#fall is finally beginning to emerge and that makes me so happy

[plumdale]

I’m going home this weekend!!!! 😁😁

#you know what that means….. hehe #gonna try to ace all my work today & Friday to finally give myself a little break this weekend #it’s just been nonstop and I’m overwhelmed. and lonely. and tired #anyway I hope you’ve all been super well!!!! #fall is finally beginning to emerge and that makes me so happy #nonsims #txt post

[redocity]

Evan Buckley x fiancée reader

Reader and Evan are recently engaged. Reader gets shot by the sniper instead of Eddie, Buck gets covered in her blood and attempts to save her (like the episode) and then just go from there please ❤️‍🩹. Please include lots of angst, sadness and happiness too 🫶

EMERGENCY ROOM - E.BUCKLEY

after a completely normal day on the job, you get shot seemingly out of nowhere. buck does not handle it well.

WARNINGS: spoilers for 04x13 and 04x14, established relationship, major character injury, blood, guns, buck is on the verge of a mental breakdown for most of it

buck x fiancée!reader II flangst Il 4.2k Il requests open!

a/n: i had so much fun writing the little fluffy bits at the beginning and the end i love them your honour

₊ ⊹ masterlist!!

“I know right?” You finally had a few minutes to fawn over your newest accessory now that you’d managed to secure Charlie away from his mother and get him into an ambulance, holding your left arm up in front of you and wiggling your fingers to show off the shiny rock on your ring finger towards Eddie. “Who would’ve thought he was so focused on the details?”

“Hey!” Buck nudges you as he walks past, shaking his head with a smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“People like you aren’t exactly known for their ‘detail orientation’ Buck,” Eddie laughs as he walks past him, pushing his head with the palm of his hand. “Good job on defying expectations,”

“Hey I am plenty detail oriented thank you,” gestures outwards exasperatedly, glancing at you for backup for his statement. You give him nothing more than a shrug of your shoulders.

“Shannon was the same when I bought her ring don’t worry,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder. “Went on this whole rant about how she never expected me to put so much thought into how it looked, I think it’s just a girl thing,”

“It’s not-” You scoff, putting a hand up in front of him in absolute astoundment. “I am trying to show my appreciation for the thought that went into making this ring fit my preferences, and you are making me feel disrespected,”

You point between the two boys in exaggerated disappointment, turning your face away from the two with a click of your tongue and a shake of your head.

“Oh come on baby seriously?” Evan sighs dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his head fall back until he’s facing the sky.

“You’ve hitched your wagon to a tank,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder once more, and the two share a short laugh.

“I’m gonna ride with Charlie to the hospital, you two good to get back to the station and tell Bobby?” Buck nods towards Eddie, giving him a small nudge towards the ambulance. “Yeah go ahead, we got it from here,”

“Thanks,” He returns Buck’s nod and then sends a finger salute in your direction. “See you later Mrs. Buckley, try not to kill him before the wedding,”

You laugh shortly at Eddie’s jest, shaking your head. “See you Eddie, give us a call if anything happens,”

“Will do!” He shoots the two of you a wave as he jogs towards the ambulance, climbing inside before the doors get shut behind him.

“Mrs Buckley,” Buck takes a few steps forward to grasp gently at your hips and pull you close to his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I could get used to the sound of that,”

You give a soft hum as his lips press to your temple, turning your face upwards to kiss him properly. “I’d hope so,”

You pull out of his grasp with a soft laugh, pressing the keys to the paramedic car against Buck’s chest for him to take before actually beginning to walk towards the vehicle.

“We’ll have to get you a new turnout jacket too,” Buck follows behind you with a smile etched onto his face, eyes scanning over the last name printed on the back of your jacket. One you wouldn’t have for much longer.

“It’d be pretty confusing to have two Buckleys in the same station, the jacket might have to stay,” You turn around to face him once more with a smile of your own, arms crossed across your chest. “We’ll know the truth though,”

You shoot Buck a wink and he laughs, stopping a few feet in front of you and mirroring the way your arms are crossed with his own. “Are you saying that I can’t show off the fact that you’ll have my last name to every single stranger we meet on the job? Because I don’t know if that’s gonna fly with me,”

“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse to let them know, you’ve got a talent-” Your retort is halted by a sharp sound, then a searing pain in your right shoulder, and then you can feel yourself tumble to the floor as your legs give out underneath you under no will of your own.

Buck flinches as you do, a mix of shock from the noise and an instinctual reaction to the splatter that covers side of his face and stripes of his button down shirt.

Then it feels like the world just stops. Buck stands there with wide eyes as he watches you hit the pavement, in an awake state of sleep paralysis as a pool of blood begins to seep onto the pavement and stain the tarmac red underneath you.

He wanted to shout, to run, to move, Anything.

But he couldn’t so much as curl his hands into fists as he stood stationary in shock, eyes wide and locked onto where you’d crumpled into yourself on the concrete.

It took one of the other firefighters on the scene physically tackling him down to the ground for him to move, and even then his eyes never left yours, just barely open as you slip in an out of consciousness.

“Get down!” Mehta yelled across the group of vehicles as he pulled Buck behind one of the trucks, covering him with his own body as he tried to radio for help. “Shots fired. Shots fired a firefighter is down. I repeat, a firefighter is down!”

Buck can feel himself hyperventilate, his hearing going quiet until the sounds of the civilians nearby are drowned out and replaced with his own racing heartbeat. He watches as your hand crawls forward along the pavement in his direction as if silently trying to confirm to him that you were okay, but the far away look in your eyes wasn’t reassuring him at all.

Then your eyelids fluttered and you weren’t looking at him anymore, your hand left still in front of you with the stones on your finger glinting in the sunlight like a sick taunt of Buck’s anguish.

Shots continued to rain over the fire engines, and as Mehta moved from Buck to radio dispatch again he mustered all of the strength he physically could under the rush of adrenaline in his system to make a break for where you were laying, crawling underneath the bed of the truck as cover as he watched you roll from your side onto your back. “Come on baby! I’m coming I got you!”

You groan through the pain as you roll over, still conscious despite the agony raging through your shoulder and down the rest of your arm as you squint your eyes from the harsh sunlight.

Buck gets as far out as he can without exposing himself to the raining shots, grasping at your wrist as soon as he’s close enough and tugging until you’re dragged under the engine and onto the other side protected by the metal of the truck.

The friction sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, a sharp yell leaving your throat as you’re dragged across the concrete.

“Get her in the cabin! Quickly!” Mehta and a few other firefighters from station 133 rush to open and prep the back of the truck to cover you inside, and Buck pulls you into a fireman’s hold over his shoulder as quickly — and carefully — as he can to secure you safely.

Another shot is fired in the group’s direction as you’re pulled out of Buck’s hold and onto the seats, shattering the glass of the window and only further hastening the efforts of the firefighters as everyone clambers into the truck to rush away from the scene, leaving the paramedics car you’d driven over in erupted in flames on the side of the road.

“Okay, we got you, we got you you’re okay,” Buck lays you down across the back of the truck with help from one of the paradmedic’s from station 133 with panic written all over his face, continuing to speak reassurances to you in haste, mostly trying to reassure himself that you would be alright.

He rips open the top of your uniform shirt, paying no mind to the buttons that are pulled from their stitching in his haste to cover your gunshot wound in gauze and stop it from bleeding out. “We got you baby you’re okay, just- just stay with me okay?”

Your vision is blurry as you blink up at him, and you can vaguely hear Mehta calling for a trauma unit on standby as you attempt to lift your head slightly to clear your vision of Buck’s face. “…Are you hurt? There’s a lot of blood..”

Buck follows your eyes as they trail down the stains covering the front of his torso, and he shakes his head quickly as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “No no no, I’m good baby, you just hang on for me okay?”

The hand that’s not stopping your wound from bleeding all over the place moves to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek softly, a stark contrast to the way he practically barks at the driver of the truck to hurry up.

You barely manage to lift up your arm to cover his hand with your own over your cheek, shaking your head slightly under his palm. “You shouldn’t shout at people…”

“I know baby I’m sorry-” He takes a sharp breath in as he turns his attention back to focusing on you and not on the fact he felt like this drive was taking forever.

The paramedic in the back helps to stabilise your head as you start to slip out of consciousness again, and buck rubs his thumb over your cheekbone to get you to keep your eyes on his. “Hey, three minutes away, you’re so close, I just need you to hang-”

It wasn’t working very well.

The paramedic preps and secures an oxygen mask over your mouth as your eyes start to flutter closed.

“I just need you to hang on…please…”

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

He’d just asked you to marry him, you were supposed to be spending the evening celebrating.

You were supposed to get married and have children and grow old together.

Not get shot and bleed out in the back of a fire truck.

Buck jumps out of the vehicle the minute it stops in the hospital, practically screaming for the doctors to come and get you out.

“Through and through, upper torso,” Mehta explains your injury with just as much panic as Buck, although remains decidedly more collected as he barrels out of the front to watch you get pulled onto a gurney. “Large caliber-”

“We’ve got transfusion ready-” One of the nurses gives Mehta a nod before stopping as she takes in the last part of the explanation. “Did you say large caliber?”

“It was a sniper-”

“Pulse is weak! Trauma bay 2, quickly!” The medical team rush with you on the gurney towards the entrance of the hospital’s emergency unit with Buck watching on like everything was happening in slow motion. “Let’s set up for a thoracotomy-”

“Buckley, are you okay?” Mehta looks over at Buck with concern written all over his face as he examines the stains of your blood covering his face, torso, and hands, and Buck waves him off with nothing but a dismissive nod as an answer as his eyes remain locked on the door you disappear into, the the 133 firefighters, Mehta included, following after you inside.

He was not okay.

—

“Hey,” Eddie approached Buck carefully, but he still jumped at his voice anyhow. Eddie gave a short sigh through furrowed eyebrows, face contorting in concern. “She’s gonna be okay man, she’s strong, you know that don’t you?”

Eddie placed his hand slowly on Buck’s shoulder, immediately able to feel the trembling in his hands that traveled up his arms and into his back. “She was standing right in front of me I-”

“Hey.” Eddie swerved Buck to look at him, shaking his head. “This was not your fault. Nobody knows what happened. When’s going to be alright, you’ve just gotta put faith in her,”

Buck took a series of short, staggered breaths through his nose with a small nod, clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking. “I need to change- And have a shower-”

“You need to take a second to breathe,”

“You don’t get it I-” Buck exhales heavily, his eyes flickering as he turns to face Eddie. “I can still feel it under my fingernails and no matter how many times I wash my hands it won’t go away-”

“Okay slow down for a second,” Eddie raises his hand up to stop Buck from falling into a spiral. “You can’t go home alone like this, you’re not okay,”

“I don’t know what to do-”

“Alright, you’re coming back with me, come on,” Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder, guiding him through the parking lot towards his car.

—

A sniper who was specifically targeting firefighters, who would’ve thought.

Being sent back out into the field wearing bullet proof vests and swat protection didn’t feel any more secure than proceeding unprotected Buck thinks. If they were going to get shot with a bullet proof vest on then the sniper would just aim for somewhere not covered by the vest.

And it only proved to remind him that you didn’t have the protection you needed when you were shot. Why should he be surrounded by swat agents and covered in kevlar when you weren’t afforded the same luxury.

You ‘took one for the team’ as people would say. But you shouldn’t have had to. Why you?

It was such a selfish thought, but he would’ve rathered any other firefighter on the scene get shot as long as it wasn’t you. He’d’ve rathered get shot himself than it being you.

But apparently the universe was conspiring against him, making him watch and suffer from the sidelines as everything he cared about got ruined one by one.

Maybe that was why he was so reckless. Maybe that was why he climbed the crane with zero protection when he knew he could’ve been shot at from any of the windows of the surrounding skyscrapers and loose his own life whilst still debating how he would live if you lost yours.

He could see the look Bobby gave him as he was lowered down to the ground again, preparing himself for another scolding about him being ‘reckless’ once they got back to the station.

But it never came.

In fact, Bobby didn’t speak to him at all.

“Are you gonna say anything to me?”

Bobby puts down the chopping knife with a sigh, turning around to see Buck leant against the kitchenette sink. “I don’t know Buck, what would you like me to say?”

“Uh… I mean- I mean usually it’s- ‘what were you thinking?’ or ‘that was reckless’ or my… personal favourite ‘you could’ve been killed’.”

“It doesn’t seem like I need to have that conversation, you know it by heart already.” Bobby gestures exasperatedly before picking the knife back up to continue chopping the onion on the table in front of him. “And still, you went full Buck.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing-” Buck approaches Bobby slowly, arms braced over his stomach in a self-soothing fashion.

Bobby sighs once more as Buck doesn’t drop the conversation, giving up his chopping to put his full attention on Buck. “You’ll never be the guy who thinks before he acts. And i’ve learned to come to terms with that,”

”In part because I realised I don’t have a choice, you’re never gonna change,” Bobby gestures outwards with his hands before clasping them together. “But also because… I know no matter what actions you take, no matter how dangerous or impulsive they may be, they come from your heart because you care.”

“Wow, uh, thank you,” Buck gives a soft chuckle as he claps his fist into his hand, clearly happy that he wasn’t getting a scolding this time around.

“Today was not that.” Bobby paused for a second before continuing. “You didn’t get caught up in some moment and rush in where angels fear to tread, you made a deliberate choice to make yourself a target.”

“Yeah.” Buck shrugs his shoulders exasperatedly. “I made myself a target because I wasn’t gonna let any of you guys take that risk because I cannot handle anyone else getting hurt right now.”

“And what about her? How do you think she would feel if she wakes up in the hospital to find out you got yourself killed because you weren’t being careful?”

Buck didn’t really have an answer to that question.

“You have responsibilities Buck. You have a responsibility to this team, you have a responsibility to your fiancée, and most importantly you have a responsibility to yourself.” Bobby shakes his head disappointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot keep putting yourself in reckless situations Buckley because there are people around you that need you alive.”

Buck exhales heavily, biting the inside of his cheek. “Look I couldn’t protect her from getting shot, but today? I had an opportunity to protect the rest of you. So I did.”

Bobby sighs as he turns back to the half diced onion, finishing chopping it slowly. “We are a team, and we’re supposed to protect each other.”

There’s a small moment of silence before Bobby turns to look at Buck for a final time, a stern expression on his face, although lingering traces of gracefulness simmer into the wrinkles by his eyes. “Don’t do it again.”

—

The doctors said the surgery went well. It was probably one of the most relieving moments of his life.

He didn’t have time to visit you immediately though, the team had to go on a call out first.

And of course, because nothing was ever easy, the man who’d called 911 from the fire was also the sniper who was targeting firefighters.

Bobby ended up with a pistol shot to his abdomen, and after helping Athena get into the building dressed in firefighter gear to subdue the sniper the team headed straight to the hospital, now with two team members induced for bullet wounds instead of just one.

Bobby’s was much less severe than yours, but he was still put in for surgery, and Buck decided that it was a good time to visit you down the hall in the recovery unit.

You were still unconscious when he arrived, and it physically pained him to see you hooked up to so many machines as he took a seat at your bedside.

“Hey baby…” He took your limp hand in his own, fingers brushing over your knuckles and the ring still resting on your finger. “The doctors said that your surgery went well… So you should wake up soon…”

He lets out a small stunted exhale as he lifts your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to your fingers. “I was so worried about you… God you scared me half to death-”

He continues to fiddle aimlessly with your fingers as he recounts the events of what happened to your sleeping self, how he risked his life, how Athena ran into a burning building to find Bobby and how he’d been bothering Eddie and Christopher for the last few days so he wouldn’t have to be on his own.

He told you how he’d moved the reservation of your engagement dinner so you wouldn’t have to miss it, laughing softly to himself at how excited you were to go to that specific resturaunt and try everything they had to offer.

He stayed after regular visitor hours were over, using his position as your fiancé to stay just a little while longer as a priority visitor, not wanting to miss the moment you woke up.

He ended up missing it anyway.

You woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open to the florescent lighting and the rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor.

The most prominent thing though, was an added weight on your left thigh, right near your stomach.

A mop of sandy blond hair is what meets your sight first, then your follow it down to his broad shoulders and his back, awkwardly bent forward in his chair to lay his weight on top of you. Then you noticed your hands caged together, his fingers intertwined with yours and held close to his chest.

The sight makes your heart melt a little, and you smile softly as you achily pull your right hand over to thread your fingers through his hair.

He stirs almost immediately, and you can feel his eyelashes brush against your thigh through the thin hospital bedsheets as he pushes himself upwards slowly until he’s supporting his own weight again.

“Hi baby…”

Buck lets out a short breath as your voice meets his ears, features flooded with relief. “Hi…”

You mirror the smile that breaks onto his face with your own, expression still laced with fatigue but also filled with your absolute love for him. He’d really stayed with you in the hospital for so long he’d fallen asleep.

“How’re you feeling?” Buck’s gaze flickers from your face to your bandaged right arm, and you give him a small shake of your head to dismiss his worries.

“I’m okay, takes more than puny bullet to put me out of commission,” You give him a soft wink and he gives you a little chuckles in return.

“You’re one tough lady…” he leans forward towards you until your foreheads brush against each other and your noses bump together. “I’m glad you’re okay…”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” You laugh softly, shaking your head against his and causing your noses to brush back and forth. “You put a ring on it remember?”

You pull back enough to flash your hand at him and show of your ring like he wasn’t the one who bought it for you.

He pulls your hand down into his lap without a care in the world for looking at the gemstone on your finger, his eyes not wavering from yours for even a second as he cups your face for a kiss, one filled with all the love and pain and anxiety and relief that he’d felt over the last few days.

“I love you so much-”

His lips leave you almost breathless, and you give his hand a soft squeeze. “I love you too Evan,”

He pulls you in for another kiss almost before you can even finish your sentence, and you laugh softly against his lips at the fervour. as you return his enthusiasm.

He shifts his hand down from your face closer to your neck as the kiss continues, and you groan against his mouth as it brushes a little too close to the brushing around your shoulder, pulling away with a hiss of pain.

“Ow ow ow-”

“Oh I’m so sorry-” Buck brings both his hands up away from you like he’s not exactly sure what to do with them, eyes wide in imminent panic of hurting you further.

The expression on his face sends you into a small for of giggles, and it’s enough to ease his panic back into calmness as you prove that he hadn’t actually hurt you.

“You always were a little rough with your hands,” You tilt your head against the pillow with an amused expression on your face, and it’s enough for him to crack a smile himself as you reach up your hand to pull his head back down towards yours.

Your lips connect more with his teeth than his own lips as you kiss him through his smile, and he laughs softly into your mouth at your statement. “You’ve never complained,”

“I never will complain,” You shake your head against his softly with a laugh of your own, one that’s cut off by his lips on yours once more.

All’s well that ends well he supposes.

#9 1 1 #9 1 1 fanfiction #buck x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #asks 🚒 #evan buckley angst

[togrowoldinv]

Heartbeat

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Yelena gets in a car accident, you reunite with her and her sister after years of not seeing each other

Note: I love Natasha and I love Yelena so here’s this. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you got a call in the middle of the night, you knew it was nothing good. You listened carefully as the doctor told you that your best friend had been in a car accident.

Your brain racked as you tried to think of who that might be. Then she told you her name. Yelena. You haven’t seen her in years, but you are still her emergency contact in her phone. Nothing truly went wrong in your friendship. Just childhood friends who grew apart.

No matter the distance between you, you got in your car and drove to the hospital. Three hours later you pulled into the parking lot. They told you Yelena was still in surgery, so you settled in the waiting room.

That was almost five hours ago now. The doctor enters the room finally. You stand to greet her.

“Yelena is in recovery now,” the woman says. “It’ll be a long road, but she is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe out. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods and leads you to her room. You take a few deep breaths before you enter. You haven’t seen her in three years, but she still looks like the same girl that you once knew.

Her green eyes open a few moments later. She groans in pain slightly before her attention falls on you. You walk closer to her.

“Y/n?” She asks. You nod. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” you explain. “I don’t know many details, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, and you’re here because?”

“You must have had me listed in your phone as an emergency contact,” you say, shrugging. You really don’t know why.

“Did you call Natasha?” Yelena asks.

Natasha. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her in years. You always admired her so much and felt so safe in her presence. But she and Yelena didn’t have the easiest relationship. It’s been so long since you last saw the redhead. Close to eight years. You miss her.

“Oh, um, no,” you say. “You two are talking again?”

Yelena nods. That’s good, you think. They need each other to really be happy. That was always the truth.

“I can call her,” you tell Yelena. You make a move to step out of the room, but Yelena reaches out for you.

“Y/n,” Yelena says. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Yel,” you say, tears fill your eyes.

You pull her into a soft hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed her until you held her in your arms. Every memory of your life together passes through your mind as you squeeze her.

“I’m hungry,” Yelena mumbles into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh. Still the very same Yelena.

“I’ll get you food and call Nat, okay? Be right back.”

You step into the hallway and feel your pulse quicken as you click on Natasha’s name in your contacts. Truthfully, you always hoped Nat would confess her love for you, and you’d live happily ever after. But you never so much have kissed the girl.

The phone rings for a few moments and you begin to wonder if she’ll pick up. Maybe she sees your name and decides not to answer. But your what-iffing stops when Nat answers the phone.

“Hello,” Nat answers. The sound of her voice threatens to make your heart stop.

“Hi- um- hi Natasha,” you say. “I don’t know how to say it so I will just go for it. Yelena was in an accident, but she’s okay. She asked for you, so I called.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks. You hear some bustling on her end of the line.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” Natasha replies. And that’s the end of the call.

You get Yelena some food before you go back to her room. Inside, you catch up with her. Things have been good for both of you. She is an accomplished veterinarian. You knew she would be successful.

You’re laughing about some old joke when Natasha arrives. She walks to Yelena quickly and hugs her sister. You stand back, letting them have a moment. They speak for a moment in Russian before Natasha looks to you.

To your surprise, she rounds the beds and pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and soak up her touch. She is warm and smells like the fruity hair products she must use. She pulls away but moves her hands to your face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Natasha says. She always used to call you that. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”  

“I missed you too, Natasha,” you say. You get lost looking into her green eyes. She looks older but in the perfect way.

Yelena coughs to break the moment up between you and Natasha. The older sister drops her hands from your face and turns her attention back to Yelena.

“You should get some sleep, Yelena. That surgery was intense,” Natasha says.

“Such a mom,” Yelena grumbles.

“And a doctor,” Natasha adds. She pulls the covers up Yelena’s body. “We’ll go get some lunch. See you in a bit.”

You follow Natasha out of the room. She knows where to go to the cafeteria, and you put two and two together.

“You work here?” You ask Nat.

“I do,” she replies. “Well, from time to time. I travel for work, but this is technically my home hospital.”

“I didn’t even know you were a doctor,” you say.

“Heart surgeon,” Natasha says. She doesn’t seem phased by how your mouth opens in shock. “What do you do for work?”

You tell Nat about your career and what you’ve been up to. For some reason, it doesn’t feel difficult to talk to her. It’s like no time has gone by. You eat lunch together and continue to catch up.

“I’m glad to see you and Yelena are close again,” you say.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “I guess last time you saw me Yelena and I were on some rocky ground.”

“You had a big fight. Five years at least of no talking,” you remind her.

“It was six years and four months,” Natasha recounts.

“What happened?”

“The same thing as always, you know. Melina and Alexei. Yelena always keeps things lighter with them, and I was pissed. Until I wasn’t,” Natasha says. “My girlfriend at the time, Wanda, helped me realize how important it was to be talking to my sister.”

“That’s good, Nat. Yel has always needed you to be at her happiest.”

Nat nods. “And she needs you too, y/n. She cried about missing you,” Nat explains.

“I didn’t know that,” you say quietly. Nat scoots her chair closer to yours.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you held her when she cried about me too.”

You did that. Many many times. Nat reaches and takes your hand. She helps you stand up. You follow her down the hallway and into what appears to be a breakroom.

“Did you ever find that person you dreamed about?” Natasha asks.

Her words seem random until you remember the nights you spent with her on the roof of your parents' house. You told her that you dreamed of loving someone and having someone love you back purposefully. She agreed that it was what she wanted too.

“No,” you answer. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answers. “But I’m still waiting to see if she loves me back.”

“Oh, well, I hope that she does,” you answer. Nat steps closer to you, and she takes your face in her hands again.

“I hope she does, too,” Natasha says. She leans in, and her lips are inches from touching yours. “Do you love me, y/n?”

“I love you, Natasha,” you whisper.

Natasha’s lips brush against yours softly. You really start to kiss her back when her phone goes off. You wish she would ignore it, but she pulls away.

“Shit,” Natasha says. “It’s Yelena.”

“Does that mean-”

“I’m the cardio surgeon on call,” Natasha says. “Let’s go.”

She leads you out of the breakroom and to the operating room waiting area. Natasha leaves you there as she disappears behind the doors.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #sorry for the ending #or am I?

[sluttywoozi]

Hey Emily! Hope your road trip is going well and you're travelling safely 💞

For the prompts you posted, could I please ask for “you wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? i just really don’t want today to end.” with Jeonghan? I've been in severe Jeonghan brainrot lol so, I thought reading about him would help keep me from impulsively writing about him myself instead.

omg hi RJ! we had a safe trip to dc and now we’re on the way to nyc! you absolutely can, jeonghan has also on my mind lately and im so happy to write him for you 💖 lowkey u should write him too tho

“You wouldn’t, uh, maybe, want to stay the night, would you? No funny business, I just really don’t want today to end.”

Jeonghan is… nervous. Nervous out of his mind. It’s only the second date, he knows he shouldn’t be asking you this, but he’s just not ready for his time with you to be over.

He started his day by calling you to confirm the date (and he also might have wanted to hear your voice). He spent most of the morning thinking about you, and when he rolled up to your place and spotted you waving excitedly at him on the sidewalk, he finally felt like he could breathe.

He’s breathless now waiting to hear your answer, but he can see you mulling it over and doesn’t want to pressure you.

Soon enough, you give him a sweet smile and say, “I will if you let me use your skincare and your biggest t-shirt.”

“Deal,” He agrees with an easy grin before offering you his hand and helping you into his car. He’s already got the shirt picked out in his mind and thankfully, he washed his sheets yesterday so they’re all fresh and clean for you.

He wasn’t expecting anything more than a date tonight, and he’s elated you’re up for a sleepover too.

It isn’t until he’s pulling into his spot in the parking garage that he realizes this means he’ll get to sleep next to you, and wake up with you, and maybe make you breakfast and give you a kiss tasting of coffee and syrup, and maybe he’ll just go ahead and fall in love with you too.

He’s already halfway there, anyway. What’s a little further?

You chat about what movie to watch as he leads you down the hallway, Jeonghan proposing the Lego trilogy and you countering with your own favorites. You settle on a few episodes of the new drama you’ve both been wanting to see, and his hand only shakes a little as he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

He hopes you like his place; though it’s a bit small and disorganized, it feels like him and he’s proud of the space he’s managed to create. You seem like you do like it, immediately moving to his Lego display case with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Chuckling to himself, Jeonghan follows you to the plexiglass and begins to point out sets he thinks you’ll recognize. It makes for a simple ice breaker and he watches you grow more and more comfortable as the conversation flows.

It flows right over to the couch, where you wrap him up in a tale of the last time you tried to do a lego set. Apparently, your cat ate approximately fifteen pieces while you were making tea and had to go to the emergency vet. He doesn’t blame you for not wanting to attempt another after such an ordeal, though he wonders if you’d ever like to build one with him.

He’s about to ask when you remind him of the plan.

“Can I have that t-shirt? I wanna get out of these jeans, they’re the worst,” you request, grimacing and plucking at the denim.

“Yes!” He jumps up, taking your hand and tugging you up from the couch. You let out a small sound of surprise, following him on light feet to his bedroom.

Jeonghan feels a little shy as you take in his messy bed and clothes-covered chair but he tries not to show it, immediately moving to his dresser to dig out the biggest shirt he owns.

It’s plain, old, and a bit worn out, but it’s the comfiest thing in this apartment and he’s ecstatic to hand it over to you.

He points you to the bathroom, taking the time to change into his own pajamas and pretending his heart doesn’t skip in his chest when you reappear.

You tug at the hem of the shirt, though it rests about midway on your thighs, and he forces his eyes away from your legs and onto your face.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, offering you a hand and leading you back into the bathroom.

“Here’s my cleansing balm, and I have a few options for serums. Oh, and here’s my moisturizer.”

It’s all lined up neatly on the quartz of his counter and he watches as you pick up one of his proffered serums with a gleeful look on your face.

“You have the expensive vitamin C,” you breathe, gazing at him with wonder.

“Yeah,” he grins. “Seungkwan is an influencer and he gets a lot of PR, so he gives me his castoffs.”

“What’s it like to be God’s favorite?”

“Like a dream, if I’m being honest.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and he bumps his hip against yours, his cheeks aching with the width of his smile.

He loves this already, feeling so domestic with you, and he’s halfway into hatching a plan to ask you to move in with him when you set the serum down and pick up the cleansing balm.

You set to work, massaging your face with clear concentration in your eyes, and Jeonghan decides to join you.

Watching and giggling at each other in the bathroom mirror, you scrub your faces clean side by side. This feels familiar to him, like it’s something he’s been doing with you for years, like it’s something he’ll be doing with you for years to come.

He’s lucky you’re busy rinsing away the balm while he comes to the realization that he might be a bit more than halfway in love with you.

It’s not ideal, especially because he’s not sure where you stand, but it is kind of exciting.

He’s never been in love before, but that has to be what this is. This comfort, this contentment, this fondness, this passion.

There’s no other explanation as to why he’s riveted watching you pat serums into your skin, why his heart is racing at the sight of you in his shirt, why he’s never been more excited to crawl into bed before.

It’s all because of you, because you’re here with him.

He only becomes more sure when you both decide to forgo the drama and just go straight to bed, curling up on your sides facing each other under the shared covers.

You talk for hours, until your eyes are falling closed and your words are mere whispers, and just before he succumbs to sleep, he sends a wish out into the universe that every single date he has with you ends like this.

#jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fanfiction #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan drabbles #✨emily answers✨ #✨emily writes✨ #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #seventeen drabble #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop oneshots #kpop drabbles #kpop fanfic #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x oc #rj 🥟

[frenchkisstheabyss]

*.·:·.✧ｖｅｎｕｓ✧.·:·.*

✧ This Jongho fic comes courtesy of another request from a super sweet anon who loves her some him. I'm so happy that you trust me w/ your hubby. Hope you love it! ✧

Pairing: boyfriend!jongho x chubby!fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's obsessed with your curves and wants to show you just how much he loves them.

Genre: smut but make it sweet

Word Count: 880

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms

Your clothes fall away like the leaves of a sugar maple tree at the edge of autumn. They collect at your feet---your dress, your bra, your panties---in a pile of tangerine fabric. You step out of them, approaching the end of the bed where your boyfriend eagerly awaits you. Brushing the hair away from his face, you position yourself between his legs, smiling down at him like the sun herself. His hands raise to your caress your hips delicately as if he’s preparing to touch something priceless. There’s a low hum of release from somewhere deep within him when he finally touches you. 

Your body. So curvy. So perfect. So plump and warm to the touch. His hands ride the ins and outs of your shape, feeding you every drop of passion needed to make you feel how intensely he worships it. Worships you. Jongho rests his cheek against your belly, breathing in your scent as his hands squeeze your plush ass. You smell of jasmine and orange blossom, of patchouli, like some rare flower blooming for him and him alone. “Love---you” he whispers, sensual kisses trailing down your stomach, “Love---all---of---you, y/n.” “I love you too,” you say, the air tingling as it leaves your lungs. 

Tucking his arm behind your left knee, Jongho brings your foot up onto the bed so that your thigh kisses his cheek. His eyes fall to your exposed core and his mouth begins to water, “Fuck. So pretty.” His thumb drags along your slit, dipping into you unexpectedly. It emerges seconds later glistening with juices that he spreads between your silky folds. You whimper, eyelids fluttering, as his thumb circles your stiff bud. Jongho plunges two more fingers into your depths, “Baby, fuck, she’s so juicy for me. So tight.” “Jongho!” you gasp, thighs quivering as he spreads his fingers against the tightness of your walls. 

“Mmm, louder” he coos, adding a third finger and quickening his pace. You throw your arms across his shoulders, gripping the back of his shirt while you ride his fingers. “Jongho! Oh my god! Yes. You fuck my pussy so good. So---” “That’s it” he grins, tucking his thumb away to rest his tongue on the underside of your throbbing clit. He flicks it upward sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He does it again and pleasure jolts through your stomach. Over and over he teases your clit just enough that you keep dripping into his palm like fresh honey. For a fleeting moment, your knees give out and he sweeps you onto the bed, diving face-first between your legs. 

“You’re trying to kill me” you whine, catching one quick breath before his tongue’s flexing against your clit. He nods, confirming your suspicions, and spreads your legs wider. The room’s still spinning when he loses himself in the sloppy French kisses he applies to your pussy. Your taste floods his senses, so intoxicating that he finds himself pitifully, ravenously craving more. Jongho’s hands dance up and down your body. Palming your succulent breasts, flicking and twisting your beautifully perky nipples to trigger that high-pitched whine of yours he loves so much. He grips your love handles, hands feasting upon your curves the way his tongue does your needy pussy. 

Touching you. Tasting you. It’s getting him hard enough that if his cock brushes against his pants like---

his breath hitches, precum shooting from his swollen head at the slightest bit of friction

---like that, he knows he’ll come. “Shit, baby. Too good. Mmph. I’m gonna---ah!” you moan, cotton sheets twisting in your fists. Jongho grabs your hips, burying his face so deep into your pussy that even his nose is drenched. With your clit pulsing between his lips, he rocks his head up and down making all the satisfied noises of a starving man whose hunger has just been satiated. You twist and wiggle, an entire galaxy shrinking and expanding inside of you. He clasps your thighs around his head, his curved tongue gathering your come as it leaks out of you. 

“Hold---on” you pant, noticing that he’s yet to ease up on you. Your words do nothing and the overstimulation begins to drag you under. Jongo reaches up, fingers interlocking with yours, “One more. She just tastes so good. Fuck, y/n.” “I don’t know---I” you stutter, attempting to protest but the room’s spinning again. Your body collapses. Heat rushes over you. You’re squeezing his hands tight enough to leave nail marks on his knuckles. He can tell by the way your walls shiver that you’re seconds from another orgasm. This time it hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Overwhelming every nerve in your body. You’re kicking. Screaming. Losing control of your limbs altogether. 

“Again” he hums, reaching for your hips once more. “No!” you cry, slipping away from him, “You really are trying to kill me!” Jongho just laughs, crawling up the bed to kiss you, “At least I didn’t lie.” You kiss him back weakly, sharing with him what’s left of you on his mouth, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” “I know” he smiles, taking you into his arms knowing that he’ll want you a dozen more times tonight but content with just feeling your body against his for now.

#jongho x y/n #jongho x reader #jongho x you #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez smut #plus size reader #chubby reader

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

[neruro]

VOD 01 - one viewer, and that's me on a different device!

first time chatter...? | scara x reader smau

Minecraft launched, alerts on, your phone beside you.

You would be okay! Thinking back at your friends’ words... You would continue to do your best! Even if no one comes, all you had to do was gain confidence and keep going until someone does!

After a moment of hesitation, you pressed the button, tabbing over to the game.

"Welcome to the stream, everyone!" You said. "I'm Catatouille, and I hope my stream will make you all happy today!"

Glancing over to your phone, you saw the symbol for one viewer, fueling on your hope. Someone was watching! Then... You had to do your best to make them smile–

Oh.

Right, it was from your phone.

'That's okay,' you thought to yourself as you started to collect wood. 'I'm a new streamer... So I'll just have fun!'

There was no mistaking how excited you were to start this journey of yours. But grandpa Xiao would definitely tell you that growth would be slow... So patience would be key!

Yes, patience...

Haha...

You turned your attention to the game in front of you. You would have fun! It was all in good fun, right?

But then!

The world slowed down. First, you felt the dread as you hear the sound of footsteps. Then the horror as you see it emerge from the shadows, running from the unlit part of the cave. You would begin to think. Regret. Contemplate why you didn’t craft a shield before this expedition. You frantically tried to defend yourself, hitting just shy outside of the hitbox. And then you hear the sound of getting hit, your character falling, being thrown into lava behind you. Then, to the sound of your character burning, the story of how you got all your stuff flashing before your eyes. When you discovered the amethyst cave, how you found the vein of five diamonds, the music disc you found from a dungeon, you see your hearts go down, and so does the time, your hope for the future playthrough of this game. And when you’re on the death screen, it finally sinks in. Your stuff is gone, your levels are reset. You are alone—

Catatouille tried to swim in lava to escape Baby Zombie.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something move in the chat box.

You couldn't respond for a moment at the whiplash of feelings. Yes, you wanted to cry, curse the world for bringing you a baby zombie of all things, and the annoying words from chat didn't help at all... but also...!

A chatter! A real one! And not the random bots you saw in the viewers tab!

"Welcome to the stream, Scaramouche!" You said, forgetting your previous annoyances for just a moment. "Hope your day is going well!"

“Yep!” You said, giddy with the thought of having your first fan. “Will do!”

"I'm not rage quitting!" You insist, exiting your survival world and quitting to the main menu. "Not because of something so trivial! I'm going to keep on persevering until I beat the Ender Dragon, mind you!"

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. At least this stream has been going well! A chatter that stuck with you... Luck was in your favor! Except the fact that your friends never showed up... But they'd probably embarass you in some way... Hm.

"Anyway... Thanks for showing up, Scaramouche... And any other lurkers watching," you said with a smile, even though you didn't have a webcam on. "I’m going to keep on trying to be a steamer you can be proud of, don't worry! And my next stream is tomorrow, so try to watch it if you can!"

first time chatter...?

masterlist || prev || next

✧˚ ·summary - tada! a new streamer (aka: you!) entered the scene! and what's this? your first regular chatter accompanying you to fame? great! and you're both becoming friends? even better! ... eh? what... what do you mean he has over a million followers? and what does he mean by 'do you remember me!?'

taglist is open (thank you guys, bold means I can’t tag you!) - @maxineshearts @magica-ren @drmyday @haunts-gh0st @featuredtofu @yyyyiijhth @hiraethsdesires @mellowberrie @meigalaxy @idontevenknow129 @beriiov @sakiimeo @karma-gisa

author's note - unrelated but kafka. i have her. did her companion mission. she is my mother now. thank you for supporting me~ get a whole lot of rest!

#ren tried :') #first time chatter ♡ #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smau #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin smau

[thebestbooksaround]

This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Spousal Secrets and Celebrity Crushes by AshwinMeird (@ashwinmeird) | 9k | General

Eddie joined the 118 and Hen learned plenty about his husband and son through endless stories, but she knew almost nothing about Buck. Then a movie being filmed not far from the station starts to become very relevant to her life. Or Five times Hen was confused about Eddie's husband and One time it all made sense

i'll walk through fire for you by prettyboybuckley (@greyacebuckley) | 3k | General

Eddie just shrugs, and they leave him alone, chattering about something he tunes out as he stares out the window. At least, until Bobby starts briefing them on what they're walking into.

He hears the address, and his stomach turns. That's where Buck lives. 

"There was an explosion somewhere in the building," Bobby tells them over the comms. "Third floor is fully engulfed, the building is unstable, and there are people trapped up there, still. There's one other firehouse on the scene already."

OR: In a universe where Buck is not a firefighter but they're still best friends, Eddie gets called to a fire at Buck's apartment building

call you home by ashavahishta (@ashavahishta) | 6k | General

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless | 15k | Explicit

Eddie is new to LA. Feeling lonely, he goes to a bar for a drink and meets a beautiful stranger that kisses like a dream. What starts as a one night stand quickly moves to frequent no strings sex. When circumstances lead to them spending time together out of bed, Eddie realizes he’s attached to Buck in a way he never planned for.

the handyman can ('cause he fixes it with love) by iphigenias (@oatflatwhite) | 4k | Teen

Eddie’s first thought when he opens the door is that Hen’s finally getting payback for Eddie hustling her in pool last Friday. The guy standing on the stoop is sweaty, smiling, with biceps that look like they could jaws-of-life a car all on their own and a very pink, very biteable kiss of a birthmark above his crinkled blue eyes. His toolbelt looks like every toolbelt from every bad porn movie ever, slung absurdly low on his hips, and the acid-wash jean shorts he’s wearing absolutely cannot be OSHA-approved.

Eddie decidedly does not look at the thick muscle of the guy’s thighs when he says, “uh, I think you have the wrong house.”

we can’t fight gravity (love is like falling) by alasse (@alasse9) | 21k | Teen

Eddie is an actor (a former child star of a major franchise who only does weird indie movies nowadays), and Buck is still a firefighter. The universe screams at them a few times—through a tsunami, an unfortunate misunderstanding, and an emergency at a movie set—until they finally get it together.

Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HMSLusitania (@hmslusitania) | 21k | Mature

Eddie's PTSD is just that little bit worse and when he moves to Los Angeles, instead of joining the LAFD, he joins dispatch.

Which is all good and fine, except for this one firefighter he keeps ending up talking to.

(is in the back of my mind and on the tip of my tongue) by waferkya (@oursisthewinter) | 17k | Teen

Soft, dark hair, just long enough to begin curling at the tips; expressive eyebrows and an impossibly straight nose that should belong on some Greek statue, full pink lips stretched in a wide smile just this side of goofy, and a wonderful amount of stubble dusting his jaw; broad shoulders hugged to perfection by the dark blue police uniform, his entire body a stretch of tight muscle. Yeah, yup, yes. Chim is not wrong. The man is handsome as sin. Also, he’s a cop, which—hi, hello, that’s hot.

[AU in which Eddie is a cop who just moved to LA; Buck has zero self-esteem, a praise kink the size of the desert and no clue on how to pick a decent Dom; and eventually love conquers all.]

Write me into your happy ending... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 16k | Teen

Four years ago when Eddie and Christopher started reading the book series about Daniel's Adventures together before bedtime, Eddie never would have guessed that he would run into the author of said book series in the middle of a Barnes & Noble in LA. He also wouldn't have guessed that said encounter would begin with him sternly lecturing the stranger and making a slight fool of himself. Nor would he have predicted that this terrible first impression would somehow make the published author want to give his phone number to Eddie.

Or, Eddie the firefighter and Buck the writer have a meet-cute, and things progress from there.

i wanna be known (by you) by chasingoblivion (@starlightbuck) | 12k | General

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief. “How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?” Or  In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

String of hearts... by ReallySmartLadyMarieCurie | 11k | Teen

“Now. Eddie is this incredible presence. He’s funny and smoking hot, and he has a son who sounds wonderful. And he’s serious and vulnerable at times. But so enjoyable to be around, every single second that he’s there. And how can I put myself out there when the expectation is so high? When the thing I might lose is so beautiful?”

In which Buck owns a plant shop in LA, and Eddie becomes his new favorite customer. Pining ensues.

Confirmation Bias by strifechaos | 31k | Mature

After the fallout with his ex-wife, Eddie believed he could only trust his family with his son. He hadn’t imagined falling for his son’s sweet-hearted nanny, Buck.

With his own family so distant, Buck never considered that he’d be lucky enough to find a home for himself, let alone people he could count on. Not until he meets the Diaz boys.

AU: Buck was never a firefighter, and becomes Christopher's sitter when Shannon's job takes her away from Eddie and Chris for the summer. Eddie tries to not fall for his son's nanny, he's not very successful.

serendipity (can't get him off my mind) by elless | 7k | Teen

Buck has his job at the daycare, his sister, and good friends. And not much else. His life hasn't turned out how he expected. Then he gets a wrong number text that changes everything. He and Eddie click instantly, but Eddie lives in Texas while Buck is in LA. It can never work, especially if Buck is too afraid to make a move.

Buckley's Bouquets by awashleyno | 23k | Teen

A world where Buck owns a flower shop and manages to develop a huge, massive, ridiculous crush on a handsome firefighter that comes in for a visit one day.

Or, 5 times Eddie gives flowers to other people and the 1 time he gives them to Buck.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (@florenceandthemachine) | 8k | Explicit

unknown sender: Hi! unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run. unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way. sent: hey um sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

Frequent Flyer by red_to_black (@redtooblack) | 13k | Mature

In his entire time being a firefighter, Eddie has never met anyone as accident-prone as Evan Buckley. And Buck - well, he's quickly becoming the 118's best customer.

(Or - the one where Eddie is a firefighter, Buck isn't, and Eddie finds himself rescuing Buck from increasingly sticky situations. Sometimes literally.)

i'm gonna make this place your home by chromatophorica (@chromatophorica) | 11k | Teen

"Hey, did you know that other people can go to the kids' islands on that game?" He asks Hen the following day at work, stocking up the ambulance with her while Chim teaches the probie how to roll hoses.

"Yeah, I mean, they go to each other's all the time." Which, yeah, in a way, Eddie knew that part

"No, I mean other people, like people on the internet or whatever." Hen shoots him a look, one that states he's showing his usual technophobic ways again. “I'm just saying, some person that Chris called 'Buck' was on his island just like... giving him things.” It feels a lot like those stories about grooming or whatever, when the internet was new and people pretended to be something they weren't. What if this Buck person was an old guy in a creepy basement trying to befriend kids on a game? --- During the pandemic, Christopher gets more involved in online gaming. Eddie promptly freaks out when he realises his son has made a friend through the games. It takes Chimney's girlfriend and a car crash to understand how important that friend will be.

#Fics I love #Buddie #Eddie Diaz #Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley #911onfox #911 fan fiction #buddiefanfiction #Buddie fic #911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 on abc

[gothushi]

Could you elaborate on the one look to make him kneel and him wanting to be slapped, please 👉👈 (thank you so much for sharing your thoughts by the way, oh my gosh!!💓💓)

writing submissive men is honestly my religion i’m more than happy to oblige🫶🏻🩷thank u!

cw: impact play (slapping), simon on his knees

Tonight’s been long, too long. You’ve sipped at your drink for an eternity now, just waiting for Simon to be done working the bar at Chez-Chez. Sat at a tall table in the corner of the room, you have a good view to keep your eyes on him. His own blues find your eyes plenty of times, giving you a wink, a cheeky smile or a smirk.

Another half hour later results in the rest of the patrons being told to leave, and as you pick at the polish on your nails standing outside the club Simon finally emerges with his coat tugged on, the late night air chilled from earlier rain.

“Hey sweetheart,” His hand finds yours, finger’s interlocking and his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. You tilt your head up to meet his lips in a little kiss before beginning the walk to your apartment.

Keys jingle in the lock as you enter, door clicking shut behind you both, shuffling as you both toe off your shoes, slip your coats from your shoulders and hang them up on the hook on the wall. Simon busies himself with moving to the living room, a tired yawn escaping him as he sets his phone down on the coffee table and collapses onto the couch with a groan. You, however, eye him from the kitchen, standing by the counter. Carefully removing your rings, letting the jewelry clatter onto the countertop as your hungry eyes roam over his body.

His legs are spread, a long sleeved blue shirt adorning his body. It’s simple, but he wears it so well, the thin fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest and tummy. He’s reclined back, head tilted against the couch with his eyes closed as he notices the silence. An eye peeks open, head tilting in your direction as he grins, “What’re you staring at, hm?”

A similar smile paints your lips, the last of the jewelry on your hands gone, and your hands find the buckle of your belt instead. Maintaining eye contact with Simon, you slide it from the buckle, slowly taking it from the loops on your jeans, “Somethin’ pretty, that’s all,” is the coy response he gets. You both stare at each other for a solid fifteen seconds, your eyes narrowing a bit, hungrily tracing down his torso, and that’s all it takes for him to slide off the couch onto the floor. Knees part, hands on his thighs, his heart already starting to beat a bit faster.

“Well look at you..” You sigh happily, bare feet meeting carpet as you walk over to him. You take his previous spot on the couch, spreading your legs apart for him to settle between. Simon shuffles closer, a hand finding your thigh that you retaliate with a quiet “ah ah,” and he moves it back to his own thigh. Color blooms high on his cheeks as he stares up at you, eyes softening with a dazed look as your hand combs into his hair, “So handsome, y’know that?”

A little smile finds his lips, making him look boyish, sweet, not the crude, revenge hungry cop you know. His eyes flutter as your nails drag over his scalp, and he gives a soft exhale in response, relaxing more before you. With his eyes closed, he doesn’t see you moving your leg, not until your shin presses against the growing bulge in his jeans. Dazed eyes open again, a soft gasp as his hips kick back a little at the touch. But you tsk, fingers curling into his hair in a gentle yet firm grasp, “Easy.. I just wanna play, don’t you?”

The way you speak, your tone so low yet casual, has him reeling. After a long day, it’s easy for him to allow you to take over. “Yeah, please? Will you make me feel good?” And oh, how cute, right?

“Of course honey, I always do. Go on, move, slow.” The order doesn’t fall on deaf ears, his knees parting further as he presses into your leg. His cock already aches, pleasure blooming in his gut as he grinds against your leg. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it won’t last long, not when he’s already starting to blush a pretty red and his hands hover in the air on either side of your leg, fighting the urge to grab on for support. Simon squirms a bit, your hand tightening in his hair which makes his lips part, jaw dropping as he huffs a little moan. The entire time your eyes are locked together, and eventually a whimper falls from him.

“Can I–..” He starts, pausing to swallow and exhale through his nose, “Can I undo my jeans?” And he asks so politely, you surely couldn’t say no.

“Go on,” You nod, allowing him to pause his needy grinding. He doesn’t even break eye contact as he undoes his own belt, not even taking it from the belt loops as his fingers skillfully undo his button and zipper, sitting up on his knees just enough to push them down his hips. Black boxers do little to hide just how fucking hard he is, a little wet spot on the fabric. He presses back to you, grinding his cock against your shin, and this time his hands find your leg, holding onto your calf for support as he exhales another moan.

As pretty as he is, the action of his hands on you is displeasing, “Hands off, I never said you could touch.” The sharp words make him actually whine, huffing a pitiful noise as his eyes roll a little, even as he removes his hands. But, that attitude, you seen it. Before he knows it, the hand is gone from his hair as your palm connects with his left cheek in a sharp slap.

“Ah–!” Simon’s head snaps to the side, eyes fluttering as his thighs squeeze around your leg. Pure heat blooms on his face as he feels his cock throb in his boxers, so embarrassed by how nice that felt. “Do that again. Please,” is the pathetic plea that follows, his knees spreading again to continue grinding needily like a mutt in heat.

A laugh sounds from your throat, and you grab his cheeks with your thumb and two fingers, squishing his cheeks a bit to force him to look up at you, “And why should I? You like me hitting you Simon?”

His face is flushed deep red with embarrassment and arousal, starting to pant a little. His whiny voice quickly starts to beg, “I said please. I like it. Please?” His hips press even faster, feeling his core muscles ache just the slightest, pretty puppy eyes looking up at him. And ugh, he’s just so sweet, so pliant with you. Your grasp on his face is gone, and his eyes fall lidded with lust just before you hit him again. The slap echoes in the apartment, as does the cry he emits as a result. His hips falter and then roll even faster, jaw dropping as he starts to moan with every exhale of his panting breath.

“Again?”

“Again.” He confirms, having trouble keeping his eyes open but oh, does he do his best for you.

“Can you handle it baby?”

“I can– fuck I can handle it. Please.” Soft brown hair falls forward as he drops his head for a second, lifting it back up as he nods quickly in confirmation. So, you swap hands, palm meeting his right cheek in a weak little hit, enough to produce a sharp noise but not enough to really hit the spot, figuratively and literally. “Harder,” he pleads, his hands curling into the denim at his hips, needing to hold onto something. That heat in his core is building, hurriedly grinding against your leg, humping pathetically as he’s already so close, his cock aches so badly it hurts, desperately searching relief.

Again, and again, your palm meets his cheek, the skin ruddy red and sensitive, hot with an embarrassed flush as he cries out. Once more, and he gasps, thighs squeezing your leg as he moans loudly. A tremor wracks through him as he orgasms, eyes fluttering and rolling back into his head. Simon feels your hand curl into his hair, jerking his head up harshly. The natural response is to reach up, move to grab your arm because it hurts, but he quickly pauses and puts his hands back down because he knows better.

He’s sat before you on his knees, panting hard, shaking a little as his core muscles burn, and his teary eyes blink open. “‘m sorry, I–“

He’s interrupted by a sharp slap, harder than the rest. He gasps, feeling his mouth and cock both drool a little and oh God is he embarrassed, but he loves it. “You little pervert, I’m not done with you.” You hand grabs his cheeks again, making him look up at you.

And the only response is a breathless laugh, a big grin on his face.

#neil newbon #neil newbon x reader #simon walker #simon walker x reader #sub!simon walker #proof reading this made me feel like i was being electrocuted #i want him

[fuel-me-coffee]

Drawing Screwllum

((Screwllum x GN Reader, Fluff, not really proof-read lmao-))

Author's note: this is based on all the people who believe that Screwllum overheats when flustered + me projecting being an artist

----------------------------------------------------------

Screwllum observed your movements as you dragged a pencil across the notebook's page.

The mechanical aristocrat has been sitting perfectly still for exactly 15 minutes as of now. Approximately 20 minutes ago you have excitedly asked him if he could model for a drawing for you, and seeing your eagerness, he was more than happy to oblige your request.

With you being completely absorbed into your drawing process and with him trying to avoid any unnecessary movement, a silence fell between you (with Screwllum mentally noting that it was, in fact, the comfortable kind).

He was sitting on a chair in front of you, putting a few feet of distance between you. From said distance he could glance the top of your head as you scribbled away and your knuckles tighly gripping at the book to hold it in place. Just as he was tracing the outline of your fingers with his gaze, your face suddenly emerged above the canvas, making your eyes meet.

You squinted your eyes as you tilted your head from side to side, trying to figure out Screwllum's facial structure. Your intense eyes going over every intricate curve and crevice of the aristocrat's metallic face made him feel like he's being inspected under a microscope, not unlike those he'd often pass in researcher labs of the station. The longer your eyes stayed transfixed on him, the more he could feel his system begin to heat up, cooling fans quietly beginning to whirr as he tried to keep his composure. Suddenly, the silence started becoming way less comfortable for the genius. He found it quite fortunate in this moment that he did not share the human ability to blush.

Adjusting his monocle, he chose to finally address you: "My dear, the intensity of your gaze with which you grace me one could compare with fires started by Nanook themselves. Query: how is your drawing coming along?"

You let out a few hums as you put down the final strokes, holding the sketchbook back and admiring your work: "all done!!"

"May I see?"

You nod, placing the pencil in the pocket of your shirt and strutting excitedly towards your model-boyfriend. You turn the the drawing to face him, your eyes gleaming along with your smile as you await his feedback: "what do you think?~"

Screwllum takes his time admiring your work, taking in every pencil line, noting everything from the way you drew curves to the way you depicted the falling of light.

He takes your hand, gently pressing his jaw against the back of it in a tender kiss: "Affirmative: I can sense the care you put into this work and it showcases a positively high technical skill, as well as clearly demonstrates the artist's passion for the craft. Although I believe you may be flattering me a bit in your depiction of me."

"Nonsense! If anything the drawing is incomparable to the original!"

"How so?"

"Well, to begin with, it could not possibly beat the beauty of the real deal."

Oh. Maybe he needs to get his fans ran through maintenance. Or maybe that's what they mean by butterflies in your stomach-

#screwllum x reader #I'm not even actually a writer how did i get here #screwllum hsr

[archonadeptus]

Hi ^^ ok so I got a spark of inspo and I want to get this out before I forget, Genshin x Creator! Y/n (GN) angst thing. Idea is that Creator y/n has a nightmare where their body is almost not their own and they're forced to watch themself kill all of their beloveds, then go to pov the Genshin characters and they have to watch y/n thrashing around saying little "no.."'s and "stop.."s while the Genshin characters are trying to wake them up and stop their suffering, :insert something with ur incredible imagination:, and then they finally wake up with a gasp and tears falling down their face and they hug the nearest character (say like Tighnari or someone else you choose ❤️) and then they just sob their heart out saying "I'm sorry...." Over and over again until they get comforted, then they tell the Genshin characters (I'm leaving the character choosing to you) what the nightmare was abt and then at the end they breakout crying all over again, then one big group hug later y/n is happy (but still very sorry and regretful) and it goes to fluff cuz I can't handle having my heart shattered, with y/n being a bit more clingy. The end. And ofc you don't have to do this req but it was an idea that I got just after reading one on your other fics, anywho have a good day/night/whatever the heck and take care of yourself, imma go cry bc this idea already shattered my heart thinking abt it. 🙂

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I appreciate it so much~♡ I absolutely love this idea, I love Angst and comfort so much!! I truly hope that this is everything you were looking for. I hope I shatter all of your hearts and mend them again at the end with all of the fluff! Enjoy, lovelies.♡

Edit A/N: I got a little excited and carried away I'm so sorry it's so long omg.

Characters: Tighnari, Kazuha, Wanderer, Xiao, Zhongli

Warnings: A lot of Angst within the first section. Main character deaths (in the form of a dream), upsetting scenes, mention of a character ending their own life. A lot of comfort at the end!~ (The Angst is just a dream!)

Control.

Sitting upon your throne carefully crafted by only the most glorious chunks of cor lapis and most vibrant of flowers always felt a little too much for you. Yes, you had embraced being the creator long ago, but it still felt a little too much. The way everybody would bow to you, some even looking a little afraid. Why in Teyvat would any of your own creations fear you? Then again, why were you even in your throne room to begin with? This was reserved for occasions where your beloved acolytes had assured you that your presence specifically on the throne was important, you just had to address Teyvat from your rightful place. As far as you knew, there were no emergencies that needed tending to and nobody had told you to come here.

"Tell me, what makes you think I adore you all?" Who said that? Wait, that's your voice echoing off the marble walls. Why… Why do you sound so angry? Why is your voice void of any love? Silence fell upon the room, the pressure of the air seeming to thicken. "I do require a reply, that was in no way rhetorical." Your eyes narrowed, deep golden eyes glaring down at five of your acolytes beneath you, bowing lowly on the floor. You weren't controlling your own voice, nor were you controlling your own body. Why is this happening? They all look so afraid.

"M-my divine." Zhongli spoke first, daring to lift his amber hues to meet your own. "You created us. Everything is made with nothing but your own hands and abilities. Do you not love what you have created?-"

"Shut it, Morax." Your voice was so heavy in the air, the floors lightly rumbling with an ever-growing rage. "I did not ask for a rant, just a simple reply. And did I hear you questioning me?" You stood rather abruptly, Zhonglis eyes meeting the floor once again. You summoned a weapon made of nothing but pure golden swirls, you placed the tip beneath Zhonglis chin and lifted his gaze upward to meet yours again. "I simply detest you. My most loyal acolyte? What a lie." Kazuha seemed to slowly lift his gentle tear filled gaze up, his soft doe eyes meeting your own.

"B-beloved, he didn't mean it in the way you think. We truly adore you… But please…" The sword you now wielded left Zhongli causing his gaze to move away to the floor again, it now lifted up Kazuha's gaze to meet your own.

"Beloved?" You spat out, glaring down at him. "And you too dare to question my judgement?" He slowly shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly to try and will away his pretty tears threatening to spill down his dusted cheeks.

"I-im sorry, your grace." A smirk painted itself on your lips before you knelt down a little before him.

"Let me tell you a little secret, my dearest wandering samurai. You know your beloved Tomo?" His eyes immediately filled with love and pain at the mention of the fallens name. "I had so much fun controlling his fate, you know. His obsession with the Musou no Hitotachi was such a good plan. Do you know why I led your beloved to death?" He was trying to muffle his own sobs with his hands pressed against his mouth. You… You led Tomo to death? "Because I grew bored of him. I didn't want to play with him anymore. But my goodness, seeing you watch him die certainly was a treat. I mean, look at what it did for your character development!" Why were you telling lies? This wasn't you, why can't you stop yourself? "Do you want to know what he was saying before your arrival? He was begging me to spare him for longer, just so he could say goodbye to you. To ensure you were okay." You scoffed at this, "He didn't trust that you were safe with me." Kazuhas sobs now escaped his lips as his broken stare met your own. "Ah, but maybe he was correct. I'm bored of you too, Kaedehara Kazuha. Tell me now, how badly do you wish to see him again?"

"N-no please… T-this isn't you. S-stop, I beg of you, I'll do anything." Rolling your eyes you stood,

"Your begging no longer amuses me, Kazuha. Do you desire to see what Tomo saw upon his death? Let me show you…" Before he could even cry out his love for you and his apologies, you preformed the divine punishment upon him. Though this time, it was all golden. His body lay before you, your other acolytes whimpering at the sight.

"Now, Xiao my darling." He seemed the calmest of them all, his eternal suffering allowing him to mask his emotions easily. That now though was boring to you, you wanted to see him break. "You're nothing but loyal to me, right?" Your hand gently cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing against his skin in soothing circles. He nodded eagerly, eyes on your own.

"Yes, your grace."

"Would you do anything I ask of you, beloved?" Once again, another gentle nod as his faze softened at your touch.

"Yes, your grace."

"Good boy." With a smile, you gave him his Jade Spear again, standing with him. "Kill Morax."

"Y-your grace?" Zhonglis head snapped up at your words before gazing at Xiao with the Jade spear he once gifted him.

"You heard me, darling. Kill him, he's a traitor. Did you hear how he questioned me? Did you hear his lack of faith?" Xiao's hands gripped harder onto the spear before his eyes met Zhonglis again.

"Child, you must." He sighed, lowering his head. "It is what our creator desires. I deserve this punishment…" Xiao raised the spear as you smiled brightly, stepping back.

"Any last words, Rex Lapis?" Zhongli knelt on his knees, gazing up at Xiao.

"It was an honour to fight beside you, to raise you, and die by your hands my Adeptus. You are my strongest warrior, and you shall always shine like gold within my memories. Even during death." Xiao shook, eyes finally filling with tears. Did he… have to do this? Did he have to kill him… n-no. There must be another way for him. Immediately he lowered his spear and fell down to the ground before your throne once you sat back upon it.

"Your grace, please. Spare him, let me die in his place"

"Oh how boring. I would have thought you'd at least inflicted some damage. Not even offering Tighnari over there as a substitute? Or Wanderer? No?" Rolling your eyes you hummed. "Very well. Put on a show for me." Xiao simply nodded, Zhongli however stood and began to rush over to Xiao.

"No!" Golden chains soon shoved him to the ground. "You cannot make him do this! This is unjust, your grace." His eyes shone as he struggled against the ever strengthening chains.

"Unjust?" You smirked, "I see now that I sit before Rex Lapis and not Zhongli. Only the God of contracts would have the will of stone to dare question his creator." He growled lowly, golden markings forming upon his skin.

"Do not lay a hand upon him." You giggled, throwing your head back in glee against your throne.

"Me? Lay a hand upon him? No, no. I think you'll find yourself quite mistaken there, Morax. For he shall kill himself." Without another word needed from you, Xiao did just as you had said. He laid there before your throne, body weak as he whined and reached for you within his final moments. At this, you simply smacked his hand away and sighed. Zhongli was screaming with rage at this point, nothing but agony filling his body. Wanderer and Tighnari simply sat there and watched it all.

"H-how could you kill off your own acolytes like this?"

"Ah look who's finally decided to join this wonderful discussion of ours~ If another word leaves your lips, I too shall end you Tighnari. I'm not interested in you right now…" Your golden eyes drifted over to wanderer. "I'm interested in him."

You knew Wanderer was panicking, all of the memories about being abandoned, tortured and broken replaying in his head. You were watching his memories and his thoughts, they made the real you scream in upset. Surely all of this wasn't happening right now?

"My dear Wanderer." His doe eyes gazed at you longingly. Ah, so this wasn't Wanderer. This was your beloved Kunikuzushi, before you got bored and put him through suffering so all of his love and loyalty would belong to you. "My darling Kuni… You love me, don't you?"

"Y-yes my divine." You smiled brightly, moving over to him and removing his hat to pat his head.

"Good boy. How will you prove your love to me, Kuni?" He scrunched his eyebrows in thought, it was almost beyond adorable.

"However you see fit. You have all of me, my Divine." You smiled brightly before humming again.

"Then perish just for me? Just like Xiao?" He simply nodded almost like he was in a trance.

"Yes, my divine."

No. No. No. No! No!

"NO MORE!" Your eyes snapped open as you threw yourself up into a sitting position, out of it and seeming to be in a half awake dream state. You were pushing whoever was around you away, whilst simultaneously trying to pull them closer.

"What's going on? Your grace, wake up now." Wanderer sighed whilst trying to hold you still to prevent you from hurting yourself in your panic.

"Hey, hey!" Was that Wanderer? "Calm it down love… Wake up." You began to scream, the dream still feeling so real. Tears rapidly rolled down your face as firm hands gripped onto your shoulders. "Hey! Fox boy! Get here now!" In any other circumstance, if you were fully awake, you would have giggled at Wanderers words. But not now, not when you killed them all. Not when you forced Tighnari and Zhongli to witness such brutal deaths.

"Seriously?! 'Wake up now?' That's all you could think of saying? I tried that already!" He growled lowly as he struggled to keep you calm, your cries and screaming tearing at what heart he wished he had.

"Our divine can hear our voices, that will keep them grounded onto something and saying 'wake up' just proves to them they're in a dream." Tighnari snapped lightly whilst fumbling in his bag before pulling out an orb filled with plants. "Hold them still!"

"What does it look like I'm trying to do? I'm not just sitting here for my own amusement." He spoke harshly to others, but his lips moved by your ear as he whispered. "Shh, I've got you. Everythings alright now, I'm here, I've got you. Love… Come back to me." At his gentle tone, your screams lessened into light whimpers. This prompted Tighnari to place the orb beneath your nose, and once the sharp smell of several herbs filled your senses your eyes snapped open.

"KAZUHA!" You panted, starting to cry again hiding within Wanderers arms. "X-xiao! Wanderer- What have I done?!" Tighnari immediately moved the orb away, tucking it back into his bag as he cupped your cheeks so you looked at him. Wanderer was a little taken aback at the possessive feeling within him especially after hearing you call his name like that. He'd never seen you look so helpless, almost like the way he once was when he was known as Kunikuzushi. Tighnari offered you the most reassuring smile he could,

"Hey there my Lotus, we've got you now. You're here darling, you're away from that place." Your whimpers shattered his heart, yet due to calling his name you didn't see Xiao rapidly approaching.

"Get away from them! What happened?" He moved to push them away to check to ensure you were alright, but Wanderer just shoved him away with his leg as he continued to hold you.

"Watch yourself little Adeptus, don't take what isn't yours." Xiao opened his mouth to say something more before Zhongli cut them off once walking into the room.

"Do not upset our Divine any further, your rage is distressing them." Xiao gazed at your tear stained face, but once your shaky hand reached up to his cheek curiosity filled his mind from your words.

"You're alive…"

"Yes, I am alive." He responded quickly, confused as to why you were asking. His debt didn't affect him whilst you were there, why would he be dead? Your head turned to see Wanderer holding you safely in his arms.

"Wanderer… My Kuni - you're alive too." Your eyes trailed around the room to try and find Kazuha. Where was he? Did you actually kill him whilst that horrible nightmare possessed your body? "Kazuha. Where is Kazuha?" You immediately stood up despite shaking, it felt like your body was still gaining its rightful strength after your dream. As you heard once in a previous life, all dreams pass a realm of reality. You tried to move forward, only for Xiao to hold you safely as you fell a little. Zhongli placed his hand upon your back,

"Tighnari, please go and get the samurai. I believe this is the only way we can calm them." Tighnari nodded before giving you one last look before leaving to quickly go and find Kazuha. He was always wandering your serenitea pot lands at this time, he wouldn't be too hard to track down. They soon moved you back down to sit upon the sofa again trying to keep your attention on them and not on the nightmare.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." Your tone was filled with nothing but heartbreak, your tears rolling down your flushed cheeks once again. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. Please don't hate me, I don't think I can bear it." Your soft sobs and begging flickered panic within your acolytes' hearts. Their own creator was begging them… This felt so wrong.

A bang from the main door made you jump whilst the others summoned their weapons to protect you, Wanderer standing in front of you to shield you with himself.

"Your grace!" The sound of Kazuha's voice made you sob out in relief as you pushed past to bring him into your arms, fist clinging onto Xiao's clothes as you held him.

"You're alive. You're both alive - you're okay." Taking a shaky breath in between your sobs you continued to cry out apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm so truly sorry." Falling to your knees, the wandering samurai and adeptus followed your lead and dropped to their knees with you to bring you into their warm embrace.

"My beloved divine, I am here now. I'm so sorry I'm late, dearest. I won't leave your side now okay?" You nodded against his warmth, hiccuping as after a while your sobs slowed.

"I killed you. I killed you Kazuha, fed you dreadful lies then killed you." Taking a jagged breath inward, your eyes met Xiaos. "You ended your own life due to my words in return for me sparing Morax. I- … I then went to kill Wanderer the same way as Xiao before waking. I forced Tighnari to watch all of it, I was so horrid I couldn't control my own body. Please, forgive me." A cup of cold water was soon brought to your lips by Tighnari as both anemo users held you closer. Softly sniffling, you began to drink slowly before coughing a little.

"Gentle, your grace. Do not rush…" Xiao gazed at you sorrowfully before looking downwards.

"No, you do not need to be forgiven. I do. If I was here, I would have destroyed the dream before it dared to even look upon you."

"Xiao," Zhongli began, his hand upon Xiao's head with a gentle smile. "Not now. This wasn't your fault, nor was it our divines. Bad dreams happen, I've seen my fair share during my lifetime. Many were brutal from the archon war." He sighed lightly, placing his hand carefully upon your cheek trying to comfort you. "But you see, dearest, they are a manifestation of our worst thoughts. Something that you would never do turns into something so real. We are all okay now, my divine, we're all here." His touch grounded you even more as he slowly lifted your now fragile form up and into his arms before getting you comfortable back on the sofa. Wanderer was sitting beside you, hand fiddling with the divine material of your clothing. Your gentle voice was but a whisper, but it made him practically melt.

"Please, hold me?" You didn't have to ask twice. You were immediately against his chest, safe and warm. A warm hand upon your back making soothing circles. Sure, you couldn't feel any heartbeat to ground you, but he was trying by channelling power through his vision to slowly bring it to life to mimic a heartbeat.

"Your grace, you can tuck your hands into my tail. You seem chilly… And don't worry, that was a case of a night terror and sleep paralysis. I've got little herbs to ensure that won't happen to you again." He paused, smiling as you held onto his tail. A light giggle escaped your lips as Xiao moved over to dry your tears. "We know we're safe with you, just like you know you're safe with us."

"What're you looking at, grandpa? They're safe with me, they don't need any extra. Move aside." Wanderer smirked before sticking his tongue out at Zhongli causing the archon to sigh. Though he buried his head against your neck as you held onto him hiding into his warmth with only a gentle whisper to be shared between you both. "I'm not going anywhere, yeah? I won't abandon you, and you won't abandon me. I've got you, I'll keep you safe." He pressed a gentle fleeting kiss to your shoulder before Tighnari took the place beside you, his tail soon brushing against your hand.

"Such a thing won't happen again." Xiao stated a matter of factly, crossing his arms against his chest. He'd be keeping a closer eye on your dreams now, so do not fret.

"And even if it did…" Kazuha's voice soon joined in, leaning over the sofa to fiddle with your strands of hair. Oh how you melted his heart, creator. "We will forever be here to pull you out of the world of dreams. They shall never hold onto you forever, but we shall do so."

"I agree with Kazuha, your grace. Forgive our selfishness, but you cannot get rid of us so easily. We shall forever be here with you and we won't ever lose you. As, my beloved, you shine like gold to us and us alone."

You're safe with them now, and believe me when I say you don't leave their arms for a long while. They never complain about this of course as this is all they want. You.♡

You have the control, your grace. Nothing like that will ever occur unless you desire so.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact creator #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #tighnari x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #sagau #genshin angst #genshin fluff

[mylittlegemlins]

Spy x family hurt/comfort ideas for destroy your soul:

-loid and yor are expecting a child, anya is jealous that they don't love her as much as their own child.

-Loid, speaking seriously with Sylvia: " fuck it, I'm going to keep them and if you want me to continue being your star spy, you're going to give me missions that don't involve falling in love with women or adopting children, one is enough for me. "

-Loid thinks about the joy his wife and daughter bring him: God, when was the last time I did something just for… fun? Why I didn't do it befo-... oh right... This is a mission

-Loid wonders how Yor had never dated anyone until she was 27, then Yor interprets something very literal and Loid thinks, oh that's why.

-Since Loid saw that Anya had too much stress after the sandbox test, he is very worried about her mental health. Anya stares into space because she's busy thinking about what he thought. But he thinks that the poor girl she is dissociating due to a trauma and he tries to repair her with kisses and hugs.

-The mission ends on the night of a full moon, so Anya has no idea if her father plans to get rid of them, or how, or when, she just stays close to her parents for as long as she can.

-Yor begins to question if she is going to be married to Loid until death do them part, since she barely knows Loid... Well, she knows him a little... For a year... But she is not sure of her feelings for him.

- -Loid finally decides to take Anya to the doctor because bleeding from the nose every time you get overwhelmed by loud noises might not be normal. Anya is just terrified that the doctors will open her brain and see that she has her powers, somehow. he also discovers that she is very low in weight and height for her age and worries even more.

-you love me? Direct question to destroy the heart of the best spy in the country, especially if it comes from a child, especially if it comes from an orphan, especially if it comes from his daughter who has never lived more than 4 months with an adoptive family because they did not get attached to her. Answer honestly, she will know if you lie.

-The Strix mission ended. Loid abandons Anya and breaks up with Yor without much explanation. only to regret it 15 minutes later and run to find them.

-Anya obtains 7 tonitrus having already 7 stellas. And she knows that expulsion is closer than the prize. So she runs away from home.

- Anya is finally ready to tell Loid a little about her birth mother and the orphanage, and it hurts.

-Anya never had a birthday party because there was no budget at the orphanage. Loid is able to hiring even the boys who cry if that makes his daughter happy

-Yor is hospitalized due to a fight and telling your husband that you have appendicitis is easier than explaining to him that some criminals shot you 3 times in the hip and who the hell you're still alive.

-Bond has to bite one Forger to save them from some imminent danger he predicted but the rest of the family panics and gets very angry with Bond.

-"If you keep getting close to dangerous guys you are going to get really hurt one day." Ergo, Anya gets hurt.

-Did you know that adoptable children in real life know that their chances of being adopted go down as they grow older because most only adopt babies? Anya knows it.

-Loid and Yor have no choice but to sleep together because their daughter is terribly ill in the hospital and her last wish is to sleep with them together. Or she actually has a common cold and they took her to the emergency room because they panicked when her fever went up 0.1 degrees.

- Damian wants to hang out with Anya but he would never let Emilie and Ewen find out.

-Loid comforting Anya during an anxiety attack because he thinks it's because of her past and only he knows.

-Instead of directly saying that he wants to keep his family or give up being a spy, he begins by extending the mission for 4 more months, and then another 4 more. And when he realizes 4 years have passed.

-Yor asks Loid about his dead ex-wife because they will never go to leave her flowers or he doesn't have old photos of her and baby Anya. Loid has many photos to fake.

T/W torture

-Anya biological father is a voluteer or one of the scientist because she was made by artificial insemination so that she was born, Anya's mother was kidnapped from a rural town where her language was almost extinct.

-The scientists remove Anya's mother's tongue so that she cannot communicate with her other than through her telepathy.

-The scientists being really mad the first time that her powers didn't work during the full moon.

-Still has nightmares about the electroshock in the laboratory every time she failed the tests. Her parents try to console her but she can't tell them anything, even if she wants. still hurts.

#spy x family #anya forger #sxf #spy x family headcanons #spyxfamily #loid forger #spy x family anya #yor forger

[genshin-impacted]

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 7/?) 

The feelings you and Alhaitham hold for each other run deeper than either of you think. Many things are left unsaid. OR affection + artistry + comfort

Word Count: ~4.2k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, gn!reader, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, slow burn, ft. Sumeru crew

[Previous - Next]

.

.

.

More than half a year into the arranged marriage, Alhaitham finally decides to provide an update to his family. Being overjoyed would not be an exaggeration, though Alhaitham can tell even through the phone that they are trying to tamper their elation as though he were a skittish animal prone to running away at any sudden movements. Halfway through the conversation his mother gives up and starts to gush about how happy she is for him, among other things. The other things include wondering about the wedding, how you would want to celebrate, when should the wedding be, and oh gosh, what type of theme would the two of you want to have?

His father is better at feigning nonchalance, but then he begins to reminisce about how Alhaitham used to turn his nose up at romantic dramas when he was younger, a tone of warmth seeping into his words. (Alhaitham thinks of telling his father that his relationship with you is nothing like a drama where misunderstandings and tragedies blight the couple like a plague. His union with you is peaceful, though not without its own hiccups, but otherwise... lovely. Serendipitous.

Alhaitham finds that to be the best-suited word.)

Alhaitham updates his grandmother in person. He expected her to be happy for him, smug even, so he is surprised– mildly alarmed– when her eyes grow misty as he describes how his life has been with you. She bats his concern away, a gesture to continue his stories, but her hand holds onto his with a loving tightness that speaks to her joy more than anything. 

You had planned to come with him but then your workplace calls you in for an emergency. You are more disappointed than he anticipates that you cannot go, so he simply reassures you that there is always a next time for his grandmother to meet you. Only, this seems to upset you more: something about how this meeting is important to you because you want to make a good impression.

Alhaitham is unsure how this meeting is any different from a meeting, say, two weeks from now. But you worry—unnecessarily, in his opinion, though the last time he said that to you directly was the first time he has gotten a cold look from you, so he tries to keep it to himself if only to not earn your ire too often. 

(Alhaitham doesn’t recall what the topic was about– unimportant in the scheme of things– but you were worried about something, bringing it up various times during the day, and he had told you that your concern was extraneous– inefficient. Which is true, he thinks. If there was something to be fixed, then it would be done already; if there is nothing to be done, then why worry about it?

You had stared at him, face blank, before you looked away quietly. He could see the hurt flicker in your expression before you quickly made an excuse to be alone.

Alhaitham had believed the first real fight the two of you had was a difference in philosophy. Later, when the two of you had taken some time alone, you reported back to him that it was not the case.

“I know some things I can’t fix,” you had told him, “but I still worry about them anyways. You might call it ‘inefficient-” it only dawns on Alhaitham then that the wording may have been abrasive if you can still quote him, “but I talk to you because I process things better that way.” 

He remembers that you had fidgeted with your hand in your lap, your words evidently hard to come by during conflict but you still worked through them until you could convey what you felt. “I just like being able to talk to you about it,” you say, “I want to be able to tell you about things that worry me, even if there’s no solution.”

Alhaitham is a problem-solver. It is his default for everything. He is used to being abrasive and hard-to-swallow, and he had believed that someone who could marry him would be someone tolerant of those traits. 

But something has to give. If he is truly to live a life of peace that he desires with you as a part of it, then he must compromise so that you can fit in with it. It is easy for him to make that decision. He does not want to imagine a life where you do not wake up next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he had said, watching as your lips wobble with emotion in just two words. “I’ll learn for next time.”)

You had professed that he often keeps you grounded when your thoughts tend to go awry, so Alhaitham keeps this in mind and strategically anchors you down whenever he deems necessary. It seems to work so far; he just has to hone in on what words can help soothe rather than aggravate. Holding your hands is step one to calming you down. You squeeze his hand when he does, this gesture so familiar that he no longer bats an eye. (Not that he does not enjoy it still; your hand in his is a comfortable feeling that he will never tire of.) 

“You don’t have to worry about making a first good impression,” Alhaitham tells you. “But if you’re really worried about it, we can meet up all together during her birthday in a few months.”

Your shoulders lose tension slightly at the prospect of a future meeting. You still look skeptical at his first statement, but you are reasonable even at the worst of times, so you allow him to elaborate. “Okay, the birthday sounds good. We definitely should get a present,” you say. “But what do you mean ‘don’t worry?’ Why not?” 

“‘Treat my other grandchild well,’ she told me.” Alhaitham feels your hands squeeze his again, more tightly this time, and he looks up in time to see your smile wobble precariously. “So you’re fine,” he says, letting you laugh off the tender emotions to save face.

The year is in the throes of summer now, so it does not take long for things to grow hot and uncomfortable. But still, Alhaitham does not let go of your hands as you swing them back and forth happily– not as long as you won’t. 

(What kind of things has Alhaitham been telling his grandmother? ‘Must be only the good things,’ you try to convince yourself, tempering the bubbly feeling of pleasure from bursting. But Alhaitham is nothing if not honest– so what does that mean for what he thinks of you that his grandmother is able to welcome you with open-arms into the family?)

.

The two of you hold hands very often now. Alhaitham thinks it's convenient to not be separated and to keep you from wandering off: two similar but distinct situations that occur every time the two of you walk anywhere. If it's not to lose you in a crowd during a popular bakery's rush hour, then it is to keep you at his side before you run off to buy yet another houseplant. It's easy to guide you away from the busy streets when you are close to him. Knowing your inability to walk in a straight line (you always lean into him), he feels more at ease if he were the one having to dodge bikers or errant puddles. 

You notice this eventually, and you are enamored by this action of his. Alhaitham can understand where you’re coming from, though he can’t say he truly ‘gets it.’ It is only natural that he keeps his mind from being preoccupied by extraneous thoughts such as whether or not you are safe. If he can keep you near the sidewalk walls, hand in hand, then he can save space to think about the prose of the latest literature he has read or focus on answering random philosophical questions that you happen to blurt out that day. Your questions are borne of boredom and a dash of 'silliness' as you say.

You make the excuse often, despite being very intelligent and serious whenever it is necessary. You are good in a crisis, he has noticed, though you tend to downplay your abilities during these times. ‘Modest,’ he thinks, though he has always found that concept quite pointless. Alhaitham, on the other hand, has never found the need to showcase less than what he is. (Then again, that may be why you are more likable than he is.)

For one, you possess a creative soul that Kaveh bemoans is absent in Alhaitham. You try to deny it, but then he reminds you that you have dabbled in far more artistic pursuits than he has with great fervor. You point out that he has a degree in the humanities and a greater grasp on semiotics and linguistics than anyone you know, but knowing is not the same as doing. ‘Art is beauty with human emotion– something you would never understand in a million years!’ or so Kaveh keeps on telling him when he has to carry the architect back to his apartment drunk. Despite it all, you seem to believe that he is capable of it, so Alhaitham obliges. 

During break, he writes a poem for you on the notepad that you bought him for his office. Alhaitham thinks you must like it because he has seen you keep it on your night stand since, rereading it at least once before you go to sleep.

.

.

.

Alhaitham believes that he does not have an eye for beauty or an artistic soul, but you think otherwise. Perhaps it is not the same sense of aesthetics as most people, but you know at least that Alhaitham recognizes beauty and acknowledges it. You think it is the same with creating art. 

If art is made of emotion, you know Alhaitham has what it takes to make something beautiful. You are rewarded for this belief when, a week after you try to talk him into writing something, he gives you a small slip of paper of less than five lines in Arabic and its translation in English. You never gave Alhaitham any prompt to write, but he writes you a love poem anyways.

If eyes are the windows to your soul, then what do these few words of raw emotion and tender allegories tell of the artist’s heart?

Alhaitham would ever call himself an artist, but you at least think he’s a poet if the words he writes about beauty, longing, and love etched into your heart is of any indication. 

You aren’t sure if it is a direct result, but you get back into photography– and consequently, scrapbooking soon after Alhaitham writes you his poem. You print out pictures you’ve taken over the years, chronologizing the memories you’ve made in the past few years. With only about half a year with Alhaitham, you don’t have as many photos together with him, but you scrounge enough to make at least a page or two. Most of them are candid ones, selfies, and maybe it is because your fiancé is a handsome man, but you think they turned out pretty good anyways.

Though you jump between hobbies often, you are nothing if not dedicated to these whims of yours, buying pages for photos and printing several dozen of them to find a proper place for them in your album. You are delighted when Alhaitham offers you some picture frames to place photos in and decorate the house, so you corral him to look at the photos you printed to pick a few. 

One of your favorites you intend to put into a frame is a photo of you and Alhaitham with his friends at work. You slide it into view and hold it out for Alhaitham, and though he lets out a small huff at your suggestion to put it at his desk, he still takes the picture frame from your hand. "You can take a few more," you tell him, beaming. You watch as he sifts through the photos, and you can't help the way you flit to and fro, excited to share a hobby with your fiancé– a little bit of you.

.

.

.

Alhaitham sees the way you attempt to give him privacy to choose the photos he prefers in his periphery. You are too eager for your own good though, your enthusiasm winning out your desire for discretion. You hover at an arm's length, watching him intently ever so often before forcing your eyes elsewhere. 

You're… incredibly endearing. He has to turn his head away to hide his amusement. 

Alhaitham puts more effort into scanning the table instead of watching you then. The array of photos that scatter the table summarizes his time with you well. Though he is not one for sentimental displays, Alhaitham appreciates it now when he can pinpoint the very moment captured in the pictures like it was only yesterday. The first hike on a sunny day– you had drunk two bottles of water in the first hour. What seems to be one of the many trips to the supermarket– Alhaitham cannot quite tell which trip it is, but his eyes catch your phone's camera not a moment before you stick out your tongue and snap a photo. 

You're surprisingly good at taking photos when he least expects it. Alhaitham recalls how you've complained at how he looks good in every photo you take. 'Photogenic,' you had sighed at him, not that he would know; you're the first one to take as many photos of him. 

And the first he does not mind taking a photo of. You seemed as equally awed as you were envious the first time you asked him to take a photo of you at a scenic destination, and it turned out, in your own words, stunning. "I never look good like this," you had argued, though you were pleased enough to like it immediately.

If you had asked him, he would have said that you looked charming in every photo you're in. If Kaveh had been there, he would have said something along the lines of beauty in the eye of the beholder. Loath to admit it, Alhaitham thinks he may have to concede to this point.

"I'll keep this one."

"Which one?" You ask, sidling close to him almost immediately. His heart stutters for a moment in surprise before it settles again, hyper aware of your arm pressing against his. "Oh, this one…"

Alhaitham looks at you when you go quiet. You have a complicated look on your face that he has yet to decipher; it is there and gone the next moment.

Alhaitham doesn't think it's an unflattering photo of either of you, and you must agree having printed it out in the first place. In the selfie, you look up into the phone with your eyes gently closing, a smile stretching wide– the perfect embodiment of the type of person you are to him. He hears you mumble that he isn't looking at the camera in this one. He doesn't mind it; whether he's facing the camera or not is irrelevant in his selection.

(His gaze is softened in the photo, his lips upturned just the slightest bit to showcase his contentment in the moment. You don't think anyone has looked at you as gently as Alhaitham does in this picture.

You remember looking at the photo for the longest time with a sense of yearning, imagining that Alhaitham looked a little bit like he was irrevocably in love with you.)

“The angle for my face isn’t that flattering,” you say instead, smiling, but you don’t do a thing to try and take it away from him. “But you look good for someone not looking at the camera, Mr. Candid. Are you going to put it in the office?” 

Alhaitham takes the photo and slides it into a coffee-colored frame. “Yes,” he says, and if he was any other person, he would have jumped at your sudden shout. Instead, he turns to you with a brow raised in question. 

You scramble through the photos before tapping on one of them– a photo the two of you took at a candlelit dinner that you had a gift card for– with much vigor. “Why don’t you choose this one then? I look so much better in this one!” You bemoan, looking up at him. 

Alhaitham can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him. “No,” he says.

“Then this one?”

“No.”

“How ‘bout this one?”

“No.” 

You huff this time, though a smile tries to peek from underneath your banter. “Why not?” 

The picture soothes him, Alhaitham thinks suddenly, but he hesitates on admitting this to you. It is very funny to him to see you whine and gripe, and you know just as much. Saying something as sentimental as this would undoubtedly change the mood.

Alhaitham prides himself on knowing what others may think, predicting their next move and countering it with great ease. With you, he is not too sure. Partly because he has yet to know everything that makes you the person you are, but mostly because he knows he’s been compromised. He wants to make you laugh. He wants to be the one to put you at ease, reading books until you fall asleep at his side. Though Alhaitham suspects that you would be happy hearing that the image of you has the same effect on him as he does to you, he can never be sure when it’s with you.

(How can he accurately deduce the heart of someone he is fond of?) 

“It’s the easiest way to introduce you to everyone who hasn’t seen you at work,” he says. “So they can finally stop asking me what you look like.”

“You really don’t have any photos on your phone?” You gape. “Maybe we should start using your phone. It probably has the better camera anyways…” You trail off, looking less despondent than your words would convey. The smile on your face says everything as you turn away to fondly look at the other photos. Alhaitham looks down at the one you’re looking at, and he is surprised to find that it’s a rare photo that he does not remember when it was taken. 

For one, Alhaitham is asleep. Based on the light coming from outside and the angle, he can probably guess that the photo was taken mid to late afternoon on a weekend that you were home with him. He must have fallen asleep while reading on the couch because his book is on his chest, one hand still holding onto it. 

It is a strangely vulnerable picture. It is a culmination of the time he has lived with you: the ease in which he finds himself in your company, and the trust he has to not stir even as you, he assumes, quietly laugh to yourself while taking the photo. It is a photo taken with a little bit of whimsy and lots of affection. Alhaitham finds himself oddly embarrassed. His face, luckily, remains impassive, though he can feel his ears getting hot. 

You look back at him, as if only realizing he was still there, and put the photo to your chest protectively. "I'm keeping this one," you say teasingly.

Warmth settles in Alhaitham's chest. "Aren't you embarrassed, taking a peeping photo of your own fiancé?" He asks, his lips twitching into his own small smile when he hears you sputter. 

Sleeping photos aside, Alhaitham is pleased with the photo he has chosen for the frame on his work desk. He was telling you the truth when he said that having the picture would save time for him when people want to see what you look like. His picture frame is turned outward for ease of visitors, but considering how little he encourages visitors, it is hardly ever used for that purpose.

The times that it has been used for that reason are more than likely for the people who have already met you. Dehya comes in his office to hand in a report and always turns the frame toward her, staring at the image for a moment before leaving– though not without throwing Alhaitham a knowing look that he ignores. The first time Nilou sees the photo sitting on his desk, she asks after your well-being and, good-natured as her questions are, Alhaitham can only answer honestly.

But otherwise, Alhaitham likes the convenience of having your smiling face at his desk. That should be reason enough to keep that photo there, isn’t it? (And if he looks at it periodically during work, and more so when work begins to unnecessarily pile up on his desk, then who is there to tell him not to?)

“Working hard as usual, Alhaitham?” 

Alhaitham looks up from clearing his desk of paperwork to see Cyno walking toward him. The clock on the wall reads 4:55 PM. “Only as much as I need to,” he replies back, snapping his briefcase closed. “I have never worked overtime and I don’t plan to start. Besides,” Alhaitham continues dryly, “detective work is more in your wheelhouse than mine.”

At this, Cyno scoffs, his gaze landing on the briefcase with what the both of them know to be papers more important than anyone could ever know. “I’ll have it settled as soon as we get additional evidence on Azar,” Cyno says. “Candace is working on writing the investigation report. Dehya should be able to go through the past transactions the company has made in the past financial year by next week. I’m assuming you’re keeping the other paperwork safe?” 

“There’s always a papertrail in one way or another with embezzlement,” Alhaitham states. “I’d rather not have the company go bankrupt from the recklessness of one man. That sounds rather troublesome, and I’d rather not have to find another place to work.”

“So you don’t have to work overtime?” Cyno smirks at him despite the rather somber topic. “Or because you have someone you want to provide for at home?” 

You have been saving up money to buy a better coffee machine at home, he thinks. “I’m quite comfortable with the salary they offer for my position,” he says instead. Alhaitham adjusts the frame at his desk and checks the clock again– 5:00 PM. “I’m off,” he tells Cyno, standing up. “Don’t call me unless something is urgent.”

Alhaitham vaguely hears Cyno’s response as he heads off, driving as soon as he is able. The car ride is nothing different than the usual traffic. With summer underway, the sun is more likely to shine directly into his eyes with its longer days, but Alhaitham hardly notices the inconvenience as he wonders if you have already started to make dinner at home. And which apron you have decided to use today– the lemon floral design or the funnier one with a phrase that always makes you laugh a little under your breath. 

The thought follows him from his parked car into his shared apartment with you, and when he sees you greet him with a smile, he thinks no photo can compare to the real-life you. It’s a curious thought; your smile is no different then and now, but he feels it inside him that he will always be more satisfied with seeing you in person. 

Alhaitham wonders if he is quieter than usual, sitting with his thoughts because he looks up mid-meal and sees your concerned expression. “Are you alright?” You ask, voice warm and affectionate. He feels his cheeks prickle with a tell-tale sign of an oncoming blush and he cannot understand why. “Did something happen at work today?”

“...It’s busier,” Alhaitham says. He has no intentions on bringing his work home especially now when it may become more complicated than he would want it to. With law enforcement possibly being involved and the company’s livelihood… Candace has advised him to keep it among those in the company and Alhaitham is inclined to agree. He would never lie to you though; he’d say everything if you ever asked, and the realization is abrupt. “I’ve been told I can’t say too much because it’s confidential information, but if you would prefer if I told you-”

“No, it’s fine.” You wince, waving your hand. “I mean, unless you want to tell me. But I don’t want you to get in trouble. I appreciate you telling me though.” Warmth seeps into your voice again. You gaze at him with just as much heat, if not more searing, as though you have something else you want to tell him. 

You don't, though, dropping your gaze to the plate in front of you. (Alhaitham can definitely feel his upper cheeks warm, and he continues to eat again too, hoping to blame the color on the light.) “If there’s anything I can do for you,” you say, “just let me know.” 

You look up again to flash a small smile at him, and he returns it. 

“Thank you,” he says, and finds that it is genuine.

“Of course.” You nudge his leg underneath the table with a twinkle in your eyes. “For you, always,” you say and laugh as though your promises do not have a hold on his heart. 

The quicker he gets this company problem out of the way, Alhaitham thinks, the faster he can start planning for the wedding, financially and logistically. He remembers that you wanted a large wedding, after all, and he will only provide the best for you on your wedding day. His wedding day. Both of yours. 

Alhaitham supposes a few hours of working at home won’t hurt if it means that day can come more quickly. The reason why he feels this way sits on the precipice of his mind, but then you ask him about his opinions on preferred cleaning products for the hardwood floors and the thought is pushed to the back where it will surface when he least expects it.

(And by then, his thoughts will have rearranged everything into three simple words.)

.

.

.

taglist:

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#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #lord help me i hope the taglist works #i present to thee the slowest burn i have in me #but SOON! #THANKS FOR WAITING!!!!!!!!!

[sidekick-hero]

💫 Sandy, she/her, 30s, Europe 💫

writing tag ✍️ My AO3

🌈 Multichapter Fics 🌈

Suitcase of Memories (55k | explicit | co-written with @legitcookie)

Boy meets boy. Boy meets boy again. And again, so they decided to go on a date about it. But as they grow closer, Steve's insecurities threaten to pull them apart before they can even begin. Will fate intervene?

I wore his jacket for the longest time (58k | explicit | co-written with @legitcookie | Sequel to we pass the ghosts that haunt us later) 

Steve has made some bad choices in the past, choices that have cost him his marriage, and even worse than that, Eddie. The man he didn't realize he was in love with until it was too late. Now Steve must pick up the pieces of his life and figure out how to become the man he wants to be.

It's a story about love lost and love found, about the importance of friendship and family, and most of all, about second chances and how it's never too late to change.

I’m tired of asking to settle the debt (18k | explicit)

5 times Eddie warms Steve's hands and that one time Steve returns the favor.

Or: What if Steve and Eddie had met before the events of season 4? What if they kept bumping into each other because it was meant to be?

hold me close (I’m shaking apart) (WIP (2/3) | 15k | explicit)

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Or: Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

tangled with what I never said (4.1k | mature | angst with a happy ending)

And they were roomates.

🌈 Series 🌈

Modern AU - Teacher Steve and Musician Eddie (11k in 5 parts | rated T to explicit)

Just some snippets from the life of Teacher Steve Harrington and Wedding Band Singer turned Rockstar Eddie Munson.

Runner Steve Verse (14k in 2 parts | explicit)

Steve starts running to get out of his head. He finds that maybe he's been running towards something (or someone) all along.

🌈 One-Shots 10k+ 🌈

to the rhythm of eternity (18k | explicit)

The last two years Steve and Eddie have been doing the long distance thing when Steve visits Eddie in London for Christmas and falls in love with the city as well.

Emotional Motion Sickness (16.5k | explicit)

Steve's first night at a gay bar turns into something he never expected. He accidentally stumbles into a theme night - Kink Night - and discovers something new about himself.

🌈 One-Shots 5-10k 🌈

Would you fall for me? (8.8k | explicit | Porn with plot)

One-sided enemies to lovers au inspired by that cake scene in red, white and royal blue.

Will you cleanse me with pleasure? (8.4k | explicit | PWP with tentacle love making)

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

he's all that I've got (don’t take that sinner from me) (8k | explicit | open but hinted at happy ending)

Eddie is on the run after still being blamed for the murders in Hawkins, but he can't run away from Steve.

Part 2: take you with me (mature | 2.1k)

The way you touch, the way you taste (7.1k | explicit | PWP)

Gareth, Jeff and Freak hire Steve to take Eddie's virginity on his birthday. Eddie takes Steve's heart in the process. Entry for the sub Eddie week.

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some) (6.4k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie's neighbor is the hottest man in existence, so when he finds him washing his car in the shortest shorts known to man he can't stay away.

Love from the other side (6.2k | mature)

Steve works in the emergency room, where he has lost several patients with gaping wounds on their necks, the blood drained from their bodies. It's only because of Eddie, who is a vampire himself, that Steve doesn't end up like them, but what will he do when it's Eddie who needs help?

Part 2: sink you teeth

we were meant to be (we live happily in my fantasy) (5.6k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie is a Big-Shot-Rockstar and Steve is the escort he hired to get people off his back. Too bad he fell in love with him.

When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name (5k | explicit | PWP)

Even after almost a decade together you can still discover new kinks.

Will the man become the monster, or the monster become man? (5k | explicit | PWP)

Beauty and the Beast AU with a twist: What if, once a month, the prince turns back into the beast?

🌈 One-Shots 1k-5k 🌈

I’ve got to get you out of my mind (and back into my arms) (4.7k | explicit | PWP)

Every once in a while, Steve and Eddie like to spice up their sex life and go out to play.

Lay all your love on me (4.6k | explicit | porn with feelings)

Steve feels lonely on Valentine's Day '87 and a certain metalhead sets out to change that.

wear me like a locket around your throat (4.5k | explicit | PWP co-written with @yournowheregirl)

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

tell me it's love, tell me it's real (4k | explicit | PWP co-written with @yournowheregirl)

The infamous piano scene from Pretty Woman (1990).

Carry You (4k | teen)

Written for @steddielovemonth, prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you.

Eddie is living the rockstar life, but it comes with a prize. When he reaches a point where he can't go on like that, will he finally let Steve carry him?

Part 2: Dear Steve (teen | 2.3k)

we tangle endlessly like lovers entwined (3.4k | explicit | Porn with feelings)

It's canon Steve likes to hold hands during sex.

Safe Haven (3.2k | teen)

Eddie finds a hurt wolf in the woods and takes him home. He has no idea that there is more to this particular wolf than it seems.

Part 2: Eat you alive (wc: 1.8k | mature)

Drowning In You (3.2k | teen | co-written with @legitcookie)

Steve and Eddie spend some time swimming at the quarry. At night. In just their underwear. As you do.

on the tip of my tongue, on top of my thighs (2.8k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie may be a little obsessed with Steve's chest. Okay, drop the a little.

He was sweet like honey (2.7k | explicit | PWP)

Steve loves mint chocolate chip ice cream. Eddie loathes it. But Steve has an idea how he can change Eddie's mind.

will you take me home (2.7k | teen)

Robin wants to adopt a cat, so why does Steve end up with one, too?

Rooting for you (2.6k | explicit)

Steve screwed up, no way around it. Fucked up big time.

In his defense, he didn't know that Eddie was in love with him. How could he have known? For all intents and purposes, they were just two horny guys hooking up.

safe & sound (2.5k | teen)

What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?

are you still mine? (2.4k | teen)

"He kissed me," Steve blurts out, and to Robin's credit, she doesn't react except for her hand on his to twitch in surprise. She makes a questioning sound in her throat, clearly waiting for more.

So much (for) Stardust (2.3k | teen)

A scene from an upcoming fic Pickup Note with @thefreakandthehair and art by @firefly-party. Steve can't sleep and Eddie takes him stargazing.

the past, the future, through death my arms are open (2.1k | mature)

second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past where Eddie has been there for him even when he didn't ask for it

will you find me in the stars (2.1k | mature)

In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What’s a lifetime if you measure it in eternity?

true colors (2.1k | explicit)

Eddie's heart is beating for Steve but it takes Steve a bit to understand what it is saying.

Slaying Dragons (2.1k | gen)

Eddie was six years old when he first met Steve, not that he would remember it until much, much later.

Blinded by you (2.1k | teen)

The one in which Eddie is a hot mess but Paramedic Steve doesn't mind.

Crutch (2k | mature)

Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can’t say it.

Louder (2k | explicit | PWP)

While laying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Eddie turns to Steve after a while, and asks, You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?

(I just) died in your arms (1.9k | teen | co-written with @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl)

"Hey, Steve, hi. You're probably wondering what I'm doing here." Eddie smiles nervously. When Steve just blinks at him, he takes that as a cue to continue.

"Funny story, actually," He laughs. The lack of sleep must be kicking in, which always makes him feel a little drunk and giddy. "There's this really annoying pipe in my room that's slowly driving me crazy, and I really, really, really need to get some sleep, man. I might even start crying if I don't get some soon. So, I was wondering... Could I crash in here?"

Someone New (1.7k | teen)

After Vecna, Eddie thinks he lost something vital, the one thing that made him Eddie. Steve teaches him that that's not true.

Butterfly Effect (1.5k | mature)

Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors.

Your scent (it clings to every blanket, sheet and pillowcase) (1.5k | mature)

Life after March '86 is very different from life before. For one thing, he never almost died before. Nor did he ever have anyone accuse him of murder, never mind murders, as in plural.

But then again, he didn't have Steve Harrington before either.

Until I found you (1.5k | mature)

Steve reminds Eddie that you can't buy happiness, you find it in each other.

You got a fast car (1.4k | teen)

"If we leave now, we can be in Indiana before midnight," Steve hears himself say, the decision already made, because the alternative is blood and pain and sorrow.

something about us (1.4k | teen)

What starts out as one of the worst nights of his college life turns into something else when Steve meets Eddie while being banned from his dorm room in the middle of the night thanks to some asshole setting off the fire alarm.

when we were made it was no accident (1.2k | teen)

Steve and Eddie just started dating, it's all new, it's all fragile and most of all, it's still a secret. So when they have a soundcheck coming up, they can't both be late because they can't make themselves to leave the bed, can't they? (part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note)

we can be heroes (1.2k | gen)

Love makes Steve brave. And Steve loves fast and hard.

Once those two things become a certainty in Eddie's mind, other things fall into place.

only soul I ever saved (1.1k | explicit)

With Steve, Eddie can be soft. Obediant and sweet. With Steve, Eddie can be a good boy.

hate to be lame (1.1k | mature)

Eddie and Steve are spies working for competing agencies. They make it work.

Somehow, I just want you more (1k | teen)

When Chrissy sets Eddie up for a blind date he did not expect to find a ghost from his past waiting for him.

🌈 Drabbles (<1k) 🌈

I want you to want me (921 | teen)

let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one (918 | teen)

Connoisseur of Comfort (652 | gen)

Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire (548 | explicit)

Show them (Baby I'm yours)  (534 | explicit)

Sugar, I got a taste for you now (480 | explicit)

Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal. (442 | gen)

always on the tip of my tongue (387 | teen)

Deflated. Devoured. Defiled. (311 | explicit)

hole-in-the-wall (404 | gen)

love bites (404 | mature)

mine (404 | explicit)

Ahoy Sailor! (404 | mature)

My arms belong around you (509 | mature)

Like real people do (846 | gen)

that ultra-kind of love (you never walk away from) (509 | teen)

Let Go (509 | explicit)

Anything for love (790 | teen)

moonlit bonding (388 | teen)

blow my candle (290 | explicit)

Strangers Passing (380 | teen)

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #steddie smut #steddie au #eddie x steve #my writing

[hayakawalove]

Nightmares

Summary: How do you comfort the strongest man alive? Even though Suguru had passed on, Satoru was still haunted by the memories of him. A/N: Hello! This is just something I've thought about before. I feel like Gojo probably thinks about Suguru often. TW: Angst with happy ending, nightmares

W/C: 1,584

Satoru never came home early. He was always out on missions into the late hours of the night. His version of coming home early was coming home at 11 pm, but you weren’t complaining. As long as he came home safe, that was all that mattered. 

You were in a deep sleep in your shared bed when you felt the mattress dip. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know Satoru’s lithe body crawled up beside you, sparing you a kiss on the cheek, and sliding under the blankets. He pulled your body close to his and you were once again plunged into sleep. 

You hear it before you feel it. Quick heavy breaths to your right fill the quiet room. You emerge from your sleep hearing Satoru panting. Quick, rapid breaths fill your ears. Next, you feel his body tense up beside yours. Your eyes squint as you look past him towards your beside clock. 

4 am. 

Reaching up, you brush a hand against his cheek. Satoru’s eyebrows pull together tightly, his full lips dipping down slightly into a frown. Anyone could tell he was having a nightmare. Everyone glorifies Satoru, and for good reason. But it can be hard to imagine someone as strong as him suffering from nightmares just like anyone else. But Satoru got them quite frequently, even though he would never admit it. 

“Satoru.” you whisper, gliding your hand back and forth over his cheek. 

He breathes in a sharp inhale before mumbling something. You wouldn’t be able to understand it even if you tried. You sit up beside him and brush his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Sticky strands slide up his pale skin, moonlight flooding in from behind you, illuminating his bright lashes. 

“Satoru, wake up. You’re dreaming.” You talk louder this time. 

He mumbles another word before his eyes bolt open. Beautiful blues stare blankly at the ceiling before landing on your face and focusing. 

While you couldn’t understand most of what he said, you did understand the last part. 

Suguru. 

His best friends name fell from his lips before he was harshly awoken. 

“Hey.” Your hand caresses his face once more before landing on his chest. 

You can feel the pounding underneath his rib cage. It thumped in his chest so hard you were surprised it didn’t burst from it. 

Satoru never failed to mention how he was the strongest, but in moments like this you were reminded just how human he was. Your heart ached to do something, to fix something for him. 

Satoru’s lips form as if he was about to speak, but nothing comes out. Now that his eyes were open, you could see the tears that lined his lashes. Salt water clings to the white hair, desperate to fall. 

“It was just a dream.” You lay down beside him, pulling his body close to your chest. 

He shivers under your grasp. His large hands cling at your body for dear life as he tries to ground himself. 

“Do you wanna talk about it? What did you dream?” You ask. 

You know the answer. Satoru fought many monsters, but he never had nightmares about them. 

No, there was only one person that plagued his sleeping brain. 

“I saw him…” You wait for him to continue, but several minutes pass by before he does. 

“I saw Suguru.” His voice sounds clipped. Hurt. Broken. 

You remain quiet as you hear Satoru attempt at breathing deep. His heart slows, but you can still feel him tremble beside you. 

“He was at the school… he was right there.” Satoru speaks your name so softly you feel your heart shatter in two. 

“I kept calling his name but he wouldn’t look at me. I couldn’t… I couldn’t get to him.” Satoru’s voice cracks at that. 

You feel him begin to shake like a leaf as his tears finally fall. He makes no noise as he cries, and you don’t see his face. But you’ve been together long enough to know. You run your fingers through his hair while he cries into your neck. Tears spill down your throat, causing a sharp chill to run up your spine. 

You want to tell him that it’ll be okay, but you don’t know that. You don’t know the pain he’s going through, you’ve never lost a friend in the same way he has. So you don’t say anything. You stay quiet as the powerful sorcerer breaks in front of you. 

Satoru, oh Satoru. Your Satoru. Outside these four walls he belonged to everyone else. But here, in your house, he belonged to you. Here, he could fall apart.  

The two of you stayed like that for a long time. You knew tears weren’t falling anymore as your neck had dried, but he kept crying. Satoru cried for his lost best friend until his tears ran dry. He cried for what could’ve, should've been, but wasn’t. 

He pulls back and peers up at your face. Your chest twists at the distraught expression that lined his features. Brows tightly knit together with worry lines donning his forehead. You weren’t used to seeing him in so much pain, it felt wrong. It was a crime against nature to not see joy radiate from him. Usually his smile and laughter filled the room. Just as much as you could feel his happiness, you could also feel the absence of it. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” You gently say. 

Satoru pulls back, and lays on his back. You hear him swallow audibly, his throat raw. 

“Do you know what it’s like to see everything? To have the ability for nothing to go unseen? But somehow I missed him right in front of me.” 

Your eyes scan his face. His face is twisted almost in thought. 

“I see everything. But I couldn’t see him.” 

If you didn’t have to be strong for him you were sure you would’ve lost it. 

“No, that’s not right. Maybe I did see him. I saw all the warning signs, but I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.” 

You listen as he pours his heart out to you. In quiet moments like this you are reminded at just how human Satoru really is. He laughs when he experiences joy, but he also cries when his heart aches for his lost friend. 

“It wasn’t on you Satoru. You were just a kid.” 

You know your words are useless, but you feel the urge to say them anyway. You know Satoru blames himself for it, and probably will for the rest of his life. 

“He’s my best friend. I didn’t want to think that he felt like that. I wanted him to be okay. I wanted us to be okay.” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. You never saw Satoru break a sweat before, but right now you saw perspiration lay across his forehead in a thin sheen. 

“I don’t think he blamed you. He didn’t leave because of you Satoru. You cared for him. That must have meant the world to him.” 

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” Satoru says, his voice trailed off. 

You clench your fists under the blankets as you will yourself not to cry. How bad was Satoru hurting all this time? How heavy was the weight on his shoulders? 

“He should blame me.” Satoru whispers before sliding his palm against his forehead, pulling a face when he realizes how sweaty he is. 

“You can’t save everyone Satoru. It shouldn’t rest on you to fix the world. He loved the time you shared, you did way more good for him than you credit yourself for.” You sit up again and pull his hand away from his face. 

You press a kiss to his palm, and then his head and pull back to look down at him again. His eyes search yours for answers but all you can do is stare back with love. His eyes look less empty as love begins to fill them. 

“I love you.” He whispers to you. 

“I love you too.” 

You smile down at him before pulling the blankets down his body. 

“Let’s get in the shower real quick.” You say, grabbing his hand. 

He slowly rises from the comfort of the bed and follows behind you. 

The light of the bathroom flicks on once you enter. You make quick work of removing your clothes, and peeling Satoru’s off. His eyes look tired as he watches you. You couldn’t change the past, but you could help with this. 

The water turns on and you and Satoru slide in. You focus more on cleaning his body as you showered right before bed. He had to bend over so you could lather his hair, careful not to let any of the soap drip into his face. His muscles spanned underneath your finger tips as you coated him with soap, washing away every remnant of the lingering dream. 

He allowed you to dry him off as well. You would dress him if he needed it, but he was able to slide on new clothes. You tear away the sweat drenched covers, grabbing fresh ones. You couldn’t change Satoru’s life, but you could help with the small menial tasks. 

The bed was way more welcoming once you laid down in it again. Satoru’s body felt heavy beside yours as the two of you drew nearer to sleep. 

“Thank you.” You hear him murmur. 

You rest a hand against him before going back to sleep.

#my writing #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[randomshyperson]

Bruised Love - Spider!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: A short tale about the unusual romance of the most powerful sorceress in the universe and the spider girl. Or, it takes some misunderstandings, five years of blip and a memory spell for you and Wanda to find your way back to each other. | Requested

Warnings: (+16), mild angst with happy ending, making out, some violence and mentions of blood, age gap (before the blip), friends to strangers to lovers, love confessions, some magic too, canon divergence | Words: 8.021k

A/N-> Someone said 'please write something with Spider!Reader and Wanda' after I wrote a one with Nat, and it only took me a few months to get something done. It's not a series, but I think it's big enough. I thought the ending was a little dark, but it will stay that way. Hope you like it, and if you have any ideas I would love to hear them, I finally cleared my request list. By the way, I didn't proofread the text, sorry for any mistakes I'm lazy and busy.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

You swung around and climbed through your floor window into the Avengers Complex as quietly as your current injuries would allow. 

In other words, you made a lot of noise.

Wanda caught you keeping one of the jugs in the hallway from falling to the floor and was just as surprised at your condition as you were to see her.

"Oh, hey, I didn't know there were people home." You greeted clumsily, trying to disguise the way you were limping and forcing a smile past the pain. Wanda, of course, didn't buy it one bit - Red Threads pushed the vase away from your hands as she approached with a worried expression.

"Were you hit by a car by any chance?" She questioned, her eyes scanning the bruises on your face. You laughed, discreetly holding the wall. 

"Not by a car." You joked, which only worried her more. You were about to clarify that you were fighting a rhino man and that it was a pretty bad fight when everything started to go dark. Wanda held you by the waist, and you gasped in pain.

"Come sit down, dorogoya." You heard her whisper, letting yourself be carried into her room - next to yours, from which Wanda had emerged when she found you coming in through the window. 

Wanda sat you on the bed and waited for you to be able to breathe normally, as she sat across from you on a stool that she made float to her.

She used magic to bring a medical kit from the bathroom as well.

"Why are you here?" You asked breathlessly, and she blinked her eyes in surprise. With a chuckle, you clarified, "I thought the whole team was going to be out."

"You expected an empty tower and you chose here and not a hospital?" She returned with a question, her eyebrow raised. Her hands were busy opening the kit, and yours were squeezing your ribs where you had taken a few hundred blows.

"I didn't.... want to risk exposing myself." You mutter weakly, not having the strength to resist when Wanda approaches you and begins to pull your shirt up in the intention of seeing the size of the damage. "Doctors ask questions."

But Wanda barely heard her explanation, shock on her face as she saw the size of the bruises. 

"For Christ's sake, Y/N." She grumbled worriedly, risking pressing her fingers together only for you to jump away, whimpering in pain. "I think it broke."

"Don't worry about it. Spider power, and all. It'll heal." You retort breaking into a cold sweat but forcing a smile at her. "I just need some patches. Much like you, I guess." You comment on the countless times Wanda would finish off some superficial scars or bruises on her face. Her magic made the greater work.

She sighs but eventually accepts it. She starts preparing the bandages, and you push one foot gently over hers, drawing her attention back to you.

"So...why didn't you go with the others to Berlin?" you ask.

All the Avengers were away from the tower for the resolutions of the Sokovia Accords. When Tony Stark showed up on your doorstep almost six months ago saying he needed your help in a fight with Captain America, you laughed at the invitation. First, you thought that the heroes had finally gone crazy. Then, you thought it was a joke that a billionaire was at your door asking you to surrender your freedom for the American government to turn you into a weapon. And finally, you managed to talk some sense into a shaken and guilty Tony Stark. You convinced him not to face his friends, and Iron Man and his economic power changed the game. The political tension was still there, but the Avengers were not criminals, and the rest of the heroes of the world were free, and that was enough for the moment.

You knew that these meetings with the United Nations were more frequent, especially with Wakanda exposed to the world and working with the Avengers now, so the team had been quite busy.

Wanda should have gone with them to Germany, on some other humanitarian mission but she was here.

And she looked away to the pieces of cotton when you asked.

"I didn't want to go." She mutters. "I thought it was better that way."

Only by studying her reaction, you could tell what it was.

"This is about your powers, isn't it?" You asked anyway, and Wanda shrugged, confirming your conclusion. "They have to stop bringing Lagos up, you saved Steve's life and-"

"It's not their fault." Wanda cut in with a sad smile, "It's just me. Steve, Nat, and even Tony were okay with me being there. But I just don't..."

Wanda fell silent, and you ignored the pain to straighten up and take her hand. She shuddered in the same way, tense as if she expected to make your injuries worse.

"I think you'll be missed on the mission." You say gently, catching the small smile that appears on her lips as she stares at your fingers together. "They could use your magic for basically anything. Especially carrying boxes of supplies." You tease at the last, earning a chuckle. Wanda moves her hands away to start treating your face, and you try not to stare so hard.

"What happened to you?" she asks, trying to be gentle as she cleans the cuts. 

You sigh softly. "You'll probably see it on TV, but I just sent another supervillain to Raft. Sytsevich, or as he prefers to be called Rhino. Do you think it's strange how many villains dressed as animals I have to face?" You joke, getting another laugh out of her.

"You fought a lizard man before you came here, right?" she asks casually, but you raise an eyebrow.

"Have you been stalking me, Maximoff?" You retort provocatively, and Wanda laughs past the slight pink that appears on her cheeks.

"For your information, Captain gave us a file on you as soon as Tony said he wanted to recruit you." She explains, switching the cheek and apologizing with a glance when you shudder softly. "Speaking of which, you haven't accepted it yet."

You sigh softly, biting the inside of your cheek. Wanda waits, the gentle movements on your face, and after a moment, you say:

"I guess I'm scared too, Wands."  You confess with a sad smile, and Wanda hesitates with cotton against your cheek, her gaze concerned and curious. You swallow dryly before continuing. "Being an avenger is different from being the neighborhood friend. I'm afraid of what the change might mean for my Aunt May, for example. And I'm still going to college, what would it be like to be an Avenger and be on campus? What if some of these villains dressed as animals decide to invade a classroom because of me? I wouldn't forgive myself..."

"I get that." Wanda says, putting down the cotton to get a bandage. "None of us want to be responsible for people getting hurt."

You nod, but when you go to thank Wanda, you feel a sharp twinge in your rib and gasp in pain. She looks at you with concern, and you can barely force a smile to reassure her.

"Y/N, maybe I should take you..."

"No, no doctors." You interrupt her weakly. "P-perhaps, you can..."

But Wanda pulls her hands away at the same second, insecurity in her gaze. "No, I don't want to make things worse."

You give a weak laugh, shaking your head. "It's already broken, there's no way it could get worse."

"I could disintegrate it." She justifies seeming to want to talk some sense into you, but only makes you laugh softly.

"Great idea, if it doesn't exist it won't hurt." You joke, but Wanda just grunts impatiently. She makes mention of getting up, and you push the pain away to hold her forearm. "Come on, Witchy, please. I trust you."

"But I don't trust me!" She aggressively hits back, and you blink in surprise. Wanda looks away, swallowing in shame for snapping out of it, and before she can apologize, you are speaking again.

"You know I have a spider-sense. It works for danger, even when I'm asleep." You begin, taking Wanda's hand in yours and bringing it up to your face again. "And even when stay here for our movies nights and sleep next at your bed or even so when you use your magic on me, it never warns me. It knows that you are not a threat, not dangerous. I wish you could see that too."

Wanda feels her face heat up, and her eyes fill with tears. You only smile at her, and she sighs before lowering her hand to your ribcage. 

"Promise you'll tell me if your ribs disintegrate." She mutters getting a loud laugh that ends in a grunt of pain.

"Stop being funny, I'm in pain." You complain softly, and she giggles as well before letting the magic out of her fingers. 

You gasp immediately, and Wanda almost loses concentration entirely when your face falls on her shoulder, one hand squeezing her arm. Your rib returns to its place, and you stifle a whimper of pain on Wanda's skin.

"There, there, that wasn't so bad, right?" She whispers low, the magic still tingling on your skin as she uses her other hand to stroke your back.

"That was incredible, I'll tell Aunt May there's a potential nurse on the team." You joke, getting a small chuckle from the other, who gently pushes you back to the couch. 

"I'll get some painkillers for you, milashka." She warns as she gets up, and you think you blinked for only two seconds, but it was clearly for about five minutes.

Wanda gives you medicine and helps you to the bed. 

"Hey, Witchy." You call out to her before she can take the dirty cottons to the trash. "Movie night when I wake up?"

The invitation makes her smile. She knows you'll probably sleep for good hours and most likely have to go home when you wake up so May won’t kill you, but she agrees nonetheless.

Her smile stays in your head until you fall asleep.

–//–

You were eight years younger than Wanda. 

In the compound, surrounded by the Avengers, watching Sitcoms in her bed or training together it didn't matter.

At your high school graduation, with all those teenagers and teachers, Wanda could feel the difference.

She wasn't old, she was just older than you.

"I don't have to be a telepath to know something is wrong." Natasha's voice makes the brunette pull back in fright slightly. Wanda swallows dryly, looking away from your figure talking to a group of friends ahead. "Are you really going to keep hiding here and not talk to Y/N? She was particularly insistent on your presence today."

Wanda sighs, shifting her gaze to her feet and hiding better behind the pilasters the school has organized for the graduate's event. Unlike the rest of the Avengers - who caused a commotion by doing so - Wanda hadn't gone to greet you yet.

"I can't do this, Nat." The brunette murmured, looking down as the widow watched her reactions. "She...cares about me, I know she does. And I'm too old to be a crush."

Natasha sighs softly, uncrossing her arms and looking at Wanda sympathetically. "Now you're just being hard on both of you." Said the Widow, waiting for the brunette to look away from you and at her. "I'm sure if you were honest with her, Y/N would be willing for this to be more than a crush, Wanda."

But the brunette swallows dryly, denying it with her head. Her attention returns to you - laughing out loud with your friends, looking so at ease - before saying to her colleague: 

"She's only 18, Tasha. I can't demand that she decide her future now." Witch begins. "She's already told Tony that she's not joining the Avengers. She's going to get a degree first, and maybe work for some time with Bruce in the lab after that. None of those plans include me."

"But she doesn't know..."

"It doesn't matter." Wanda cuts in with a sad smile. "I couldn't shove those feelings onto her, and demand that she doesn't follow her dreams because I want to start a family. It wouldn't be fair."

"Is that what you're going to do?" Natasha asks a little surprised. "Start a family, I say."

Wanda sighs, attention returning to you for another moment. "Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that." Wanda confesses. "Especially now, when half the team is retiring. Tony and Pepper are getting married in the summer, Steve and James are buying an apartment together, and even you and Agent Hill are full of little whispers all around."

Natasha chuckles, looking away so Wanda can't see the color of her cheeks.

The witch takes the opportunity to continue talking, "I just mean that I always wanted a house. My parents, they were happy together. Raising me, and Pietro. I think about that. A small family, maybe two kids too, and a dog." She comments with a smile, but Natasha looks at Wanda with some uncertainty.

"What about the partner? Do you see yourself alone or with someone by your side?"

Wanda hesitates, her gaze locked on you. She knows the answer very well but chooses to clear her throat gently and force a smile.

"I could do it alone." She says, and Natasha sighs in surrender about insisting.

"At least wish her congratulations, Maximoff." The widow reminds, and Wanda nods in understanding, taking a deep breath to push any insecurities down before approaching where you are.

–//–

Wanda's plan was to let the distance keep you away because she simply didn't have the heart to do it.

If you noticed something was different, college kept you busy enough not to say.

Wanda figured it was working - She got a house, and started writing for a small company - the money was decent and at least she could stay away from Avengers work -  she also started doing Yoga.

And you called every Wednesday.

You seemed fine - happy, at least. You were tired, of course. Besides classes at NYU, occasionally Wanda would see you swinging between the buildings of New York while she write or have some tea, you were always busy with one police call or another, the new suit Tony gave you shining in the sky. 

And sometimes, you would stumble on her fire escape. Covered with soot, and blood.

Aunt May would be worried sick, and you refused to become an Avenger. Wanda's was the only place you could go.

She would nurse your injuries, but not without complaining. Because you were worrying her to death, and she only wished you'd be more careful. And you had to explain that it wasn't your fault you got shot. Almost always, you fell asleep on her couch, and Wanda wondered when the feelings would go away.

When your first semester was over, and all your colleagues had had too much to drink, you appeared at Wanda's window.

You arrived almost together with her, actually. It was Friday, and it was the first time she had accepted Vision's invitation. She was convinced that she could move on, the date had been nice and he was gentle, so of course, you had to stumble into the apartment all of a sudden.

You never drank, but Wanda wanted to laugh at the image of you apologizing to the window you bumped into.

She helped you stand properly, leading you into the kitchen for a glass of water while you tried to explain that everyone was celebrating and that you just wanted to be with someone you liked and Wanda had to disguise the way her hands were shaking when she handed you the glass.

"Why are you all dressed up, Maximoff?" You asked before taking a sip of the water, your back resting on the counter. Wanda cleared her throat, twiddling her fingers.

"I went out." She answered vaguely and thanked the alcohol for your difficulty in keeping up with the conversation at speed. "You can have the couch, and there's stuff in the fridge if you're hungry..."

Wanda was trying to escape to the bedroom, but you straightened up once she went to pass you, standing in her way. She gasped softly, her heart racing in her ears when you raised a hand to her cheek.

"I came here to say something." You start low, your voice husky. You blink a few times as if trying to concentrate and laugh breathlessly afterward. "I had a few beers to build up courage, but I think that was a bad idea." You joke, but Wanda can feel the desperation growing in her chest. 

"Y/N..."

"No, I need to say." You mutter, not noticing her hesitation because you are too nervous and drunk. Your other hand reaches for her face as well. Alcohol and nervousness make your thoughts very loud and clear to her. Wanda sees flashes of drunk young idiots making jokes about your hot avenger friend that you don't laugh at, and she also sees a blonde girl say that sometimes it takes more courage to confess to someone you really love. She's beautiful, and she's the same age as you. She seemed to expect a confession, and Wanda thinks it's right for her to receive it. Her stomach churns. "Wanda, I am-"

"I'm with Vision." She cuts you off, surprising you completely. It's not exactly a lie. She is, for a few weeks now, trying with Vision. He was more eager than she was. It was new, but it was something. 

Wanda swallowed dryly, moving her hands to yours. 

"B-but, Wands..." You tried, not resisting when she pushed your hands away gently.

"I was with him tonight. He asked me out, and I said yes." She continued in the least affected way she manages. She can feel her eyes burning, and unlike her, you sniffle softly, the alcohol taking away most of your ability to hide what you feel.

"What? When..." You stammer, and Wanda decides that this is the time. She lifts her chin and takes a deep breath.

"You've got things mixed up. I must be to blame for that, I didn't make it clear that I don't see you that way." She stated, her chest burning painfully at your expression of shock and hurt. "We would never work out because you're just a kid and-"

You break her speech with an incredulous laugh, turning away and Wanda uses that time to take a deep breath and not lose her composure right away. “What are you even saying?”  You retorted in the same tone, running a hand through your hair. "You and Vision? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Wanda felt a wave of irritation fill her chest. "What do you mean by that?"

You laughed again, turning back to look at her. "Exactly what I said. Vision, Wanda? Of all people. A damn piece of tin. If you want to reject me, at least be honest about your feelings."

Wanda felt her cheeks burn. Good, your drunk version was mean. 

"As you wish." She retorts between teeth. "I don't feel the same way about you." The lie burns in her throat, but she holds your gaze, only to see irritation give way to uncertainty and hurt that almost make her take back what she said.

But that only lasts half a minute. 

"I don't believe you." That's what you say before you move forward. Wanda goes backward in the same second, feeling her back slam hard against the cooler.

"W-what are you doing?" She asks in a shaky voice, raising one of her hands to your shoulder because suddenly your distance is decreasing too fast and she can't breathe properly. Wanda chokes when you slide one leg between hers, pressing your knee up. She bites her lips hard, holding her sighs in and shuddering when your hands firm on her waist, your face returning to hers.

"You keep saying things, but your body says something else." You whisper, brushing your lips together and Wanda loses it. She gasps when you break the distance, another sinful sound when you hold her tight and kiss her back. Her hands go up into your hair, and everything gets intense and hungry and she wants to remember why she resisted it for so long but can't formulate any thought with your tongue sucking hers, your body pressing her against the refrigerator.

But then, there is the alcohol. She can taste it, and she cannot, must not, ignore it. You break the kiss for breath, moving your mouth down to her neck and marking and Wanda almost gives up, but she knows she can't. Scarlet magic pushes you away, and you blink in confusion at the sudden cold, both of you breathing hard.

"W-we can't." She declares in a hoarse voice, lips and lower belly tingling. You swallow dryly, an irritation taking over your expression.

"I know he doesn't make you feel that way." You accuse equally affected, taking a step forward, but that was enough for her. She had to blink a few times to understand what you were talking about. Irritation returned when it occurred to her. Vision was her friend, a nice guy. Someone who was willing to keep up with her pace, someone with whom she could pursue a family. The way things were supposed to be, right?

Her magic stops you halfway again. With more force this time, you gasped in surprise.

"I want you to leave." She declared seriously. You swallowed dryly, trying to push the alcohol away completely but your mind just wouldn't obey. Wanda noticed it too and used that to her advantage. "I've never seen you like this because you're young and immature. And showing up drunk in my apartment just proved that. Go home. Walking."

Wanda knew it worked by the hurt in your eyes. You walked out the front door without saying another word, and before you got to the end of the hall, she was crying on the kitchen floor.

If it was the right thing, why did it feel like the end of the world?

You would call her the next day, apologizing profusely for the mess, not really sure if the kiss happened in a dream or not. And without the heart to ask Wanda about it. She assures you that it was no big deal, but she no longer answered your Wednesday calls and was always busy when you invited her to something. 

Her window started to stay locked. It didn't matter much, because, since late fall, you started showing up on Gwen Stacy's fire escape.

–//–

2018 was the worst year of your life.

The next five were bearable, so to speak. 

With the blip, everything changed. You had gone into space after Iron Man, and the very second you came back, and Steve rescued Tony from the spaceship, and you didn't see Wanda, you knew.

And that pain never left your chest.

Not when you agreed to go to England with Gwen, not when you proposed to her.

The lack of Wanda pulsed and burned. It poisoned your veins until you had to drown in the adrenaline of fights you could hardly win.

Gwen noticed, of course, she did. She loved you with all her heart. As young as you, and as full of life and dreams. She chose to stay, despite everything.

You and Gwen returned to the States when you graduated, and while your fiancée was busy with the apartment, you visited the blip victims memorial during the first week.

It took you a few minutes to find Wanda's name. And it was empty today, because of the rain. You didn't care about the water. 

“Hey, witchy.” You muttered under your breath, sniffling lightly. "Wanted to stop by to say hi. I got my degree last week, figured you would be happy." You count, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket. "We could go out and celebrate. I'm finally old enough to buy you a drink." A sob threatened to cut your throat, but you took a deep breath, pushing the emotion away. "Anyway, just so you know, they reconnected Vison last month. He's still a douchebag, but the government people want to use him for the same pretext as Ultron, I think. I didn't quite understand, and honestly, I didn't ask when Tony called. You've always liked him better than me." You play last, kicking the water gently.

Some people walk further away with umbrellas, and you changed the weight on your feet.

"I'm heading back to New York, by the way." You continue. "Now that I've finished college, Banner says I'm welcome to work with him. I'll like it, I think. Gwen is happy to see me working with something that does not involve webs or bandits." The name scratches your throat a little, and you give a tearful smile. "Sorry, I know we never talk about her.”

Making jokes only makes you feel worse, so you straighten your hood and put the flowers you brought on the stone.

"They're for you, Maximoff. I know it's corny, but you love these things." You mumble before getting straightened up again. "Goodbye, Wanda. I’ll try to visit more."

You didn't have to though. Two months later, Scott Lang came out of the quantum realm and saved the day (and thus the universe). 

Wanda hadn't changed a bit; she was even wearing the same costume in which she disappeared from Wakanda. Five years simply did not pass for her, unlike for you.

The first thing you looked at was her eyes. The first thing she noticed was the ring on your finger.

"Wands... you're here." You gasped, not caring about the fighting around you, or the explosions or anything but the woman you're seeing for the first time in five years, who though confused by the whole thing, ran to hug you too. You held her tightly, lifting her feet off the ground and Wanda laughed, hiding her face in your collarbone. 

"We have to fight." She reminded as soon as you set her down again, and you nodded, swallowing dryly and trying to find the strength to break the embrace. "Y/N, the fight."

"Right, right." You muttered as you let go, laughing impressed, and with tear-filled eyes. "But then, I'm taking you out for coffee."

Wanda chuckled shyly, looking at you one last time before fighting back. 

And you didn't stop until Tony snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of war all at once. Dressed in black, a flower for each limb fallen in battle. If you closed your eyes, you could still see their deaths.

Coffee with Wanda was postponed until after Tony and Natasha's memorial service. The widow had a much smaller and more intimate ceremony than the Iron Man - Back in Ohio, with Yelena, Melina, and Barton. 

You met Wanda in a cafe below her old apartment, now gone because in the blip the place had been absorbed by the government.

Wanda was the one who arrived late, which was different from all the other times you had met.

You stood up to greet her and hugged her for longer than a friend would, but neither of you cared. It's been five fucking years.

Wanda sat down first, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, stealing glances until the other had the courage to speak. The subject was casual until the first few sips of your drink.

"That's new." Wanda commented, briefly pointing to the shiny ring on your finger. You chuckled awkwardly, hiding your hand on instinct and without realizing it.

"Yeah, not exactly." You murmured tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess for you only, because of the blip and all, but Gwen and I have been engaged for a year and a half."

Wanda hums impressed - not exactly sure if that is the word she would use to describe the sharpness that wants to escape her sigh - and I decide to take another sip as you speak, not trusting what she really wants to say on the subject.

You clear your throat quietly. "The world has been crazy, and we were hoping to find the right moment to make it official. I think now, with everyone back, it will be easier to choose."

Wanda forced a smile, her stomach churning. She tried to imagine you marrying someone, and suddenly she didn't want to drink anymore.

"I'm happy for you." It wasn't entirely a lie, she was glad that you had moved on because you seemed happy and that was enough. No matter how much it hurt. 

You smiled small, taking a sip before speaking again:

"I've been meaning to ask you...have you talked to Vis yet?"

Wanda blinked in surprise. Vision? Yes, she saw him. Five years ago with a hole in his head that she caused, and then in the fight, completely different and cold. A machine, and it was probably the first time she had seen him for what he really was.

It was Wanda's turn to clear her throat hesitantly, looking at the peeling nail polish on her fingers for a second.

"Yeah, I... it didn't go very well." She confesses with a forced laugh. "Whatever was human about him is gone with the stone."

Wanda expected you to mock her - or say I told you so - but you reached out for her forearm and gave her a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, Wands." That's what you said, and Wanda thinks she fell in love with you even more at that second. 

She would have leaned in, broken the distance, and done anything to know the feeling she had been craving to feel again since it happened for the first time, but your cell phone vibrated and you got out of the table, and soon you walked away saying that your fiancée missed you and despite the jealousy burning in her stomach, Wanda only felt the cold. She stayed in the café until it closed, staring at your empty seat and feeling her cheeks tingle where you had kissed her goodbye for all the time she sat there. 

Wondering how could she have lost you so easily.

–//–

The Blip returned half of the criminals and supervillains, so you left the labs and went back into the buildings.

It was dangerous and risky, but you were more experienced too. Stronger. Arrogant.

"You don't have to go." It wasn't the first time Gwen had asked, nor would it be the last you were sure. You were in your shared apartment, and it was a quiet night until the first siren. "Maybe someone else-"

"There's no one else, Gwen." You interrupt her with your mask in hand. It's true. The Avengers were gone, Tony, Nat, and Steve were seven feet off the ground, Clint and Wanda were retired and Sam was in another state with Bucky. New York was yours to protect. You put on your mask, but you went back to your fiancée: "I'll be right back, you won't even have time to miss me. Put the popcorn in the microwave, I'll be back before the commercials."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Parker." She retorted pinching you gently in the ribs but smiling. 

You laughed softly before turning to the window, following the sounds of the explosions.

You returned in time to finish the game but two weeks later, on your way back from the supermarket, you welcomed an old friend waiting for you at the door.

Harry Osborn was as ill as his father had been before he died. He expected the same fate, even though after Tony had stopped making weapons, the Stark industries had made way for the Oscorp company, and Harry's family to make a considerable fortune, and more than enough for him to find treatment for it. 

Gwen was working, and couldn't join you at the café. That's when Harry revealed his intention to ask an enhanced human for help. 

You knew that your father's spider project was specifically for your blood and that donating to Harry would kill him. You didn't want to live with that guilt, so you didn't tell him about your secret identity. Maybe your biggest mistake was lying to your friend, or maybe it was not listening to Gwen and retiring.

In any case, less than a month later, you had to face Harry - no, the green goblin. Harry was gone. That creature was not your friend. Harry would never have hurt Gwen.

She was buried in New York, unlike him, who was taken back to England.

It was all over the news, but you weren't in New York to welcome Clint Barton with flowers to your door.  - having gone to London for Harry's memorial service as if you hadn't been the one to stick a piece of metal in his chest.

On your first night back in New York, you drank heavily and were consumed with the overwhelming urge to go up to Wanda's old apartment, even though you knew she no longer lived there. In fact, you had no idea where she was, not since that coffee. She was gone from your life like five years ago, and you were too busy to investigate it.

So you came home and slept on the couch. Spider Woman became strangely aggressive with criminals after that.

When Quentin Beck came into your life, he expected someone easy to fool. Tony left a few things for you, but everything was a personal treasure. When Beck realized that he couldn't trick you for those belongings, he tried to steal them. And soon, the whole thing revealed itself.

You killed him on the Brooklyn Bridge, and he revealed your identity to the world. 

Most people, like your neighbor at No. 23 were more shocked to see the sweet girl who helped you with your groceries murder a man with her bare hands than to know who was behind the mask. 

Bucky called, said he understood, and that if you wanted to spend a few days in his apartment, the place was yours. He practically lived with the Wilsons now anyway.

You accepted because you were kicked out of your old one. 

Your life was turned upside down, and so are you now, hanging from a building.

You were thinking about how everything wasn't fair. From Aunt May having to deal with the loss of donations at the foundation to graffiti from 'The spider is a Murderer' that she had to mobilize half the staff to clean up for, to Gwen losing her life because she chose to stay with you. 

And the idea of changing that occurs to you. 

Because you have had enough contact with magic to know that it is possible. You could at least help May get her job back. 

Your first and natural choice was Wanda, but nobody knew about her. You had to turn to Stephen Strange, therefore.

"I just want to make things right." That's what you told him, receiving an understanding sigh in return.

"I haven't had a chance to say it yet, but I'm sorry about Miss Stacy." He retorted tenderly, a hand on your shoulder, and you felt something burn behind your eyes. You forced a smile and nodded.

"Thank you, Strange."  You said. 

He led you into another room, intent on performing the spell, and you were impressed enough to babble a little.

"[...] again, thank you for doing this, I would have gone to Wanda but she's gone AWOL so I guess in the end she won't mind it." You counter with a forced laugh, your stomach clenching at the possibility that Wanda might forget about you entirely.

Strange - hands glistening as you do the spell - frown slightly.

"You didn't hear about Westview, did you, girl?" He asks and you blink in confusion.

Ten minutes later, there is a broken spell and you are fleeing with a cube at high speed.

The news that Wanda has lost control, kidnapped a town, and created a fake family made you realize the gravity of what you were doing.

But interrupting Strange's spell only made things worse. Over the next few hours, you fell into one of the greatest adventures you have ever experienced: alternate versions of yourself against versions of villains even worse than the ones you actually faced.

In the end, the green goblin, now not Harry but his father, took from you the only person you had left and confirmed that those who know your identity always end up in danger. With Aunt May's death, you asked Strange to complete the spell for good and after saying goodbye to your alternate selves, you hugged Stephen too, and he told you to go home. You asked him where Wanda was living.

Before stepping off  Manhattan, no one else knew your name anymore.

–//–

It took a few days since you arrived in Salem to find Wanda. This was because the city was quite different from New York, and didn't have as many buildings for you to hang around and look for her.

It reminded you of England at times, but you didn't like to think about Gwen.

You knew there must be a lot of witches there, because your spidey sense was on alert all the time, and it was hard to fall asleep. And it was just when you were considering giving up the search that you found her.

Or rather put, she did, and even saved your ass.

You had jumped on a roof, not because of your search but because you saw a colorful butterfly and photography was still a passion. But before you could click, something pulled you by the ankle until you ended up upside down, many feet off the ground.

"You picked the wrong house to rob, child." It was a brunette woman with a stern expression, and she was wearing an old purple blanket that surprised you a little. You noticed that what was keeping you pinned down was magic of the same color, and when you tried to struggle, your backpack fell open with your belongings on the floor, making you grunt angrily.

"I'm not a thief! Nor a child." You defended yourself, realizing that fighting the magic was useless. "I'm looking for someone."

"On the roof?" She questioned with disbelief and irony.

"No, I just went to take a picture..."

"Agatha, for the love of christ, what are you doing?" Shouted a female voice from downstairs that you knew well. You looked over, feeling your heart racing in your chest at seeing Wanda again - a few bags in her hands as if she had come from the market. Because of the tree branches in her field of vision, she was trying to move her head to the side to see you clearly. This Agatha woman just sighed impatiently.

"Looking after the house, just like you wanted." Grumbled the other, and suddenly, the magic on your ankle loosened. 

You fell hard against the branches, and the impact would have been much greater but scarlet sparks kept you from hitting the ground with force.

As soon as you felt the grass your hands, there was someone kneeling beside you.

"Y/N, how did you-when...?" Wanda started, clearly shocked to see you again.

You had prepared a speech, a story to try to break the spell little by little for Wanda. But apparently it didn't work for her, and it brought you such immediate relief that you were teary-eyed without realizing it.

"Hi." You gasped affected, and Wanda smiled, moving her hands to help you stand.

"Come, we should talk." She says gently, waving her fingers for your belongings to gather inside the bag and return to your hand. 

As you enter, the woman on the roof comes down and you can hear her and Wanda arguing before your friend appears again with a soft grimace.

"I swear, that old hag gets on my nerves." She complains as she approaches. "Can you believe she turned the delivery boy into a porcupine last week? Terrible."

You laughed half-heartedly, only to grunt in pain as you felt your face burn. Wanda frowned slightly in concern, and you could feel your blush when she suddenly approached.

"Let's take care of those cuts." She murmured, leading the way into a living room.

The whole setting was very beautiful - A Victorian manor house with dark wallpaper in an atmosphere charged with magic. You left your backpack on one of the sofas and sat down in an armchair while Wanda occupied a stool she brought in front of you.

You were very impressed that a medical kit simply appeared in her hands, but you didn't ask about it.

"I wasn't sure about coming." That was the first thing you confessed as she opened the small suitcase, an indecipherable expression on her face. "In fact, I wasn't even sure if you would know who I was."

Wanda chuckled dry, meeting your gaze for a second.

"Strange did a good job, but witches take precautions. I was protected by runes when it happened." She retorted, wetting alcohol on a cotton pad. "I was more impressed that you turned to him for help."

There was a bitterness in her voice, but you didn't flinch.

"You wouldn't do it." You say, and Wanda looks at you. "Aside from the fact that you've gone AWOL, I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't agree for me to be alone."

"You're not..." She starts, but bites her tongue. Wanda swallows dryly, and looks down at her hands. "I'm sorry about May. And Gwen too."

You straighten up in your chair.

"Aunt May died when I was a public enemy, so I wasn't bothered by the lack of a crowd at her memorial. But Gwen? Even the folks from Wakanda were there. But not you, Wanda." You say, and it is her turn to move uncomfortably in her seat. But you don't care. "Did I do...something wrong?" You ask unsurely, attracting her immediate attention. "I just, you shut me out, Wands. We were... We were so close. You used to be my best friend. But suddenly we grew distant, and the blip came. When you came back, I thought we could be friends again, but you disappeared. And I lost Gwen, and I thought that we would see each other at least at the memorial service, but you didn't even send a card. Then I find out that you've kidnapped a town e-arhg-"

Your statement turns into a grunt of pain when Wanda presses an alcohol directly against your cut cheek. You grumble, but she just sighs loudly.

"Sorry, you were...making me nervous." She retorts half embarrassed, swiping the cotton more lightly. "I'm really sorry, okay, for disappearing. I needed some time to absorb everything, and then I lost control. And you had a life, it wasn't your responsibility to deal with this. With me."

You raise a hand to her forearm, and Wanda swallows dryly as she stops her movements. "It's not about being a responsibility to someone else. I care about you. I wish I could have been there for you."

"You were." She confesses in a small voice, and you frown in confusion. Wanda cringes, retracting her hand and turning her gaze back to her own lap. "I bought a house in Westview before the blip, a new place with enough room for a writing room. And well lit for...photographs. Vis had just asked me to get engaged."

"Oh." You gasp in surprise, but Wanda gives you a sad smile.

"I said no." She clarifies by swallowing dryly. "He understood, of course. He said he could wait until I was ready, and I didn't tell him I might never be. I was going to sell the apartment, because I couldn't look at that fire escape without thinking I had ruined us."

You widened your eyes in surprise but didn't interrupt. Wanda began to pull the strands out of the cotton.

"The blip happened before I could move, or sell the apartment. Before I could talk to you." She continued affected. "And when I came back, I just realized I had missed my chance. After that coffee, I left. And when I got to Westview, and saw the wrecked grounds I just wished it had worked out. My magic did the rest."

You swallowed dryly, looking at her intently. "Stephen told me you had a family there."

Wanda shudders, nodding softly. You don't have to insist, because she speaks again. "Twins, Tommy and Billy. They were mine, my babies. And also there was...you."

"Wh-what?" you question with a confused laugh. 

Wanda raises her tear-filled eyes to you. "Just a version of you. One that I didn't kick out of my apartment, but asked to stay. One who kissed me and I made sure she knew how much I loved her back."

You blink in surprise and shock, and Wanda waits a moment of silence before studying the reactions on your face. She is surprised when you suddenly laugh low.

"So that kiss really happened." You murmur with your cheeks a little pink, a smile playing on your lips that makes Wanda's stomach do somersaults. "For years, I thought I had only dreamed it."

"I'm sorry." She says immediately, guilt burning in her throat. But you laugh softly. 

"It's all right." You assure, moving one of your hands to hers in your lap. "Now Westview, tell me more about it..." You asked, drawing patterns on the palm of her hand and making Wanda swallow dryly. "Were we like a family?"

Wanda nods, and you smile at her, leaning in until she loses her breath. But before you can break the distance, she pulls away.

"I can't..." She starts with her chest burning like the back of her eyes. "I'm not a good person anymore, Y/N. The things I did, my mistakes, I just... can't." She declares affected, but you just bring your other hand to hers, pulling it up to your face. 

"Heal me." You ask low, feeling her fingers on your cheek. Wanda frowns, but you smile, "Come on, I know you can do it."

She swallows dryly, but you feel the soft tingle and also her caresses on your cheek. Before Wanda can say it's done, you move her hand to your neck, fingers playing with the hair on your nape.

"Do you feel that? No goosebumps." You begin gently. "My spider sense still trusts you, and so do I. Nothing has changed."

Wanda is unsure of what to believe, shaking her head gently and closing her eyes. You move closer, and rest your forehead on hers.

"You don't need fantasies, Wanda. I'll be your real family if you want me by your side." You said to her, and Wanda sighed before breaking the distance.

The feel of her soft lips was as good as you remembered and get sighs from both of you. 

She kissed you hard, and then gently, trying to put all her apologies into action. You didn't think you needed to, but you understood. 

When you finally let go, breathing out of rhythm against each other's lips, Wanda continued with her hands on your face while yours were firmly on her waist.

"Let me take you out." You say against your lips, a smile forming as in hers. "A real date."

"I'd love to." She says before kissing you again.

Wanda still had what to tell you about. The darkhold in Agatha's basement was one of those things - And so were the whispers of universes where Gwen lived. - But she didn't want to talk about that now. And as far as she knew, what the eye cannot see, the heart cannot feel.

--//--

F/N-> Did you know that in the comics Peter Parker and Wanda team up because they are both deceived by Mephisto? We have to love a pair completely unaware of the dangers of making deals with demons.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader