriters makes this particularly exciting yaaaay okay.

Non-fanfic: Well. God. Sorry for the particularly cancellable white-male-loquaciousness double-whammy of Thomas Wolfe and David Foster Wallace. Always chasing Wolfe's sort of deeply poetic, emotional, very sensitive way of writing--how reflective he is, his insane force / presence on the page, and some other intangible quality that just makes me go "jesus fucking christ I have felt exactly this, how did he put it into words" every other page. Makes me insane. As for DFW, well, sorry again -- get a lot out of that sort of grounded intellectualism-feel in his writing (we can argue about its value / veracity forever, but push to shove it really works for me as a reader).

Uhhh Vonnegut obviously, so much so that I almost feel like I don't need to say it 'cause I'm always transparently in writing trying to be even 1/100 as funny, sensitive, and useful in my cynicism as him.

Virginia Woolf!!! Man to render somebody's internal state of being so so vividly. I think I clearly ripped her off in S2G2 ch4, but my god how can you Not she's brilliant. Following from that Alison Bechdel because, talk about your intellectual prose. Man. Can I say fucking Voltaire without anybody getting mad at me. Sorry. Candide novella ever and probably the only thing that will get me through learning French.

Now. Fanfic authors --

First and foremost, cleanwhiteroom, wherever they are. I got into Pacific Rim late, but Designations Congruent with Things is genuinely one of the most meaningful texts I have in my life, fanfic or no. Insane. Brilliant, intellectual, warm, approachable, funny, wildly original. Also, Parker lore, 80% of the reason I was a physicist until I wasn't.

Uhh I can't possibly list everyone in MASH right now, but a quick skim -- Granspn (brilliantly written and beautifully imagined), yukiawison for skillful inventiveness and tackling exactly the themes I always want to see, yaroantheo for the just. MAN!!! the so-well-rendered warmth and depth of feeling and kindness in Homecoming, Remyfire's grasp of physicality and vivid tangibility, gayfranzkafka for really effective formatting play, raven/singlecrow for a Hawk I'll never forget. I am CERTAIN there are others, these are just top of the head.

And, maybe a surprise contender given that I don't talk a ton about BCS -- jimmymcgools does things with landscape and light that make me fucking nuts. I've gone back and just stared at their descriptions of place, light shape and quality, land, etc. -- master at work fr.

H: How would you describe your style?

I do not think there is a single question I could possibly be less objective or accurate on LMAO. My first thoughts in order were: Bad (nonspecific and too mean to Parkers Past), Sprawling (this seems accurate), Concerned With Realism (not actively ATTEMPTING it, notably, but -- concerned. I am Concerned with Realism. Feels true). Melodramatic but maybe not with as much pejorative sentiment as the word usually carries. Verbose. I try to gesture in the direction of comedy? In general summary: Freakin' weird, dude.

#THANK YOU LIVV these were fun!!!!!!! #love writer questions.... yes... yes... #ask game

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: This is part six of chapter one (the conclusion of the "episode"). When this goes up on Ao3 tomorrow, I'll include the character matches I'm ready to share, for my fellow Revenge fans.

If you haven't already done so, please stop and read parts one , two, three, four, and five. This is a #Batwoman AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. The character parallels were interesting, and I decided to reimagine a world where Ryan Wilder has a more intentional pursuit of vengeance. 

CHAPTER ONE - DECEPTION (Part Six)

Summary: Robyn Wilde, formerly Ryan Wilder, continues to make connections that set the stage for her revenge.

Wildmoore Week Prompt: Forced Proximity

Sophie: “Ah, nice to see you again, Robyn.”

Ryan had to accept that she couldn’t avoid that happening forever.

Ryan: “Same to you, Sophie.” 

Kate: “How do you guys know each other?”

Sophie: “Selly introduced us. She ran off again, and Robyn found her.” 

Kate: “Did she try to claw your eyes out?”

Sophie: “Nope, I found them snuggling.” 

Ryan gives her a small smile. Sophie is going to be a little more trouble than she anticipated. She is trying to make friends with Kate, and already Sophie is pitting them against each other. She needs to redirect.

Ryan: “And you are?” 

Mary: “I’m Mary Hamilton. Catherine is my mom, which makes me Kate and Beth’s younger, step sister.” 

Ryan: “Well, I love the rainbow plaid! Plaid is my favorite pattern - I’m such a stereotypical lesbian.” 

Mary does a slight curtsy with a big grin, while both Kate and Sophie seem to take note of Ryan's last comment. 

Mary: "Evan, where have you been hiding her? It would have been nice to know you had another friend who'd appreciate my style!"

Evan: "We actually just met last week, and I already love her."

Ryan leans in to nudge shoulders with Evan.

Ryan: "The feeling is mutual! We're going to be besties!"

Kate: "Cute. I take it you're new in town, then?"

Ryan: "Yup! Moved into The Loft above The Hold Up the day we met. This is off the record until tomorrow, but I'm going to be announced as Jeturian's interim CEO."

Kate: "So you're the new tenant. Reagan left so fast, I wasn't really sure what happened. But, congrats on everything."

Ryan catches Sophie rolling her eyes and fights back a laugh. She's gathering the tension between Sophie and Kate means they have history and this might be a forced proximity situation. And, if Kate and Reagan were at all involved, Sophie's reaction to Reagan liking her might also make more sense.

Ryan: “Thanks! So, what’s the agenda for this thing? Is there some sort of schedule?”

Evan: “I’ve got you, babe! Scan this!” 

Evan holds up a postcard with a QR code that was laying on the table, and she scans it with her phone. The auction is about to start in a few minutes.

Ryan: “Ooh, fun! It’s time to start bidding. I’m going after this Muay Thai lesson at the community center.”

Kate: “You like martial arts?”

Ryan: “I do. I’m proficient in about a half a dozen forms. It’d be cool to add another to the list.” 

Kate: “We should spar sometime! It’s not actually that easy to find another woman to practice with.”

Ryan: “I’d love that!”

Mary: “Whoa.”

Sophie: “What’s up, Mary?”

Mary: “I’m pretty sure I just saw my mom go off on our dad. It must be pretty bad for her to risk making a scene.” 

It is bad. Luke had used a burner to text Catherine, Candy, and Jacob stills from the video footage they’d captured of Candy and Jacob at The Royal Hotel. Suddenly, Catherine is walking very purposefully towards the stage, and she grabs the microphone as soon as she is in the center of it. 

Catherine: “Happy Memorial Day, everyone! Thank you for spending this day of remembrance with us. As is appropriate on days where we acknowledge the loved ones who have served and are no longer here, we’re taking this opportunity to give back to our community. And so, we appreciate you for digging deep into your pockets to help the organizations that are taking care of those most in need in Gotham. My very best friend, Candy, is so invested in this idea that she wanted to start off the action for it this year. She has already committed fifty thousand dollars towards the Alpena Youth Corrections Facility in upstate Gotham. She knows how important it is to help kids who have been impacted by things like drugs find their way to recovery, and this particular cause is so very close to her heart. Please give her an applause for showing us what we should be challenging ourselves to do here tonight.” 

You can hear shattering just before the applause starts, as Candice drops her champagne and the glass hits the floor. Servers run over to clean up the sharp fragments that had spread everywhere, and Candy smiles at everyone, nervous by both her public error and the sudden attention. 

When the applause ends, Catherine says a few more words and sends everyone off to find the tables with descriptions of what is being auctioned off. As the crowd begins to move, so does Candy, towards the exit. 

One down, so many more to go.

End Notes:

This is now on Ao3! If you're there too, please show some love. And as a bonus, you'll get the character matches in the end notes.

I'll be back here on Fridays with more parts of each chapter, but will put the conclusion of each chapter on Ao3.

All #Batwoman things I do now are in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please.

#wmw23 #wildmoore week #wildmoore #batwoman #fanfic #ryan wilder #ryan x sophie #sophie moore #luke fox #save batwoman

[syneilesis]

Things I've learned and realized writing the fics for Inky's one-week challenge:

I'm a very slow writer; I genuinely struggle writing at least 500 words in one sitting. On good days, I can do 200 words. Inspired, maybe more. Ficlets like ekphrasis and others take me an entire day to finish. It's probably because I start writing with only a vague idea of how to go about it, or I only know the mood but not the details. I'm self-aware enough to be cognizant of my strengths and weaknesses, and I tend to stick to what works for me.

I've always wanted to write lengthy fics! But I never was the kind of writer who could hit more than 10k-word one-shots. My style doesn't lend to that kind of length. When I saw Inky's challenge and read that the max word count per entry is 500 words, I thought to myself, Ooh, I think I can do that. Regardless of the prompts -- though they help too; dialogue and AUs lend to a broadness that appeal to my rigid brain. A 500-word fic means in most cases a one-scene fic. Which frees my mind of context necessary to establish a setting. I don't have to come up with an elaborate backstory and/or explanation why this detail is like this, that detail is like that -- AUs as a trope can fill in the missing pieces to make your fic coherent.

My first fic entry was something that I plan on writing in the future, so it's easy to write it, but it still took me longer (but still within the range of my speed). My second, third, and fourth, I tried something a bit different: I used StimuWrite, an app that helps you focus on writing -- it's also known as a writing tool useful for people with ADHD.

It has a simple UI, with a word count goal and emojis that appear whenever you type words. I chose these settings: darker background (it doesn't hurt the eyes) and typewriter sfx for that legit typing feel. I may put in a bgm from youtube or something, but sometimes I just want to listen only to the sounds of typewriter keys.

I tried StimuWrite before, but it didn't work for me. I gave it another chance this time, and oh lord it's very effective???!???!!!!! I finished 3 fics in under a day. So last Sunday I wrote give or take 2,000 words, which truly blew my mind. As an aside, I recommend you try StimuWrite; it might be effective for you too.

Because of that surprising writing streak, I continued using the app for the rest of the fics. And that writing streak persists! I feel relieved, I feel elated, I feel like I can do this. It's as if my brain loosened up enough to let me do what I want. I'll definitely use StimuWrite in my other fics too --

-- with some conditions, of course. All I know right now is that it works for me if I have a target word count in mind (under 600) and that it's only concentrated on a single scene. So I could focus on one scene whenever I open up the app. But that means that I have an outline of my fic, which isn't a problem for me because I like the mental exercise of outlining. I hope that this would help me come November, as I'll participate in Nanowrimo with my original story project.

Another point I've realized is that limiting yourself with a word count improves your editing skills. I do edit and revise my fics -- but they're mostly in the sort of 'i'll delete this passage because it no longer fits' and 'i'll rephrase this because it sounds awkward'. But in the cases of my sixth and seventh event fics, I had to pare them down because I exceeded the word count requirement. Initially I was reluctant to remove passages but I had to. So I did. I removed some bits and details of the story but rephrased others to still fit them in. I have to shorten some scenes -- and this is revelatory to me somewhat -- which is actually effective for fast-paced action scenes that needed fewer words but with the largest possible impact. Sometimes, shorter is better. It made me productive, for one.

Anyway, this got long wtf? I don't even know if I was coherent about it. There are still a lot of things I'd like to improve on -- such as relying less on my crutch words and metaphors. I haven't the opportunity to read a lot lately, so I need to try at least one page a day. The book I'm currently reading has been sitting on my desk for months. Back then, when I said I wouldn't make a list of read books per year to stop pressuring myself, I didn't mean not to read books at all lmao.

I don't know how to end this post so here's a gif of a puppy on a bowl:

#archi posts #personal reflections on writing #incoherent ramblings #long post

[icaruslaughed]

Hey y'all, been a bit and I figured it's a good idea for a little bit of a reintroduction since I did a username update lol. My name is Jo, I'm 24 (I'll be 25 in August) and I use she/her pronouns. Most folks here probably knew me as fickedup, but I've gotten tired of that as my brand over the last couple years so it's time for something new!

I've been pretty quiet for a bit here, but that's mostly because the world has been.... tough over the last few years. I've taken some time to really try and know myself better. I spent a year living in Memphis, then moved back home and started going to university where I currently am. A pretty major perk of being at college is I've been able to get free therapy, and through that came to the realization that I'm trans! I'm lucky enough to have my first HRT appointment in a couple weeks, and I'm really happy to be able to be my true self. I'm excited to enter into this new phase of my life, and I'm glad I get to share it with y'all on here!

I don't know if it ever really got brought up publicly here, but I used to be a real shitty person before I found Tumblr (and especially the MtG community) ((@bace-jeleren and @shunthehexmage were both a pretty big influence on me and continue to be, I owe a lot to them both)). I'm really greatful for everyone who took their time to be patient with me and help me understand things that I never had been exposed to before. if it wasn't for y'all I likely would have never been able to take the steps I have and get to feel like, well, a real person. I love y'all. Keep sharing that kindness as best as you can, it makes a world of difference. Even if you can't see it right away.

A special tag also goes out to @flavoracle for always being a beacon of positivity and understanding even as they have dealt with their own struggles, discoveries, and revelations. It has meant a lot to see that sort of growth, honesty, and hope. I don't know if my path on Tumblr would have been nearly as positive without their presence on here.

I'm going to try to be more active on here, even if I'm just shouting into the void. Feel free to reach out to me to chat or anything like that, can't promise I'll be prompt (college is a lot of work lol) but I'll do my best <3

(oh also, please, if I could request that y'all be patient with me and give me the benefit of the doubt, I know that's a lot to ask these days but I'm very new to a lot of this and spent the majority of my life in a very conservative area with a very sheltered upbringing, I'm doing the best I can and I am absolutely going to fuck things up. Just know that I'm genuinely trying and will always be willing to take good faith criticism)

#okay now for my trademark #talking in the tags lmao #for real tho #yall mean a lot to me #tumblr genuinely changed my life for the better in such a major way #i am so so glad i got to meet such wonderful people during such a rough period in my life #<3 #personal #trans rights #transgirl

[lex-n-weegie]

monty n hazel for the randomized kiss prompts!!

Kissed

41. on a scar/wound

(hee hoo have an excuse for some small angst >:3)

Poor gator could barely get through the day, he felt awful, terrible, riddled with guilt and worry. During the weekend, am accident happened with him and Hazel, in Monty Golf no less(accidents always seemed to happen there). She got pretty banged up, and he wasn't allowed to be with her for long before workers dragged him away to prepare him for the shows and birthday parties of the day. Like he could even think about those at a time like this. They told them that she was fine, but who the hell trusts those guys? They were still making her perform and work, her injures could be getting worse!

"What if she's in repairs for the whole week? What if they scrap her all together? What if she needs a new memory chip and she forgets us?" Montgomery worried aloud, walking back in forth underneath the showtime stage.

"Monty sweetie, she'll be okay!" Chica tried to reassure, placing her guitar to the side to place a hand on the gator's shoulder. "You're starting to burn a whole in the floor."

"I've never seen you this worried Monty." Freddy spoke as he double checked his microphone stand.

"What, and you're not?!" He snapped at the bear. "She's your freaking sister!"

"Yes, but-"

"She was a construction worker swamp breath, she was made to be able to handle tough situations and junk." Roxanne piped up. Monty gave her a glare before grumbling and rubbing his snout.

"I just...I'm scared, y'know?" He mumbled. "I haven't gotten the chance to see her all day." Chica rubbed his back a little, a small attempt to comfort the big guy. Everyone understood the worry, they all felt it too. They just did a slightly better job of keeping hidden in front of the kids.

"Why don't you go see her now?" Roxy suggested.

"Yeah sure, when we got a show going on in like 3 minutes." Monty rolled his eyes.

"We've done late shows before, we can cover for you." She added. He gave her a confused look.

"Yeah, you can check up on her for us!" Chica smiled.

"It would help us perform better." Freddy said, a small hint of mischievousness in his voice. Monty looked at everyone for a moment before smiling.

"I'd say that I'll try to be quick, but honestly screw that right now." That got a small giggle out of the chicken.

And like that, Monty had slipped away and was back up on the ground floor. He did his best to avoid groups of children, but naturally there were a few and he'd take one second to ruffle a kid's head before continuing his mission. Since a show was supposed to start soon, a lot of places were empty and barren. Lucky him.

Finally he made it to The Painting Palace, Hazel's special area. He almost slammed open the door as he walked inside. Hazel was simply stacking from drawing paper, which unfortunately got scattered when she jumped at the sound of the swung open door.

"Ah! O-Oh, Monty! Hi hun!" She smiled. He nearly just ran up to her to hug the daylights out of her, but he stopped himself. He felt sort of...dangerous at that moment.

"You uh...okay? After all that?" He asked awkwardly.

"Mostly, I just got a couple of dents. I was able to get most of them out myself before opening." Just as she said that, he noticed a fairly sized dent on her lower left arm. He felt like someone just jammed a crowbar in his chest. Gently he had grabbed her arm, rubbing a thumb over it. Hazel could see the pained look in his eyes, his glasses didn't hide it well.

"I'm sorry Poof." He mumbled. He placed a gentle kiss on it, something that slightly flustered the bear.

"M-Monty?" She sputtered a bit.

"I shouldn't have tried that dumb trick." His head rested on her shoulder, his arms encasing her in a small hug. Things finally clicked in her head.

"Oh honey." She rubbed his back, scratching it lightly with her nails. "We both know that was as accident. I'm okay, I'm still here." Her voice was soft, caring, sweet. He sighed a little, his tail wagging a bit thanks to the back scratches.

"M' still sorry."

"And you're forgiven." She gave him a tight squeeze before they both pulled away. She lightly punched his arm in a playful manner.

"Now get back to the stage before the employees flip their lid."

"Eh, I'd rather be here with you." He gave his usual cocky grin, which she rolled her eyes at. At least he happier.

"Montgomery Gator." She said in a stern voice.

"Well that's my cue to go." Hazel laughed, snoring as she did so. Monty gave a quick kiss on her hand before quickly jogging out of the creative palace.

#finally starting on these! #This is p fun to write hehe #lex writes #ask game #rockin my heart #montgomery gator #hazel the bear #self ship #selfship #self shipping #selfshipping

[collectionoftulips]

Also, I feel like I'm nearing the end of the current fic (still got at least two or three chapters left). I'm really enjoying getting back into writing again, but I'm currently in a headspace where I don't have much of my own ideas - so if anyone wants to suggest story prompts for me to write as my next fic in the comments, I'd very happily look at them and try to write something else once I'm done with this fic. I also realise I've been a bit behind answering comments, so I'll do that below. Thank you so much for them and your continued lovely support as always, Tumblr fam :D

@angel-starbeam They need to talk. Anthony needs to do the love confession. Oh god. I'm at the edge of my seat.

My reply: ❤️ Aww. they really do need to talk. Also I'm so glad that it's so engaging - that's all I really want with my fics. Also, I sort of decided to end the chapter where I did because basically, Anthony's brain short-circuited.

@kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp Oh wow Mary - just stab Anthony directly in the heart, it would be kinder LOL! I love the sweet friendship between Thomas and Kate, and Benedict’s support of Anthony. It may take forever and all of freaking Mayfair but eventually K/A will be forcibly removed of their clown shoes to have a grown up conversation.

My reply: I love how Anthony was like 'Dorset marrying Kate - it's a horrible notion, things can't get worse' and in waltzes Mary, oblivious, and basically goes 'actually here's how to make everything 50 times worse' haha. I felt very strongly about Thomas and Kate's friendship and them being like exes basically (also, if he wasn't her ex, the fic would have ended up in a much darker horrid place when I think about what would happen to a young woman, with no connections, no money, basically barred from ever being in 'good society' because of the Sheffields etc, and I just firmly believed that Kate has and continued to suffer enough. It'd also have a lot of other implications but that's a different essay haha) K/A are basically really allergic to a proper conversation, aren't they? (I also blame the rigidity and the classism of the Regency period) Your comment really made me laugh :D

Unrelated thought no one probably asked for: If anyone else picked up the way I wrote Benedict reacting to finding out to Kate by being like 'but she's the exception because look at how many good connections she has!' that was entirely intentional to keep some of the classism embedded in even in Benedict's support of their union. I didn't want to do like a 'I appreciate one person with limited financial means so therefore I understood how fundamentally fucked our society is when it comes to class!' type of stories because a) that's not how that stuff works and b) because of the time period and the mindset of basically most characters, I don't think that would be likely (I haven't read Benedict's book so if something in that says otherwise I don't know about it). Anyway, don't know if it was obvious but it was a small detail I cared a lot about.

#unsolicited updates on my writing process

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Eight // Wanda Maximoff

chapter seven | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter nine

author’s note: Y/C/N = your cousin’s name, also this is later than I wanted today but i’ve been super busy so sorry for that! Also, I’ll be responding to comments from the last one as soon as I’m free. Enjoy 😊

"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."

I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.

Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.

"My bad...?"

She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."

I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"

She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"

I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."

"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.

We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.

Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.

"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.

"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."

I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."

I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."

"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.

She looked up, expression softening with a smile. Her eyes were heavenly, pupils dilated as she squinted in the sun, and they flickered to my lips before she settled on nudging me in the shoulder slightly. I snickered, leaning my head on her shoulder since everybody thought we were as close as best friends, so it wouldn't look suspicious. She sighed contently, letting me watch as she moved her paintbrush, painting a flower that was peeking through the grass we were sat on.

I could have stayed there forever, in that moment, sitting with Wanda and watching her paint under the sun. But of course, all good things come to an end when you don't want them to.

"Y/N, dear," I heard my father call, and when I looked up, I saw him approaching Wanda and I from the direction of our house.

Straightening up, I watched as he attempted to sit on the grass, but his legs were too long and he struggled to cross them. With a hearty chuckle, he stretched them out, slightly bent, and leaned on his hands.

"I'm getting too old for this, ladies," he said humorously, making Wanda and I smile.

"What d'you need, dad?" I asked, raising my brows.

"I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready for tonight," he said casually, making me furrow my brows. He seemed to notice my confusion, prompting, "Tonight? Your cousin's birthday party?"

"My cousin's what-now?"

He sighed, massaging the point between his brows. "Y/C/N? They organised this months ago. We're all expected to be there." His glanced to Wanda. "You, too, dear."

Wanda hummed, pulling her gaze from her painting and looking to my dad. "Yes, I'm aware. Got my dress ready and everything."

My eyes snapped to Wanda's with surprise. "You knew about this?!"

"You should be more like her," my dad muttered, as Wanda smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

I looked back to my father. "I was planning on helping Y/B/N with his manuscript tonight."

My dad waved his hand. "I've already talked to him. He's agreed to work on it before the party starts so you're both on time."

I groaned, already tired at the sound of yet another party. Did it ever end?

"Don't be late," he ordered, though his voice was anything but stern. Cue another groan. He smiled before looking to Wanda's painting. "Wow, that's great, dear. Apparently you've got Y/N here attempting to do the same?"

Wanda chuckled as she handed him my several failed attempts. "Key word being 'attempting'."

He accepted the pages and stifled a smile of amusement. "Wow... maybe you should stick to writing, Y/N."

I ripped the pages from his grasp. "Cheers, dad, really."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "It's all in good faith, dear. Now remember. Don't be late tonight, okay?"

I sighed, which he took as my response, before pushing himself off the grass with a grumble. Dusting his trousers, he nodded to Wanda and I before leaving us be.

"You could've told me I had yet another party to attend tonight," I told Wanda with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "I thought you knew."

I laid back on the grass with a dramatic sigh. "I just don't understand why our life revolves around extravagant parties, balls and dinners."

"That's just how it is, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said with a warm smile.

I looked up at the sky, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, though my heart fluttered at one of the many nicknames she called me in Russian. "I'd rather live in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody expects anything of me and there's no stupid parties to attend."

She rested a hand on my leg before laying beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I relaxed my head on hers, appreciating how well we fit together.

"Same here," she agreed, making me gasp playfully.

"What? Don't you love the glitz and glamour?"

She laughed quietly. "I do, but I like the peace and quiet more."

I breathed out, fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe I can be a little late tonight... accidentally run over time so I don't have to stay as long."

Her fingers tugged on mine between us as a warning. "No. I'll be left alone and I'll be bored. And when I'm bored, I drink."

It was my turn to laugh. "You won't be alone, Wanda. You'll have Pietro."

She shifted so she was no longer leaning on my shoulder but instead tilting her head to look my way. "I want you."

I turned my head and gave her a small, promising smile. "I'll try to be on time."

She quirked a brow. "Try? You will."

My eyes flittered away, ready to argue otherwise, but she sat up and grabbed her paintbrush. I sat up, too, ready to tell her I would try, but I flinched when she flicked water towards me from the tip of it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyelids with tongue-in-cheek.

She chuckled and I grabbed my paintbrush and did the same, watching her squirm when it flicked on her face.

Suppressed smile on her face, she wiped away the water and glared with dazzling eyes. "You shouldn't start what you can't finish, milaya (darling)."

Smiling from ear to ear, I quirked a brow devilishly. "Oh?"

"You're so lucky we're in front of people," she said lowly, leaning close enough to be platonic, but her hand slipped under my dress and creeped up my leg, making me involuntarily shiver. "Or you would be in serious trouble."

I stopped her hand from going any higher, the rings on her fingers cold enough for me to not melt under her touch. "I highly doubt that, love."

She held my gaze, intoxicating and mesmerising all at once. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Don't test me then. You heard your father. Don't be late."

I exhaled, licking my lips. "Fine. I won't be."

—

Later that afternoon, I found myself sat in my brother's study as the two of us worked on his latest manuscript together. It was a love story, his (my) specialty, and I was helping him to sort out his sentence structure when he decided to question me.

"Will you entertain me for a moment?" he asked randomly, making me look up from the pages.

"I'll probably regret it, but go on," I said jokingly, before looking back down and adding some notes to the paper.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, eyes watching me thoughtfully. "Are you in a secret relationship?"

I almost choked on my spit as he asked this, heart dropping to my stomach with panic. He couldn't know about Wanda, right? We'd been so careful.

Thankfully, I played it off well as I merely glanced his way before distracting myself with note-taking.

"Why would you think that, Y/B/N?" I asked like he was insane.

He shrugged in my peripheral. "I don't know... I've been wondering for a while. You've just loosened up so much more. And you're not as uptight as you usually are."

"Cheers," I said sarcastically.

He leaned forward, head resting in his palm. "This all happened right about the time I met Wanda..."

I swallowed hard, quirking a brow at him to play down my panic.

"I saw you with Pietro the other week," he continued, and I could finally breathe when I realised what he was insinuating. "I'm happy if you're happy, Y/N, but I'm not a fan of you sleeping with my publisher."

At that thought, I shuddered and proceeded to shove Y/B/N on the arm. "Don't say that. And I would never."

Just your fiancé, I thought guiltily.

"Good," he said with relief, straightening up. "Because you're not supposed to do that until you get married."

I rolled my eyes dismissively in response, but wondered if that still applied in a world where one was not allowed to marry the person they loved.

Y/B/N gave me a reassuring glance. "Look, I'm okay with it, I guess. But I'd appreciate the heads up so I can give him a stern talking to."

Realising there was a hint of mirth in his voice, I looked up and gave him a warning look. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, patting me on the back, to which I shrugged off with annoyance.

"It's the Maximoff charm," he commented knowingly. "The twins have that effect on people, don't they? Wanda sure has it on me."

A short silence fell after he said that and I chewed on my lip curiously, unable to stop myself from speaking until it was too late.

"Is her love reciprocated?"

He looked down to me from his daydream, no doubt of Wanda. "Pardon?"

Knowing there was no backing down from the conversation now, I avoided his eyes. "The engagement between you both was arranged... you're clearly in love with her, but is it returned?"

His lips twitched into a frown. "I'd hope so."

I hummed, diverting my attention away from him and to the pen in my hand.

"Why? Did she say something?" he asked, voice laden with worry.

"Of course not," I reassured him.

"But you'd tell me if she did?" he asked eagerly.

I looked his way and saw him peering down at me, hanging onto my response. I nodded lamely, which seemed to put him at ease as he sank into his chair with relief.

We spent the next few hours working on the manuscript without a hitch, but I noticed the time and realised the party was already in full swing. Wanda's words came to mind and I hoped she wouldn't be too annoyed at my lateness.

"We're wrapping it up now, don't worry," Y/B/N said, noticing me check the clock. "Thanks for the help. I'm gonna get this to my editor tomorrow. Your amendments should help make the process go a lot smoothly."

I hummed in response, feeling a heaviness settle on my shoulders as he mentioned his editor. It was always the same routine – I helped him with his manuscript, he got it edited, got his book published and got all the credit. And I was stuck in the same position, wishing I could do the same.

"What is it?" he asked with a sigh, sensing my mood.

Playing with the corner of the manuscript, I met his gaze. "I help you with your writing, but I never get anything from it."

"You get to help me," he pointed out, not seeing the issue. "Isn't that enough?"

Pietro's offer came to mind as I said, "What if I wrote my own book? And got published with my name on the cover?"

He squinted as he studied me, trying to find the humour in my words. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head.

"Y/N, that's absurd."

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. "I mean, is it? Would that be so bad?"

He pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he gave me a condescending look.

"I'm saying this because I care," he said, making me feel like crap. "But yes."

As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked, "Why?"

He motioned with his hand like it was obvious. "Because. People would look at you differently. You'd be undesirable. You know men don't like smart women. I'm just looking out for you as your brother."

I looked away, the bitterness at his words stinging more than usual. "Well, I like smart women."

Thinking I was joking, he chuckled. "Don't go saying things like that. One might misinterpret."

My teeth pressed into my lower lip hard, trying to contain my frustration.

"You can do this every now and then," he said, referring to the manuscript, "but any more isn't possible. Besides, two authors in one family? That's insane."

I forced a smile, but I wondered if his last comment was the real reason he wouldn't let me at least try to get published.

"Anyway, never mind that," he said indifferently. "We should probably head out. Dad is not going to be pleased. Especially since I promised we wouldn't be late."

I nodded, sliding my chair out and wanting to be anywhere but here right now. "Yeah, come on."

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Can't wait to see Pietro?"

I slapped him on the arm before standing up, ignoring his laughter. Nothing to make an already-depressing night worse than going to a party you didn't care for.

—

Wanda Maximoff was a very difficult drunk to be around, I'd learnt that the hard way.

As soon as Y/B/N and I rolled up to my cousin's house, a third of the guests were drunk and the rest were tipsy. A typical Y/L/N get-together. Y/B/N was instantly dragged away by some family whilst I was quick to make myself scarce, attempting to find Wanda. But the place was bustling with people and there were way too many rooms to check.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

"If you're expecting a brand new fountain pen, you won't find it in there," I teased, making him jump.

He sighed when he looked my way, realising it was me. "I know that. But there's nothing better here to do, so I may as well know what freebies we'll be getting by the end of it."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

He shrugged, seeming disappointed. "Just some chocolate and perfume samples."

Holding back a smile, I said, "How tragic."

"If you're looking for my sister, she's over there," he said, nodding behind me. "You'll love this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows knitted with confusion, before turning around and following his gaze.

Wanda was indeed stood on the other side of the dining room and I could just about make her out between idle guests. She was chatting to some woman, hands moving erratically and with expression, a grin on her lips.

"What is she doing?" I asked unsurely, tearing my eyes from her and looking to Pietro.

He was withholding laughter as he answered, "Sometimes, dear Y/N, my beloved twin sister gets drunk when she's–"

"Bored," I finished, remembering what she told me this morning. My face dropped as I mumbled, "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh indeed," Pietro said, grinning at his sister's dismay. "Drunk Wanda is a very truthful Wanda. So, any secrets of hers will most definitely be revealed tonight."

Pietro was too caught up in his own amusement to notice my eyes widening.

"One of our servants made me a platter a few years ago," Pietro explained, oblivious to my panic. "It was a delicious cheese platter, the cheese having been imported from France. Then, Wanda proceeded to eat it without telling me. When I asked if she did, she lied. And I only discovered she lied because she got drunk a few weeks later and bragged about how good the cheese was."

Continuing to ramble, though this time in Russian, Pietro complained about said incident, though I wasn't listening as I watched Wanda talk to the woman enthusiastically. I could only imagine what secrets she was sharing.

"Pietro!" I cut him off, earning his attention. "Shouldn't you do something? To stop Wanda?"

The cheese platter story long forgotten, his grin reappeared on his lips. "Nah, it's funny watching her make a fool of herself."

I gave him a look of disbelief before looking back to Wanda, who was laughing at something by herself. The woman she was speaking to seemed partially confused, but smiled to be polite. I gulped, before shaking my head.

"I'm not that mean," I said to Pietro before making a move to stop her.

Pietro booed me playfully, but I ignored him and approached the drunk brunette, managing to catch her conversation.

"–and they're usually such catty bitch–"

"Wanda!" I immediately cut her off, bumping into her side slightly to get her attention. "There you are!"

Green eyes widened with excitement as they met mine. "Y/N! You're here!"

Ignoring her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close before looking to the guest she was talking with.

"My apologies for her behaviour," I said with an awkward smile, hoping Wanda hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"No need to apologise, dear," the woman said with an amused smile. "Wanda here was telling me all about how lovely of a sister-in-law you are. Or will be."

Wanda grinned, looking to me and leaning in so close that her nose brushed my cheek. "Yeah, she is," she continued to the woman, though her eyes were on mine. "She's sweet, not like other people make out their sister-in-laws to be."

My face was warm as I cleared my throat and smiled once more to the woman. "If you'll excuse Wanda and I."

The woman barely got out a nod before I dragged Wanda away, trying to keep her lips away from my neck (she was also an extremely clingy drunk). Tugging her into the bathroom down the hall, I closed the door behind us and released a breath of relief, grateful for the escape from guests.

"You look very sexy when you're worried," Wanda complimented, stepping forward and smiling dazedly.

"Wanda–"

She placed her hand on my jaw, moving closer so that her lips were grazing mine as she mumbled, "You came late, milaya (darling). But I still love you."

I'd like to say that I had the willpower to push her away and scold her for acting so obvious about us before, but my lips went numb as she captured them between hers. I could taste the alcohol on her lips as she moved them against mine, making me dizzy and forgetting what I was going to say. Her thumb caressed my jaw and I relaxed under her touch, hands resting on her chest. When she tried to part my lips with her tongue, I seemed to come to my senses.

"Wanda, you're drunk," I muttered, pushing her back gently.

She chased down my mouth again, sucking on my lip and tilting my head back so she could have better access. I tried not to let her win as I kissed her briefly before pulling away. Clouded hazel eyes met mine with a matching smirk.

"You're such a tease," she whispered, her accent thicker than usual and making my stomach flip uncontrollably. Her thumb traced my lips as she continued, "You shouldn't do that when I already know how you taste, moya lyubov' (my love)."

The way she was staring at me made me flustered in place, and she seemed to notice her effect on me as she winked my way.

Shaking my head and trying not to let her win, I said, "Look, Wanda. I'm sorry for being late. But did you really have to get drunk?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight on my shoulder with her hand. "If you hadn't kept me waiting, then I wouldn't have."

I sighed, looking to her apologetically. "I didn't realise the time."

A permanent troublesome smile was fixed on her lips as she watched me.

"Your brother told me how you can be when you get drunk," I said with mild concern, hoping she'd register my seriousness. "You need to be careful, Wanda. We can't have people finding out about us."

"It seems to me," she began agonisingly slowly, lacing her arms around my shoulders, "that you'll have to watch me all night to make sure I don't do anything out of line."

Determined not to play into her teasing, I maintained her gaze with a stern stare. "It seems I'll have to."

She bit her lip, eyes flickering between mine, before leaning further into my ear. In a whispered voice, she said, "That means you can't leave my side, printsessa (princess)."

I clenched my jaw, ready to agree, but a gasp escaped my lips as hers sucked on my earlobe, teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Stupid Wanda and her stupid flirting and stupid attractiveness.

"Wanda!" I scolded, though my cheeks were flushed as I pushed her away gently.

She laughed adorably, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "What?"

"You have to behave," I told her, swallowing hard and trying not to let her teasing smile get to me. "You can't do this out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a way that wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her back outside the bathroom, returning to the party. I wasn't planning on leaving her side for the rest of the evening, even if Y/B/N wanted to be with her. The last thing I wanted was for her cute drunken self to reveal something she couldn't take back.

To my relief, she kind of behaved after that. There were times when she would get a little too touchy to be platonic, but a quick stare set her straight. Y/B/N wasn't around much, as when he did join us, he was immediately pulled away by some family friends who wanted to discuss his books. For once, I was glad he was an author, afraid of what would happen if Wanda got too comfortable in his presence.

At one point though, he was able to join Wanda, Pietro and I at a standing table, relief flooding his expression when nobody called after him. His arm wrapped around Wanda's waist and he kissed the top of her head, making me look the other way with distaste. She scrunched her nose up at the action before distracting herself with a drink. I gave her a knowing look, having told her earlier to stop with the alcohol. She pretended not to see me.

"Sorry I've not been able to spend time with you tonight," he said to Wanda, oblivious to her tipsy state.

"It's almost like it's your birthday and not your cousin's," Pietro joked, smiling at him.

My brother chuckled. "I guess. They just all wanna talk about my manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the reason you were late, right?" Wanda asked, eyes falling to mine.

"I'm sorry," my brother apologised, assuming it was him she was speaking to.

"You were helping him, too, right?" Pietro asked, looking to me curiously. "Maybe I'll finally get a glance at your work."

I narrowed my eyes at him, having figured he'd put the subject to rest after last time. He merely grinned in response, finding joy in messing with me, just like his sister. Before I could say anything, my brother beat me to it.

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

So he was jealous. Wow.

"You don't need to hide your relationship, y'know," he continued when I didn't respond, looking to Pietro.

The silver-haired publisher choked on his drink as he looked to my brother, clearly very amused.

"I know you're together," Y/B/N said with agitation. "Everybody does. And don't get me wrong, Pietro, I respect you as a publisher."

I groaned quietly, closing my eyes with embarrassment. When I opened them, Pietro was watching my brother with an entertained smile, meanwhile, Wanda was looking between them with a twitching frown.

"But if you're going to date my sister, you should do it the right way," my brother continued stupidly. "It's not appropriate to have whatever this is." He motioned between us with his hands. "It's wrong."

I jumped when Wanda's hand slipped to my arse, squeezing it gently. Thankfully, our backs were to a wall so nobody would have noticed behind us, but I instantly glared at her and removed her hand. She gave me a cunning smile, not bothered by the consequences.

"...and if you're sleeping together like I suspect," Y/B/N was saying, making me flush with humiliation, "know that our friendship is at breaking point. I can't have that blatant disrespect in my life."

Wanda continued to attempt to grab my arse, making me slap her hand away several times, all whilst trying to manage whatever conversation was happening right now.

"I can't believe you just said that," I finally spoke up, managing to keep Wanda at bay long enough. "You're such an idiot, Y/B/N! I told you I wasn't with Pietro!"

Pietro tried not to laugh as he met my brother's intimidating stare. "I value our friendship, too, Y/B/N. Which is why I can promise you I have no... relations... with your sister. I don't like her like that, I can assure you."

Wanda snorted with amusement, before hiding behind a glass of wine when everyone looked her way.

Y/B/N seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. "Oh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh!"

"I guess I should apologise," he said awkwardly, looking to Pietro. "I–"

"No apology necessary," Pietro cut him off, raising a hand. "I am thankful for the entertainment however."

"I'm gonna go literally anywhere else," I dismissed myself, unable to take the uncomfortable situation any longer.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away. To my surprise, Wanda trailed after, falling into step with me.

I glanced at her unhappily, quirking a brow. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me because your brother's an idiot," she said with a wag of her hand.

I gave her a suggestive look. "I told you to behave."

She pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... Y/B/N was talking about you and Pietro and I– well, I don't like sharing, remember?"

The improper glint in her eye as she stopped before me, watching with amusement, made me feel warm all of a sudden. That day when she first told me that and we proceeded to make love flashed to mind, and she seemed to know as she had a mischievous look on her face.

Clearing my throat, I pointed a finger her way. "Behave."

I should have known by the devilish look in her eyes that she wouldn't.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine