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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Love your fics so much good lord 🫶🏻 especially your latest smut one. Which made me remember how S3 had some kinda unnecessary sex jokes.. like when Klaus told Five about Lila and Diego doing it one the stairs and Five said yeah I get it everybody was banging everybody last night 😭 kinda had to imagine Five and his wife drinking and spending the night together as well and getting the love he deserves. Not sure if its a smut request you’re interested in but i loved the wedding episode.

Awh- thanks. You're a sweetie! ❤️ I stuck a little twist on this one- I hope that's ok! I have a quirk as an author in that I don't like to explicitly contradict canon plus I would like Five to be physically 18+ canonically when I write about him. We have fluff and mild, romantic smut. Schmaltzier than I'd usually produce, but we all need a little schmaltz now and again.

If Tonight Was Our Last | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.4k words, Rated M

All in all, Diego and Lila’s wedding had been like them: informal, loud and chaotic. The ceremony part was executed in the courthouse as quick as humanly possible in order to get to the important part: dancing and partying in the punk nightclub they’d hired for the evening.

Five hovered awkwardly by the bar. He was wearing what, on reflection, was an entirely inappropriate tuxedo and was becoming uncomfortably sweaty. He watched the crowd dancing to The Sex Pistols, Lila jumping and headbanging with a crazed look in her eye and Diego drinking shot after shot with Luther. He himself ordered a martini and was stirring it with his olive awkwardly, wondering when he could justify leaving.

There was a joy in being part of this family that Five didn’t always appreciate: it presented him countless opportunities to exercise his brain with a conundrum. He knew that spending over forty years in the apocalypse was preferable to both, but whether Lila and Diego's wedding was worse than Luther and Sloane’s, he couldn’t yet decide.

But when his eyes found you, screaming along with Johnny Rotten about how the queen of England wasn’t a human being, he knew that this sweaty, musty club was the only place in the world he’d choose to be right now. You caught his eye, face lighting up and worked your way across the dancefloor towards him. On the way, you stole a tequila slammer off the tray beside Luther and presented it to Five.

Before you pulled him onto the dancefloor with you, he knocked back the shot and chased it with his remaining half martini. Perhaps it was the booze or maybe your hyperactive vibes were infectious, because Five let loose and spent the rest of the night dancing along with The Clash. He got bashed and buffeted by the crowd and his siblings. Since then, Five had drunk heavily. Even if he had a slow start, he more than caught up with the rest of you.

He kissed you several times throughout the evening, when his adrenaline was high and the music pumped with it through his veins. The kisses were hard, boisterous and joy-filled. Once, he lifted you off your feet with the force of it, earning him a small shove from Diego for ‘lowering the tone of the evening’.

Viktor, the only one of you who stayed sober enough to be responsible, had shepherded first Lila and Diego to their hotel room, and then everyone else back to the Academy. He left you and Five still drinking in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms that was occupied by Reginald in years gone by.

A large order of fries and the journey home had sobered you up, but Five’s hand swayed as he tried to pour a glass of his father’s cognac, spilling it all over the side table.

“Ah shit. That was Hennesy,” he murmured, regretfully, wiping it up with a bar towel. He’d already discarded his jacket and now his hand fumbled at his bow tie, removing it and tucking into his pants pocket.

“You shouldn’t have any more,” you said, from the armchair. Your voice was slightly hoarse from having to shout to be heard all night, “you’ve been drinking like it’s your last night on earth.”

Five returned to the handsome chaise lounge with the little drink he’d managed to successfully pour, laughing softly.

“No I haven’t. That was the last wedding I went to.”

“Luther and Sloane’s?” you asked, tentatively.

Five nodded.

He didn’t like to talk about it often. The period following his return to 2019 was a chaotic tumble through timelines and apocalypses. You knew Luther and Sloane got married under the impression that they would all die the next day, but you hadn’t ever asked Five for details. Tonight, however, he seemed open to it.

“When you got twenty-four to forty-eight hours left to live,” he said, laughing reminiscently, “there’s no point in holding back.

I sorta remember making this…punch out of vodka, gin, coconut rum and god knows what else. I drank the whole bowl," he laughed, "Well, wouldn’t you? ” he asked, catching your disapproving eye.

You rocked your head from side to side, weighing it up.

“Probably,” you admitted, “I just don’t like to think about it. As it turned out, you all survived anyway. But that would have been no good if you died from alcohol poisoning.”

He took your hand in the gap between the two pieces of furniture.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, but right then it seemed like a good option.”

You caught his eyes, deep tonight, and saw that he wasn’t as drunk as you thought. His lips twitched into a sad smile as he continued.

“I guess I had nothing else to do. They were all pairing off: Luther and Sloane, Lila and Diego, Klaus and alternate Ben-” he caught your expression and amended himself, “-I don’t mean boning, necessarily…” and then he looked nauseated, “oh god, I really hope not, anyway.”

“You’re a weird family,” you said, matter-of-factly.

“That we are.” he agreed, “At least four of them were going at it, anyway, and there I was trapped in the body of an extra from Bugsy Malone: hormonal, horny as hell and living the last few hours of my life. What is a self-respecting guy supposed to do?”

“Drink and jerk off?”

“Drink and jerk off, correct. You know me so well.”

You smiled, leaned over and poured yourself a small cognac.

“Sounds lonely for your last night on earth.”

He shrugged, reciprocating your raised glass to him before you took a sip. The honey-smelling warmth of the cognac went down nice and easy, even after the tequila and fries.

Five looked into his drink.

“What would you do?” he said, almost too quietly to hear, “on your last night on earth, I mean.”

You don’t hesitate, “I’d spend it with you.”

He smiled down into his glass. It’s one of his arrogant smiles masking the real emotion beneath.

“Of course you would.”

You could always tell when he was hiding emotion by the spots of delicate color he developed high in his cheeks.

“And what about you?” you asked, gently.

He considered, the smile still playing around his lips.

“I’d probably drink and jerk off.”

You laughed and stretched out in the chair, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of being there with him. After a quiet minute, his voice sounded again.

smut below cut

“I’d make love to you.”

You turned your head to look at him, still starting into his drink. It’s not a term you’d ever heard him use before. In day-to-day conversation, he referred to sex as ‘boning’, ‘banging’ or occasionally used a trite metaphor like ‘making the beast with two backs.’ Even in the throes of passion, you’d only ever heard him say that he wanted to ‘fuck’ you.

He looked at you, eyes speaking a depth of feeling you hoped you would never be able to fully share. The look in his eyes brought home the weight of what he was saying: Five knew what it was to face the end of everything. He was saying this with that experience behind him.

“If tonight was our last, I’d want you to know what you mean to me…except words can be blunt instruments, so I’d want to show you…”

He trailed off.

You put down your drink and, drawn like a magnet to his bared vulnerability, joined him on the couch. Eyes not leaving this, you raised your hand to cup his face. As he closed his eyes, you kissed him on the corner of his mouth, hoping that the touch of your lips against him conveyed what you were feeling.

With his eyes still closed, he leaned into your touch almost wearily, rubbing his cheek against your hand and letting out a long breath through his nose.

“Show me now,” you whispered, “as if tonight was our last night.”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and he fixed you with his unwavering gaze. Though the room was dimly lit, what little light there was reflected in his eyes. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours in a soft, tender kiss. His warm lips brushed yours, feather-light. You responded to him eagerly, meeting his affection with your own and wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He deepened the kiss, hands beginning to roam. He caressed you, palms exploring the contours of your body; the landscape of hills and valleys. Though he’d done this countless times before, his touch felt somehow new: sending trembling, fluttering energy across your body. His breath was sweet, tasting of the cognac: you felt and savored the warmth of his mouth on yours

As the kiss reached its peak, you felt a rush of emotion you hadn’t expected: though he was gentle, cherishing and loving, you could nevertheless feel a flavor of desperation behind this kiss. It was as if this really was it; as if tonight really was the last night. He was right: words weren’t enough, and this was the most important thing you and he would ever say to each other.

His fingers became more urgent, slipping beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin beneath. You raised your arms and he lifted it carefully over your head, unable to resist leaning in and peppering your newly exposed skin with kisses before he fully removed it.

Meanwhile, one of your hands popped open the buttons of his shirt while the other traced the lines of his chest and pectorals. When his stomach was revealed, you pulled the fabric apart and snaked both hands in, reveling in his warmth and the soft smattering of hair disappearing into his pants.

Your hands moved in unison, undressing each other with sensual eagerness: not too fast, not too slow, only keen to feel each new inch of flesh as it was exposed. As he reached around to unhook your bra, you worked on freeing him from his pants. You could already feel the arousal beneath.

Before you could remove the fabric around him, he leaned in and captured your newly bared nipple, gently licking and sucking on it. You couldn’t help but moan, even despite the necessity of keeping your voice low. His hand came to rub and softly press your other breast, feeling your shape in the palm of his hand.

At last, you pulled him from his pants, stroking his shaft gently and feeling him grow even harder at your touch. His breath stuttered around your breast.

At last, you sat beside each other naked. His kisses felt like moths’ wings across your breasts, your collarbone, your neck. He leaned towards you, urging you gently backwards until your back hit the velvet of the chaise. You pulled him to you and kissed him again, caressing his lips with your own. When he pulled back, you were surprised to see tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

When he spoke, looking at you with those earnest, sad eyes, it was in a whisper. You had the sense that he didn’t trust his voice any louder.

“If tonight were our last night, I’d want to kiss you like that.”

You stroked his face again and he briefly closed his eyes, one of the tears forming into a drop and running slowly down his cheek. When he opened them, he shifted his kneeling position and you spread your thighs to accommodate him.

“What else would you do?” you asked, your own voice not much more than a whisper.

He lowered himself so that your bodies were pressed together, skin on skin and warmth on warmth.

“I’d want you like this,” he said, “I’d want to be inside you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him gently to you and entwining your body with his. He entered you slowly and you let out identical exhales. It was a feeling like coming home after a long day. Five gave a pleasurable wince as the clenching of your walls had its effect on him: perfect intensity.

As he moved in you, as you moved together, every caress was a whispered affirmation of love; every twinge of pleasure a promise kept. Each of his slow, sensual thrusts was a pledge of undying devotion. The slow build of your orgasm was a life of love and loyalty spent together.

He buried his head in your neck, simultaneously breathing you in and hiding his tears. Your arms wrapped themselves over his back, your hand finding the back of his head and holding him safely to you as, inside you, the twin heats of love and of pleasure bloomed.

“I’ve got you, baby.” you whispered, inhaling the clean smell of his hair.

With your arms and legs wrapped around him this way, you met his hips with your own, giving him the same promises he gave to you. You kissed his temple, wrapping yourself around him more snugly. Wrapped in the warmth of your shared love, your bodies writhed together. From his stuttering breath and increasing tension, you could tell he was nearing his peak. You could feel his heart beating against your chest like that of a small animal.

He gave an ecstatic cry and exploded inside you, body shuddering in the current of his release. As he came, he kissed and licked at your neck, unrefined and uncontrolled but desperate to taste some part of you. Finally, he collapsed onto the couch, his full weight upon you, trying to catch his breath in short gasps.

“If tonight was our last night,” he mumbled, after a few moments to compose himself, “I’d want to savor it. I'd hope not to come after two minutes like that.”

You smiled into his hair.

“Lucky tonight isn’t our last night,” you said.

Responding to the pang of shame in his voice, however, you continued more seriously.

“If tonight was our last night, I’d die happy after that. No, really,” you said, responding to his disbelieving snort, “that was…”

You didn’t need to finish. The awe and love in your tone was enough of a balm.

You could lie here forever with his warm weight on top of you, your bodies still connected with him still inside you. You could be happy here, with his breath in your ear and your hand in his hair. If tonight was your last night, you would have lived a whole lifetime in it.

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NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

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ptn-imagines · 2 months

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Can you do Suspect R x pre amnesia! chief? ik there's not a lot of content for her but they give such domestic married wives energy like

LOOK AT THIS. its fine if u dont accept, ther are PLENTY other ptn womens i thirst after so....

Oh, I will absolutely write for Suspect R despite her lack of content. In fact, I was hoping someone would ask!

Due to the lack of content on both her and Chief pre-amnesia, I ended up focusing more on the feelings they may have shared more than anything else, using the glimpses of Shepherd-12 we see in Shalom's interrogation as a guide. If this isn't to your satisfaction, feel free to send in another request! Praying that chapter 14 marks the return of the OG wife...

Suspect R x Pre-Amnesia!Chief

Once upon a time, her name was the one they loved the most. In a world where everyone wanted to use or betray them, she was the only one they trusted whole-heartedly. Shepherd-12 adored her.

As truths were unveiled and lies became unmasked and Shepherd-12 became more and more jaded to the world, she was the only one spared of hissing and biting. Only she could melt the icy protective layer upon the Shepherd’s heart, for only she could be trusted with it. Only she had pure intentions.

Secret trysts and rendezvous, the Shepherd was always so tense until the face of the nameless official melted away to reveal their lover, who perched on the edge of their desk like she belonged there. She did belong there. And the Shepherd abhorred the idea of belonging to anyone, anyone except for her. They would give themself over to her in a heartbeat, and they would drown in her, and it would be a sweet way to die.

They are a creature of Mania, but this Sinner is their salvation. She makes them feel human in a way that nobody and nothing else does, and they know that fate will never be kind to them so they relish these precious moments, and they love her eternally and devotedly and without regret nor restraint.

She loves them in kind for she knows this is what they need. They will never speak their thank yous aloud but she knows; how could she not? Even if the world should revile them, see them as monsters (and it did), the two of them would have each other. They need nothing else.

She holds them so close as though she attempts to meld their flesh as one. They greedily kiss her deeper, hotter, as though trying to exchange pieces of their souls with each entwined breath. She is both the untamed tempest that will inevitably drown them and the singular piece of driftwood that keeps them afloat in the storm.

Nothing else matters. Nobody else matters. Let the world burn to ash. The Shepherd would welcome it. The world is rotten to the core. So are they. Only she remains pure in an endless sea of filth. Only she is the truth among the lies.

“My dearest, your heart is becoming so black,” she whispered one night, and they didn’t know it then but this would be the final time they saw her like this. Her fingers caressed their face and they purred, leaning into the touch.

“They don’t deserve any more,” they breathed, nails digging into her back as though they were afraid they might slip through their fingers. “They can go to Hell for all I care. You’re the only thing that matters.”

She smiled at this and pulled them into another deep kiss. This one felt different, like a goodbye, but it was still filled with every ounce of passion and fire and desire and need and belonging they had come to expect. “You know it won’t end like this.”

“I know.” They detest the fact. She makes it bearable. She’s the only reason they haven’t torn the world asunder yet, because she is part of that world. “But you’ll be there, won’t you?”

She smiled. “Always. Don’t sleep for too long, or I might have to come and get you myself…”

…

Shepherd-13 always wakes from the dreams of these memories too soon, these ghosts banished with the rise of the sun over this corrupt city.

What was her name?

If they could choose anything to remember, it would be this.

#ptn #path to nowhere #ptn suspect r #path to nowhere suspect r #suspect r #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere headcanons #headcanons

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konigbabe · 1 year

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the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary: The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

#phillip graves #phillip graves x you #philip graves x reader #cod #codmwii #call of duty modern warfare #phillip graves x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod mw22 #codmw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #moni writes #phillip graves x y/n #philip graves x you #philip graves #philip graves x y/n

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written-with-blue-ink · 5 months

Note

Could we get headcanons of different pets the Genshin men would have and how they would interact with them or their personalities? Especially Diluc and Alhaitham. I love men with animals, the biggest green flag

I got you, boo! I honestly couldn't stop once I started so added a few other characters

Alhaitham, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Cyno TW: neglected animals in Cyno's

Pet Headcanons

Alhaitham

She showed up in a previous post but I think he would have a cat

An Egyptian Mau to be precise, her name would be Asal (Persian for honey) after her golden/bronze coat

She would 100% be a curious and very intelligent kitten who loves to run around and play

Type of cat who just climbs up fabric/clothes and will sit on your shoulder or around your neck

Will bite and pull on your ear if you oversleep and don’t feed her

Literally embodiment of “Ray of Sunshine”

Absolutely loves Kaveh for some reason (totally not because he spoils her rotten)

“Kaveh, stop feeding her so much, she’s getting fat. I don’t want two spoiled lazy cats”

“Excuse you, she’s perfect and skinny as is… Wait did you insult me too?!”

Does tricks! she knows how to sit, shake, tap (where she taps her nose to your finger/thumb) and is learning more

Diluc

A big dog man

I could see him with rottweilers, german shepherds or bernese mountain dogs with a name like “Bear” or “Beau”, short, bold, and simple.

Originally gotten as guard dogs for a paranoid Ragnvindr who has many enemies and just got back from a murder spree in Snezhnaya, they now work more as emotional support dogs for him and others

He also still has his childhood tortoise (because those things live forever) which he named ‘Clip’ as a child

He’s very mellow, the dogs treat him as one of their own

They also cuddle and sleep together, two dogs wrapped around a tortoise who rests his head on the dog’s neck

When he and Kaeya were in their older teens, Crepus got them both large Clydesdale horses when they both joined the Knight’s Cavalry.

He named his horse Skinfaxi and Kaeya has Hrímfaxi (named after the sun and moon horses from Norse mythos)

Skinfaxi is one hell of a mare, it took Diluc a lot of time, energy, and patience to get her to behave (though she still has a playful streak)

Would buck him off during training but she was the fastest horse in the Cavalry

He would take her on long rides at night through the woods and around Dawn Winery just to get her to trust him

Kaeya

Obviously, Hrímfaxi, who, unlike his sister, was much more timid.

They both got along really well, with no issues, unlike their siblings.

The two riding are almost like one being, completely in synch

With the cavalry gone, Mondstadt City doesn’t have a lot of space for a horse so he stays with his sister at Dawn Winery

Kaeya comes by whenever he can to ride him

But besides her he would take care of the stray cats around Mondstadt City, refilling food and water bowls around the city while on patrol

One day, after a long night, Kaeya woke up to clawing and meowing at the door and saw his favorite cat, a Calico named Lucky, wandered inside and flopped on his rug in pain, crying as he noticed the giant lump coming from her stomach

By sunrise, he now had a mother of three kittens refusing to leave his house.

Two girls (One Calico like her mom and the other orange) and a boy (A black cat with faint stripes)

He lets Klee name them: Sunny (Orange), Cloudy (Calico) and Stormy (the black cat)

The girls are definitely headstrong while Stormy is shy and tends to hide behind his big sisters

(as a kaeya kinnie with three stray/outdoor cats, he gets them too)

Childe

From a family with lots of big dogs, like Great Pyrenees, Samoyed, and Tibetan Mastiffs

When he moved to Liyue for deployment and got super lonely, his subordinates weren’t super close to him and locals didn’t trust him as a Harbinger, he grew rather lonely

Till he went into the countryside to deal with some Treasure Hoarders and saw them using weasels and ferrets to carry contraband and money around without notice

What really sold him was watching a little kid in the camp playing with one and rubbing noses with it

The next day Ajax had two ferrets running around his apartment with the most expensive ferret setup money could buy

They are the most playful, feral things who love running around and play-fighting each other

Named Jayson and Lila, a pair of twins

(totally didn't name them after the stoats from Burrow’s End)

Loves them so much and plays with them throughout all of his free time

Leaves them to his assistant whenever he is away or is busy (who proceeds to give her hell)

They love it when he wears big coats/parkas so they can climb in and snuggle

Cyno

Didn’t have pets growing up

His first pet was on a mission as General Mahamatra, arrested some guy, went through his house for evidence, and found a severely malnourished and neglected Leopard Gecko

Some of his claws had fallen off to nubs due to layers of sheaded skin build up and he was cold to the touch from lack of heating.

The lizard curls up into his warm hands and it immediately melts the General Mahamatra’s heart

Immediately putting him back and picking up the cage, he leaves the rest of the investigation to his coworkers before rushing to Gandharva Ville

Scared Tighnari and Collei with how quickly he rushed in through the door with a giant glass terrarium.

Looks calm and collected but is sitting in the corner with Collei just staring at Tighnari and the lizard, internal panic on the inside

Once Tighnari gives an analysis, Cyno asks Nari to watch the lizard for a few days and he will come back for it

Proceeds to spend two days straight researching Leopard geckos and how to take care of them

Also blows a good portion of his paycheck on supplies for the gecko, a larger tank, lights, and heating pads, etc.

Picks him up and takes him home as soon as the terrarium is set up

Names him something dumb like “Geck” or a combo of his and Tighnari’s names like “Tighno”

Most people don’t know besides Tighnari and Collei that the gecko exists, and why would they? Who’s gonna believe that the General Mahamatra has a tiny lizard as a pet

When Alhaitham and Kaveh find out Cyno has a pet, Cyno immediately pulls out pictures from his wallet like a proud dad

Whenever he is away for a while, he has Collei house sit and take care of the lizard, pays her generously

Will just sit on top of Cyno’s head or shoulder and chill

Loves to chirp and make little noises for fun/comfort

(also a leopard gecko parent and my gecko is a rescue with all these attributes from being mishandled)

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

Text

Silver Springs Part 1

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~11k

Summary: Wanda tries to leave her mob life behind to start a family with you.

A/N: This is a crack-ish fic that I wrote because I got bored. Reposting from Ao3 Enjoy.

Warnings: Eventual violence, blood, death, angst, and smut. Not in that order.

The sound of your alarm blaring makes you roll over with an annoyed groan. You often felt you could never get enough sleep, but lately it’s been particularly bad. You’re typically a solid 8-hour a night person, but you have learned to settle on 6 when you had to, and operate on 5 if the situation called for it.

Last night you’d gotten closer to 5 than 6, but luckily it was a short work day for you since it was Saturday. You also weren’t going to complain when your reason for staying up later involved your beautiful wife. Speaking of your wife, you noticed she wasn’t in bed and you sigh in defeat as you realize she’s already up and working.

You lie in bed for a few minutes to stare out at the spectacular view from your bedroom window. You’re still getting used to living in what is quite possibly your favorite place in the world. You’ve always loved the mountains. You loved the fresh air, the ability to walk for miles without seeing a single road, and the snow. You loved the snow. You couldn’t wait to see it cover everything in sight.

You’re considering a hike later this afternoon when you hear the tell-tale sound of your wife coming up the stairs. Despite only living here for a couple of months, you’ve learned what Wanda sounds like when she walks around the house. Your new modern mountain home was huge with three-levels and way more space than you four needed. The windows practically went to the ceiling in every room, and the rustic touches as well as the outdoor areas made it perfect for you to appreciate the amazing view all around.

“Good morning, detka.”

You smile at the sight of Wanda still dressed in her long t-shirt, one she’d borrowed from you that you never got to wear anymore, and too short shorts. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun with strands of her red hair falling out, but you swear she’s never looked more breathtaking. You love seeing her relaxed like this and the fact that she’s been more relaxed since your move away from the city makes you even happier. You take the offered coffee with a kiss and sit up before eying her questioningly.

“Morning, Wands. Have you been up long?”

Wanda sighs as she moves to sit next to you on the bed with a nod and you’re reaching out for her before she even gets a chance to answer.

“Only for a couple of hours. Just needed to sort a few things out.”

You hum in acknowledgement but don’t have a chance to say anything in response before the door is opened wider by the other two occupants of your home.

Boone is your 2-year-old German Shepherd that you’ve had since he was a puppy. He was a gift from Wanda who had rescued him from a sketchy situation. She’d never told you the details, but you hadn’t cared when she came home with the 6-month-old, and you’d fallen in love immediately. He’s your baby and you spoil him rotten. Wanda often teases you for it, but she’s honestly no better when it comes to their cat, Fletcher. The grey tabby is another rescue that you brought home from work that Wanda didn’t want anything to do with. This only lasted until the cat fell asleep in her lap one night, and now they’re inseparable.

You greet Boone with a smile and a quick scratch before you realize you need to get out of bed. It’s 7:15, and you need to be at work by 9 for your first appointment. You take a long swig from your cup before you set it on the bedside table as you stand up. You’re thinking of everything you have to do to get ready, but as always Wanda seems to read your mind.

“I already walked Boone, and breakfast is downstairs.”

You stop short of the bathroom to circle back to the bed where Wanda’s still sitting. You have always been grateful that your wife loves to cook because although you’re pretty good at it, you usual prefer to sleep later than take the time to make a decent breakfast.

“You’re the best. Thank you.”

Wanda’s smile widens as you kiss her again, this time you linger for a bit longer but she’s still left chasing after you when you pull away.

“I need to shower. Do you want to join me?”

Your wife smirks and is already standing up to follow you when her phone starts to ring from downstairs. She immediately scowls and despite wanting to ignore it she knows she shouldn’t. You sigh in defeat before shooting her a teasing look as you retreat into the bathroom.

“Maybe next time.”

Wanda simply nods before she hurries downstairs to answer her phone. She’s already wondering who is calling this early, but she doesn’t have to wonder long when she arrives downstairs and sees the caller ID.

“Ugh.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose as she picks up with an annoyed huff. “What is it, Vision?”

Only he called this early, and only he gave her useless updates that could be given to anyone else. She often complained about him to Nat and of course this led to her teasing the redhead about the blonde’s massive crush on her.

When Vision had initially started working for her father, she’d been 18. The older man had immediately taken an interest in her, but she had no desire to have anything but a working relationship with him. He was both socially awkward yet overly confident, and just not her type. She met her type only few years later when she’d been running an errand for her work the local university.

Y/N had been 21 and in her last year of undergrad when she’d met Wanda. She’d been studying animal science and was leaving one of her classes when she’d noticed a stunning brunette with dark make up and piercing green eyes. She’d never been one for subtlety, and she’d run into a door not two feet from the older girl. Wanda had been intensely concerned until she realized that the poor student was blushing furiously. Y/N’s not sure how it even happened from there, but next thing she knows, Wanda was abandoning her boring recon job for the bashful, slightly bruised y/h/c.

Wanda barely listens to Vision as she watches Boone hurry down the stairs after he’s been locked out of the bathroom while you shower. Fletcher’s not in as much of a rush, but unlike the shepherd who takes a detour, she makes her way over to Wanda quickly. The redhead smiles as she watches her cat rub up against her legs.

“-is that alright, Wanda?”

Wanda’s frowning in a matter of milliseconds when she hears the last part of Vision’s question. She tries not to sigh in annoyance because it is too early to lose her temper, and she did promise Nat she’d try to be nicer to him.

“Is what alright?”

Vision starts describing the staff changes at one of the businesses she owns downtown before she cuts him off with a groan. He did not bother her before 8 am for this. Sometimes she regretted giving him her number all those years ago.

“Vision, you know Kate is the one who decides all of that. Talk to her about it. I have to go.”

She doesn’t give him time to respond before she hangs up on him and promptly drops her phone on the counter. The sound startles Fletcher and she coos in apology before she kneels down to pick up the tabby. She kisses her face and tells her how much she loves her before she has to put her back down. She’s trying to get to your breakfast that Wanda’s set out on the kitchen island, and since she knows how much you hate cat hair in your food, she makes sure to keep Fletcher from it.

Wanda heads to the living room with a sigh, and drops down onto the couch. She listens to the muffled sound of water running upstairs and closes her eyes as she considers her day. She knows that she’ll only have a couple things that need her attention today. She needs to check in with her brother, and then Nat to see how things are going in her absence.

She’s tried to remove herself from the life that she’s known for the better part of 15 years. She practically grew up with the mob, but since her parents’ death, taking over, and meeting you she’s become tired. Wanda didn’t want to live that life anymore. She didn’t want to always be looking over her shoulder, and she didn’t want to put you at risk. After things had become serious between you two, she’d really begun to fear that you’d get caught in the crossfire. She’s made a lot of enemies in the years she’s been in charge of her father’s empire, and the last thing she wanted was them coming after you.

Despite making sure that you could take care of yourself and that you remain vigilant, she still worries about you. You still meet with Nat once a week to train, and Wanda makes a point of taking you to the shooting range once every other month. She hates that she’s had to prepare you for war which is why she decided to leave.

It was a long conversation with you and then an even longer one with her brother, Natasha, Yelena, Steve, basically their entire family. They’d been supportive yet cautiously optimistic because there was no telling how well their rivals would take this. Their tenuous truce with their top rival relied on the flimsy trust they had in one another to stick to their word and pre-arranged dealings.

Once Wanda handed over everything to Pietro, she moved to the mountains with Y/N and truly never wanted to look back. This of course was impossible because her entire family was still there, and she couldn’t simply go cold turkey on something she’d dedicated her life to for years.

You were glad to create a little distance between yourself and Wanda’s enemies, but you knew how difficult it was for Wanda to truly separate herself. You’re understanding of her need to check in frequently and go to meetings still to make sure the transition for Pietro is as smooth as possible.

Wanda’s eyes open at the sound of footsteps on the stairs and she sits up just in time to see you greet your excited dog. You laugh as you pet him and head toward Wanda despite the smell of breakfast that makes you want to go immediately to the kitchen.

“All okay, love?”

Wanda doesn’t realize that you’re asking about the phone call immediately and she frowns. Her eyebrows squish together and you can’t help but laugh at how cute she looks. You smile as you reach the couch she’s sitting on, and carefully straddle her lap with a slight head tilt.

“The call?”

Wanda immediately groans in annoyance before shaking her head and muttering something resembling ‘unimportant’ under her breath. You’re about to argue when she leans forward to kiss you and immediately, you’re a goner once her soft lips meet yours.

You honestly knew you were a goner the second you saw her. Wanda was someone you hadn’t seen before. You knew you went to a large university with over 40,000 students, but it was well into the semester, and you went to all of your classes. This meant that you knew who you’d see when you went somewhere at a particular time. Sure, there would sometimes be unfamiliar people here and there, but for the most part you knew what to expect. You were thoroughly convinced that you couldn’t have known who Wanda was just by looking at her, but you knew she wasn’t a student. Not only did she have a backpack with nothing in it, but she’d eventually claimed to be just coming out of a math class that you knew for a fact wouldn’t take place in the building you were in.

Instead of being weirded out or afraid by her piercing stare and her impassive expression, you were curious. You wanted to know more about this woman who was trying so hard to blend in. You’d had no idea what you were getting into of course, but you hadn’t regretted introducing yourself to her for a second. Not even when you got caught in that shootout…

Eventually, you manage to pull free from Wanda, not that you really want to, but you know it’s getting close to time to go to work. You sigh as you shoot her a knowing smile.

“It must be bad if you’re trying this hard to distract me.”

Wanda scoffs at this but doesn’t comment immediately as she runs her fingers through your wet hair. She’s regretting missing her chance to join you even more as she shakes her head with a smile.

“This isn’t me trying very hard, but I can show you what that looks like?”

You groan for multiple reasons. Mostly at the thought of what Wanda’s proposing, but also because you don’t have time for it before you have to go to work. You’re already pushing it, and you can tell from her teasing smile that Wanda knows it too. Eventually you sigh before grabbing her hand to pull her toward the kitchen with you. You want to at least get a chance to eat the food she’s made before you need to rush off to the hospital.

You had been working as a veterinarian at a local animal hospital for the past 6 years. After finishing school nearby, you’d found a job you loved and you worked 4 days a week. You only found it a little difficult to separate your professional life from your personal life at first. You’d never told anyone who you were married to because Wanda was very well known, and not for good reasons, so for your safety and hers, you lied. You still wore your ring, but your wife worked in business if anyone asked, and her name was Linda. She’d made fun of you for that one for a while, but it was the closest thing to Wanda that wasn’t obvious and that wouldn’t confuse you whenever you heard it at work.

“You know, we still need to replace that.”

When Wanda frowns you gesture to the living room and she doesn’t even have to look to know what you’re talking about. She rolls her eyes before smiling at you sweetly as you practically scowl at the picture.

When you first moved into this house, you’d loved nearly everything about it. The high ceilings, the open floor plan, the two sprawling decks on the second and third floor, and above all else, the view. You had access to the outside practically in every room and you loved it. Most of the time, if the weather was nice, you’d be outside on the decks or one of the many balconies with your dog reading, sleeping, or just taking in the view.

Your dreamhouse was near perfect. The only wrinkle was the ten-foot-tall horse painting that sat above the fireplace. It blended in with the stone behind it, but still sometimes you’d look up at the painting and roll your eyes. You were not a fan of horses because of the poor experiences you’d had with them while in school. For this reason, each time you saw it you joked about replacing it with an equally large painting of Boone. Wanda had just laughed at that, but she’d made a note to figure out if that would be possible.

“You know you love it, detka.”

Wanda watches amused as you just scoff before stuffing the last bit of your breakfast in your mouth. You look at your watch and sigh before chugging the rest of your coffee.

“I don’t have time to tell you how much I don’t love it.”

Wanda laughs before she accepts a quick kiss on the cheek as you make your way to the sink. You clean your dish quickly and start to put everything up, but Wanda stops you despite your protests. You usually clean because she ends up cooking, but you both know you don’t have time today.

“Don’t worry about it. Go get ready.”

You eventually sigh in defeat before accepting that Wanda’s not going to let you clean. You retreat up the stairs with Boone on your heels, leaving Wanda to clean the kitchen. Fletcher decides to help by jumping on the counters once again, but Wanda is quick to relocate all of the food before the tabby can get to it. She doesn’t seem to mind as she moves to the sink to drink directly from the faucet. Wanda just smiles at the adorable sight before grabbing her phone again. She’s agreed to meet with Nat later this morning, and she’s trying not to stress too much about it.

She hasn’t seen her friend in a couple of weeks. Work had been busy for her while things were transitioning and the older redhead wasn’t able to break away. For this reason, Wanda is going to her instead of meeting in neutral territory. She was only a little nervous about appearing at the compound for the first time since she’d handed over everything to Pietro. She knew that there had been some discord when news had first spread of her leaving. Most were confused and skeptical because really, who had ever successfully cut ties with the mob? Better yet, what mob leader had ever successfully left unscathed?

For all of the risk that being associated with the mob brought her, Wanda wasn’t ignorant to the dangers of leaving. She reminds herself that she’s being as safe as possible without uprooting her entire life and making both of them leave everything behind. Wanda is grateful that Steve and Bucky still live almost within shouting distance. They’re about 3 miles down the road, and they’re still a large part of her security detail for you, even if you’re unaware of it. She knows you’d be mad about, but she’s not about to let you out of the house without a way to track you if necessary.

She doesn’t think about how upset you’d be if you found out as she shoots Nat a text. She’d agreed to meet at their headquarters, the compound, because she knew that on a Saturday morning that’s where Nat would be. Most likely by this time she’s finished training with her sister and was already working. Wanda was just getting used to sleeping in for the first time in years, and she realizes how spoiled she is when the idea of already working makes her cringe.

“Is it still alright to leave Boone with you?”

Wanda nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, and she spins around to see you at the bottom of the stairs dressed and ready for work. You’re finishing up your hair as you hold your shoes in between your knees. You’re in a hurry because you wanted to have time to read up on your first appointment, and you look to Wanda expectantly as you finish getting ready.

You’re wearing scrubs which are honestly some of the least flattering clothes you’re ever in, but Wanda is staring at you like she wholeheartedly disagrees.

“Wands?”

Wanda’s eyes snap to yours when she realizes that she hadn’t responded. She shakes her head before she remembers what you’d asked. She watches as you grab your keys and place them in your purse. You didn’t pack a lunch because you’re supposed to be back in time for that.

“Not at all. I mean yes. Boone can keep me company.”

You smile knowingly before kissing your wife quickly. You know if you linger, you’ll certainly be late. Wanda’s small pout as you pull away though is almost enough to make you stop caring.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

Wanda nods before watching you say goodbye to Boone with a kiss on top of his furry head. Boone follows you as you head to the garage, but you close the door before he can escape. He sometimes comes to work with you depending on what Wanda has planned for the day. He honestly enjoys seeing the other pets there and you like when you can have him at your desk with you after hours.

When Boone hears the garage door open and then close, he realizes he’s been left alone. He whines before turning back to Wanda. She can’t help but smile sadly at him as he comes to stand next to her. He really would follow you anywhere, and while he doesn’t dislike Wanda, he certainly doesn’t love her as much as he loves his Y/N. She decides that she needs to try and cheer him up, so she reaches out to scratch him behind the ears. He tilts his head back panting so he’s looking at the redhead with his tongue hanging out. Wanda just smiles wider.

“Do you want to go visit your second favorite person?”

Natasha sighs as she reads the file in front of her for the third time. She’s usually not this unfocused, but there have been a lot of changes recently. Not only have there been changes at the compound, the most notable being Wanda’s departure, but their rivals are starting to stir up trouble that she knows can’t be ignored. She’s currently reading up on an op that’s supposed to happen early next week, but she’s done this before and it’s routine for everyone involved. Even newbies can’t fuck up a simple weapons deal that badly.

Joining Wanda’s, now Pietro’s mob had been an easy decision. The twins were mourning the loss of their parents when she’d met them, but they’d been so welcoming and reassuring that they could protect her. Nat’s childhood hadn’t been the best and she’d ended up on the street fairly young, along with her sister, struggling to survive. They’d learned to steal and con people with too much money, and this had lasted for almost a year before it backfired. They’d accidentally chosen a mark that hadn’t taken well to getting swindled. He’d tried to hunt them down and even hired someone to take them out. They’d needed protection from him and Wanda had offered them both jobs after learning of their skillset.

She’d promised them they wouldn’t have to do anything they’d done while on the streets unless they wanted to. Since that day, Nat had been mostly focused on weapons and training new recruits, and Yelena dealt with the many, many drugs that traded hands.

Over the years, they’d grown close with the twins, and considered them part of their unconventional family. Wanda had introduced them to Y/n after they’d dated for close to a year and they’d both attended their wedding. Up until they moved, Yelena and Nat spent a lot of time with the couple, and Y/N came to think of the duo as her chaotic, older sisters. Not seeing them as regularly was hard to adjust to, but Wanda assured you that once things settle, you can visit the compound again.

Nat closes the file that she’s practically memorized at this point before she sits back in her chair with a sigh. She’s exhausted and the day has barely begun. There are always things to do, but since Pietro is still figuring out how to balance each arm of the extensive empire, there are fewer active operations happening.

In all honesty, there’s not much for Pietro to do when it comes to this. Wanda had trusted her staff to handle things and report back to her. Sure, she’d sometimes organize a hit or show up to a particularly important meeting, but overall, she made a lot of the behind-the-scenes decisions. She wasn’t often seen because she had other people who did the work for her, and then those people had people. It was an intricate web of employees she’d had to oversee, and now that was Pietro’s job.

Luckily everything was established, and he’d assisted Wanda for years so there wasn’t much for him to learn. He’d always had a hot head though and he was quickly learning that he couldn’t make rash decisions without there being unpleasant consequences.

“Has my brother killed anyone else since I left?”

Wanda knocks on Nat’s open door and the redhead sits up with a laugh at her predictable question. When news first started to spread of Wanda’s departure, some people had some rather nasty things to say about her. Some had called her weak and unfit, while others had decided to take it a step further and suggest she’d be better suited for a completely different line of work.

Being the overprotective brother that he was, Pietro had beat the men responsible within an inch of their lives. The message was clear, but this just made people underestimate the twin’s ability to lead when he is so easily provoked.

Nat stands up at the sight of her friend and her excited dog. Boone runs over to her and she’s quick to love on the shepherd as she shakes her head in response to Wanda’s legitimate question. Pietro had been too busy touching base with all of his department heads, aka his family, to listen to any new rumors that were spreading.

“Nah, he’s too busy right now.”

Wanda nods in understanding as she looks around the office while Nat’s still distracted by her slobbering dog. She notices the many reports that Nat’s gone through and the several stacks of ongoing ops that she’s still working through. She doesn’t get a chance to consider what these are for before the redhead notices her train of thought. She shakes her head as she moves away from Boone who’s leaning against her legs at this point to block Wanda’s view.

“What about you?”

Wanda frowns in confusion. She’s not sure what Nat’s getting at, but the redhead’s not in any rush to fill her in. She reaches down to scratch Boone’s ears before she turns back to the other redhead.

“What do you mean?”

Nat does her best not to laugh, but she ends up breaking when Wanda shoots her a glare after she fills the younger girl in. On her last day before Pietro took over, she’d visited the compound to make sure her brother didn’t need anything else. While she was there, she’d heard one of her employees speaking rather loudly about her, and speculating wildly on her personal life. That wasn’t new for her and she could easily ignore that despite how annoying. However, as soon as one of them mentioned her wife, she didn’t hesitate to storm over there and give him a piece of her mind. She’d grabbed him by his shirt and practically growled in his face as she threatened him against even thinking about you again.

She hadn’t seen him since, and for some reason she hadn’t even fired him.

“As far as I’m aware he’s still alive.”

Nat just rolls her eyes before she nods in agreement. She saw him the other day and just one look sent him running. It was well known that those close to Wanda were well-respected, but it was easy for some to forget that just because you weren’t present as often didn’t mean you weren’t included in that group.

“That’s good. I’m sure that makes Y/n happy. How is she?”

Wanda smiles as she sits in one of the chairs in front of Nat’s desk while the redhead watches her carefully. She hasn’t spoken to you in a while, and she missed seeing you around the compound. You were a calming presence wherever you went and it really helped everyone on rough days when Wanda was a little more on edge. Nat also knew that Yelena missed you a lot. She missed binge watching horror movies with you, and getting you into trouble with your wife when you do something too impulsive. The four of you, plus anyone else who was free, had dinner on Sundays together that were both relaxing and chaotic depending on who was cooking. They needed to have another one of those soon. Maybe tomorrow.

“She’s doing well. She loves the new house, but she misses everyone a lot.”

Nat smiles at the thought of how excited Y/n had been when she’d first seen the house that Wanda had finally chosen for the two of you. She’d been looking for something remote, but not too remote, secure and beautiful, and she believes she’d found it. The fact that you had been so head-over-heels for it made it that much better. Nat and Wanda had watched as you and Yelena ran to every balcony and on the top decks shouting excitedly to each other. It had been adorable, but almost disastrous as Boone chased after you too and you nearly toppled down the spiral staircase when you’d tripped over him.

“We miss her too. We need to get together soon.”

Wanda nodded in agreement because she certainly missed the weekly family dinners. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to leave a majority of her family behind to try and start a new one of her own with Y/n. She didn’t regret it, but she wished she could have found a better balance. Maybe with time they will be able to bring the two together again.

“We do.”

Wanda sits up a little bit before she turns her attention to the reason why she dropped in. She glances again to Nat’s work on her desk before crossing her legs with a sigh. Boone lays down at her feet and starts to lick his paws as Nat returns to her chair to sit down.

“So, tell me how things have been going since I left.”

When you arrive at work, you’re surprised to find that your first appointment is already here. 15 minutes early. You sigh in defeat because you’d pushed the speed limit, exceeded it really, to get here in enough time, but it seems as if it wasn’t enough. You are equally disappointed to find out that the first appointment of the day is a very sick, geriatric dog that may or may not leave the hospital today.

You rush to put your things upstairs and speed read this dog’s medical records. Cancer. Of course. That would explain the sickly, skin-and-bones dog that you saw in the lobby. You sigh in defeat before you head back downstairs to chat with your assistant for the day.

The practice you worked at had three other doctors, but on the weekend, only one of you worked. You loved working with a team and especially during moments like this you enjoyed being able to discuss difficult cases. You knew that this wasn’t an option today, and after getting a rundown of what was going on with the patient from your assistant, you knew you had to go in there and figure out what the parents wanted to do.

You hated to start the day with a euthanasia, but it could only get better from here, right?

You couldn’t have been right, just this once? Your day continued to get worse after that first appointment that ended up being a euthanasia. For such a short day, you were surprised by how many moribund patients you were seeing. You had a couple of walk ins, one hit-by-car and a sick kitten come in within an hour of closing. You were definitely missing lunch and you felt bad about it, but you couldn’t get a free minute to let Wanda know.

Hopefully she was too busy with her own day to notice.

Wanda left her meeting with her brother with a sigh and a long hug to the slightly older Maximoff. She was pleased to hear how he was doing since she’d left, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little relieved to see how well their empire still ran without her in charge.

She knew that Pietro was capable of taking over, that wasn’t the issue. She just wanted to make sure that his first weeks went well and that he was accepted by their business partners. So far there were no issues, and Wanda was keeping her fingers crossed that this continued to be the case.

She didn’t realize how late it was until she left Pietro’s office and headed back downstairs. She saw the horde of people that congregated around the lobby eating and catching up with friends. Wanda held Boone a little closer as she waded through the crowd to find Steve waiting for her near the exit. She hadn’t asked him to come along and she wasn’t quite sure how he figured out she was leaving, but she didn’t bother asking.

As a member of her personal security team, it was his job to follow her around and make sure she didn’t end up killed. For years he’d succeeded, and Wanda was grateful to have had his loyalty, and friendship for so long.

“All ready?”

Wanda nods as she follows Steve’s lead down the stairwell to the private garage in the basement. She lets Boone go first because he always runs down stairs, before she turns to the blonde with a curious look.

“Have you heard anything from Y/n?’

It was almost 2 o’clock, and given that her workday finished at 1, she figured that her wife would be home by now. She frowns when Steve shakes his head as he turns back to meet her gaze. They arrive to the bottom floor and Steve’s pulling the keys out of his pocket as he walks into the garage. He unlocks the door but just turns to her as she goes to her car beside his.

“No. Bucky said that she’s still at work.”

Wanda opens the back door for Boone and the shepherd jumps in quickly. He loves riding in the car and Wanda has to hurry to get into her seat so he doesn’t try and steal it from her. You let him ride in the front seat once, and since then he’s always tried to call shotgun.

“Still?”

Steve just nods before mentioning that he’d checked in about 10 minutes ago. Bucky was your personal security, but unlike Steve, he didn’t stick as close to you. In fact, 90% of the time you didn’t even know he was there. It was no secret who Wanda was married to, but she didn’t like to advertise it and put you at higher risk. She’d insisted that you give your maiden name to your employer, your friends who weren’t directly involved in her work, and anyone else who asked. It was best that people didn’t know about your ties to Wanda Maximoff.

You’re exhausted by the time you arrive home. You’re not sure how you did it, but every patient you saw in the last hour survived in your care. Most of them were transferred to an emergency hospital that could take care of them long term, but you’re just grateful that they didn’t die before they made it there.

You hadn’t expected today to be so brutal, and the stress of it made you just want to lie down. You arrive home and find that Wanda is still gone and you can’t help but feel disappointed. You could use an hour or two long cuddle session after the day you’d had.

Instead, you make your way upstairs and shed your dirty scrubs and throw them in the laundry. You change into the most comfortable clothes you can find before you head upstairs to the third floor. You want to sit outside and get some fresh air while you nap, and you don’t even bother to bring your phone as you open the sliding door to one of your favorite views.

This view is from the back of the house, but the mountains in the distance, and the field of green before you provide you with the calm you need right now. You plop down on the couch and stretch out with a groan. Your back aches slightly and you’re reminded once again of how you started your period. You noticed at work and it had only added to your poor mood. Now that you had a moment to breathe and really consider it, you realize what it means.

You wiped the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes before you curled up and attempted to get comfortable. It took a while, but you fell asleep only a few minutes before Wanda returns home with Boone and Steve.

Wanda had tried calling you once she knew you were home, but you hadn’t responded. She figured you were in the shower, and since Bucky had checked in, she wasn’t worried. At times like these, she just hated how far away they lived from the compound. It was almost an hour drive on good days.

When she finally arrived home, she thanked Steve and headed inside with Boone as the blonde drove off. Wanda hurried inside and looked around the kitchen only to see that you weren’t there. If she’d had to guess she would have figured you’d be eating by now. She noticed how quiet it was and figured you must be sleeping. She reaches out to Boone after he’s returned from his water bowl to tap him on the nose.

“Go find Y/n, Boone.”

The shepherd immediately leaves in search of his mom, and Wanda follows him up the stairs with a sigh. She watches as Fletcher comes strutting out of the bedroom before stopping to stretch in the middle of the hallway. Boone moves past the bedroom once he realizes you’re not there, and continues toward the next set of stairs. Wanda leaves Fletcher to her own devices as she follows Boone up the stairs to the third floor.

The third level of the house was mostly outside. There was a loft with access to a patio area on both sides of the house. You usually liked to look out behind the house which is why Wanda wasn’t surprised when Boone headed that way. He headed toward the left where there was a sitting area with a couple of couches before he started to paw at the sliding door as he sat down.

“Good boy.”

Wanda rewards the shepherd with a scratch before opening the door to let him out. He’s on his way to you quickly, but he doesn’t wake you up and instead lies down in front of the couch you’re currently on. Wanda shuts the door behind her before following Boone’s lead. She smiles at the sight of you sleeping soundly, but it turns down quickly once she’s close enough to see your face.

You have tears running down your cheeks, and the thought of something being wrong has Wanda waking you up.

She sits down next to you before carefully reaching out to shake you awake. She’s learned the hard way that you don’t always wake up peacefully, and she’d hate to trigger your fight or flight after you’d clearly had a difficult day.

“Y/n? Wake up detka.”

You begin to stir at the sound of wife’s voice, and the gentle shake that brings you back to consciousness. You haven’t been out long, but you still feel groggy as you open your eyes and start to sit up. You don’t notice Wanda’s concerned look immediately as you look down and see Boone lying in front of you. You smile slightly before you turn to Wanda who is reaching out for you. You hold out your hand only to realize that she’s reaching for your face.

She wipes at your dried tears with a frown as she shoots you a questioning look.

“What’s wrong, Y/n? Did something happen at work today?”

You’re immediately reminded of why you came up here to hide in the first place. You’d been trying to find solitude to just rest and not think about this morning, but it was no use now. You knew from Wanda’s expression and how antsy she was that she’s nervous. She’s afraid that something bad happened, and you wish you could tell her that she was wrong.

You take a deep breath before you motion for her to sit closer to you.

“Today was awful. It was busy and depressing.”

Wanda frowns at the expected news. She knew that some days were worse than others for you. Sometimes days were filled with sick and suffering patients. It couldn’t be cute puppies and kittens all of the time. She’s about to speak up, but you cut her off with the other, honestly more upsetting part of your day.

“I also started my period.”

Your wife doesn’t say anything immediately, but you watch her face fall at the news and you have to look away. You hate the idea that you’ve disappointed her. You knew how much Wanda wanted children and you wanted to give them to her, but it seemed that it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. She reached out for your hand and squeezes it comfortingly. You had an appointment scheduled for a couple of days from now to confirm whether or not the IVF procedure had worked, but you both seemed to realize that you probably had your answer.

Despite how disappointed Wanda is by this news she isn’t mad at you and she wants to make sure you know this. She reaches out to turn you back towards her with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I know you were excited.”

You shake your head as your eyes start to tear up again. You swear you thought it would take this time because you were feeling a little off, but apparently that was just your usual monthly.

“I was, and I know you were too. I’m sorry it didn’t work again. I’m just--.”

Wanda cuts you off with a kiss that she pours all of her love into. She doesn’t want you to blame yourself. Sometimes these things just don’t work out. She says this to you and waits for you to nod before she decides on her next move.

“You don’t have to apologize, love. Sometimes it just doesn’t take, but we’ll find out for sure in a couple of days. We can always try again if you still want to.”

You sigh heavily before nodding in agreement. Wanda’s right. She usually is. You hug her tightly as you consider how many times it might take before you can finally give your wife the family she wants so badly. You ignore the voice in your head that warns you that she might lose patience. That if you can’t give her what she wants, maybe someone else can.

As if reading your mind, Wanda pulls away and gives you a sweet smile before kissing your forehead.

“If IVF doesn’t work, there are always other options. Don’t lose faith, Y/n. We’ll figure this out together.”

The smell of cigarette smoke and old beer filled the room where Strucker sat with his boots up on the desk in front of him. The backroom of an old bar was hardly his first choice of places to conduct business, but sometime he didn’t have a choice. He could smell the rain at this distance from the drafty window and he breaths out another puff of smoke as he thinks about where he’ll go next.

He’s deeply paranoid and doesn’t dare stay in the same place for too long. He’s a man with several targets on his back, and he knows that even within his own territory, he’s only so safe. He’s heard whispers of Maximoff having people planted within his ranks, and he only trusts those closest to him with his safety.

Speaking of his right-hand man, he turns back to the stoic brunette with a frown. He had come bearing news that wasn’t surprising, but still a little concerning when he thought too much about it. He took another drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out in an already full ashtray.

“You say that she’s gone for good?”

He receives only a nod in reply before he elaborates on his answer.

“She’s no longer in charge, but she still checks in every now and then. The latest being this afternoon.”

Strucker takes a moment to consider this. He’d heard that Wanda was leaving for personal reasons, and despite the opportunity that this presented, not much has changed for him. The Maximoffs still kept to their territory and continued to conduct their business without interfering in his, but something didn’t sit right with him about this new arrangement.

He knew of Pietro, it was impossible not to, but he had never believed the older twin would get the chance to take over. Wanda had lorded over her father’s empire for the better part of 13 years, and she’s done an exceptional job of not only keeping it afloat after her parents’ untimely demise, but growing the business to almost twice its original size. Their reach extended throughout the city and he’d only lost territory as a result. Although stable right now, Strucker had a feeling that things will continue to change in their favor, and he had to act quickly if he was to put a stop to it.

Pietro was different than his twin in a lot of ways. Wanda was known for her smarts, business acumen, and her ability to project calmness whenever there was heat at the door. Pietro was the more unpredictable one. Although both Maximoffs were responsible for their own share of bloodshed, Wanda’s was more calculated while Pietro seemed to strike when provoked. He was too much of a loose cannon for Strucker to have much faith in him, and he knew their history put him at risk of being screwed over.

“What do you think about this new development, Brock?”

The brunette scowls as he thinks about the twins that he’s spent most of his life hating. If not for who they were now, then for their parents and how they’d treated him. He shakes his head as he crosses his arms and mutters something about it ‘not sitting right with him’. Strucker nods in agreement happy to hear that they are on the same page.

Neither of them wanted to see things change for the better of the Maximoffs. Wanda couldn’t leave her brother in charge and expect them not to have something to say about it.

Strucker swings his feet off the desk and his boots hit the ground with a loud thud. He sits up and takes a deep breath before he eyes his companion with a small smile. He knows about Brock’s feelings about the twins and how his loyalty to him is only strengthened by this hatred.

“What do you suppose we should do about it, dear friend?”

Rumlow barely hesitates as he had decided what he’d like done only days after hearing about Wanda’s retirement.

“I think we should send her a message.”

The next two days were near agony for you and Wanda. You’d been disheartened by your body’s failure to cooperate, and Wanda didn’t know how to help you when you insisted you were fine. You just needed to get through these next few hours until your doctor’s appointment so you can have the official word. Once you both have that, you can start to plan for the next steps instead of being stuck in limbo. You are almost certain you’re not pregnant, but you need a medical professional to tell you this.

You’re currently with Boone at the highest point of the house staring up at the sky. It’s a beautiful day out. The sky is clear except for a few white puffy clouds that remind you of cotton candy. It’s cool but not too cold, and you and Boone are lying on the couch just relaxing.

Well Boone is relaxing. He’s practically lying on top of you as you try to take your mind off of the past couple of days. You think about your family that you haven’t seen in too long.

You miss Yelena and Nat the most because you saw them the most when you still lived at the compound. You used to train with Nat twice weekly, and as much as you hated getting your ass kicked, it was nice to spend time with the redhead in her element. She truly was impressive and you’d find her scary if she wasn’t on your side.

Yelena would sometimes stop in while you were with Nat, and goad you into sparring with her next. That went about as well as with Nat, but at least afterwards you’d typically catch up over the most recent horror movie find.

You hadn’t seen them in a couple of weeks, and you missed them a lot. You missed them being just down the hall. You missed snuggling with Yelena’s dog Fanny, and teasing her about her not serious, but very serious relationship with Kate.

You close your eyes and take a deep calming breath. You will get to see them soon, and you hadn’t told them you were trying to get pregnant, so there was no pressure of having to break the news to them.

“Hey.”

You and Boone turn at the sound of Wanda’s quiet voice coming from behind you. You sit up and smile at the sight of your wife. She’s wearing her hair up and the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up above her elbows. She’s clearly been cooking and just the idea of food right now makes you feel a little bit better.

“I made lunch if you’re hungry?”

She knew from the look on your face that she didn’t really have to ask. She smiled as she watched your face light up as you smiled widely and hurried to stand. You nudged Boone off of the couch before you jumped to your feet. You realize you moved too quickly because your head spins a little when you take your first step.

The fuzziness disappears quickly, but not before Wanda takes notice of it. She’s by your side in an instant, and you feel her hands holding your arms as she steadies you. She shoots you a worried look that you just shake your head at. You’re fine. Just a little lightheaded.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just stood up too quickly.”

Wanda shoots you a skeptical look, but you just smile as you squeeze her hand before leading her back inside.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

You nod as you wave Boone over and point to the stairs so he’ll go ahead of you two. He is sometimes a little too overzealous on stairs and has run you over multiple times.

“I do, but not here. In the kitchen. Where there’s food.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at how adamant you are about eating, but decides not to argue any further. She knows how stubborn you are, and she just makes a mental note to watch you carefully until your appointment later.

Once you’re downstairs you can already smell what Wanda’s cooked for lunch. You walk a little faster when in search of your favorite meal, and Wanda chuckles under her breath as she follows you, albeit more slowly, down the last set of stairs.

“My favorite! Oh, I love you so much.”

Wanda smiles as she watches you grab two plates and pile some food onto them. Once you’ve grabbed silverware and napkins, you’re heading back over to her with a wide smile. You hand her one before shooting her a questioning look as you glance to the dining room table you usually eat at.

“Can we eat in the den?”

Your wife just smiles before nodding in agreement and following you out of the kitchen. Just off the living room, there’s another sitting room with a huge couch and a television. It opens up into the backyard, and eating in here seemed cozier than staying out in the living room. That and you didn’t have to worry about Fletcher jumping onto your food once you shut the door behind you.

You eat relatively quickly, and mostly in silence as you’re lost in your thoughts about what your appointment will hold. You feel guilty for being such a downer and you want to apologize again but it seems silly to before you know whether or not your foul mood will continue.

You look to Wanda who’s staring at her mostly empty plate lost in thought. You place yours on the table in front of you before reaching out for hers with a questioning look. You figure she’s done since she hadn’t taken a bite in almost 5 minutes, but you want to be sure.

“You done?”

Wanda is pulled from her thoughts by your question, and she just nods before she watches you free up her lap. Boone eyes the plates on the table but he knows better than to go after them. You shoot him a look before turning back to your wife. You reach out for her hand and pull her a little closer.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

Wanda smiles half-heartedly at your question before she considers how she wants to answer. She wants to be honest with you. She hates lying and she knows that talking about this is the best way to get past it and figure out next steps. She doesn’t mind admitting to you that she’s upset about you not being pregnant. She really wants children, you both do, and this is the second time you’ve tried IVF.

“I was just thinking that if this next time doesn’t work, maybe I can try?”

You’re a little surprised by her offer because when you’d initially talked about having children, you both were adamant that it would be you to carry them. Wanda’s lifestyle was far too dangerous for her to walk around pregnant and less able to protect herself as the months went on. You hadn’t wanted to put her at risk, so you’d agreed to be the one to get pregnant.

Now that Wanda wasn’t working any more, she wouldn’t be in as much danger, but you still didn’t like the idea. Wanda can tell that you’re not entirely on board, and she’s not either, but she doesn’t want all of the pressure to be on you. She knows how it stresses you, and you’ve both been told how that’s not going to be good for you or the baby.

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

There’s a lot more you can say, but you don’t want to argue right now, and neither of you know what the next best move is yet. You and Wanda will have an easier time figuring this out after your appointment today. Right now, you just wanted to relax. You tell Wanda at least the first part of this, and she nods because she realizes you’re right. You move closer to her before you pull back to grab the remote and hand it to her. You wrap your arms around your wife before kissing her cheek.

“Thank you for lunch. It was delicious.”

Wanda smiles at you lovingly before meeting you for a kiss. She drops the remote in her lap so her hands are free to wrap around your hips. She pulls you closer as she deepens the kiss and you moan at the feeling of her tongue against yours. You shift so you’re on your knees and can get better access to your wife. You move the remote off her lap before crawling into it with a sigh.

Wanda groans as you shift against her hips, the friction making her hold onto you tighter. You gasp at the feeling of nails digging into your skin, and Wanda takes the opportunity to break away from your lips and kiss down your neck. You squirm again and start rocking your hips against Wanda’s in a way that immediately has her tightening her hold on you and helping you move faster.

“Fuck.”

Your breath catches as Wanda continues to attack your neck. As her teeth tug at your skin, you grab a fistful of her hair to hold her there. Wanda growls as she moves to kiss behind your ear. Her hands find their way to your ass and she holds you still while she rocks her hips against yours making both of you moan.

“God, you’re so pretty, detka.”

You pull Wanda away from your neck and meet her for a bruising kiss. You release your hold on your hair as she grasps at your shoulders to bring you as close as possible. You start to unbutton her shirt and only just push it from her shoulders when you hear a loud yowl from outside the door. You ignore it and encourage Wanda to do the same as you sneak a hand down toward her shorts.

Your hand brushes her inner thigh before Fletcher yowls again, but this time it’s loud enough to draw Boone’s attention to the door. Up until this point the shepherd was ignoring you, but now he found someone to interact with and he starts to whine as he tries to open the door.

You groan under your breath, breaking away from your wife with a scowl as you look to your pets.

“I should have never gotten you that cat.”

Wanda slaps you playfully on the arm before she sits up and turns her attention to her still-screaming cat. She really did love Fletcher, but sometimes she was a bit much.

“Stop it, she’s just lonely. Poor baby.”

You roll your eyes before sliding off of Wanda’s lap despite your desire to stay put. Your pets have effectively killed the mood by yowling and whining for attention. Plus, Wanda would never refuse her precious baby of anything which is why she’s the one who gets to feed her when she comes calling at 4am.

You grab the discarded remote while Wanda opens the doors and lets the pair greet each other. Boone gets in Fletcher’s face and licks her while the cat’s attention is purely on your wife. You turn on the television letting them have their moment before you pat the space on the couch next to you.

“Boone, come here.”

“Don’t you dare, Y/n.”

Boone wasn’t allowed on the indoor furniture unless he sat on one of his blankets. He was relatively clean today, so you were going to try and get away with it, but one look at your wife who was shooting you a warning look all while hugging her cat made you second guess this decision. You sigh as you stand up and walk past your wife and into the hallway. You disappear for a minute to go find Boone a blanket, and you return with one of his favorites. You smile as he jumps up on you and starts to pant happily.

“Here you go, buddy.”

Wanda watches as you set the blanket down on the other end of the couch before patting it encouragingly. Boone jumps up immediately and lies down to face you as you collapse back onto the couch. You look to Wanda who’s still cuddling with the grey tabby and gesture to the space beside you.

“Are you going to join me?”

Wanda pretends to think about it before she returns to her spot beside you with a sigh. She sits down so you’re shoulder to shoulder before placing Fletcher down on the ground. She grabs one of the blankets on the arm of the couch and throws it over the both of you as you grab the remote again. You turn on the television and immediately go to one of Wanda’s favorite shows. She’s about to argue because she knows you don’t really like it, but you just shake your head as you lean against her with a sigh.

“It’s okay. I just want to sit here with you.”

So you and Wanda watch one of the redhead’s favorite sitcoms for the next hour. You end up lying down with your head in your wife’s lap, and you take a much-needed nap while Wanda manages to relax for a little while. She didn’t realize how stressed she was until now, and she’s grateful for the time away from her thoughts.

Your doctor is about 20 minutes away, and Wanda knows that it will take both of you at least that long to get ready. It took a while to find a doctor that was both good enough, and willing to be discrete for them. Wanda usually went with you to these appointments, but she had done her best to make sure she wasn’t recognized by anyone else that might be there.

You still go by your maiden name there even though you took Wanda’s when you got married. So far there hadn’t been any issues, but Wanda wasn’t one to slack on something as important as your safety, so she got her annoying disguise together while simultaneously texting both Steve and Bucky.

They wouldn’t be by their side for this because that would be too obvious, but Wanda wanted to make sure they were at least in the same area. She stifles a yawn as she pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, and you sit up straighter as if you weren’t just falling asleep. Wanda smiles as you hurry to get unbuckled and go inside. She places a hand on your arm to still you, and you turn to her to ask what’s wrong but she beats you to it.

“I just wanted to say something before we go in.”

You’re a little too high strung at the moment to give Wanda your complete attention, but you try to take a deep breath and focus on your wife who’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Yes?”

Wanda squeezes your hand before bringing it to her lips as she looks you in the eye.

“I want you to know that no matter what they tell us in there, I still love you more than anything.”

You offer Wanda a teary smile before kissing her deeply. You want to pull her over into your seat and show her how much you love her, but you can’t right now. You’re no longer exactly early for your appointment, and you both have been waiting for this for days. You break away from your wife with a sigh before kissing her heated cheek.

“Thank you. I love you too. You’re too good for me.”

The two of you make your way into the clinic and are greeted by your regular nurse within seconds. You still forget sometimes how quickly people wait on Wanda and how she has a way of making things happen. You lead her into your normal exam room and sit down next to her while Jessica gets things together.

“So how are we feeling today?”

The redhead had a feeling she knew based on just how silent the couple was being. She hated being the bearer of bad news, but she knew when she started in this field that things like this took time. You couldn’t rush them no matter how much you wanted to.

You decided to take the lead on this and Wanda just sat silently holding your hand as you spoke.

“Not great actually. I started my period the other day.”

From there you tell her about how you didn’t think you were pregnant and how you wanted to figure out next steps if this was in fact the case. You hadn’t taken a pregnancy test because well there weren’t any at your house and you hadn’t wanted to make a special, depressing trip to go get some. After saying this, Jessica digs around one of the cabinets and hands you one.

“Let’s make sure. We’ll get some blood from you in a minute, but taking this won’t hurt.”

You nod before you shoot Wanda a look before leaving the room. You make your way to the bathroom at the end of the hall with the test held tightly in your hand. This seems a little silly considering the different time frame for detection with this test, but you suppose Jessica may just be trying to help you out. Getting an answer today will certainly make it easier to accept the fact that you’re not having a baby.

Wanda watches as the other redhead grabs the supplies that she needs to collect your blood. She has a sinking feeling that you’re going to come back in here and confirm their suspicions, and she trying to mentally prepare herself for that.

“I’m sorry it’s not working out for you two yet, but you know what they say. Third time’s the charm.”

This is what Wanda thinks about as the two of you drive home after the appointment. You haven’t said much as you consider what you’re going to do for the rest of the day. You don’t want to spend the rest of your day off moping around. You work tomorrow, and you’d rather spend time with your wife and dog than go to bed and sleep your feelings away. You sigh as you look over to Wanda who’s been trying to figure out how to tell Nat that you’re not pregnant.

She’d told her friend that the two of you were trying, you hadn’t wanted to get their hopes up, but Wanda had wanted to confide in her best friend. For this reason, she’d told Nat when you started the most recent treatment and the redhead had known about this appointment today.

“We should have Nat and Yelena over.”

Wanda’s train of thought is cut off by your suggestion, and she has to remind herself not to give anything away. She shoots you a curious look because she’s not sure where you’re going with this. You’ve always loved a good dinner party, but given recent events, she’s not sure what kind of mood you’re in.

“Tonight?”

You nod as you smile at the thought of your friends coming over. You would ask Yelena to bring Fanny so she and Boone could play. Maybe even Natasha would bring her cat…You realize quickly that it’s already 4pm, and the duo is probably busy and most likely won’t be able to come. You know how busy Mondays usually were for Wanda, so you can only assume it will be busy for them as well.

“Never mind, it’s probably too last minute.”

Wanda called Nat the moment she got home. She let you go off and find Boone while she hurried to the kitchen to see what they had to throw together for dinner tonight. She knew how important food was to you, but you didn’t go grocery shopping like you normally would yesterday, and the fridge was severely lacking. She sighed and just started to brainstorm when Nat picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Wanda checks to make sure that you’re not nearby before she retreats to the den. She slides the door shut behind her before she sighs in exhaustion. Nat immediately knows that something’s up, but she didn’t get a chance to ask.

“We just got back from the appointment. Y/n’s not pregnant.”

Nat curses herself for forgetting that this was happening today. She’d had a very busy weekend and she had forgotten how important today was for her friends. She hated that they didn’t have any luck this time, and she was trying to figure out what she could do to make them both feel better.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

Wanda sighs in defeat as she nods in agreement. It really does suck. She had gotten her hopes up again, and despite knowing that this wasn’t going to happen easily she wanted you to be an exception. She supposed it wasn’t fair to put this pressure on you when she knew there wasn’t much you could do to make this happen any faster.

She shakes her head at the thought before she moves to sit down at the counter. She’s exhausted and could fall asleep right now.

“Thanks. We’re both disappointed, but I think Y/n is feeling guilty.”

Nat frowns at the thought of you taking the blame for this. It’s so like you, but it’s definitely not warranted in this situation. Granted, sometimes you should take blame for things, like Yelena getting a dog, but this isn’t one of those times.

“That’s no good. What can we do to help?”

Wanda smiles immediately at the redhead’s question. She knows she doesn’t have much time when she hears your and Boone’s footsteps on the second floor.

“What are you and Yelena doing tonight?”

Part 2

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff & reader #yelena belova & reader #mob au #mcu fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader

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satansaidnottoday · 7 months

Text

Penance.

Info: Belphegor x GN!Mc, OG Game.

Word count: 2,1k

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Warnings: NSFW, angst, murder, verbal abuse, physical abuse, isolation, choking, obsession, stalking.

When Barbatos brought you back, your head was filled with questions. How were you there? Was this really you? Was it another version of yourself, made to replace the one they had broken? The one he had broken. Perhaps you were the same person, seconds before the moment of your death. But that couldn't be.

Because you remembered.

And you felt.

You felt his hands still on your throat. You felt his nails digging into your skin. Your head still hurt. And it would hurt for so long after, that you would sometimes convince yourself that you were still on that floor. Bleeding to death.

You saw him again when Barbatos took you back to the house. He sat in the common room, looking at you. Smiling.

That stupid, rotten, miserable smile.

That smile you had wanted to see on him for so long.

You wanted to tear it off his face.

He had wished you'd come back to him, and there you were. Alive. Despite his reckless actions, despite his mistake, you were back!

His brothers got to you first. They surrounded you, like a flock to their shepherd. Desperate to see if you were real.

He waited patiently for his turn. He knew you probably were mad at him, but for sure you'd forgive him. He had lied to you and you forgave him. He had yelled at you a few times and you didn't care. For sure you'd forgive him once he explained, and then he could tell you how much he loved you. It would be perfect.

Then Beel moved back and your eyes fell on him. And he smiled because he was so happy to see you again.

But your eyes were so cold. Colder than your corpse. They carried a hatred bigger than your body, and bigger than all the love you used to have for him.

"Mc..."

"Don't come near me."

The first few weeks you didn't talk to him at all. He would try to approach you but you ignored him every time. He wanted to grab you, to kneel and beg your forgiveness. But he was scared of touching you. You looked so horrified when he came near, bracing yourself.

He was even lonelier than before. His brothers avoided him, barely holding a conversation with him before finding an excuse to leave. Only Beelzebub talked to him. But everyone else refused to stay with Beel if Belphegor was in the same room, so he started to distance himself. He didn't want his twin to end up alone like him.

And he was left like that, forgotten. Ironically he found comfort hiding in the attic. It was quiet and away from everyone. He wouldn't feel the sting of being ignored if he ignored them first.

All of his memories of you were there, too. He sat on the floor in front of the door and imagined you were coming. He guessed what you were going to tell him, what jokes you'd make with each other. Maybe you'd get him his favorite chocolate or a hand-made decoration to make his room more comfy. Most days he'd fall asleep there, waiting for you.

The only moments he shared with his family were the meals. He sat silently, trying to steal a look at you, but you never lifted your eyes from the plate.

You were closed off from everyone at first, still processing everything that had happened. The brothers pampered you, yet you still felt bad.

You jumped from the slightest of things, telling them off for surprising you or entering your room without permission. They were cautious around you, they didn't know what to do with you. They didn't understand how humans process trauma, but they tried their best.

You had nightmares every night. The exact moment of your death was repeated constantly. You felt your lungs empty, your legs giving up. You felt his skin under your hands, as you gripped his arms, begging with your eyes for him to stop.

But he never stopped.

You gave up sleeping all together. You would stay awake all night studying or cleaning.

Fatigue would get you during the day and you'd take short, dreamless naps.

About a month later, you started to get your courage back.

You didn't avoid his eyes anymore. Whenever he looked for you, you locked your gaze on him until he was too uncomfortable to keep looking.

Now, when Belphegor tried to approach, you didn't coward away. You told him to get lost and die. You called him ugly, disgusting, stupid, cruel, a filthy traitor.

It was nothing like you, your old kind, meek self. But it felt right. It made you hurt less, to see the hurt on his face.

He should feel shame, not you. He should be the one scared of you.

And it hurt him.

He just wanted to talk, he wanted to make it up to you. Yet every time he tried, it hurt worse than before. It hurt so much that the same voice that brought him peace and confidence before, was tearing him down.

He stopped coming near you at all. He skipped family meals. He stayed hidden away in the attic at all hours. You only ever saw glimpses of him at rad, but even then he would hide away from crowded places, choosing to sleep most of the day, as much as he could.

He couldn't hurt when he was asleep.

During your sleepless nights, you started to imagine your hands gripping his arms so hard that they left bruises, and he had to let go. And when he does you kick him. You stand on top of him and you kick him mercilessly until he stops moving.

But you didn't want to kill him, did you? No, you wanted to make him suffer just like you were. You restarted the scenario in your head, but this time you didn't kill him. You started clawing at his skin, crimson liquid sipping from the wounds you caused. Imagining the pain on his face filled you with adrenaline and excitement. For a second, you felt alive again.

So you kept making up scenarios in your head, torturing Belphegor in as many ways as you could imagine.

It wasn't healthy, but just thinking of how much pain you could cause, it was intoxicating. It was the only sort of therapy you had access to. The only thing making you feel better.

Eventually, your nightmares turned into your fantasies, growing more violent every day. But they also turned in unexpected directions.

You dreamt of whipping him, but also of kissing and licking at his wound. You dreamt of making him cry and then kissing him to shut him up. Biting down on his leg so hard you left marks and then making him wear shorts so everyone would see.

You'd wake up breached in your own sweat after those dreams. You didn't know how to feel about it. You convinced yourself they were nightmares, just your subconscious trying to mess with you. And you swore to hate them, yet you fell asleep every night happier than before.

He couldn't approach you, so he watched from afar. At RAD he sat far away behind you, looking at your every move. He'd follow you around the school, making sure to stay away from your view. You'd for sure scream at him if you saw him, but he only wanted to see you. Looking at you made him feel less lonely.

He loved you so much and you loved him too. You were just angry, but you had to come back to him eventually, right? He'd patiently wait it out until you finally forgave him and he could have you again. For now, he was fine just looking.

He started to sneak out to follow you wherever you went out. Every time you smiled and laughed with someone else, it hurt so much, that he couldn't make you happy anymore.

That someone else had what he was supposed to have.

But he could only watch. And he could imagine. Replacing whoever was there with himself.

He imagined holding you the way Asmodeus would when you tried out clothes. If he had his arms around you like that, he would never let go.

He imagined it was him taking you out to eat, in place of Lucifer. He sat at a table on the corner of the restaurant, watching you. Trying to read your lips and getting lost in them, thinking about how they'd taste.

He found the exact place in the attic, in which he could lay down and listen through the floorboards into Leviathan's room. Every time you guys were watching movies or playing games he'd lay there. He would laugh along with you, convincing himself it was him that made you laugh.

One night, as he waited in front of his door, he had an idea.

An amazing one, actually, if you asked him.

As much as he loved watching you, doing it from afar started to become stale. He wanted more. Your attention, your scent, your voice, your touch.

You wouldn't give it to him. But maybe he could have it somewhere else.

When he entered your dreams, something he was never quite brave enough to do, he didn't know what he would be forced to watch.

He sees you, as if through a bubble. You're in the planetarium and you're on top of him. He trashes around and silently screams as you choke him. You dig your nails into his neck and your knee onto his crotch as he whines and pleads. He can't see your face, he can only see his. And the pathetic look he makes as he comes.

And then you stand over what's left of him. What once was a powerful demon, reduced to a barely breathing, drooling mess.

You laugh as his dream version tries to hug you, but you only push him back.

And you look at him. The real him.

You smile.

And that smile was worse than your frown.

You woke dazed, confused. Your dreams had been normal lately. Going to the dog park with a cat, being late to class, the normal stuff. You thought you were getting over him, but this one felt so strangely real.

You laid back and looked at the ceiling. You wondered what he was doing up there. Was he crying, like you regularly imagined him? It'd usually put a smile on your face to think of that, but not that night.

You missed him, you realized. You wanted to check on him, you hadn't seen him in a while. You didn't want to admit it, but you just couldn't ignore the feeling anymore.

You wondered what you should do. Showing up unannounced and with no backup was a bad idea. It sounded like walking directly into the wolf's mouth. But you didn't want to go with anyone else. You wanted him alone, like you had him in your dreams. That version of him, the one that loved you.

A knock came at your door. You begrudgingly got out of bed to answer, guessing Mammon wanted your help with a scheme, or Beel wanted to share a snack with you.

He stood at the door, unsure of what to say. You were the nearest to him you had been since that day. You looked lovely up close, much more beautiful than he remembered. His heart raced faster, starting to doubt his decision.

"What are you doing he-"

"You can hurt me."

It came out like a prayer of devotion to a beloved god, and in some way, he thought it was. What he saw in your dreams, what you wanted to do with him, he wanted it too.

"What do you mean?"

You looked at him, lost in confusion. He was wearing the pajamas you had gifted him a long time ago. They looked misfit on him now. He had lost too much weight. He didn't look groomed or clean, and his smell didn't help. Not exactly sweat, but humidity, like the built-up under a mattress left on the floor.

"I want you to hurt me, to make up for what I did to you. Please, I can't live without you anymore."

He looked at you with big pleading eyes. He looked more sad and pathetic than ever. It broke your heart. It made you want to break his head.

You reached off his arm and he pushed onto your touch as you grabbed him. Throwing him in and closing the door behind you.

"Be my pet then."

He swallowed nervously under your hungry stare.

"Yes."

If you couldn't be his, he wanted to be yours.

Thank you for reading.

#dividers by @cafekitsune #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #om! shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me! belphegor #om! belphie #shall we date belphie #belphegor x mc #belphegor x reader #sub Belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #obey me headcannons #obey me brain rot #read the warnings

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wellington-wells-fashion · 6 months

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WELCOME TO THE WWFI!

Are you looking for hottest fashion to really make yourself look ✨stunning?✨

Well, look no further! We here at the Wellington Wells Fashion Institute are always bringing out the finest in fab threads! And we're oh, so head-over-heels for the hemlines!

And we're going to make sure everyone knows about it.

Go to 5:52.

CONTACT COUNT:44

Contacts:

@kittyklok

@askthepastrulerofcrete

@questionablesun00

@thatfoullegacy

@lovelyprincessn64

@hashbang-mods

@talkingteardrop

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@agent-rosie

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@ask-overwatch-heroes

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@the-text-doctor

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@gloriansobble

@ask-miguel-ohara

@torchwoodpropaganda (How are things across the bridge?)

@ask-sister-rosalie

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@theradiodoctor

Let's get this number up to 500!

#we happy few #HOW HIGH CAN THE HEMLINES GO?!

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

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Diluc with a senior belgian shepherd dog —

he's the fattest, chonkiest ball of fur you've ever seen. during the day, he lazes under the sun surrounded by grapevines and crystalflies. Diluc calls for him before sundown to eat dinner together. by night, he's sleeping by the fireplace on a plush, velvety doggy bed.

he was a gift from crepus on diluc's early birthdays. was supposed to guard the vineyards but ended up getting overfed by diluc, kaeya, and the maids, so it got a little too fat to run after wolves or hilichurls.

spoiled rotten, eats only the best steak and spring water in mond. gets pampered by the maids a lot, and i mean PAMPERED!

some days, he falls asleep outside the winery and diluc has to carry the giant ball of fluff inside. diluc is by no means a small man, but this chonky belgian practically consumes his entire front like a small bear.

much chonk

#hira brainrot #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #kaeya #genshin #genshin diluc

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simonsaysbark · 6 months

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Notzmo Simon Sez "Simon"

7/14/08 - 10/28/23

There's all these things I want to write.

I'm struggling. I'm a better writer than a speaker, but I'm going to ramble. Lots of words, and somehow, it's not even close to being enough.

Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted a Blue Merle dog. I know. I know. I'm going to get all my show friends and dog friends who shake their heads and say color doesn't matter. I know it doesn't, but- it did for me. It does. I love merles, I love how they look like fog in the woods on a Pacific Northwest Morning. They're swirls of grey and black with pops of tan or muted gold, all different patches. I adored them from afar. I grew up with an Old English Sheepdog, we had friends with merle Aussies and other merle dogs and man, did I covet them as a little girl. However my dog life went a direction I didn't forsee, to German Shepherds. Search and Rescue was my thing, my GSD's were wonderful at it, but the shop kinda took over my time. I showed Shepherds too, enjoyed that, but Matt wanted something a little smaller in the house.

So I did my research. I talked to folks, met dogs, and Corgis fit our lifestyle and our household. Cardigans especially. I could live with that, I've had herding dogs my whole life, they're a big dog with a giant heart and work ethic but with short legs. They had all the things I loved about Shepherds, and not so much of the things I sure can live without.

Plus they came in merle. Geninuely merle, a true pattern of the breed.

We ended up with two rescue Pems from rough beginnings, but man, I still wanted that Cardigan. I don't think I've ever told my Cardi folks how I sneakily went to dog shows, tried talking to some of the breeders a bit around my area. Most of them didn't have time those days. Me? I was too worried about making a mistake or being rude, coming across badly, and I was also hyper aware of how busy folks are at them and didn't want to push. I guess that was okay. Universe testing me, do you really want this breed? I did. The more I was around the ones I saw, the more I loved them.

So, I sent out a whole lot of email inquiries to folks, with pictures of my German Shepherds, with what a story of, what I did, that I showed, I trained. I think I had pictures of my dogs and my fenced yard, haha. I admit, I'm a little terrified to cold call folks, it's- it's hard for me. I told them I was willing to wait for the right dog to come along. I wanted something healthy, I wanted them to maybe try doing SAR or some dog sport, I wanted to try showing, but- I wanted a blue merle too. Years were fine. If I'm to be honest no one really answered, but I was patient and kept trying. Then I heard from Dona and Sharon, who-- had a litter and a pup that might fit what I wanted. It was way earlier than I expected but I was game. I told them, I loved working dogs, I love thinking dogs, I plan on doing all these things with my dog.

They picked him out for me, and he was everything they said he was right down to when I first met him at the airport and took him home, he snuggled and was calm and observant to everything, confident and thoughtful about his new life. He then snatched his leash in his mouth when I put him down on the lawn and took himself for his walk. I'd been warned he did that. He did it his whole life; he would carry his leash for the first few steps of every walk, just to let you know if he really wanted to, he could yank it out of your hand and do it himself just fine, thanks. He was housebroken in an instant. He only slept in a crate by the bed for less than a month before we found him curled up asleep in the big dog bed at bedtime and took a chance on him staying out and he was oddly perfect. I kept waiting for the terrible rotten teenage stages, but no. Simon never put a foot wrong, you could trust him flat out the house. He never made a mess or got into anything he wasn't supposed to. Period. Never chewed a single thing that wasn't for chewing. He played with my huge Shepherd, brave as could be.

And oh gosh. He loved toys. He loved fetch. Fetch. Ball. Ball. Ball. He was more focused and driven than some of my working line Shepherds I have owned. Way more.

I took a few pictures, posted them for myself on my blog that I'd had the Shepherds on... and was like huh, the camera really likes this little guy.

Little did I know what I'd let out of the box. Once he found that camera though, that was it. Folks ask all the time, did I give him treats? Did I train him to pose? Nope. Never. Not for pictures. I sure encouraged it, but to be honest, his reward was going out and posing on stuff and knowing he was awesome, throwing out his chest and strutting around Seattle like he owned it, taking walks in the woods and the crags and mountains, running through streams and dirt. Mud and filth and full tilt, but you never had to worry about him getting into trouble out there. He stuck close, and always kept an eye on where I was, even as a pup.

Simon snored in the bed. In the middle of the night he'd squish himself as close as possible, put his muzzle over my neck and his heavy, stubby leg over my shoulder and drool. He loved to cuddle. Cake was his favorite special treat in the world. His eyes would get like saucers over cake. I've shared so many dog friendly cakes. You could ask him if he wanted a bath and he'd make a decision on the spot, yes or no and hop himself in the tub on his own accord, which always made me laugh. He could swim like a otter.

I made so many friends from blogs and places that are long gone on the internet. Was overjoyed when I met other Cardigan folks on photo sites and blogs, because at the time you really... you didn't see them at all. Our online photo blog secret Cardi society and all that. My photography hobby and skill improved with him in massive leaps and bounds.

He was an internet star with followers before the net blew up into what it is now. I've thought about that over the years and to be honest, I'm glad it was that way because I got to know so many people on a one to one basis. We never did things specifically for money or fame like I see a lot of now. His fan base was organic and loved him just because he was a funny, expressive, and cool dog. Most of you who follow me didn't start following me for me, and I like that.

It was such a shock to me but a good one - I'm a bit quiet, but here I own this dog that's as extroverted as it gets, and it worked out. I was his faithful Nikon Paparazzi, he was my famous good looking actor. We would go places and people I never met before would ask me about my dog. He was a fantastic breed ambassador. People loved to hear what he was and learn about Cardigans. Many folks randomly recognized him from his blog, from Tumblr, from Flickr. I had people lean out of car windows or walk by us and snap a picture of him. Once I wasn't paying attention and he stopped mid stride when we were out in Seattle, and I nearly fell over him. As I managed to keep my feet (I said some naughty words, heh) I realized that I'd never saw the man leaning out the window with the phone camera in hand at the light by the theater snapping a shot. Simon sure did, and he was chest out, ears up, until the car behind the guy honked and the guy hastily waved at us and went on.

He helped me meet Cardi people, get involved in the breed with folks. I credit his presence for so many of my friends in this breed that I adore and who mean the world to me in Cardidom. Who helped me learn to show again after I lost my eye and was even more stressed about public moments because I didn't want to drop a dog on the floor off the table, or miss a cue. A big blue icebreaker. He oozed charm. He knew he was all that, but in the way that he didn't have to be in your face. Lady dogs loved him, it always cracked me up because he surprisingly wasn't into the girls. He was so easy to deal with around the ladies, and always polite to them. He'd give up food, treats, anything and was a gentleman- well, except when a ball was involved. (Dearest Kate... I'm sorry he ran into you like a Mack truck that one time we were all out playing. We all heard his big noggin crack into you like a football helmet, and he about laid you flat. I hope you get a chance to knock some sense into him in return, in that place where all good dogs go.)

Simon tried showing, because I wanted a show dog to show. To be honest, he has a few points but he never enjoyed it like Caleb. It really wasn't for him. He did it for me, because I wanted it, but his big ol' heart was in agility and fetching things and photographs. His second to final time in the ring still cracks me up to this day. I used a flat collar for agility and photo stuff and a thin chain for conformation. Well, I was in a hurry. I was late to the show, running to find my ring, so I left the flat on him. We whisked by the agility ring and he was totally on his toes and excited and happy and I was like "no, come on, let's GO." Oh boy. That was a mistake. He eyed me, eyed the ring, and gave me an absolute stink look. Simon has always been the sort to tell you he's not amused. He never pulled a punch when he thought you were being unfair. I was an idiot and blew him off because I was running on ring-jitters and coffee and panic because that's what you do sometimes.

So he got in the ring, he's on his toes and looking like a million bucks, gaits, moves out, stacks beautifully on the table and I'm like wow, wow, awesome, she's looking at us and he's showing off for everything he's worth. The judge moves us to the front of our class for the final go around and as we turn the corner in front of the judge's table, Simon looks up at me with an open mouthed sly smile, and I'm like "oh oh." I know I'm in trouble.

Without missing a beat he passes the judge's table right as she watches us go by, hikes his leg as high and obvious as he could and pretends to pee all over it, in mid-stride. He never peed a drop. Like in my horror and shock I kept looking- and there was not anything there. He made full on eye contact with the judge as he was faking it, that rotter.

Needless to say, we uh... well, we were dismissed without uh, getting dismissed, haha. As we left the ring, I looked down at him, he looked up at me and laughed as big as he could, tongue lolling, grin to his ears. He laid it out as clear as he could, and all I could do was walk away to find a place to sit with him, put his big head in my hands and say to him, "Yup. I screwed up. Sorry." He sat and eyed me and then I just laughed and laughed because he was absolutely right. I was rude, I made the mistake. It was my fault, and I apologized and he laughed with me, slurped me, and I was instantly forgiven. He never held a grudge with you for messing up. He really didn't. I never held a grudge with him, because most of the time it wasn't his fault, and when it was, he also apologized. He was easy that way.

That was our relationship in a nutshell. I love my dogs, I love all my dogs but Simon was different, he was as near-human as it gets. I hate saying dogs are human because I think- well, I think it takes away from the dogness that makes the amazing animals that they are. They aren't human, and that's important to respect... but in his case I'll make that exception to myself. I can't explain it. You could ask him to do something new to him, show him what you wanted, and he'd mull it over in his head and problem solve it. Food wasn't a motivator. Ball surprisingly wasn't his motivator either. It was the task, the thing, the puzzle of working the problem out. That's what he enjoyed more than anything. I wish I could say it was me as this amazing dog trainer. Nope. Nada. I've taught a whole lot of dogs to do a whole lot of things, but Simon was a whole other level. I've never had one like him. I'm pretty sure I'll never have one again.

He could do the funniest thing with his feet. Like, when he was just walking around the house he'd shuffle along the floor. You'd hear him scuffling his claws tik-a-ticka, tick-a-ticka. He was lazy and didn't care if you heard him. But- when he wanted to be a ninja, he could pull up his claws and walk effortless on his pads somehow, he was a master of stealth on the hardwood floors and you'd never know he'd gone by. Mostly so could open the gate and climb the cat posts and steal dry cat food in a heartbeat. Even when he was older and couldn't really climb like he used to, he'd stop every time through the back room and wait for his token piece of cat food on the way in from outside. I'd say "One cat food please?" and give him his tribute; only then would he trot out and let me shut the gate. He waited patiently for all the dogs here to leave their bowls and wander off after dinner and then he'd go grab them and stack them in a pile carefully within each other so that he could possibly get one extra crumb that might have been left behind.

He was supposed to be my dog, and he was, he loved me and would do anything for me, but he was Matt's buddy (even if he NEVER listened to him or heeled when walking with him, he'd drag him all over the place and it was both hilarious and awful but hey, that was between men, doing manly things.) He tested anyone who held his leash. It was a game for him, he would look over at me to say, heh, watch this. He found it amusing to see if someone else would actually ask him to mind his manners, and if they did, he would but if you didn't? Game on. He'd never try it with me though. He always loved men more than women when we were out and about. He desired those locker room thumps on the chest and the shoulder, not baby talk, coos, little scritches behind his ears. They watched the Patriots and the Seahawks together since Simon was a tiny puppy. Football season was his thing. Ball ball ball, on tv, to fetch, to play and amuse himself for hours.

I've never shared the last coherent words Matt said to me to a lot of people. I'm sharing them now because I'm sort of laid bare, but I've thought about them for years. It wasn't I love you, or anything like that. We didn't need to say that, because it had been said so many times while he was in hospice. That was understood. It was, "I'm glad for one thing. I won't be here when Simon... goes."

I understood that too. Our weekends of Simon, Caleb, cameras, and outings were such a special and happy part of our lives. Matt was the driver, the equipment wrangler, the one who found weird out of the way places for us to take pictures and then to eat weird food out in the middle of nowhere. He always got a dessert he could share with Si (Caleb isn't really a sweet-toothed dude.) Something we all loved.

Simon knew Matt was gone. He knew. He was depressed and sad and nothing I could say or do or take him out to play could change it. The other dogs adapted, changed, but for months, he kept looking for him. Simon loved me with everything he was and still loved to go out and take pictures with me, but I was not his football buddy, I was not his fellow sports fan. It was when my younger brother moved in with me for a while during the pandemic that changed things again. Simon adored my brother, and when my brother went away on a trip for a week, his anxiety went high. When he came back though, Simon looked at me and I said, "Yep, he'll come back. It's okay, it's not the same." That was it. That's all he needed and it was like a huge sigh and off he went, and was completely okay again after that. He never worried again. My brother is surprisingly not a pet person, but he loved Simon with all of his heart and offered to take him if something happened to me. That was huge. Thanks, bro. I know you meant it and it was a relief for me to know that in case of the unthinkable, he'd be with someone who appreciated him for who he was, obnoxious Simon barking moments and all.

Also, my brother taught him the dumbest game. Shuffling through the kitchen dragging him along as his front paws gripped your feet, splooted with his stubby legs trailing behind him. Not so much thanks for that to my brother- Simon wanted this game every morning before I had coffee. I blearily scooted him every across the kitchen floor morning because while the other dogs rushed outside to pee like normal dogs, Simon would hold it until he had his sliding fun first.

On one hand, he was this hard hitting, incredible working beast of a dog. People would say, "I want a dog like Simon." Well, no, most folks don't. There are very few people who would have loved living with him. Most of them just saw cute pictures and Simon posing. In the wrong home, he would have been terrible, and there were times he was tough to live with - I'm the first to admit it. For me, he was perfect. I loved his drive, his intuition, his bravery, his intelligence, but he never stopped during his whole life and I am grateful he was sharp as ever and still galloping along for the last years. He was as busy and active as he ever was to the end.

He wasn't easy sometimes around other strange dogs. Like, he didn't take crud from anyone or anything. If you were polite, he was polite and shook hands and moved along without fuss, but if you were rude or aggressive (even to another dog, not him) nope. He had no problem laying the law down. Was he fair about it? Absolutely, but he was serious. He did not ever appreciate an in your space, jumping up, untrained dog in the slightest, and had no tolerance for it. People who let unleashed dogs run up to us on a walk were eyed with a side eye and you could see him blow up and hear the low rumble- and if the dog got nasty... oof. Once during a photo session on the beach, Caleb - who was just lying right next to me and not engaging anything - got attacked by a awful loose dog who charged up on us. The owner was completely oblivious and yelling oh, he's friendly. (Of course, right?)

Caleb's no fighter, he just rolled over and was shrieking and being shaken. Simon was playing in the water out from us a bit and while I had dove in, trying to get the dog off of Caleb, Si came in so fast and so hard and so silent he slammed that dog easily twice his size off his feet and knocked him back from us. Simon absolutely thrashed that dog. To this day I swear he teleported. However, he sent that obnoxious dog running for their life and immediately stopped and came back to check on us, standing between us and the dog while staring bullets and laser eyes at it as it went running away back to mommy in the distance.

Simon loved cats though. Adored cats. Cats were his thing. He was the crazy cat dad dog. He would have loved it if we adopted a million cats and he was the one to decide we were keeping his Sophie, period. We had no say in that. She was his kitty, and has been all these years. Kittens, cats, ferals, non ferals, bottle babies, random barn cats, some strange cat on the street, it didn't matter. He loved them all. He never met a cat he didn't like, and cats liked him back. Or at least tolerated him more than most dogs. Even my mom's cat Rudy, who is uh, hard to like. Simon would let a cat hiss, spit, snarl, swipe and all he did was turned his head and waited for them to come to the conclusion that he wasn't dangerous. He raised so many foster kittens for me and taught them to be dog friendly. He adored puppies too. He was the best babysitter, and a combination of fair discipline and goofy play. He was the gentlest dog with food and treats, he had the softest mouth of any dog I've ever owned, he never once snapped at a treat or a person. You could hand him a dollop of frosting and he'd lick it off your fingers ever so carefully. He never got upset at a vet or someone trying to handle him, he was gracious about it.

Like I said, Simon rarely held grudges. Caleb holds grudges at the drop of a hat (oh boy does he ever) but I promise he usually forgets in a week or two. Simon? Not at all with the ones he loved. That's one of the reasons that these two boys have been together all these years so well. Other dogs would have probably buried Caleb in the backyard at times when his stripeyship wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Sure, they postured, they puffed, sometimes they threw a punch and went to get a beer after, like good ol' boys do, but Simon forgave Caleb for being a doofus and Caleb got away with being a doofus because Simon knew Caleb never meant anything by all of his bluster. We never had a serious drag out fight between them even with girls in season.

Simon adored Caleb and Caleb loved Simon. They were just fine being apart, they weren't attached at the hip, but Simon loved Caleb like you love your little brother and also can sit on him when he's being unreasonable. He was so delighted when we apparently got him his own puppy, and he was a puppy himself at the time. Once after Caleb had been out for a while with a handler to finish his Championship, we went and picked him after like four months. By that time Caleb had been a big shot on an all girl campus and thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Stripey red dog's ego was running high, and Simon was just lying in the back of the car eyeing him with a quiet sigh, like he expected him to chill out anytime soon.

Finally after maybe half an hour of Caleb being unbearably snarky, Simon got up, leaned over, and grabbed Caleb's muzzle in his mouth. He held onto it as if to say "That's enough of that, bro. Manners." He never broke skin, he never hurt him. Just a brotherly dog dope slap.

Caleb realized in one shining lightbulb moment that he was headed back home, and he was way too big for his britches. Just like that, over and done, all was back to being pals. Simon let go, licked him on the head, and they slept in a pile all the way home.

In the end, there's only one thing I weirdly regret a little. Simon's photos won every category in the photo contest at Nationals... except Best In Show. Surprisingly, that was on Caleb and Tempe, but-- I think it's fitting. Si loved his pack here with all of his heart, and I guess he was like eh, they can have that one moment, why not. He was always generous with his toys and treats for the most part with his family of dogs. Except ball. Nope, all balls and toys all belonged to him.

I once went to Seattle with a wonderful friend of mine, Paige. We were taking some photos of Simon and her Cardigan Story. It was chilly and we ducked into a spot by the Bon, I think, to get out of the wind for a second. This young woman came up and asked us about the dogs. When we said their names she looked at us and said, "Simon? THE Simon? From Tumblr?"

Sure. The Simon. Yep. When she realized who it was she erased her friend's wedding pictures off of her phone so she could take pictures of him and herself for her dad who was also a huge fan. (This was when phones had limited storage, so it was a big deal.) I don't know if you're out there on on the net or follow us still, but... I want you to know that's made me smile all these years. Paige and I were walking back when she turned to me and said "I- all these people, know who he is here. Wow. I didn't think when you wrote about it- I was like, huh, no, that can't be real. I thought you were kidding."

I still run into people out there in the wild like that. It tickles me as much as it did the first time.

The Simon.

That sums him up. I have had a lot of dogs. He- he wasn't a dog. Well, he was, because yes, he did dog things, like pushed a chair across a room to pee on my kitchen table once as a young dog because he hated a Cardgian statue I'd placed on it. He ran off with an admiring posse of Cardi girls at a friend's house who showed him the grossest mud ever and rolled in it until he was black. It turned to concrete on his coat and stunk the back of my car up so bad we had to strip everything out because it smelled like swamp on hot days for months. He barked at full volume at the top of his lungs at the drop of a hat just to hear his own voice to the point where sometimes his name felt like Simon Shut Up, Dude. He fetched like a maniac. He loved his jolly balls until they turned into strips and refused the new ones until he had no choice but to give in and then he loved those to scraps. Also, he barked. He had to tell you every single day of his life about how his day was. Did I mention he barked? I think so.

He had the best bork. A roaring superbark from his chest, like a dog ten times his size. He used it all the time. It's so quiet right now here. It'll be quiet when we get up in the morning from now on, and when I come home from work because he led the morning chorus we're awake joy bark, and the evening song of you're home joy bark, and his bark was always one trumpeting about every thing he did. Simon Sez.

He was my best friend. I loved him. With everything I am, and the dogs and cats here loved him too. I'm absolutely shattered right now, and I have so much more I could say, but this is long and I need to stop because I could go on forever. Fifteen years with a friend and all the ups and downs and roads we've traveled and experiences we've had can't be summed in a Facebook post, but I've done the best I can. The short pack and I don't know what to do this morning. This is a huge hole- no, a chasm. I don't think it's the sort you ever fill up.

Thank you to Dr. Bill Larson and his wonderful staff took incredible care of him all these years from puppy until now, and all the other amazing vets and specialists who ever worked with him and kept him healthy and happy.

Thank you Sharon, thank you Dona, for trusting me with Simon for all these years and always checking in on us and being proud of your grandpup. I can't ever say thank you enough for taking a chance on me for my first Cardigan. I like to say we sometimes don't get the dogs we want, but we always get the ones we need. However, he was everything I could have ever wanted and needed in one wonderful dog. I'm ever so grateful for the fact that until the very last minute, he was active and playing and sharp as a tack.

Thank you, all of you who shared his life with me. So many of you love Cardigans or found Cardigans as a breed because of him. I can name a lot of you, and I appreciate from the bottom of my heart hearing all these stories of your dogs and your life with them. These wonderful dogs deserve it. There is no other breed I want in my life.

Thank you, Si for everything. Everything.

You were one of a kind. The absolutely perfect crazy blue merle dog that my inner little kid could have ever, ever wished for.

#simon #cardigan corgi #merle #corgi #dog #you were the best #puppy #corgi puppies #corgis of tumblr #blue merle #caleb

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