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yandere-sins · 16 days

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A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days.

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice.

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle.

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words.

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all.

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind.

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it.

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears.

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it.

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity?

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world.

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though.

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal.

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted.

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here.

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy.

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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thatfreshi · 8 months

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As a prompt - maybe Astarion (or Tav for that matter) going absolutely feral (and i mean really) when someone or something hurts badly the other (or try to) ?

I don't know of it has already been donc by you and if it has sorry, really appreciate your writing though ! Thank you <3

Learning to trust is difficult

tw - themes of death, talk of injuries

"I just don't know how you don't seem to care! It's bad Astarion, really bad, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt."

While you and the vampire were on night watch, you got jumped by some thieves scrounging around in the woods of the Sword Coast. He took the brunt of the fight, taking quite a couple slices to the abdomen.

"We'll wait til morning, like I said. Shadowheart will be rested by then, and we'll all be fine."

"Oh right, so you can bleed out? You think you're such a jester, don't you."

You already dealt with the perpetrators, making sure they were flayed across the grass, any hopes they had of stealing from you shot down from miles away.

"If it were that bad I would wake her Tav, but it's not."

Gods, he's frustrating. Driving you to the point of madness, constantly. For someone who finally has a second chance at life, he can be quite reckless. Instead of trying to argue with him further, you walk over to where he's propped himself against his bedroll, and start undressing his wounds. He almost tries to push you away, but the lightest touch of the cuts makes him lose his strength.

"Tav, stop it."

"No! Because you can wrap these all you want, but if you leave these like this overnight it's going to get nasty, and I know for a fact you can't stitch wounds like this."

"Then it is was it is."

"No, I'm getting her. Stay here."

Astarion grabs at your wrist. There's a dreary silence for a moment, and he refuses your eye contact.

"I've done this by myself, for how long? Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like, having to turn to someone who is practically a stranger, and put my life in their hands? I did that once my love, and I have regretted it ever since."

And you know exactly what he's talking about, that night in the alley, fragmented memories only covered up by digging through six feet of dirt.

"You would've died though."

"Perhaps it would have been best that way."

You know that no selfish reason you have about wanting him around could ever make up for all the things he endured under Cazador, that if he had bled out that night he would at least be at peace.

"This is different though. We're all working together, we all want the same things. Shadowheart isn't going to hold this over you."

"You don't know that. I mean look at me. I planned on seducing you and getting rid of you as soon as I could, all to keep myself safe. We will never truly know what the others want, what their intentions with us are."

"Then why trust me?"

He hesitates as you wrap his abdomen once again.

"I... I don't know... You're just, different."

"Then what's to say Shadowheart isn't also different? Or any of them for that matter?"

You cup his face in your hand.

"It's just easier to risk one of you. To risk loving you, and only you. Because if you betray me? Then I've played myself for a fool, and I can't have two knives in my back."

"You don't have to trust her Aster, but you need her right now. We need her, because I can't lose you either."

Your hand trails to his, and you feel at each other's fingers for a few long moments. He tries to come up with something to say, knowing he will most likely bleed out if you two don't wake the cleric.

"You trust me right? You're making that risk at least, taking that chance? Then trust that I'm trying to make the right choice for you."

Even if he doesn't bleed out, he doesn't deserve to writhe in pain all night, to which you're sure he would say something about how he's done it a million times before. Why, why does he try to be strong for you?

"Alright my love, wake her."

You get up without a word, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before leaving the tent, your feet gliding to where Shadowheart is sleeping.

"Shadowheart, we need you."

She's a light sleeper, like most of you, and wakes with the few simple words you speak.

"What it is?"

The cleric asks as she walks with you.

"Astarion. We had some unwelcome visitors on watch. It's... it's not pretty."

You come back to your tent, gently moving the fabric by the entrance as Shadowheart moves to him, focused on doing what needs to be done. She unwraps the bandages and you come to his side. He's silent.

"Lady of Sorrows, this is horrific Astarion. How long have you let this sit like this?"

It takes him a moment to muster the words, still clearly embarrassed to be receiving her help this late. You've learned though that he hates people speaking for him, so you just wait.

"It's been about half an hour. Tav and I have been arguing about getting your assistance. They insisted we wake you, and I insisted we shouldn't bother."

"Well, you're lucky Tav isn't as stubborn as you are, because this is nasty. While I'm not as familiar with vampire anatomy, this would not have sat well overnight."

She takes a moment to gather herself, before casting healing touch, letting the magic linger a little longer than normal. You watch as his pale skin slowly comes back together, stitching itself up like embroidery thread. Shadowheart takes a moment to admire her work, smirking slightly. Her expression then becomes somber for a moment.

"As much as I'm not the sappy type, please don't hesitate to get me when you need me. Despite how much you all annoy me, I'm still rather fond of you as companions. I would hate to see any of you go too soon, especially over something as simple as this."

Astarion says nothing in return, and soon after the devout Sharran leaves the two of you alone. The two of you lie down, wrapping yourselves up in each other, limbs entangled as if you're scared of being torn apart.

"I know it's hard, but you have to learn to ask for help. If not for yourself, for me. Because I can only do so much my star."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I yelled. It just really scares me, the idea that I could lose you."

He nuzzles into your chest, the movement dampening his voice.

"I don't think anyone's ever been afraid to lose me, except me. And I fear I lost myself far too long ago for it to matter."

You wrap your fingers in his hair, sitting in the sorrow with him.

"All things that are lost can be found. And we'll find you again my love, I promise."

He doesn't thank you, which you don't mind. After all, Astarion isn't used to having anyone to genuinely thank. But the way he lets you hold him, that slowly but surely the walls are coming down, that's his own way of saying it, saying that he's grateful. And as long as he lives to see another day, you'll take whatever he gives you, for as long as both of you live.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #angst #comfort #x reader

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m4rs-ex3 · 2 months

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ALLLL RIGHTY YALL

if u haven't already seen.............. guys i was late i was fucking late for the panel give me a break

BUT here is a play by play of everything from the second i got in

[A GOOD CHUNK OF THE SECRET SCENE] if you saw this post within the first few *hours you got to see but you know what? they got to me i don't wanna be the snitch (i did on accident but its the though that counts)

opeli is being led blindfolded (which we see from opeli's pov. riveting visuals i tell you) by soren to the ✨secret meeting location✨

when she comments on the fact that it is literally just callum's office soren shuts her up bless him

opeli's like "DID BAIT GIVE BIRTH??!?!?" and soren's like no these are "rescue baits" and opeli gives them the greatest fucking look i can't even describe it to you

you've seen that leak "look it's the pearl :D""WHA""yep he's in there :)))))"

rayla says it like "per-al." just thought you should know

soren suggests forming a Fellowship of the Pearl and going to throw it into a volcano i fucking hate this show

they're all debating what to do with it meanwhile the most cryptic-ass shots of callum with the pearl like we get it he's fucked (i take it back i want more)

they finally get to him and he's like "uh????? destroy it obviously?????"

he suggests--and these are 100% his words (not actually cuz u know but its the general idea)--"smash it? throw it off a cliff? take a big ol axe and just--KA CHOP." i love him so much

rayla asks how they know it won't just release him

the way callum is so confused and conflicted and he just says "i... i don't know" oh my god by precious baby

cool ass top-down to the pearl whirlpool esq transtion into the next scene hello??

zym is being emo at a painting of his mother (the one from 4x03 yeah they just stitched that shit up it's all good)

ezran's like. huh. we oughtta do smth abt this

callum is Thinking Thoughts on the turrets(?? yk where soren does his lunges) and tossin the rune cube when he sees the star rune light up......................................

it's stella stella's there and the way he reacts to her is so precious 😭 he's not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up type shit

enter rayla "they told me u would be up here brooding"

(in a tragic turn of events the rayllum of this scene had my brain fuzzy so i can't remember a few chunks here and there have pity my brain has rotten)

callum's like "we have to do something i'm scared he's gonna use me. i know what we need to do ok we need to go to the starscraper"

it's honestly hilarious the way he says "and *WE.* should go" he's like "don't be gettin any ideas now this is an us thing"

and then ohoho "they have something there for you, too" (THAT was an exact quote)

he's like "PLSPLSPLS i've studied star magic i know the spells i know the runes i just need the quasar diamonds!! LET ME FREE UR PARENTS AND RUNAAN PLEAAAASSSSEEEE"

rayla is veryyyyyy opposed she's like "NO i want to help my parents as much as you"--honestly i don't think ANYONE wants to as much as him--"but i don't want my biases to affect that" BIASES?!??!! like that was the word she used i can't stop thinking about it

zym has entered his wolf child era his ass is HOWLING at the moon

soren hears him and goes "aww little guy misses his mom :((( sometimes i wonder where my mom is...." WHAT AWHAT WHAT AWHAT PJARDON SAY IT AGIAN YOU WAHGTS SAY IT AGIAND HUAH HUWH A

ok. yeah callum does not have pajamas BUT I THINK WE HAVE BIGGER ISSUES HERE????????????? HE WAS SLEEPING IN HIS OFFICE

THAT COUCH THING THAT THEY WERE ON WHEN RAYLA CAME BACK IN 4x03???? HES JUST SLEEPING ON IT I CANT MY GUY WHAT R U DOINGGG

in other news

bruv is tossing and turning and then just. ~stops.~ this can only mean good things (i think you know where i'm going with this)

he sits up. hobbles over to the door. there was a really cool transition (can u tell i respect the cinematography) and he's in the cellar holding the pearl.

he wakes up in aaravos' prison and is like "well this looks neat!" until he sees the mirror and screams and wakes up. when he realizes where he is he goes "what have i done" dude you fell asleep?? god he's never sleeping again (<- me when i lie 😈)

the description we got of this next scene did NOT do it justice it was fucking incredible

callum kicks down the fucking door (not actually) screaming for rayla

rayla TUMBLES OUT OF BED ON TO THE FLOOR, pillows in hands and unafraid to use them

"WHOA. HEY HEY ITS OKAY ITS ME! it's just me rayla. it's me. callum" i feel like he was saying the same 5 words for 7 hours it was beautiful

rayla: "callum?? jeez i could have-" *looks at pillows*

callum giggles the cutest fucking giggle and says something along the lines of "yeah, it would've hurt real bad :)"

oh yeah DE-LAYERED PONYTAIL RAYLA CONFIRMEDED??!?!?!?!?!

she sits back on the bed and my guy KNEELS DOWN AT THE CORNER OF THE BED TO PICK UP HER STUFF BEFORE HE SITS DOWN NEXT TO HER and they say chivalry is dead romance was birthed and ended with this scene

he tells her about it and she goes "callum, you're exhausted. you had a nightmare. if i thought you were in any real danger you know i would-" and then ironically i forget the same line that the person from nycc did wouldja look at that

can i just mention how close they were sitting in this scene i mean i jsut thikn i should mention hwo clo

yada yada he has a lightbulb and runs off with her blanket

the iconic "i know stella.. he took our blankie :("

god knows why barius is up in the middle of the night whispering sweet nothings to his jelly tarts

callum comes in with a certain proposition mwuhahaha

rayla comes into his office and sees his aesthetic ass sewing by fireside and graciously says "ah i get it! you're taking your mind off things by peacefully knitting" so iconic for both of them

callum explains that he's stitching runes to create a protection spell when barius comes in with the """"""""pearl""""""""""

rayla DIVES in front of callum and says "what r you doing get that thing AWAY from him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she got SO protective SO fast it was blessed

callum's like au contraire 😈

ok so obviously we had all heard about the fake pearl but. you know that one guy who makes insane sculptures out of nothing but chocolate? that's what they did the pearl is brown sludge with a candy coating 💀 i'm losing my mind that is so funny to me

so yeah with the decoy out the real pearl is protected by--and callum literally said this--"a magic blankie >:)"

he also pops in to tell ez and omg GUYS BAIT HAS HIS OWN LITTLE ROYAL CANOPY BED ITS SO FUCKING CUTE

dawn in the courtyard--ez is saying goodbye to soren, zym, and pyrrah who are going to look for zubeia (i almost just typed zendaya i need sleep) and callum and rayla who r going to the starscraper

my roman empire is this: callum was acting all eepy and then when they get going hE RESTS HIS HEAD ON RAYLA'S BACK AND FALLS ASLEEP. I CANNOT FUCKING MAKE THIS UP IT WAS PHENOMENAL SHE LOOKED SO FUCKING HAPPY I I I I I I HAKJSDHFKJASHFDKJHSADKFHKJASHFIHASEKFH

on a slightly lower note

scene from teaser except they did cut a couple lines in the teaser. mainly just terry going "didn't see you there,, cuz i was asleep. with my eyes closed"

he does not in fact get impaled but claudia tells him she's gonna leave him first and does just that

as she's going omfg terry's cries and pleas and "I LOVE YOU"s and "I WILL WAIT. I WILL WAIT HERE FOR YOU" was absolutely insane idk what was in the air in that recording studio but shout out to ben

i am so tired goodbye!

#SO SORRY i couldn't get this out last night #but here she is #tdp s6 #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp spoilers #tdp wondercon #tdp #the dragon prince #*thought i fixed it within minutes but iiii did not💀

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whorekneecentral · 5 months

Text

A New Tradition

George Russell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cheesy christmas traditions, first christmas as a married couple, matching pjs, handsy george, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (m!receiving), cream pie.

Word Count: 1,148

Author's Note: this is a short one and it's late lol, my apologize to the george girlies

merry smutmas series

You and George spend your first Christmas together and you mash together the traditions from both of your families.

Your first Christmas as a married couple was a special one.

When the two of you were dating, you bounced from place to place. Your family or his depending on the year and the holiday. Now that you were married, George suggested that the two of you spend the holidays at home, just you and him.

You agreed with his suggestion, the two of you calling your families and letting them know that from now until new years, you'd be unavailable as you'd be spending time together.

Most of the racing season, you don't get to see George. You're stuck at work and there are very few weekends that you're able to hop on a plane and go see him. When he's home from racing, he's exhausted so you don't get to go many places or do much.

It wasn't the ideal way to spend your first year as a married couple but that's life I suppose.

The holidays were a much needed break from reality; you and your husband cuddled up with nothing to do and nnwhere to be.

As a married couple does, you had old traditions and new ones.

George suggested stockings be your new tradition, seeing that neither you nor him had one in years. You got customs ones made, all your favourite places and things on there, your names stitched into the top and hung on your fireplace.

As for old traditions, your family always ordered Christmas breakfast opposed to making it. So you ordered from your favourite spot, a few minutes from the flat in London.

After breakfast, you two opened your gifts, FaceTiming your families to wish them a Merry Christmas.

The rest of the afternoon was spent lazing, you two went for a walk around the block, getting some fresh air before George started on Christmas dinner - his family tradition. He made sure to get everything done for 7pm on the dot, of course his mum on FaceTime so the two of them could cook together. That was mostly because George had no idea what he was doing. You popped in and out to help when you could but George shooed you away, assuring you he knew what he was doing.

For a first attempt, things came together quite well. He did burn the potatoes but if you look past that, it was just as good as his mum's.

A new tradition, a Christmas movie marathon topped with matching pjs.

Your lives were so hectic, you barely saw each other, let alone had time to watch a movie together without the other falling asleep.

The two of you had debated quite a bit before you settled on a pair. You wanted something fun like the Grinch and George wanted the classic flannel.

As any married couple would do, you compromised; flannel pants for George, flannel shorts for you and you both had these cheesy custom shirts that Lewis had made for you two as a joke - George's race car with the Roscoe sitting in it.

The two of you were sprawled on the couch, the tv playing quietly in the background. You tried to focus on the movie but all you could feel was George's fingers on your legs. Your husband traced patterns into your skin, his fingers wandering higher with each passing second.

"George," you mumble, his hand wiggling away from your grip as it continues its hike up your legs.

"What?" He looks over at you.

"Are you even watching the movie?"

"I've seen it a million times babe."

You roll your eyes, "yeah? So what's happening?"

George looks up at the screen, trying to make up something but he shrugs. "I don't know." He admits, making you laugh.

The man pulls you to sit up, his hands on your hips as he helps you up and over onto his lap. "How am I meant to watch the movie if I'm facing you?" You asked him, arms over his shoulder.

"I'm much better than the movie," he says, a smile on his face.

You roll your eyes yet again, playfully of course. George pulls you flush against him, his hands under your shirt. "This isn't very family friendly, George."

He pulls the shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you. "Good thing there's no family here."

You lean into your husband, kissing him softly before moving to his cheek and down his jaw.

The kisses trail down his neck to his collarbone before you scoot back on his lap and begin kissing down his chest, his shirt joining yours on the floor. You follow the pattern of his freckles all the way down to his hips.

Sliding off his lap, you settle onto your knees in front of George. Your husband smiles, his knuckles rubbing along your jaw.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums, leaning down to kiss you.

Your hands slide between the two of you, undoing the knot on his pants, George lifts his hips and helps you slide them off. His eyes fixed on you as your lips wrap around his cock, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.

He can’t help but watch the way your head bobs up and down. His hand pulls your hair away from your face, letting you set the pace.

His head falls back against the couch, breathing out a string of explicits as you hollow your cheeks. “C’mere, sweetheart.” George whispers, pulls you off him slowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue sliding up the underside of his cock.

You're back on his lap now, George's hands reach under you to pull your shorts to the side. You're kissing him again, he was about to pull your panties to the side only to realize you don’t have any on. He smiles against your lips.

George lets you sink down onto his cock. Both of you letting out a satisfied sigh, your nails dig into his pale skin. The red marks on his shoulders match the nail polish on your fingers.

It’s hot, heated, and heavy.

He bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

Your hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss him. You kiss all over his face, his cheeks red from the blush forming on his cheeks.

He loves when you love on him like that.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumble against his cheek, rocking your hips back and forth. “Mmm there,” you breathe, chest pressed to his. Charles’s lips find your shoulder, he bites down softly when he cums, feeling you clench around him.

You're lying against your husband, his giant hand on your back. "I think your movie is over," he whispers in your ear.

You giggle, shaking your head. "That's okay.

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#merry smutmas xoxo #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 smut

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harrysmimi · 10 months

Text

Gotchu!

Synopsis: YN pranks Harry after he's returned home from the gym

Idea courtesy to @vrittivsanghavi

Series Masterlist | More of my work

It was a day off for YN, so she decided to spend it at home.

She has been making a crochet bag for her mother-in-law for her birthday which was coming up soon. She cosied up on the sofa with a cup of tea with a rerun of her favourite show on, taking in some alone time. She had dropped off Milo to the vet for his checkup, surgery and vaccine updates this morning, he's due pick up in the evening. And she went grocery shopping for few things she needs to try out this new baking recipe.

Though Harry will be home soon, he had to rush to a quick meeting and then he went to the gym for a little. He came home way too soon.

YN heard the door open and close as Harry walked in dressed in his workout clothes and cup of coffee in his hand. His tote bag hung over his shoulder.

"Hey baby." He smiled at her, "I'm just gonna go take a shower real quick and be with you, yeah?"

"Hi, yes of course." YN nodded, and sat there starting on her new project.

Anne loved one of YN's bag she made and wore on one of their girls day out, since then YN's been wanting to make one for her. Her birthday was coming up so it was the best occasion to take advantage of. Gift giving is really nit her thing, so this was a golden opportunity for her there.

Harry's been jealous. He wants one too but he steals her bag everytime so he doesn't really know how to ask for one. He felt stupid. But at the same time it warmed his heart to see how the women who raised him get along so well with the woman he fell in love with.

He's honestly got to up his game of birthday presents for his mum after this. It's always been his forte, but a handmade gift has special value to it to everyone.

YN had been asking him what colour he thinks his mum would like the bag to be. It was a tricky choice to make without letting Anne can not know about this. It is a surprise.

"It's coming along right?" Harry asked he sat next to her, freshly showered and shirtless with droplets of water still shining on his shoulders and chest. YN rught away snuggled to his side.

"This is the last square for the bag." She said as she continued to crochet.

"That colour looks very pretty by the way." He added.

"Yeah? I'm making you one too." She beamed at him in excitement, "you can take this one and I'll give Mummy Anne the other one."

"Oh, thank you love." He chuckled watching her go back to do her thing, "I've been wanting to ask you to make ine for me, but didn't wanted to bother you."

"Please, you're never a bother to me." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah--" Harry realised something, "baby, where's Milo? He's usually attacking my feet by now." Harry asked looking around.

YN was too busy counting up the stitches on the crochet piece, or was she? Actually she was cooking a plan to prank him in that moment. She's the bored okay!

"He's in the Man Cave you built you or he must asleep in some nook." She shrugged, which had Harry immediately jumping up to go look for their fur baby.

"Did he eat McFish--" he checked the aquarium but the fish was the swimming around with the secure lid still on. "No, baby, did he fell into toilet bowl again?"

"You just came from the bathroom, didn't you see?" YN called from him as he frantically ran to their only bathroom to check.

Milo was just learning to adjust to the closed litter box, which was kept in the bathroom obviously and being the cat he is, he jumped on the box and accidentally falling into the toilet bowl. It was his fault that he didn't closed the lid.

YN had to bathe him twice after that, because well he doesn't let Harry give him the baths. Yeah, he's that spoilt. But Harry still loves him, he's just grown to bond with Milo. Even though the kitten always tries to trip and make him fall the best he could, or when he just attacks his dad's toes for no apparent reason. No, no, he doesn't do that to his mum, he's in fact very cuddly and sweet with her. Well, occasionally the cat likes to cuddle with Harry but that's very rare. That doesn't change the fact he loves that cat to bits.

"He's not there." He announced, "baby can you please put that down? We can find the cat!"

"Check in his man cave, dude!" She tried to break out laughing the best she could, acting nonchalant as Milo does like to be on his own sometimes.

Harry walked upto the little-- well it's not very little box fixed seven feet above the ground for Milo to sit in and rule over his kingdom along with wooden steps and comfiest bedding inside. The cat even sleeps in it at night. Harry had it custom made for just him, with facy ass design and his name plate on the front. Harry called it: Milo's Man Cave.

News flash, Milo isn't in his man cave.

"We have the balcony all netted and shit, where is he?" Harry was stressing out now. "Did you leave the door open by any chance?"

"Uhhh, no..." YN tried to act like she is not very sure and surprisingly it worked.

"Baby, no don't fuck with me like that!" Harry gasped as he ran into the bedroom to grab a shirt. He was soon heading out the door to check but YN's phone started ringing so he stopped thinking someone might have found him. He's microchipped, and got a collar with his name YN's number on it (not his for his privacy and as a prevention from getting his number leaks). He was teary eyed by now.

"Hello Ms. YLN, this is Amy from Medivet. How are you doing today?" The girl on the line spoke.

Now YN doesn't have her phone on speaker but Harry could hear the girl speaking through. It was Milo's vet. But he's still anxious.

"Hello, I'm good, thanks and you?" YN said politely.

"I'm doing fine. I've called you to let you that Milo is ready to be taken home, so you can come pick him up." The girl sounded very upbeat.

Harry immediately pulled out his phone to check, it was Milo's appointment day and his turn to tak him there. Fuck did she just pranked him?

"Yeah, I'll come pick him up in fifteen. Thank you, Amy." YN spoke before the girl was bidding her bye and hanging up.

"That was not good." He sniffled as he went on to grab his car keys with a puppy face on.

"Harry, I'm sorry!" She cooed rushing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Got anxious!" He sighed, "he's just too little."

"I know, I'm sorry, don't cry please." She tried to hug him.

"God my heart in beating fast," he sat down on the dining table chair.

"Hey, I'm sorry I was just trying to prank you." She felt embarassing now as she now hugged him. With her hand rested on his chest she could really feel how fast his heart was beating then which made her feel even more mad and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Hazza."

"Just don't." He gently pushed her away. "This isn't funny, YN."

"I'm sorry." She repeated herself, now with her own eyes getting teary and a puppy face on she stood there in the corner.

Now, Harry doesn't usually get upset. He's just that caring and understanding but when he rarely does, he gets really badly upset. This seemed to be one of those rare times and he used her first name in ages. She just grabbed her car keys and slipped on her slippers to go pick up the baby.

"Hey, hey, hey, I was just kidding!" He rushed to pull her back giggling, "gotchu!"

"God you little shit, can't just turn this around on me!" She whined now crying like a baby in defeat.

"Don't you cry now." He wiped off her tears, "not going to lie, you did get me until I heard Medivet. Got you back though." He seemed proud of himself as he tightly hugged her.

"No, go away!" She tried to push him off but he barely budged.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"No, move, I have to pick him up." She now managed to pull away.

"Hey come on, this is not fair!" He whined, "well... Baby I'm sorry." He grabbed her face cooing as he placed sloppy wet kisses in her cheek and mouth. It took him a second to realise that. "You sit and relax, I will make the trip to get him."

"Okay." She nodded.

"Am I forgiven?" He asked, to double check.

"Am I?" She countered.

"Of course you are, my darling." He placed another kiss on her mouth and got one right back.

"You are too then." She finally smiled.

"Okay, bet back in thirty, yeah?" He placed a few more kisses on her face.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"I love you!" And she recieved another kiss.

"I love you too!" She reciprocated, "now go bring our son home."

"Yes, yes." He quickly put his shoes on before he was headed out, "oh, keys!"

"Here." She handed him her car key as she was holding it, with that he was heading out again.

......................................................................

N O T E :

This is not how I intended it to go but dayummmm this is hilarious!!!!!! *cries"

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @supersanelyromantic @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @harrysgirl-1d @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @moonys-star @blackbookwhore @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @novalunosising @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @dear-mylove @sofia-faustina @stylesfever @reputationolivia

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crownmemes · 4 months

Text

Ill & Injured Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for muses that don't feel so great, and for muses trying to take care of another. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"How bad can it be?"

"Getting stabbed is very demotivating."

"Sorry to miss our meeting, but I was a little busy getting shot."

"I think you're suffering from post-traumatic stress."

"I believe I've got a bullet in my arm."

"Listen, you're making terrible decisions right now because you're not thinking clearly!"

"You were about to make a medical comment?"

"Whatever is causing this, I think it needs immediate attention."

"Hang in there. I'm not going to let you die."

"All things considered, being shot is not as bad as I always thought it might be."

"I have no desire to damage my brain."

"That's going to leave a nasty scar."

"I don't think you ever get over something like that. It becomes a part of who you are."

"Your hand was shaking. That's not nothing."

"You look like you've paid a visit to the Devil himself."

"You don't look so good."

"I thought for sure you were dead."

"You've stitched yourself up before, I take it?"

"At a time like this, curiously, you begin to think of the things you regret or the things you might miss."

"Do you have any idea what you've been through?"

"How are you coping?"

"Talking doesn't cure anything."

"Where did you get those cuts?"

"Say something reassuring?"

"I'm concerned why you came back to work three months early."

"Why are men such babies when they get sick or injured?"

"I wake up sometimes and I think to myself 'how the hell am I still alive'."

"I've got three separate medical reports that all state you're physically and mentally unfit to work."

"Are you crazy? I just pulled a bullet out of you!"

"I'm taking you to a hospital. No arguments."

"You need to lie down."

"Do you feel strong enough to move out?"

"When I woke up, I was covered in blood."

"Guess what? It seems as though I've been in some sort of accident!"

"The doctor says you have a mild concussion."

"Doing okay? We're almost there."

"I know I'm not well, but I'm alright."

"Is this as bad as it seems?"

"Just so you know, the doctor said that kissing will speedrun my recovery."

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"I am calling an ambulance for you!"

"Here, this should help with the swelling."

"If I could get up, I'd kick your ass."

"No doctor in his right mind is going to sign you out!"

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own!"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#injured;

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bonny-kookoo · 5 months

Note

Hi Ms Bonny

So I remembered you said no one sends asks for the ilysib couple anymore, and I just had this idea last night but didn't have the energy to pick up my phone again💀

Okay so, basically kookie shaves his head right, maybe for the weather or his hair was damaged or I don't know really I'll need your creative mind for that part👀 and he becomes a little self conscious and oc comforts him by saying he's still😋 and he doesn't believe her. So she takes him out on a date and like before, everyone is looking at him and basically building his confidence back up.

PS I really hope you get this ask because I've sent some for this couple before and it was never answered

Tumblr sometimes eats asks, I'm so sorry :(

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's avoiding you- and that's just so not your Jungkookie.

You thought everything was going well between the two of you- but apparently something must've happened to make him so withdrawn again, refusing to see you, refusing to meet up, refusing to show himself. You're not sure what's wrong-

But you're about to find out.

"You know, I'll just camp outside then, I don't care!" You threaten, sitting in front of his apartment door, stubborn as ever- when his voice is finally heard.

"You'll laugh." He whines, before you can hear something slide along the door before it falls to the floor with a thud- he's probably sat down on the other side of the door. "You'll.. I look stupid." He says.

"Did you dye your hair or something?" You ask, and he's quiet, making you angry. "Jeon Jungkook you could've buzzed it all off and well full on Vin Diesel on me what do I care! Are you serious right now?!" You get up to knock on the door and right his doorbell again. "Open that goddam door, I'm worried about you, nerd!" You cry out again, even stomping your leg in anger.

"No, I'm.. I'm fine. Just.." he stumbles over the words, clearly panicking.

"I'm sorry." You say, and it's quiet. "I.. I'm sorry if my constant joking has gone too far at some point, if I made you feel like.. self conscious or something, I swear I never wanted to do that." You confess, feeling terrible. This must be your doing, right? It has to be your fault. Because you're insensitive as fuck, and you can't read a room, and you got way too comfortable with him and-

The door opens. He stands in front of you, beanie on his head.

"Its.. it's not your fault." He tells you. "You didn't do anything." Jungkook mumbles, and you can't help yourself.

You basically tackle the poor guy, door falling out of his grip and closing behind you, making you successfully infiltrate his home. He holds you because he's missed you too- he hates the fact that he couldn't have you this close for days by now, no physical contact with you whatsoever, no visual sight of you. It felt like torture-

But he just feels like he can't face you.

"Why are you doing this?" You whine, tears clear in your eyes, making your eyelashes already heavy with them. You're not even wearing makeup today, he notices. This must've really gotten to you.

You're still so pretty.

"What happened?" You worry, and he begins to bite his lips, a nasty habit he has whenever he's nervous. "Jungkook.." you say his full name, no variation of it, no silly petname.

He knows it's serious.

"I.. look stupid." He confesses. "I.. had an accident, a few days ago, in the bathroom." He sighs, sitting down on his couch with you, while you listen. "I slipped when I stepped out the shower, and hit.. my head on the edge of one of the cabinets.."

"Oh Jungkookie-" you whine.

"And- and they had to like.. cause my hair was so long they couldn't stitch it without, you know, shaving it, and it looked dumb when I came home so I thought might as well buzz it all off-"

You're quiet, staring at him.

"Are you okay now?" You ask, oddly serious.

"Yeah, they kept me overnight to make sure I was fine-" he answers, before you shove him, hard, angry.

"You stupid idiot!" You scold. "You're so dumb! What the fuck?!" You complain, angry tears in your eyes. "What the hell do I care about your hair?! You could've died or something, and all you thought about was how you could look to me? Am I that shallow to you?" You ask him, and he shakes his head.

He deserves this. You're right.

"No.." he denies, taking the scolding like a dog that's being told off. "No you're not. I just.. felt weird. Like I'm not.. fit for you anymore. You should have a nice looking boyfriend and all that, and you always said how you love my hair-"

"I love you most!" You whine, leaning forward to climb on his lap, and cling to him. "I love you, not your body. That's just.. that's just the only thing I can touch, so I want you to take care of it.." you explain into his chest. "..so it'll be here for as long as possible.. until we're all wrinkly and old.."

"Oh." He hums, realizing what you mean.

He's never thought about it that way. But you're right- he doesn't love your body first and foremost either, but you- your personality, your soul, your mind. Your body is simply the vessel you live in, and he'd want you to keep it up and running for as long as he's alive too.

"I'm sorry." He confesses. "I'll never do that again."

"I sure dare you to, I swear I'm gonna break in next time!" You threaten, letting him dry your tears before your hands reach for his beanie. "..can I see it?" You wonder, and he looks down, shrugging.

"I guess." He confirms.

The moment you skip his hat off, you search for something- finding the small stitched wound near the tip of his ear, making you immediately coo at it, fingers carefully touching it. "Does it still hurt?" You wonder- and he shakes his head.

"Just a little, if I lay on it or something." He admits.

"Oh my baby-" You whine, before you rub his head. "This feels weird though. How is it still soft?" You wonder, taking the pressure away from the situation, making him laugh. "And you honestly rock this look. Now you really do look like a guy who can throw a punch."

"..I can and will, for you." He mumbles, making you laugh again.

"Heh, and I lo~ove you for it!" You sing a little, kissing his nose before you kiss his lips a couple of times, cheeks held in your hands.

And he can't believe he's been living without this for just a week.

He never wants to miss you ever again.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines

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altruistic-meme · 7 months

Text

genuinely so upset about not being able to scream to my mom about my cardigan :')

#genuinely. not happy.#it sucks guys!!!! it sucks sooo much you don't get it!!!!!!!!#this is the first time I've ever been making something and not been able to go to my mom about it and thats so #its just #im sad #especially bc like. i could be asking her help. for an idea. for a stitch. when i mess up. and i cant.#man.#and i can't share my joy either!!!!#I'm almost done!!!!! and i can't send her photos!!!!!! i won't be able to send her finished photos either!!!!!!!!!#I'm gonna cry about this while i work on the border some more i just wanted to yell for a moment <3 #but bc its trans colored and she KNOWS the tran flag and im not out to her and she'll understand what it means and im!!!!!!!#maybe i do it anyway and thats how i come out LMAO im kidding thats terrifying. its all terrifying tho so yolo amirite #tell her im making it for my friend abram :')))#which very possibly ALSO would be seen right thriving bc i HAVE talked to get about aftg fjsjfjsjjsjf #but that situation gives huge 'elephant in the room' by confetti vibes #anyway #back to crocheting i just got really hit with the sad #shh ac

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 7 months

Text

anon asked:

Hi! It says on your description thing that your requests are open? ( I’m sorry for this if they’re closed :’) )

I read your request rules and it said you take poly kiribaku and I was wondering if you could write a scenario of kiribaku with a fashion designer reader? reader makes them suits and an outfit for themselves from scratch for an event? Just kinda funny fluffy stuff with reader slowly getting more annoyed at them not cooperating ( mainly Bakugou cause he’s Bakugou lol ) but still managing to finish and make them cool suits and an outfit for themselves too :)

I’ve had this lil idea in my head for months now and I love your writing, so if you think you could do something with this I’d be very happy :)) ( sorry for the long request, if you don’t want to write this I wouldn’t mind, also sorry again if your requests are closed :’) )

thank you! :))

a/n: so sorry its a bit short anon, but i did what i could!

w.count: 1.1k

your office was currently a mess. an organized mess but a mess nonetheless and katsuki made sure you knew that by his sneering. it wasn't unusual for either of your boyfriends' to stop by your workplace for various reasons. forgot your lunch, bringing you papers you needed, maybe repairs to their hero suits since your stitching 'holds up better than others'. still, this time you were the one to strong-arm them into both coming by. or rather, strong-arm katsuki, since eijirou had no issues in popping by when you called.

your work office was filled with used and unused mannequins, your main desk, a separate desk littered with fabric scraps, your sewing machines, and straight pens left, right, and center. there was also a quiant little loveseat with two comfortable cushions you have for visiting clients.

that very loveseat is where both your boyfriends' currently parked their asses. you standing in front of them with your hands on your hips and a tape measure gripped in your palm.

"i dont see why we need all new shit," katsuki groans, his arms on the back of the loveseat, looking away from your unimpressed scowl. eijiou curls his lips in to try- and fail- to conceal the amused look on his face.

you had called them both here because of the next hero gala. the dates were finally sent out to those permitted to attend, and both of their names were on the roster. of course, they would be going- mostly because katsuki's pr team begged him to- and since they got to bring plus ones along, you would also be with them.

the two of them have always been wearing store bought formal wear or renting suits, but this was literally your area of expertise! you would get measurements from the two of them if it was the last thing youd do before making them outfits they can freely keep for such occasions.

eijirou had no qualms about the whole process. in fact, his measurements went smoothly aside from him flexing his arms when you were trying to get their circumference.

"yes, you're very muscular babe, now relax your arm or so help me," was what he got in return to his playful tomfoolery. checking off his waist and hips was also filled with banter since at least three times he had hugged you and kept joking about how he wasn't just going to not when you were right in front of him. that would be far too many wasted opportunities.

katsuki had been scrolling on his phone the whole time eijirou was prolonging his process by playing harmless pranks and showering you in goofy affection as he does. you almost wished you had measured him last to get the stubborn fool that is katsuki over with first though.

now, here you stand, impatiently waiting for him to get his ass up and get started.

"katsuki," you warn, his head tipping back in a groan. "i've got all day," you tell him as if you weren't bothered in the slightest. you were though, and annoyed to boot. while you did in fact have time, that doesn't mean you want it to be wasted in a battle of wits.

"what's the damn point of taking measurements? we've got plenty of shit at home to wear."

"no, you don't. I do, but you guys have nothing properly formal enough for a gala, and im sick of renting suits when i can just make something and save some money in the process. do you know how expensive it is to rent a suit? no, because you're loaded, so up."

"i did enough of this kinda shit growin' up, i aint dealing with it when im not even livin' with my folks anymore."

you roll your tongue across your teeth, squeezing the space between your eyes with your fingers and holding yourself back.

"come on, kats, don't be such a fun sponge," eijirou tries to help. knocking him lightly in the side with his elbow, katsuki just huffs and looks at the nearest clock as if gauging when your workday was supposed to end and how long he can keep this up.

"fine," you heave, tossing your measuring tape at his chest before it flops onto his legs. "have it your way."

"that's what I tho-"

"I'll just call mitsuki and she can give me your measurements." there was a slight pause after your claim settles into the air you three occupy.

"what?" he almost sounded like he didn't believe you. but oh how serious you are.

"go on, shoo." you walk back towards your main desk with your computer and grab your purse where you start digging around for your phone. "i have a phone call to make, so go somewhere else if you're not going to be useful. oh, eijirou you can stay though if you want."

"hey!" katsuki, pulling his arms off the back of the couch, both offended that he was being kicked out while his boyfriend got to stay and miffed because- were seriously going to call his mom? over his measurements? god, who knows what else could come out of that hag's mouth if you call her asking for that. the last thing he needed was you and his mother commenting on how small his waist was or worse.

you plant yourself in your desk chair and pull over a notepad and pen to write down the oncoming numbers you would be getting one way or the other. katsuki springs from the loveseat when he sees the phone line start dialing from across the room against your cheek.

the phone rings twice and you're ready to apologize for calling in the middle of the work day when she picks up, but before you could your phone was ripped from your hand and away from your cheek.

"wha- katsuki!" you utter in disbelief.

"ignore this," he huffs before hanging up the call and tossing your tape measure into your face.

"take your stupid ass measurements, but you don't get this back for a while." the blond tosses your phone over to kirishima who had been gleefully watching the free entertainment. the red head catches it easily and safely tucks it into his pocket.

"traitor," you send his way across the room and he just shrugs.

"sorry, boyfriend's orders."

"that's right," katsuki backs him up with his arms crossed and you return the sentiment by jabbing him in the side with the back of your pen. "now hurry up, this offer expires soon."

"i hate you," you groan as you get up and untangle your measuring tape to start the process of finally getting what you needed.

"no you don't."

"i wish i did."

"liar."

"shut up, im concentrating."

he hates to admit it, but the group of coordinating matching outfits you three all wear to the gala weeks later was totally worth pushing your buttons for. plus, it was cute to rile you up sometimes.

(mitsuki did call his cell later that day to explain why it's incredibly rude to hang up on his mother. he hung up on her again.)

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku fluff #kiribaku x reader fluff #kiribaku x y/n #kiribaku x y/n fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (22/23)

Chapter summary: Natasha finally reaches out with a way for you to earn her forgiveness; You assess where you are in your own journey of discovering who you are without Wanda.

Chapter word count: 9.2k+ | Warnings: Angst | Ship: Wanda x Reader

Author's note: It's not the end--yet. Enjoy! :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-three

Twenty-Two

The night before the Cup-off, you’re helping Wanda to round off all the final preparations for the competition when you finally receive a text you’ve been anticipating for the past several weeks.

Natasha’s message is laconic and straight to the point. And she’s using a different number too.

Meet me in 30 minutes at our usual spot - Nat

Upon reading the message, it hits you right away that this is the only chance you’ll ever get to talk to your best friend again. You glance at Wanda who seems engrossed in a pile of notebooks, scribbling and revising her ideas with fervor. You approach her, lightly tapping her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Hey, I... I've got to go,” you say, your voice small and reluctant.

Wanda turns to face you, her brows stitching together in confusion. “Go? Now? What's going on?”

“It’s Nat,” is all you get to say before Wanda is nodding in full understanding. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. She knows how much you've been waiting for this. Truthfully, she's slightly apprehensive about how this conversation could unfold. And although she’s laid all her cards for you, she’s afraid that Natasha might say something that would change your mind about her.

Wanda anxiously chews on her lip. This isn't the time for her to act selfishly. “Alright, just be careful, okay?”

In response, you kiss her quickly before heading out.

The walk to your usual spot is shorter than you remember, or maybe your thoughts are just too consumed by the prospect of seeing your best friend after weeks of begging her to talk to you.

You reach the small, familiar park where you've shared countless moments with Natasha. You find her sitting on the same bench where you used to sit together during your college days. Seeing her there, waiting for you, fills you with a pang of nostalgia. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.

“Nat,” you greet, the nickname rolling off your tongue as if it hasn't been weeks since you last said it to her face. Her response is a silent nod, an invitation to sit beside her. Despite the clear tension, you sit anyway, waiting for her to speak first. This is her show, her rules. You're just here to listen.

“Y/N,” Natasha starts, her voice steady. There's a calculated calmness about her, which is so distinctly Natasha that it makes your heart ache a little. “It's been awhile.”

You nod, unsure of what to say.

Inhaling deeply, she continues, her emerald eyes piercing into yours. “I’m aware of what you're hoping to achieve here. But I need you to understand that this might not go as you think it will.”

“I know that, Nat.” you say.

“Do you?” she retorts with a humorless laugh. “Because I'm not sure you understand how much you've hurt my sister.”

Her pain and anger is as palpable as the day she told you you weren’t friends anymore–they simmer, beneath the facade of indifference that she’s practiced so well.

“Maybe I do,” you say.

“What?” Natasha asks sharply, as if daring you to elaborate.

“I do understand how she feels. Which is why I know there’s nothing I can do to atone for–”

“You really are shameless, you know that?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, though you know your words are but a hollow echo, unable to mend the broken pieces.

“For what?” Natasha counters, her eyes glossy under the dying daylight. “For betraying her? For breaking her heart? Or for being too cowardly to face what you've done?”

“For all of it,” you whisper, hardening your jaw to hold back the torrent of emotions ready to consume you. “And for the fact that I can't undo any of it.”

A single tear rolls down Natasha's cheek, and something constricts in your chest, knowing that Natasha rarely shows her emotions, let alone cry in front of anyone.

You thought you understood before, but you didn’t. Not until this moment. The hurt you've caused is not just a concept, it's tangible, it's real, and for the first time, you truly see it.

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the sincerity of your regret reflected in your eyes.

For a moment, silence descends upon you both, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl and the rustling of the wind through the leaves.

“Does she know you're sorry?” Natasha finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“She...she does,” you say, letting out a ragged breath. “The last time I saw Yelena... I told her how sorry I was. But she...she told me she doesn't know if she can ever forgive me.”

This revelation takes Natasha by surprise. “She talked to you?” She manages to ask after a beat.

“Yes,” you blink at her curiously. “She hasn't spoken to you?”

Natasha slowly shakes her head. “Not recently,” she says, her voice faint. “She left the state. She's living in Chicago now.”

The information crashes into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“Chicago?” you parrot back, the city's name tasting foreign on your tongue. Yelena had moved states without you having any clue about it, intensifying the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“I found out through a fucking note,” Natasha divulges with a grim expression.

“I... I didn't know,” you stammer, an overwhelming feeling of regret washing over you. “I didn't realize it had gotten that bad.”

Her gaze returns to the park in front of you, her voice almost swallowed by the wind when she speaks, “It did. It really did.”

“I'm sorry,” you repeat, the apology feeling more potent this time. It extends beyond Natasha, reaching out to Yelena and even to yourself. A regret for the distress you've caused, for the trust you've broken, for the chasm your actions have carved between all of you.

“Stop apologizing. It’s starting to annoy me.”

You clump your mouth shut. Judging from the way this conversation is unfolding, it's abundantly clear that a friendly parting at the end is off the table.

Your teeth begin to chatter as the last vestiges of sunlight dip below the horizon.

“Why couldn't we have moved this conversation to a more sheltered spot?” you grumble, observing the misty puffs of your breath evaporate into the frigid air.

Natasha merely shrugs, an almost sinister glint in her eyes. “Maybe I wanted to punish you a little,” she quips nonchalantly. She seems unaffected by the low temperature, hardened by her work which often requires resilience in less-than-ideal conditions.

Your reply is a tight-lipped smile, a pitiful attempt to make light of her response. The cold might be bearable for her, but you can't help but feel the chill seeping into your bones, much like the icy silence that follows her words.

It's quiet, too quiet, the silence pressing down around you both.

What now?

“I wish...” you start, but the sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. You wish for so many things. To turn back time, to change your actions, to see Yelena's face light up the way it used to. But more than anything, you wish for forgiveness–from Yelena, from Natasha, from yourself.

But none of that matters because you don’t wish you weren’t with Wanda now. She’s the only one anchoring you to this reality, having so much of yourself stripped away.

“Don’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice sharp as the frosty air. “Just...don’t.”

And then, a moment later Natasha rises and starts walking in circles in front of you. You look at her with a bewildered expression, curious to see what she’s up to.

“But maybe there’s something…” she trails off, still following an invisible pattern on the ground as she keeps walking, avoiding your eyes.

“Something…?”

“Maybe there’s a way for me to believe that you’re not making another big mistake in your life.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

Instead of answering, she finally looks up to you and asks, “Are you with Wanda now?”

You hesitate for a moment, and then slowly nod.

With a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, Natasha lets out a laugh that is more of a scoff. There's a sharpness to it that feels pointed, almost a jab. Her lips curl into a smirk that's too pleased, too knowing.

“I don’t even know why I expected anything else,” Natasha mumbles to herself. “And is it worth it?” she asks, her voice laced with bitterness. “Worth enough to risk our friendship, to break Yelena's heart?”

“Nat,” you start, watching her carefully, “What's this about? What are you implying?”

She takes a second to reply, staring at the darkening sky as if it holds the answers she needs. When she finally speaks, her words come out with a certain steeliness.

“I need to see it,” she declares, her gaze finally finding yours. “I need to see that this...whatever it is between you and Wanda, that it’s real, that it’s worth something. Worth losing Yelena and me, and everyone else who’s ever cared about you.”

The color drains from your face as she continues speaking, a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you where she's going with this.

“And there’s something else,” she continues, her eyes narrowing. “I need to know that Wanda, the woman who had the audacity to cheat on you once, isn't going to do it again. That she’s not just playing you, and this isn't just her running from guilt or looking for comfort.”

“Nat,” you swallow hard, a tight knot of unease building up in your chest. “What are you asking?”

“I want you to stay away from Wanda for a year,” she says, her voice cold and unwavering. Her eyes challenge you, and the heavy demand sends a chill down your spine.

It seems overbearing, even slightly irrational, and she's aware of it. She understands how it might paint her as controlling, perhaps even bordering on the brink of madness. But if this is the price for her forgiveness, if this is the means for you to earn her acceptance of you and Wanda, then so be it.

For you, it’s almost suffocating. A year without Wanda seems daunting, an insurmountable task. But as you watch Natasha, her face stern, her posture unyielding, you understand that this is her version of justice, her way of testing the strength of your conviction. It's a tall order, but if it's the road to mending the fractures between you, then it's a path you're ready to consider.

It takes your breath away, as if the winter air has been sucked from your lungs. “A year?”

She nods, her expression unwavering. “If, after a year, you both still choose each other... if Wanda has remained loyal to you in that time, then I’ll know it’s real. Then I can start to consider the possibility that what you've sacrificed for this might not have been in vain.”

“Why would you ask me this?” your voice breaks as a lone tear trickles down your cheek, cold and sharp against your skin in the harsh winter. But Natasha remains unmoved by your visible distress, her chin held high in defiance.

“Because, it's the only way I can even think about forgiving you,” she surmises. “It’s the only way I can ensure you're not just making another colossal mistake. And more than anything, it's my way of trying to protect you... from yourself.”

“Protection? Is that what you're calling this?” you hiss at her, anger and bitterness lacing your words. “You want to take away someone who means the world to me? You expect me to believe that you're doing this for my sake, but all I see is you trying to make me as miserable and alone as possible!”

Your breaths coming out in ragged puffs against the frigid air. For a moment, Natasha looks taken aback by your outburst. Then, her expression hardens once again, her green eyes meeting yours with an unwavering resolve.

“I don't expect you to understand,” she says, her voice cold. “But if you truly care about Wanda as much as you claim, you would take this chance to prove it. Not just to me, but to yourself as well.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense.”

“Am I not?” Natasha fires back, her eyes flashing, her smirk carrying an edge of dissent. “Then answer me this, Y/N. Who are you without Wanda?”

“Who am I without Wanda?” You echo her question, your voice dripping with sarcasm, as if the very idea is preposterous. But then the reality of the question hits you like a ton of bricks. You repeat it, softer, almost a whisper, as the world seems to stand still around you. “Who am I without Wanda?”

It's as if she's pulled the ground from under your feet and you're free-falling, grappling for something solid to hold on to.

“Yes, Y/N. Who are you? Tell me,” Natasha urges, her voice relentless, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“I…” you begin, your voice faltering. You're the head of a finance department in a multimillion-dollar company. You earn a sizable income. You are the subject of envy among your male colleagues. You reside in a luxurious apartment in Manhattan. You're–

And yet, none of these achievements feel like they define you.

None of these accolades hold meaning without Wanda. You recall how you had yearned for those promotions, how they were a part of a bigger plan–a plan for a life with Wanda, a shared dream of starting a family. Every milestone, every victory was not just yours, it was hers too. All those achievements were built around the scaffolding of your shared love.

But everything crumbled when your marriage fell apart.

“And that's exactly why you need this,” Natasha tells you after a long period of silence that you didn’t even notice. Her tone is not condescending, but matter-of-fact, devoid of any satisfaction that she might have been right. “You've become so wrapped up in her that you've forgotten who you are. You need to figure that out, Y/N. You need to know who you are, independently, before you can be with her.”

Natasha then takes a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing. “I talked to Wanda a few weeks ago,” she discloses, and you look up at her in surprise. “She insists that she loves you. And it's possible that she's being honest... or maybe she's trying to convince herself that she does. But do you trust her, Y/N? Can you look me in the eye, right here, right now, and tell me without a shadow of doubt that you believe her?”

Your eyes search Natasha's, looking for signs of manipulation or deceit, but find none. Her question continues to echo in your mind, forcing you to confront something you'd rather not face. It's taunting, almost, making you look deep within yourself for the truth.

You think back to your conversations with Wanda, her promises of love, her regretful apologies. You recall the yearning in her eyes, the vulnerability in her voice, but also the uncertainty, the hesitance. You think about your sessions with Calliope. Each one of them ends in the same way, with you tasked to ruminate over your feelings, to introspect. There's never a concrete conclusion, only a carousel of thoughts that keeps turning, prompting you to understand your emotions better.

There's the constant feeling of jealousy. Random bouts of suspicion, an itch to check her phone, and look into her emails. None of this tells you that you trust Wanda.

“I... I want to,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “But I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

For a moment, there's a heavy silence, punctuated only by your quiet sobs. Then, Natasha moves. She takes a seat beside you again, bridging the space you've unconsciously put between yourselves. She hesitates for a second, as if unsure whether she's crossing a line, before finally placing an arm gently around your back in a silent show of support.

Her touch is unexpected, but it brings a certain level of comfort. In that moment, you realize that, despite everything, Natasha still cares.

“What if I lose her?” you voice your biggest fear.

A year–where anything can happen. It’s sailing into the seas without a compass. It’s essentially letting go and letting fate take over.

“If she truly loves you, she'll wait,” Natasha responds simply. “And if she doesn't... well, then maybe she isn't the one for you after all.”

That stings. But the words resonate within you.

“Take the year, Y/N,” Natasha says softly, her fingers digging slightly into your back as if she can get you to listen more with the action. “Figure yourself out. Prove to me, to yourself, and to Wanda, that you can be someone beyond the prison of your love for the woman who doesn’t even deserve it.”

"If I choose to do this," you say, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Where does that leave us? Can we ever be friends again?”

Natasha is quiet for a moment, mulling over your question.

“This isn't about securing our friendship, or winning me over. It's not a trade-off.” she says.

“Then what is it?” you ask, your face crumpling as another dam breaks within you.

Her eyes seem to plead with you, even as her words keep their distance. “This is about you earning my trust back, not about bargaining for our friendship. This is about you finding a way back to your old self. Your happiness seems so intertwined with Wanda that it feels like you're not whole without her. But ask yourself this, Y/N, can you really be happy constantly doubting? Always second-guessing the sincerity of her love for you?”

“Think about it,” she says quietly. “That's all I'm asking, Y/N. Think about it. Really think about where you are right now. Who you are. What you need. And then decide.”

When you find your way back to Wanda, the look on your face immediately sets off alarm bells.

“Hey, what's wrong?” she asks immediately, pulling you inside the café where the air is much warmer. She touches your skin and lets out a small gasp, “You're freezing!” she exclaims. With a concerned frown, she cups your neck, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your skin as she gently nudges you to look at her.

In a flurry of movement, Wanda dashes to the backroom to crank up the heater. Returning to your side, she carefully unzips your jacket, before wrapping herself around you in an attempt to share her body heat.

“Y/N?” she implores, her eyes searching the faraway look in yours, willing you to come back to the present. After a moment, you blink several times, as if waking from a dream. Finally, your gaze sharpens, landing on Wanda.

“Wands,” you utter, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling them gently. Leaning in, you plant a tender kiss on her nose, grounding yourself in the moment with her.

“Did something happen with Natasha?” Wanda asks. She tries to steady her heartbeat, fearing what your answer might be.

You shake your head and give her a soft smile, your thumb grazing over her worried brow as you commit to memory every line that time and laughter have carved on her face, and then her eyes–a universe within their own right, trapped in forest green orbs that sheltered you for so long.

“We just said our goodbyes.”

“I'm sorry,” Wanda returns quietly, her concern deepening with each passing moment.

With another shake of your head and an effort to keep the mood light, you divert the conversation. “Let's get back to work for your competition, okay? You're going to do great tomorrow.”

***

Bryant Park is alive with anticipation.

The air is saturated with the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and resonates with the buzz of conversation and laughter. Coffee enthusiasts and competitors alike have gathered here for the highly anticipated annual coffee showdown.

Your mouth waters at the prospect of tasting these unique and innovative creations crafted by the city's finest experts.

Wanda's booth, unpretentious yet warmly welcoming, serves as the focal point of your day. You, alongside Agatha, have dedicated your time to help her meticulously manage every aspect, while Peter holds down the fort at the cafe.

Wanda’s choice of beans–the ones you'd brought back for her from LA, single-origin and carefully sourced from a quaint little town in Northern Japan–was being used to craft three different offerings: a piping hot brew, a refreshingly cold variant, and an innovative ice-blended concoction.

Beside you, Wanda is a portrait of contained chaos. Her eyes, wide with a mix of fear and excitement, dart around incessantly, taking in the hustle and bustle of the competition. Her hand, icy and trembling, has been clutching yours in a vice-like grip for the past hour. You return the pressure every so often, your thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in a silent bid to soothe her nerves.

“You got this, okay?” you assure her.

She gives you a quick, nervous nod but can't find the words to say anything. You let out a small chuckle, amused at how wound up she is. Despite her being a rookie in this competition, you've got no doubts she'll come out with a win. After a while, she mutters about needing to take a walk and stretch her legs. You nod, understanding her need for a bit of personal space, and secretly grateful for the chance to give your hand, which had been squeezed relentlessly, a break.

In the sea of people, you spot a familiar face–Valkyrie, her broad smile as conspicuous as ever. Her sudden appearance grates on your nerves. It seems she's always present at these occasions, enough to make you wonder if she's on a perpetual campaign trail.

“Running for mayor, Valkyrie?” you can't help but quip as you approach her, your tone laced with annoyance.

Her amused chuckle does nothing to soften the expression on your face. “Believe it or not, I'm not everywhere by choice," she responds, flashing her camera at you. "I'm a photographer, remember? These events are part of my job.”

She says it as though it's a fact you should already be aware of, which only fuels your annoyance further.

“I wasn't aware of that,” you shoot back, frowning at the lens pointed at you.

“Look,Y/N, no hard feelings,” Valkyrie says after she snaps a picture of your scowl. “I wasn't in on all the drama. Wanda gave me the rundown, though. Honestly, I'd probably be jealous of me, too.”

You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms over your chest. “What exactly did Wanda tell you?”

“That you two were married? And you cut her loose after she screwed up? That's kinda harsh, don't you think?”

“Well, you don't have a clue about the things we went through,” you retort rather defensively.

“Perhaps I don't. But I know a thing or two about loss,” Valkyrie counters, removing her gloves to show you her left hand.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Take a closer look,” she directs, pushing her hand further in front of your nose. Intrigued, you lean in and catch sight of a faint impression on her finger–evidence of a ring once worn.

She used to be married?

As if reading your thoughts, Valkyrie offers a short explanation, “He died four years ago. It was cancer.”

Your retort dies in your throat. Oh.

After an awkward silence, you manage to stutter out, “I... I'm sorry.”

Valkyrie's smile has a quality that makes you perceive her in a new way. “Time passes,” she says. "People move forward, or they try to, at least."

She puts her gloves back on and readjusts her camera. “Wanda's a good person. And she's gone through a lot too. Be kind to her, okay? She deserves it.”

It’s an advice to be expected from someone on the outside looking in, but it’s also an advice that despite its simplicity, is actually very important and essential in every kind of relationship.

Before you can think of a response, Wanda returns to your side.

“Oh, hey, Val!” Wanda greets, throwing a brief hug around Valkyrie.

Valkyrie gives her a nod before asking, “How about a quick photo, while we wait for the results?”

You can't remember the last time you and Wanda posed for a photo together. There's an awkward moment before you position your hand around her waist, her own arms finding a comfortable place around your neck.

She presses her cheek against yours, her grin so broad it nudges your own expression into a smile. You make a mental note to ask Valkyrie for a copy later.

“Wanda, they’re about to announce the winners!” Agatha pushes through the crowd to reach you both, her face alight with anticipation.

Your heart pounds in your chest as everyone gathers around the stage, the chatter and noise dimming down into a sea of murmurs and excited whispers. The host takes their time, going through the runner ups and then the third place. As each name is announced and it’s not Wanda, your hope dwindles, thinking she may not have placed at all. Wanda recognizes some of them as owners of more-known cafes in her neighborhood.

And then, the host announces the second place winner.

“Second Chances cafe!”

The crowd erupts into cheers and claps, and you find yourself grinning ear to ear as she looks at you in shock and disbelief. Agatha gives a whoop, her arms flying into the air in celebration.

With an excited flush in her cheeks, Wanda takes the stage, her eyes never leaving yours. She accepts the plaque and cradles it with gentle hands, the glow of pride in her eyes enough to make your heart squeeze. As she turns to the crowd, she raises her hand, her fingers wiggling in a modest wave. The crowd roars in response, their cheers echoing in the open park.

Wanda, second place in her first ever coffee showdown, and with a flavor she put together herself. It's like something out of a dream.

But the dream turns a little sour when you notice the many people coming up to her, showering her with praise, and more than a few of them seeming overly friendly.

You see people congratulating her as she steps off the stage, handing her flowers and gift baskets, everyone eager to talk to her, to share in her moment of triumph. They are complete strangers, all drawn to her like moths to a flame.

And as you watch, you see them–people flirting with her. Wanda, for her part, remains gracious and kind, her smile never wavering as she laughs at their jokes and thanks them for their praise.

But something about it makes your skin crawl, makes your hands clench into fists at your side. It isn’t just the jealousy, although that’s a large part of it. It’s the fear, the unshakeable insecurity that even after all you’ve been through, you could still lose her to someone else.

With every laugh she shares, every hand she shakes, the knot in your stomach tightens. You try to shake it off, reminding you that this is the very thing you’re both working on: trust. But as you see the ease with which she interacts with others, the memory of her infidelity looms larger in your mind.

Instead of confronting your feelings, you let them stew, let them build into an almost obsessive preoccupation with the thought of losing Wanda to someone else. It's a spiral you can't seem to pull yourself out of, a cycle of fear and uncertainty that you're trapped in. So, you stay in the background, your eyes locked onto her figure as she laughs and smiles with people who are not you, your mind racing with endless possibilities and outcomes.

It’s a terrible, consuming feeling.

You should be happy for her. You are. But there's a voice in the back of your head whispering things you don't want to hear, insecurities you don't want to address, and fears you don't want to confront.

Yet they're all there, unavoidable in the wake of her success and the admiration she’s receiving from everyone.

When Wanda finally manages to extricate herself from the crowd and return to you, Natasha's words are already resounding deafeningly in your mind.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda's voice breaks into your thoughts, the warmth in her eyes replaced with concern as she notices your distant expression. You force a smile onto your face, trying to push away the question that’s been haunting you:

Who are you, truly, without her?

“Everything's great,” you assure her, trying to sound more convincing than you feel. Wanda's forehead creases in doubt, but she doesn't push it further. Instead, she takes your hand, holds onto you in case you drift off somewhere she can’t follow.

Her touch is meant to be soothing, but all it does is remind you of Natasha's challenge and another question pops into your mind:

Will you even survive if she breaks you the second time around?

As you're tucking yourself under the covers, you hear Wanda's voice call out to you, “Hey, Y/N,” causing you to peek out from the duvet.

“Yes?”

“Remember the assignment Calliope gave us? The...uh, eye-gazing thing?” She sounds slightly bashful mentioning it.

Your eyebrows raise in remembrance. “Oh, right,” you murmur, sitting up straighter on the bed. “Do you want to do it now?”

Wanda nods, her eyes already softening in preparation for the exercise. She situates herself across from you, the both of you sitting cross-legged on the large bed. The room is silent except for Sparky’s soft snores coming from the foot of the bed.

You grab your watch and check with Wanda, “Five minutes?”

As soon as she gives her go signal, you press ‘start’ on your watch.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly leave your body, calming your nerves. You lock your gaze with Wanda's, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has come to a standstill.

The first few moments are awkward, and both of you giggle, breaking the silence. But soon, you both fall into a serene silence, eyes never leaving each other. You focus on her eyes, noting the flecks of different hues, the way her eyelashes curl, and how her eyes crinkle when she tries to suppress a smile.

“Are we required not to talk?” Wanda asks in a hushed tone, as if she’ll be reprimanded for it.

You respond with a shake of your head, biting back any words that threaten to slip out. Instead of talking, you allow yourself to reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, all the while keeping your eyes locked with Wanda’s.

Wanda, understanding the unspoken agreement, begins to mirror your actions. Her fingers, gentle and warm, trace the line of your jaw. The simple, intimate gesture draws a soft breath from you, and in response, your hand comes up to cradle her cheek, thumb lightly brushing her skin.

The air between you two becomes charged, filled with an intimacy that words could never capture. Her touch is feather-light, but it ignites a slow burn in your core, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact.

Despite the lack of words, it's the most profound conversation you've had in a while, a connection so deep that it renders words meaningless.

You let yourself get lost in her eyes.

‘Getting lost in one’s eyes’–it’s something you’ve only read in books, a cliche found in romance novels that doesn’t really translate in reality’s fast-paced nature. But with this exercise, you discover that it’s possible.

Time begins to slow as you swim further in those emerald pools, familiarizing yourself with what’s inside. You’re hyper aware of what you’re seeing, and focus all your emotions on the task at hand.

But as you delve deeper, a painful realization begins to take shape: your entire purpose revolves around her, with not a sliver of it left for yourself.

Wanda does the same, and it allows her to see something else behind the look of adoration in them. She sees your insecurities. Your fears. But most of all she sees your love for her, the true magnitude of it. Wanda isn't sure what to make of all this, not just yet. Maybe this exercise isn't about finding answers, but rather about observation, about exposure. It's about having faith in each other, trusting that whatever you reveal, whatever pieces of yourselves you lay bare, won’t be dismissed or exploited.

As the final seconds of the five-minute mark wind down, Wanda gently leans in, allowing her forehead to rest against yours.

The last tick of the timer goes unnoticed, lost in the shared warmth between your foreheads. Neither of you makes a move to disengage from the connection, the outside world seemingly forgotten for now.

“Five minutes…” Wanda murmurs softly, more to herself than to you, as though astonished by how much could be conveyed in such a brief span. Her hand, previously resting on your cheek, moves to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

Wanda leans in abruptly, her lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss. It's frantic, bordering on reckless, and for a split second, you fear she's glimpsed the war you’re waging with yourself. Her hands cup your face, her fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer, deeper into the moment.

You respond instinctively, the depth of her kiss stirring a response from within you. Your hands fall on her waist, your nails digging into her flesh. Her shirt has ridden up, and you explore the new expanse of smooth skin available to you, causing goosebumps to rise on Wanda’s skin as she feels the heat of your palm against her hardening nipples.

“W-We should stop,” Wanda manages to utter but it ends in a yelp as you tweak her peaks with purpose.

“Why?” you breathe out against her ear.

“C-Can’t have sex. Doctor’s orders…” Wanda's words falter as she arches her neck, giving way to your lips and tongue as you move your assaults there.

The words are like a bucket of ice-cold water, and a sigh of frustration escapes your lips.

“Right.”

You pull back, extracting yourself from the tangle of limbs and heated desire that Wanda has become. Your body screams in protest, a physical ache that leaves you breathless.

Wanda looks up at you with understanding in her eyes. "I know it's hard," she says, her fingers lightly tracing patterns over the exposed skin of your arm. Your eyes, in a moment of weakness, stray to her panties and see the undeniable evidence of her arousal soaking her underwear. You suppress a groan, flopping back onto the bed to keep your impulses in check. Wanda follows suit and lies on her side, facing you.

Nodding, you swallow down the lump in your throat. “It is,” you admit. You let out a deep sigh, pushing away the longing that threatens to consume you. “But it's necessary,” you add, meeting her gaze head-on. Your fingers trace the line of her jaw, your touch light yet full of promise.

“Seems like my dreams will have to pick up where we left off,” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

With a tender laugh, she moves closer to you, resting her head on your chest. “By all means, darling,” she whispers against your skin. “Even in dreams, I belong to you.”

Will Wanda still belong to you a year later?

***

“I’ve been thinking…”

Calliope pays close attention to your thoughtful expression as you search your words.

“Wanda, she's done some amazing things this past year...and all without me by her side,” you say evenly, staring out of her office window. You seem lost in thought, like you're on the verge of an important realization. Patiently, Calliope waits, letting you take your time to reveal them.

A moment of silence follows your confession, you continue gazing out the window.

“And how does that make you feel?” Calliope gently prompts when it becomes clear that you won't say anything else on your own.

A deep sigh escapes you as you finally return your gaze to your therapist. “Freeing, in a way–yet kind of sad too,” you confess. “I mean, I'm glad. Wanda's strength... her independence. It's one of the things I love about her. But realizing that she doesn't necessarily need me... it's a strange feeling.”

Calliope steeples her fingers together; She wants to tread lightly, to guide you to self-realization without imposing her interpretations onto your experiences.

“I sense that Wanda not ‘necessarily needing’ you is a point of contention for you. Is that right?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose you could put it that way,” you say, offering her a sad smile.

“Would you mind going into that a bit further, Y/N?” Calliope requests, her tone open and nonjudgmental.

“Yeah, sure,” you begin hesitantly, letting out a small sigh. “I guess you could say... It's like I'm jealous, in a way. It's odd, I know. But when I see her now, how far she's come, the woman she's become since... everything... I can't help but compare it to my own progress.”

“See, I only feel like I truly came back to myself after we reconciled, like I returned to a safe and comfortable cocoon. But Wanda...She's been out there, growing, learning, becoming this incredible person. It's like she's soared to these incredible heights, and I'm still stuck in the same place, trying to catch up.”

You let out a small, hollow chuckle at the irony of your next concern. “And yeah, there's the whole issue of trust. I forgave her for what she did, or at least, I'm trying to. But now I find myself questioning whether I'm good enough for her. I wonder if she deserves someone better, someone who isn't so... diminutive.”

“Feeling 'less than' can be incredibly difficult, especially after experiencing betrayal,” she starts gently. “And it's natural to wonder if the person you love deserves better. But let me remind you, Y/N, that you are not responsible for determining what Wanda deserves or doesn't. Only she can decide that.”

Calliope’s eyes soften as she pauses, letting you absorb her words.

“As for feeling 'diminutive'... Everyone grows at their own pace. Wanda has had her own journey, and you've had yours. There's no definitive timeline or checklist for growth and healing. You are not less valuable or worthy because you perceive yourself as behind her in some way,” she tells you.

The words she speaks should be appeasing, but they just feel empty to you. They're meant to inspire, to motivate, to help, but they don't reach you. They seem to be directed at someone other than the conflicted individual you've become. The detachment is disconcerting, leaving you feeling even more adrift.

With a sigh, you say, “Something happened recently.”

Calliope adjusts the glasses perched on her nose. “Tell me more.”

“Remember Nat? My best friend and Yelena’s sister? She finally talked to me. She, uh, made a suggestion,” you say, shuffling your feet on the carpeted floor. “She thinks my struggles might be more about me than my relationship with Wanda. She suggested I take a year off. To separate from Wanda, to rediscover who I am on my own.”

Calliope leans back in her chair, taking a moment to consider your words before responding.

“That's a drastic step,” she acknowledges, her tone neutral. “It's a valid suggestion and one that's often employed in cases where codependency has taken root. As a therapist, I can tell you that taking a step back from a relationship to focus on personal growth can indeed help provide perspective, allow for self-reflection, and foster personal development.”

Her eyes lock onto yours, steady and compassionate. “However,” she continues, “It's a decision you'd have to make with careful consideration. It's not just about time and distance–it's about what you do with that time and how you utilize that distance. Self-discovery requires active engagement. It's not something that just happens.”

You nod in understanding. You haven’t gotten around to thinking about how you will fill that gap year. And it just amplifies Natasha’s belief that you don’t know who you are or what to do with yourself when left to your own devices.

“What's your instinct telling you, Y/N?” Calliope inquires, taking off her glasses as if to put aside her professional role and connect with you on a more personal level, like a trusted confidant. “Do you feel that taking this time apart from Wanda could help you rediscover who you are outside of your relationship with her?”

You've been so entwined with Wanda for so long, the thought of detaching yourself from her feels like extracting your own heart. A year from her feels more permanent than when you divorced her because you’re not angry this time.

“I don't know…” you admit, your voice becoming thick with emotions. You look down at your hands, flexing them nervously. “Part of me thinks it could help, because… Because it’s getting worse.”

“What is?”

“This… nagging feeling,” you say. “That… That I have to look at her phone, to read all her messages,” you confess, the words leaving your lips in a whisper.Your eyes remain lowered, and your hands betray a subtle tremor as you push forward. “I haven't looked because I can't bring myself to ask Wanda for her permission, and I can't figure out her passcode. And the feeling of jealousy is more frequent now, and it’s not me.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest as you bare your deepest insecurities to Calliope. The fear of invading Wanda's privacy conflicts with your need for reassurance, for a confirmation that your trust is not misplaced.

Your confession flows naturally, “I've been under this impression that I need to watch her every move. Yet, I can't shake off the fear that I might overlook something and end up being blindsided again.” There's a pause, followed by a humorless chuckle. “And who am I in all of this mess? If Natasha asked me that question now…” You give a disappointed shake of your head, “I'd probably answer with ‘a bundle of jealousy and insecurity.’”

“I see how that’s extremely difficult for you, Y/N,” she says simply. “You're trying to find out who you are, while at the same time dealing with trust issues. It's like you're walking on a tightrope.”

Tiredness washing over you, you merely hum in agreement, your inner conflict sapping the energy out of you.

“Have you talked to Wanda about this?” Calliope probes, trying to keep the conversation going despite your evident weariness.

“I haven't yet. I'm afraid... I don't want to hurt her, it feels like I've given her false hope.”

“Before you finalize any decision, it would be fair to talk to Wanda. Allow her to give her insights. It's not just about making a decision, it's about including her in the process,” Calliope says. “If you feel that you have already made a decision, tell her before you set any plans in motion. Wanda cares deeply for you and she will understand, no matter what decision you make.”

That's the first piece of advice she's given this session that resonates with you.

“What do you think I should do?” you find yourself asking. The idea of having someone else make this critical decision is temptingly easier. You know how she’s going to respond, but out of desperation, you ask her anyway.

Calliope shakes her head, offering you a knowing smile.

“Have faith in yourself, in your ability to make the right decisions,” she says.

You bite your lip in resignation. “Can I still come to you for guidance, no matter what I choose in the end?”

“Absolutely,” Calliope nods, seeing the answer to your question in your own eyes before you can even realize it. “We're lucky to live in a time where help can be reached in many ways. As long as you want my help, I'll be here for you.”

***

New Year’s Eve passes by in a blur of fireworks, wine and dancing with Wanda in the kitchen, and the next couple of days slowly settles back to its usual rhythm. The city of Manhattan, once draped in holiday cheer with twinkling lights and a towering Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, slips back into its usual attire.

The days following the celebration return to their familiar tempo, like a song falling back into its regular beat after an energetic chorus. Street vendors replace holiday markets, and the regular hum of traffic replaces carols and festive laughter.

As the first week of January wraps up, you and Wanda find yourselves back in Calliope's office. The session is spent mostly reflecting on your holiday experiences and discussing the eye-gazing exercise Calliope assigned you both. Wanda's vivid storytelling about your LA trip takes center stage, and you find it challenging to stay engaged in the conversation.

Time seems to slip through your fingers, and before you know it, Wanda's thanking Calliope for the session, and it's time to leave. Despite your quiet demeanor throughout, Calliope doesn't prod you for it. She seems to understand where your thoughts were wandering. The short nod she gives you before you could leave tells you one thing: Talk to Wanda.

Wanda, on the other hand, hasn't overlooked your frequent distant gazes, seemingly lost in your own world. She hasn't missed the way your eyes fleetingly dart to her buzzing phone, filled with messages from her customers and suppliers, as you wait for dinner to be ready. She notices your attentive ears whenever she's on the phone, not making any attempt to have private conversations away from you. She picks up on the tension in your features when you're out together, and an admirer's gaze lingers on her for a tad too long.

She can't help but notice the way you're always a little bit on edge. It makes her wonder if you’re genuinely content with how things are. If you’re happy with her. If this is really working for you.

But then, behind closed doors, it’s paradise.

Because when the lights are out, and it's just the two of you, your name is the only one she knows, the only one she calls out into the quiet of the night.

***

Finally, on a quiet Saturday morning, you wake up before Wanda. You watch her sleep, peaceful and untroubled, and you decide–today is the day.

Taking a deep breath, you gently nudge her awake. She stirs, blinking sleepily at you, and you give her a soft smile.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your fingers gently combing through her hair. Wanda snuggles further into the pillow, attempting to shield her eyes from the morning light. For a while, you let her be, savoring the peaceful moment as long as you can.

“Wanda, we need to talk.”

Your voice carries a certain tone that instantly cuts through her sleepiness, washing away the last traces of sleep from Wanda’s eyes. She shifts slightly, propping herself up, her eyes now fully focused on you.

“Alright,” she says, her voice a hushed whisper.

You run your fingers through your hair nervously, leaning against the headboard with your back turned to her. She watches you intently, and you feel the weight of her gaze as you gather your thoughts. Inhaling deeply, you finally speak, your voice soft and almost trembling.

“When Natasha came to see me, it wasn’t just to say our goodbyes,” you begin, feeling Wanda's breath hitch slightly. Her lack of surprise indicates that she's sensed there's been more to it. She's been waiting patiently for you to share what's been troubling you, and now she can connect the dots.

Something had changed after the day you spoke with Natasha.

She shifts closer, an instinctual pull towards you for comfort. You don't resist, opening your arm for her so she could tuck herself into the curve of your body, her head finding its familiar resting place against your chest.

“She, uh, made a suggestion that at first sounded fucking ridiculous to me," you say with an empty laugh. “She thinks maybe I–maybe I need some time. To figure things out...about myself, by myself.”

Wanda's hold on you becomes firmer, drawing you in as if she could meld you both into one. The added pressure makes the looming conversation even harder to continue.

“She believes it might be good for me–and, well, us–to take a break. A year apart from each other, to rediscover who I am on my own,” you say and glance down, hoping to catch Wanda's eyes, but you find her eyes tightly shut as if your words have physically wounded her.

There's a pause. A long, deafening silence that you're not sure you can stand for much longer. But when Wanda finally speaks, her voice is calm, and there's a strange kind of acceptance in her eyes when she opens them.

“And what do you think?” she asks softly.

“I... I don't know, Wands,” you confess, the nickname slipping out unintentionally as you feel the cracks in your resolve. “I love you, more than anything. But I also... I also feel lost. And I hate this feeling, this...paranoia...jealousy... It's not me. At least, I don't want it to be me.”

You sense a faint nod from Wanda, drawing a small measure of comfort from her understanding.

“Before I make any decision, I wanted to talk to you,” you say, finally lifting your gaze to meet hers again. “I…” you trail off as you watch a glimmer form in her eyes.

“Wands, what are you thinking?” you ask.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against yours. “I've noticed,” she admits, her voice so soft it's almost a whisper. “I've seen how you've been pulling away, getting lost in your thoughts. I just... I hoped it was a phase. But even if it were, it hurts to see you like this.”

You nod, your vision becoming a little blurry. This is harder than you thought it would be.

“Have you reconciled with Natasha?” she suddenly asks.

You shake your head no.

Wanda sighs deeply, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards into a deeper frown. “You remember when we first bumped into each other after our divorce, right?” she starts, shifting closer again as she closes her eyes once more. “I was so determined to win you back. But we both know that didn't end up well. I crashed, you left, and I was alone for the first time in a long while.”

Pausing, she takes a moment to recall everything. “Of course, I missed you. But the thing is, after some time, my perspective changed. I wasn't exactly happy, but I found a sense of contentment. I felt... steady, you know?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “Then I reached out to you again, for Sparky. Seeing you, talking to you, it made the dormant feelings I had for you flutter back to life. But things were different this time. I'd had some time to really work on myself, to define my identity outside of…you. Beyond just wanting you and being guilty of what I did. I learned so much about myself during that time.”

Wanda pauses, her gaze becoming misty, the emotions she'd been holding back threatening to spill over.

“And maybe,” she hesitates, her voice becoming thick with tears, “Maybe that's what you need too.”

You stare at the ceiling in silence, the enormity of her words sinking in. Your chest is tight, and your head is spinning.

“Is that what you want?” you ask. It would be easier if this is what Wanda wants.

“I want you to be happy,” Wanda whispers through a cascade of tears and trembling lips. “No, I need you to be happy.”

You look at her, taking in the raw emotion etched on her face. The tears streaming down her cheeks make your heart constrict with a pain more acute than you thought possible.

“You mean so much to me, Wanda,” you choke out as your own eyes begin to sting. “I need to be certain that I'm not only holding onto you because I'm afraid of being alone... or afraid of who I am without you.”

Wanda shifts, her fingers coming up to touch your face. “We're in this together, aren't we?”

The thought of being without Wanda, even if it's for your own self-improvement, leaves an acrid taste in your mouth. It feels so wrong, and yet, it may be what's necessary for you to find your footing again.

“Yes, but this is something I need to figure out on my own. For us,” you emphasize. “For me.”

She looks away for a moment, struggling with her own emotions. “I want to support you,” she starts, “But the thought of losing you, even for a little while, scares me.”

You swallow hard, your heart heavy. “I know. It terrifies me too. But I need to do this so we can have a chance at a future where I'm not always second-guessing and doubting.”

Wanda bites her lip, thinking. After what feels like hours, she finally speaks, “Whatever you decide, just... promise me one thing?”

You nod, urging her to continue.

“That you'll come back to me. No matter what you find or how you change, always come back to me,” she says. “And I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for you.”

“One year,” you whisper as your face becomes wet with tears. No contact. No calls, no emails, no texts. No checking up on each other online.

Total disconnection.

“A year later, on this day,” Wanda nods despite herself. “We’ll meet again at Second Chances.” Her lips twitch into a tentative, poignant smile, alluding to the deeper sentiment that the name of her coffee shop embodies.

Wanda's tear feels warm against your thumb as you gently wipe it away. You're both quiet for a while, the room filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing and the muted ticking of a nearby clock. The decision has been made, the terms agreed upon, and now there is nothing left but to savor these final moments of togetherness.

“Can we... can we just hold each other?” you ask quietly. It's a small comfort, but right now, it's everything. You need to feel her close to you, to memorize the feel of her body against yours before you part ways.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. She needs more than just that.

“Touch me,” she breathes, her words melting into your mouth as she captures your lips in a feverish kiss. “Let me give you everything,” she implores, her hands finding yours in the darkness as her eyes fall shut.

Complying with her heartfelt request, you gently ease her back onto the mattress, your bodies tangled together in a dance as old as time.

And then, in what feels like the mere flutter of a heartbeat, it's a year later.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #valkyrie

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roboticchibitan · 1 year

Text

I see a lot of memes about refusing to knit gauge swatches and they hurt my heart a little bit. Like. I get it I've been there. But you're actively working against your own interests. Please just knit a swatch.

@tattinglacework said in the tags of my post about yarn substitution that a gauge swatch is the knitting/crochet equivalent of "measure twice cut once" and I'm stealing it forever now because it's so true. I've had to frog weeks worth of work because I needed to go up two needle sizes and I didn't do a swatch. But it was better than having a finished shawl that was way too small to be useful.

And listen, eventually if you keep refusing to do swatches and being all "teehee I'm such a rebel" about it, you're going to come to a project that you're super excited about, really looking forward to, spend time planning, maybe even buy really nice yarn for it... and you hate the finished product and never use it. Which makes all that work a waste of time.

I know it seems like knitting a swatch is a waste of time but knitting for a week only to have to frog it all is more of a waste of time than the hour I would've spent knitting a swatch. Even with cobweb lace knitting where a proper gauge swatch takes several hours (I've spent 10 hours on a gauge swatch before and I am glad I did cuz it saved my ass), it's a looooot better to knit for several hours and know the next 100 hours will not have been in vain.

A swatch can also help you see whether you like how that yarn works up, and can give you an idea of how that yarn drapes and works up. This is important if you are knitting with a different fiber yarn than what the pattern calls for. Some fibers have a lot more stretch than others. Wool is nice and stretchy but silk is not. Cotton isn't very stretchy. Acrylic stretches and drapes differently than wool or cotton. A swatch will tell you if a fiber is suitable for a pattern.

Some pattern swatches are stockinette stitch and some are in pattern, and an in pattern swatch is going to tell you a LOT about how that yarn will work with that pattern. For example: I like to buy the occasional indie dyed yarn that's got pops of color and multiple colors per skein. But those yarns are hard to find patterns for because the color change/variegation is so quick that it ends up being very busy fabric. A gauge swatch in pattern will tell me if a pattern will show well or get lost in the variegation. Indie dyed yarn is expensive and I am poor so I want to make something I actually like, is the right size, and I will actually use because looking at it doesn't make me miserable.

I'm begging you, just make a swatch. At worst you've lost a little bit of time confirming your needle and yarn choices work for the pattern. At best, you're saving yourself from spending dozens of hours on something you'll never use because it didn't turn out the way you want, doesn't fit, and you hate looking at it now.

Also this is important and I've deeply regretted not doing it before: treat your finished swatch how you're going to treat the finished object. Block it if you're going to block the finished item and then unpin it and let it rest for a while (your swatch WILL lie to you if you do not) before taking any data from it. If you're not sure how a yarn is going to survive the wash, chuck your swatch in the washing machine to see! Better to felt a swatch than a pair of socks you just spent a week knitting.

I used to be very "no gauge swatch we die like men" so I Get It. I really do. But I have also been in the "didn't swatch, spent eighteen months and 3,000 beads on a project only to block it and have it be almost exactly a foot too small" boat and let me tell you that'll change you as a person. Just knit a swatch. It takes so much less time than being wrong does.

#please it's not hard #advice for new fiber artists #v's fiber arts tag #knitting #crochet

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dutchess-of-fear · 8 months

Note

Hey! I love your writing! 💕

Could you please write something Shanks x Reader?

I love him! 😍

Thanks!

A/N: Thank you so much for loving my stories @commanderfreethatdust , I always wanted to write for Shanks ever since I've seen him in the OPLA and my god🥰, it did took a while to think of a idea, cause there was so many ideas and it was hard to pick one! But for this one I've been listening to like sea shanty music and quite like pirate vibe music so I hope you enjoy this story🥰🥰

A Drink For The Lady

Some things I go over quickly in the story as it mainly focus on the story between Shanks and the reader, but it is based during the foosha village, and there reader is a bartender

Shanks X Reader

All was lively in Foosha village, the red hair pirates had arrived and were celebrating, and it's Leader Shanks was having the most fun of all,

You smiled as you served Shanks his third drink of the night, everyone began to dance around and singing out songs they love so much, Shanks thanked you giving you a few coins but you shook your head no, he tilted his head in confusion,

"The drink is on the house, you don't need to pay" he put back the coins in his pocket, taking a sip of his drink, it had been since a week ago when the red hair pirates came to stay over at our village and you enjoy every bit of their time here, especially being near Shanks.

Shanks is quite an attractive man, a messy dirty attractive man to say, and for a pirate he was a gentleman, the most respectable pirate you have ever met,

Shanks enjoys your company as well the most, he told you stories of his adventures he love seeing you're eyes sparkled in excitement and wonder, he couldn't get enough of your smile, even little Luffy notice how Shanks looks at the bartender, little Luffy always visit the bar since Shanks had arrived in the village hoping to join Shanks crew, but countless of times you and even Shanks always try to tell him he is far too young to join the crew, but Luffy is always persistent.

You were busy with cleaning up the Bar when Luffy called out Shanks, you looked up and gasp, Luffy was holding a knife before he quickly stab it on his cheek.

"Luffy what were you thinking?" I scolded, as Shanks began to stitch up Luffy wound, "I wanted to show that I am strong enough to become a pirate" he hissed out in pain when Shanks did the last stitch in before sighing "my boy, you are too young to join my crew, maybe when your older and stronger you can join my crew" Shanks pat his head gently before getting up, walking over to the bar with you following him.

"Mind handing me a bottle of rum dear?" He said with a smile you couldn't help but blush with how he smiled at you, "coming right up, and it's on the house" just then you heard unfamiliar footsteps walking into the bar, "oh well look who it is, the great pirate Shanks right here in the flesh" you rolled your eyes when you realise how it was that came into your bar

"How many times have I told you Higuma, don't come in here if all you want to do is fight"

Higuma had been going into your bar for the last while just to pick a fight and it has to be one of those days when you didn't want any of it, "don't worry dear, I'm sure he's here for a drink? But I'm sorry to say but we drank everything" Shanks chuckled before lifting a bottle in eye view of Higuma, "all except for this I'm afraid" he turned his attention back to the bar again as Higuma came up besides him.

Higuma got the bottle and dropped it on the ground making all the liquid from the bottle splashed all over the floor, he laughed as he looked over towards you in mockery, "come on now, clean the floor like a good girl" you grabbed the mop and went to clean up but Shanks took the mop out of you're hands,

"You don't have to dear, here let me" you stood in shock as Shanks started cleaning up the mess Higuma had made, he laughed before walking off

"well look at here the great pirate Shanks is now nothing but a cleaning boy" finally leaving the bar, Shanks finished cleaning the floor giving you back the mop,

"Here you go all clean" you bow gently, putting away the mop, you started to laugh as you began to remember something, he asked why were you laughing, you walked at the back of the bar and opened a cabinet taking out a bottle and passing it to him,

"I have realised I've actually had more rum" Shanks and his crew all began to laugh wholeheartedly with you joining him, Luffy ran up wondering why they hadn't fought the pirate but all Shanks could just say, "because I didn't want my dear bartender's place destroyed" you rolled your eyes at the response before Luffy just couldn't take it anymore

"why don't you just admit your feelings for each other" you stood there frozen in shock as Luffy realised what he said, Shanks looked over at his crew but they stayed quiet leaving him alone in this predicament,

"Um, what?....Shanks" you were at lost of words, looking at Shanks who was blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, "Shanks likes you very much, the way he looks at you is enough to know he has feelings for you" Yasopp finally spoke up and everyone agreed to what he said,

You smiled softly looking down upon your hands, before Yasopp decided to get up from his seat, "how about we leave here for a bit, let the lovebirds be alone for a bit, Come on Luffy" as the crew walked out of the bar with Luffy followed behind leaving you with just Shanks and yourself.

You stand there in silence for a while, leaving Shanks sitting there awkwardly wondering what to say but couldn't so he stayed there in silence, you slowly walked around the bar as Shanks stood up, you were stood close to him, looking up at Shanks with wonder and hope that what Luffy said is true that maybe he harbor feelings for you just as you have feelings for him.

"So you like me for a while?" Was all you could say at that moment looking at Shanks as he try to think of what to say next, "I was mesmerised by your beauty ever since I've first saw you" you held your breath for a moment, You place you hand on his cheek, lightly tracing the scar he has,

"So is that your way of saying your in love with me?" He could only nod, closing his eyes and leaning into you touch, "well, I am in love with you too, my red hair pirate" he opened his eyes and smiled in joy, he lifted you up and began to spin you around, you giggled in his arms,

He slowly place you back down leaning his head against yours looking into your eyes and then to your lips, "may I have the pleasure of kissing you?" You whispered a yes, and he quickly press his lips against yours as you relish in the feeling that you always have dreamed of, the kiss was full of love and passion, he pulled back for a moment, he weave his hand through your hair noticing how soft it was.

"Might we have a drink to celebrate this moment my dear?" He smirked holding you gently by your waist, "Why of course, my love" you slowly leaned back in to a kiss but was interrupted by his crew crashing into your bar once more, "I'm sorry to break this sweet moment, by we must have more rum!!" They cheered out,

You shook you're head in amusement before going back behind the bar with Shanks following you, "lucky for you lads, the drinks are on the house" Shanks called as his crew lift there glasses in the air, Shanks got all the bottles out of the cabinet passing it to his crew before grabbing one for himself and you,

"A drink for the lady?" You passed your glass to him, he poured out the rum into yours and his glass before handing it to you, "to us?" Shanks smiled before giving your cheek a quick kiss tapping in glass against yours,

"may we have happy and wonderful moments together my dear"

#one piece #one piece shanks #one piece live action #one piece netflix #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #opla shanks

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wolfoftheblackflames · 1 month

Text

Help! I couldn't help myself and wrote more fluff! Enjoy ya Misfits!

Hooves and Wings:

“You have hooves?” A memory had made itself known to Charlie, who smiled fondly at a gift she was preparing.

It had been when she first met Vaggie, and the two became friends, though it was a rocky start with the angel not exactly settling down. (Cue Flashback)

It had been over several days since Charlie had rescued a cute girl by the dumpster. She hadn't noticed the golden blood until it was on the bandage over Vaggie's eye socket. “Hmm..” It made the princess curious but she decided to respect her friend's privacy. “Looks like it's healing nicely, shouldn't be too long now till you're fully recovered.” She smiled at Vaggie moving some of that short hair to the side.

“Still feels weird..” Vaggie muttered as the angel was given fresh bandages and a gauze over it. Charlie was gentle with her and smiled softly. “Yeah? Well I have something for you.” The blonde grinned slightly and took out a small box.

Vaggie tilted her head curiously, and with a nod from Charlie, the angel opened it and stared. “Esto es muy lindo..” (This is really cute.) She smirked a bit seeing the eyepatch in the box. “Thanks Charlie..” She added picking it up to examine it.

Charlie giggled. “I like making stuff so I figured I'd make this for you.” She blushed, scratching her cheek. The two were in their casual attire as Charlie playfully did some cute hand tapping on her own thighs. “There's also something else.” She added with a giggle.

Vaggie blinked and looked back into the box and found what looked to be a beautiful looking red-pink ribbon that matched the stitched in x design on the eyepatch. “You're spoiling me here…” She replied with a soft smirk.

“I couldn't help it.” Charlie gulped and rubbed her neck. “You're like the first friend I've had in a long time, so..”

“Well I'm flattered…” Vaggie smiled warmly, her eye focused on her friend.

Charlie stretched and got off the bed in the guest room. “It's getting late, I'll leave you alone so you can sleep. Good night Vaggie.” She smiled and went to her room.

What happened next surprised the demoness as she blinked hearing a knock. “It's open!” She called from her bed as she was slipping off her shoes. What greeted those ruby eyes was an adorable sight, Vaggie was in a beautiful white nightgown while holding a pillow and blanket. “Vaggie, what brings you here not that I don't mind?”

“You said we're friends right? I'm not used to it but.. Um.. Would you like to do a sleepover?” Vaggie rubbed her neck with a bit of golden hue to her cheeks.

Charlie beamed at the idea as she grinned patting the bed. “I'd love to! Just let me change into my pj's ok?”

Vaggie smiled and nodded though blinked, spying Charlie’s feet. “You have hooves?” She tilted her head.

“Y-yeah, I was about to do some cleaning actually…” Charlie blushed, lightly rubbing her neck. “Are they weird…?” She asked since before she was told they were by her douche of an ex.

“N-no, they're actually kinda cute?” Vaggie replied with an awkward smile. “It just caught me off guard seeing them, that's all…”

Charlie blinked a little surprised with a slight blush but that small crush she had on this cute woman only grew. She smiled fondly at Vaggie. “So what did you have in mind?” She giggled but then pointed to her large shelf of movies. “If it's a movie, feel free to browse my library while I go change.”

Vaggie nodded watching the princess do a light skip to the bathroom. Though once Charlie came back out in her red long sleeve pj shirt and pj pants she blinked seeing Vaggie sitting on the bed by the hoof care kit. “You've done a lot for me already, so may I help you with your hooves?” She asked as Charlie blushed slightly. “Sure..”

The two sat on Charlie’s rather large bed, though the princess fought the urge to squirm as Vaggie tickled her hooves while cleaning them. She found it cute seeing her crush so focused on the job at hand. “Pffft…. Vaggie!” She couldn't hold back a giggle. “That tickles!”

Vaggie blinked hearing Charlie snort, and it earned the princess a small laugh from her new friend. This only made Charlie crush even harder since that laugh was the cutest she's ever heard. Once their giggle fit was done Vaggie finished picking out the last of the debris from those cute red hooves. “There we go.”

Charlie giggled, flexing her hoof toes with a delightful grin. “You kept tickling me, you know?” She smirked, coming closer to Vaggie who blinked. “Time for some payback!”

“Charlie!” The angel couldn't escape the tickle barrage as she was once again a big giggle fit, with the most adorable snort. “Ack! Can't breathe!” She howled with laughter. She managed to catch her breath when Charlie looked satisfied with her tickle attack.

“You have the cutest laugh.” She grinned but blinked seeing Vaggie grumble with a small wince. “Oh sorry, did I hurt you?!” She was alert and attentive as Vaggie gave a small smile.

“No, I'm ok..”

“You sure?” Charlie gave a soft, concerned look. Vaggie giggled a bit and nodded. “Yeah.”

Charlie sighed in relief, she had been worried she aggravated the wounds. “Sorry about that though.”

Vaggie looked a little surprised but then smiled a bit and went to grab a movie. “Oh? A knight’s tale? That's a classic.”

“Yeah I like it cause the protagonist chased his dreams and achieved them.”

“Want to watch it then?” Vaggie smiled holding it up. “Yes please, I'll go grab us some popcorn!”

The two snuggled up under a blanket that was draped over their shoulders with a bowl of popcorn in Charlie's lap. Alongside them were two adorable goat dragon demons Razzle and Dazzle since who could leave those two out. Soon Charlie pushed play on their movie night. (End of flashback)

------

In the present day Charlie was grinning widely while carrying a gift box for her precious angel. “Hey Vags?” She peeked into their shared room.

“Hm?” Vaggie blinked looking back, she was casually cleaning her spear. “Oh hey sweetie.” She flashed a smile before her attention went back to the spear.

Charlie pouted a bit, but soon smirked devilishly. “I guess you're super focused right now, you don't want the gift I got you..” She stated in a playful sing-song-like tone. This caused the angel to look back at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You got something for me?”

“Yep. So could you put the spear down please?”

Vaggie shrugged and did so, she could always sharpen it after. “Alright, you have my attention, love, what is it?”

Charlie grinned and walked over carrying the box with a pretty red bow on top. “Just something I figured you needed babe.” She replied and handed Vaggie the box to open.

“Oh?” Vaggie removed the neatly wrapped bow and looked inside, she blinked, spying the gift. “Do you like it?”

“You got me a wing care kit?” She sounded surprised. Charlie grinned and nodded. “Yep, I figured since you regained your wings, I'd help you take care of them.”

Vaggie just looked at Charlie though smiled gently at her and planted a soft kiss to her wonderful girlfriend’s cheek. “Gracias mi amor..” (Thank you my love)

“I know a little bit about wings since when I was little my dad let me play with his…” Charlie replied and smiled. “Seeing how beautiful yours were, I knew for sure I'd have to get you some care stuff for them.”

Vaggie chuckled. “You spoil me, hon..” She soon brought out those gorgeous gray gradient feathered wings, which made Charlie squee. “I'm glad you like them..” She smiled a bit but then looked a little sad.

Charlie lightly cupped Vaggie's cheek, with the big secret out in the open, the princess knew why her sweet angel made such a face. “I absolutely love them, my cute song bird.” She smiled softly, lightly touching Vaggie's forehead with her own. “It makes me happy they came back because of the love we have.”

Vaggie closed her eyes with a soft smile, though her cheeks became a darker shade of gold hearing that new nickname. “Song bird?”

“Yeah, cause your wings and that beautiful voice you have love.” Charlie giggled nuzzling her. She peppered Vaggie's face and neck with kisses earning more giggles from her beautiful girlfriend. “Charlie stop, that tickles!”

The two remained close for a bit until Vaggie reluctantly pulled away. “You're such a goof..” She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Go ahead.” Vaggie turned and stretched those wings out for Charlie while moving that long silvery hair away to expose more of the feathers and her back.

“Your goof.” The princess grinned and lightly started to run her fingers along the feathers. “Quick question?”

“Hm?”

“Does it get like… Bedroom-ish? Sorry but I'm curious.”

Vaggie rubbed her chin, though shuddered a bit when Charlie ran her fingers through the feathers near the base. “Yeah?”

“Oh.. Hehe..” Charlie had a cute grin. “OK so only in the bedroom then..” She couldn't help it as her tail popped out and started wagging a bit.

Vaggie noticed and gave a playful smirk. “You perv..” She teased making the hellborn turn red with blush.

Charlie decided to get Vaggie back for making her flustered with a soft kiss to the old scarring on her songbird's back. With both equally a blushing mess the two soon burst into laughter. Vaggie smiled fondly as she felt Charlie being careful with her wings, giving each feather a soft comb through and lightly taking out any damaged ones. “Ooo!” Charlie grinned, having some old feathers in her hands. “I kinda wanna turn these into stuffing for pillows…”

Vaggie snorted. “Of course you'd say that..” She chuckled, shaking her head. “What having a pillow that smells like you would be nice?” This only earned more laughter from Vaggie who held her stomach.

Charlie grinned, hearing that laugh she loved so much. She tried to continue, but Vaggie was in a cute giggle fit. “Vaggie, if you keep moving, I can't apply the oil!”

“Sorry, but the thought of you cuddling a pillow stuffed with my feathers is too cute..”

Charlie pouted but rolled her eyes smiling waiting for Vaggie to settle down. “That's the coverts done.” She stated making Vaggie look at her.

“Since when did you know wing terminology babe?”

“Uh, I.. Well I looked up how to care for wings beforehand…”

Vaggie blinked but smiled. “You planned this for a while huh?”

Charlie nodded softly, she smiled cutely as her fingers gently combed through the tertiary feathers. “Yeah… You always work so hard to take care of me and the hotel. I wanted to do the same back..”

“You do though..” Vaggie looked back and smiled.

“How so?” Charlie blinked as she couldn't help but be curious.

Vaggie thought for a moment then smiled. “You gave me a place to call home when I was torn away from Heaven..” She stated fidgeting a bit. “I'm not proud of who I was, I always felt so guilty about killing your people Charlie…” Charlie blinked but remained quiet as she went to the secondary feathers next. “Being an Exorcist, it was strange but I had a place there, even if the praises sent shivers down my spine.”

Charlie blinked but soon brought her tail to lightly hold Vaggie's wrist while her fingers carefully aligned those feathers. “Honestly I never really had many friends until I met you.” The angel continued finding comfort in the small gesture. “I had one job, to be a murderous killing machine..”

“Vaggie…” Charlie's heart ached for her girlfriend. Sure the secret did hurt her, but she gave a soft look. “You were scared to tell me weren't you? You basically didn't bother to correct me when I thought you were a sinner..”

“Yeah…”

Charlie dipped her head down and nuzzled into Vaggie's hair giving her girlfriend a soft kiss on top. “What happened to you then?”

Vaggie blinked but sighed. “I don't exactly like talking about it..” She muttered, looking away. “But I'll try..”

“Vaggie, you don't really have to say anything..” Charlie replied lightly, reaching over to take her hand.

“I do hon, it'll eat away at me if I don't.”

“But..”

Vaggie gave that hand a gentle squeeze. “One request please…” She sounded a little hesitant. “Anything love?”

“I like your hands… Could you keep roaming them on my wings, please? It relaxes me..”

Charlie nodded and continued her work. She looked worried at how nervous Vaggie looked. Her mind drifted back to her once, saying, “If I can't help you, then what's the point of me?” The princess gave another comforting kiss to her songbird's wing, this time making the angel relax more.

“You remember how we met, babe?” Vaggie's gaze drifted to a photo of the two together. “I do, it was horrible, you were so hurt…”

Vaggie steeled herself and took a soft breath. “I came down from heaven that day, and the guilt took over when I chased a child sinner to an alley… I let them go.” She stated as Charlie gasped.

The angel raised her hand to stop Charlie from speaking. “You won't like the next part..” She looked at her loving princess. “Do you… Still want to hear it?”

“Yes…” Charlie gave her a soft gaze. She loved Vaggie more than anything, even when the secret was revealed and she was hurting, Charlie didn't deny that deep in her heart, it already belonged to this wonderful person in front of her, her talk with Rosie reassured it tenfold.

Vaggie blinked, seeing that loving kind glint in those ruby eyes. She smiled softly, though her old wounds began to ache at the mention of the next part. “Okay…” Vaggie took a soft breath. “Next thing I knew, someone was behind me, and with much brutality, my eye was taken..”

Vaggie felt the heat from Charlie's demonic form, yet continued knowing it would piss off her beloved even more. “I was in shock and fell to my knees, and in a quick second I saw who it was, someone who I thought was a friend, but no she was petty and always had it out for me.” Venom dripped from her words as Vaggie gritted her teeth. “Lute, Adam's right hand bitch.”

Charlie stared and growled. “And she also ripped off your wings?! All because you spared a child?!” She moved her hands back and dug her claws into her own palms.

Vaggie looked at Charlie and blinked seeing those beautiful hands starting to drip blood. “Hon..” She gently took those hands. “I plan to settle the score next time I see that asshole.” She smirked looking determined.

Charlie looked at her with deep demonic red eyes. “Yeah, and I know you'll kick her ass. But love, we stick together ok?” She loosened her hands letting Vaggie hold them. “I don't want you getting hurt anymore.”

“Hey..” Vaggie lifted those hands up and kissed the palms. “I don't plan on dying in the battle with heaven, babe.” She then got up and picked up her spear. Charlie blinked, still fully demonic as she saw her beautiful angel do a small kneel, which reminded her of the knight from one of her favorite movies. “O-oh!” Charlie blinked, seeing her beloved take her hand and kiss the knuckles. “Sorry but I also plan to protect my home with everything I've got as well.”

Charlie couldn't help but swoon at Vaggie, who looked incredibly dashing right now. “Geez, someone's feeling theatrical today, I guess I rubbed off on you.” She teased but smiled warmly gently pulling Vaggie up from her kneeling. “You even remembered our first sleepover movie.”

Vaggie blushed but smiled at Charlie, though it was replaced with a cheeky grin as she set down her spear again. “Yeah, but I also remember this too.” Her deft hands came to Charlie’s sides and easily tickled her princess, sending the demoness into a laughing fit. “Nooo!”

This caused Charlie to revert back and whine as she howled with laughter. “Revenge.” Vaggie grinned as she let up the tickle barrage when Charlie tapped out. “Meanie…”

“You love it though.”

“True, now we have a big day of training tomorrow, shall we go to sleep?”

“Don't forget your hooves, hon..” Vaggie stated with a soft smile. “Oh, it's been so busy I almost forgot, thanks love.” Charlie flashed a cute grin. She then rewarded Vaggie with a loving kiss to the cheek.

“Go you goof…” Vaggie playfully shooed her away as Charlie giggled. The two then started their nightly routine, it was one of the last peaceful moments they were able to share before the big battle with Heaven.

#charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #hazbin hotel #cute as fuck #i wrote this instead of sleeping #fluff #lute mentioned #awkward vaggie is fun #flustered charlie is fun #starmoth #rainbowmoth #damn theres alot of chaggie ship name alternatives!#I love charlie's hooves #i think Vaggie has beautiful wings #hurt/comfort

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