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wndaswife · 1 year

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meant to be yours | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Nearly eight years after your breakup with her, you meet Wanda again when she enrols her children at the preschool you work at, evoking a multitude of old feelings and regrets.

Word count: 14 245

Tags: angst, fluff, pining that is a lot more mutual than it seems to either of you, mentions of marital issues, sorority!wanda & milf!wanda (best of both worlds), doctor doom makes his grand entrance

For the last few years, all Wanda has known how to do is compromise. It was a method of survival, a way to make sure she made something of herself as she aged.

The life she had made for herself wasn’t what she’d envisioned; ever since high school, Wanda dreamed of being a journalist for a fashion line. She loved writing and fashion design although the last time she ever had any large projects with either of those passions was in college.

Somewhere along the way, Wanda became convinced that the only thing she could ever be good at was planting down exactly where she’d always been — not taking leaps of faith lest she tumble and have nothing to fall back on.

That was why she settled for a life married to her college boyfriend, staying at home most of the time caring for her two four-year-olds, Tommy and Billy. They were raised to be good, sweet boys, and though Wanda had heaps of regrets, her sons were always her greatest joys.

Victor Doom was an aerospace engineer who focused on robotics and developing other technological advancements for the company at which he worked — the household’s breadwinner.

In college he was especially well-known for being one of if not the only campus frat boy with a working brain, who in his final year helped paton tech with his astrophysics professor, subsequently earning himself a position as an engineer at a renowned corporation where he’s since been employed.

All she’d been doing since college was compromise — where to relocate, when to have children, whether or not she pursued a career. Some days she was somehow comforted by the fact that she didn’t need to do any more than live in the providing shadow of her husband, for it meant that she never had to reach for anything above, and that meant she never had to risk failing.

But other days, when she was selfish, Wanda wished she had more. She wished she had more friends, she wished she had a better marriage and a fulfilling job. Then she’d make dinner for her husband and settle around the table with him and Tommy and Billy at the end of the day and realise that she couldn’t have what she sometimes felt she wanted.

How could she?

At thirty years old with no opportunity for anywhere but forward along the path she’d always been afraid to step off of, there was nothing more for her but this.

In the morning an argument took place in the kitchen, hushed and whispered so as to keep it muffled from the twins who were sleeping upstairs. Victor and Wanda had been discussing putting the twins into the summer preschool program for some time, as the private school they were planning on enrolling them in the fall semester had an optional preschool program.

He was on board up until this morning when Wanda brought up the idea that she use the free time to get a part-time job at a local newspaper company that was looking for journalists.

Upset at her suggestion, he called her selfish and accused her of intentionally suggesting bringing the twins to preschool so she could waste time on her own self-absorbed endeavours. She tried to tell him that she felt she had to do more with herself, and that she didn’t only want to be a stay-at-home mother, especially when she had the education to pursue a career like he did.

Rationally he couldn’t understand her wanting to find a job when he provided everything and more for their family, but it was her comparison of their likeness that set Victor off and he became furious and had trouble keeping his voice down, forcing Wanda to quickly abandon the idea of applying to the part-time job to keep him placated.

He left in a frustrated state though he ended up getting what he wanted, and Wanda woke the boys up for their first day of preschool.

The two young boys had moved to cuddle up beside each other through the night, with Tommy having switched beds to sleep next to his brother.

Wanda woke the both of them, running her hands over their tiny heads and soft hair, and she watched as their little noses scrunched up and their short little arms unwrapped from each other's warm pyjama-clad bodies.

As she watched them arise, she thought to herself how lovely it would be to care for her sweet sons like this for a very long time, and she realised how not-so-terrible living a life without pursuing her other dreams would be.

“G’Morning, mama,” Billy mumbled and his mother leaned down to kiss his scrunched up little nose.

Oh, it wouldn’t be terrible at all.

In the car after breakfast, Wanda explained to the twins what preschool was and how much fun it would be to meet new friends and play games a few days a week. The boys were thrilled and their mother was relieved, for Wanda didn’t wish to abandon the plan she and her husband had made by letting Tommy and Billy skip their first day, and she knew that if she let them stay home because of their whining, they’d whine all day until their father returned home in the evening.

But fortunately for her, the twins were ecstatic.

She didn’t know until her arrival that the first day was also when the parents were allowed a sit-in to allow the children to acclimate while also giving them a first-hand perspective of their child’s first day.

From the preschool calendar, she knew the potluck was on Friday but not that the first day was practically an orientation. If she knew, she would’ve insisted for Victor to take at least the morning off to join her in it.

The forty-minute long sit-in orientation where Wanda sat on a short plastic chair along the edge of the learning carpet along with all the other parents allowed for them to see for themselves that their children would get the most out of their preschool experiences, and that they could be relied on to care for their children.

As she gathered her things that were asked to be placed atop the class desks along with all the other parents’ belongings in the back, Wanda watched as the parents around her seemed to make fast friends. She wondered if they had all somehow known each other before the first day.

In any case, she felt lonely without her husband, especially as she watched her sons socialise joyfully with the other children of the class, watching the precious sight of their children take place without her husband with her.

She carefully slipped away along the walls from the groups of quietly chatting parents as they also gathered their things until a familiar voice made Wanda’s perk up as if she was suddenly summoned by dog whistle.

Darting her eyes around the busy room, Wanda walked forward slowly as her eyes raked through the classroom behind the heap of parents between her and the voice that seemed to come from the back of the classroom, to the right, and…

Wanda’s chest tightened painfully and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of you. It was you with your hair but longer now, your height the same as it had been, your voice that was a few slight tweaks worth’s difference from the one that had been echoing in Wanda’s mind, albeit fainter these days, ever since the last she heard it in person.

Her hand reached back and she pressed the pad of her finger into a sharp edge of the cubbies behind her, sending a sharp pain up the nerves of her finger and forcing sound through its muffled barrier and finally freeing her locked joints.

She tore her eyes away from you and stopped just before the doorframe of the classroom.

Carefully, when she had confidence in her breathing, Wanda raised her head and took another look at you.

All the different ways she’d start a conversation with you ran through her mind and she soon began thinking of all the things she’d like to say, all the things she’d like to ask you and all the things she wanted to know about how you were living your life now.

But her fingers tightened around the doorknob and she looked over to it, seeing the gold of her wedding ring reflect the classroom lights. Then she suddenly felt unbecoming and terrible about herself, so she looked back and saw her boys enjoying themselves under the watch of the preschool teachers before she quietly slid out of the class.

When Victor came home early and agreed to go pick up the boys to make up for his absence at the sit-in, Wanda quickly looked through her closet and searched for the letters she received from you the summer she was with you during which she had a three-week long trip to Saint Petersburg with her family.

As the tips of her fingers felt the base of a small rectangular box, Wanda began slowly running the pads of her fingers along the bottom until they caught onto the slim edge of an old sheet of paper.

Slowly as to not rip it, Wanda slid the paper out along the open space between the edge of the box and the other stacked mementos she’d kept since college.

Since you.

Before she opened the letter, she questioned why she’d even gotten the urge to look for it and what she was initially intending for when she began searching for it. She looked down and saw the familiar loops and lines of your handwriting and she abandoned the train of thought, slowly unfolding the sheet and raising it up so she could read it.

For some reason she felt guilty for how long it’d been since she last read from it, and the part of her from her younger years scolded her for stopping the way she used to run her eyes over every inch of your penmanship since the last time she was with you.

Anyways, Wanda read through the letter and felt an addictive pulse resounding within her chest, a lightness and a sort of prickly sharp wave that seized her throat and travelled down into her lungs.

As she let the recollection of having ever been worthy enough for this kind of love, reading the way you described how much you missed her while she was gone and how much you loved her, Wanda felt an odd sense of despair knowing such a thing could only ever exist for her through memory.

She couldn’t quite ask herself whether she was mourning the kind of love that was written on the paper or just who she received it from.

Still as she tucked away the letter and ran the tips of her fingers over the other stashed-away mementos in the box, Wanda still couldn’t figure out why she wanted to look for them in the first place, why seeing you today made her want to open the box hidden along the top back corner of her closet.

But she still sorted through it, seeing a flyer for one of your college plays in there and a music CD you put together for her, and more small trinkets all with meaning and all safely-kept through the years to keep the memory of you stored.

Downstairs, the front door opened and along came the excited footsteps of Tommy and Billy, and Wanda tucked everything back into the box and placed it back into the top shelf of her side of the walk-in closet.

Friday came around, and this time Victor did take a day off to go with Wanda to the potluck; parents and children alike from both the elementary and preschool were being invited to have lunch together for a traditional welcoming event for the start of the summer.

Since Tommy and Billy had already made a handful of friends and were by then already quite attached to the idea of playing with their friends outside the classroom, they were dressed in their very best for the sunny day.

Wanda made a conscious effort to look her best too, for she knew that today she was finally going to come up with the confidence to start a conversation with you. She tried to approach it from a professional point of view, to see it as practical if anything to make connections with the preschool’s instructors.

But she couldn’t deny the way she kept adjusting and readjusting her hair in the side mirror of the car as Victor drove them to lunch, and that wasn’t really required of her to be practical.

Tommy and Billy tugged at their father’s hands and pulled them towards the preschool, excited to show him what he’d been missing while he was at work.

There were a bit more people than Wanda anticipated though the expansive playing field of the preschool was certainly enough for the size of both the preschoolers and the kindergarteners from the private school. So she carefully slipped through the crowds and towards the potluck’s tables to set down the dish she made at home.

She saw you there too amongst a line of other parents along the edge of the table filling their plates.

You were one of the teachers’ assistants from what Tommy and Billy had told her during their many excited retellings of their days when they got back home.

Wanda inhaled sharply and kept the casserole dish in her hands as she subtly waited for the line of parents to clear so she could inch her way closer to you. She spotted a clearing on the table that was close to you and carefully set it down.

She pressed the pads of her fingers into the scalding ceramic to give herself some confidence and she looked up from the table of food, finally laying her eyes on your face within a metre from you for the first time in nearly eight years.

To seem as if she’d approached you naturally, Wanda cleared her throat a little and turned her body to face you. She tucked her hair behind her ear and parted her lips.

It all seemed like she was moving too slowly — mechanically — while the beating of her heart made her feel like she was moving too quickly — messily.

“Hi,” she said, stupidly. She got your attention at least and you lifted your head and looked at her.

It was then that Wanda felt she’d bitten off far more than she could chew as she felt herself seized by the sight of you.

Your hair was longer, like she’d seen on Monday. You looked older now, but the years had been very kind to you. She felt herself ache. You looked so beautiful, and she felt she would be trapped in this moment forever, unable to look away from you, feeling that if she had, you might suddenly disappear for another eight years.

The slight stutter in your greeting might’ve indicated to anyone else that you did recognise her and that her presence in front of you had stunned you momentarily, but Wanda, caught up and otherwise distracted by the sight of you, didn’t notice and so she introduced herself.

“I don’t know if you remember me from college, but–”

You nodded and interrupted her, “Wanda.”

Wanda hoped you didn’t notice how her eyes fell to your lips as you said her name, listening with her interest piqued the most beautiful medley of sound as it came from the way your lips wrapped around each syllable of her name.

It felt like an eternity had passed before your eyes garnered her attention again and she replied with a smile that looked relieved, perhaps because of the fact that you’d remembered her. “How have you been doing? It’s been a long time.”

“I’ve been okay,” you answered simply, almost hesitant to share your present life with a figure of your past.

You looked over to the other side of the sunny field where the twins were being carried on Victor’s shoulders. “They’re yours, right?” you asked, gesturing over to them. “Billy and Tommy.”

Wanda nodded proudly, looking over at her playing children before back over to you. “How did you know? Did they mention me?”

“Anyone who went to college with us still remembers the last name of the all-famous Victor Doom,” you said with a chuckle that might’ve seemed resentful to Wanda if she still wasn’t so taken by the sight of you.

“But, how are you?” you asked more seriously, straightening and looking at her. “You look great. What have you, uh, been doing? The last few years.”

She flushed when she watched you look down at her outfit and her hair and she fidgeted with her fingers, absently rubbing her thumb against tablecloth. “Not very much,” she answered. “I got married — to Victor, as you saw — then had Tommy and Billy.”

“That… sounds like a lot,” you said with a lighthearted laugh.

Wanda felt her heart beating against her ribs in a way that made her take in a breath to relieve the tension she felt in her chest as she listened to the way you laughed. She felt like a stupid flaky college sorority girl again.

“A lot, but not what I imagined for myself,” she confessed.

With an understanding nod, you then said, “You seem to be doing great for yourself, though.”

A cool wave of validation came over her and she beamed. “Thank you,” she responded.

“A-And, you? Are you seeing any–”

Before Wanda could finish her question, one of the other instructors, one whose name Wanda did not know, called you over. You excused yourself and Wanda completely understood, allowing you to head over to where you were needed.

Although she had chances to approach you again throughout the afternoon, Wanda instead kept looking over at you from afar between conversations with her husband or other friends she miraculously made with other mothers.

She didn’t want to press, and she was worried that the thrill of seeing you inflated her sense of reality, and she didn’t want to overstep or misread anything.

After all, the last you’d spoken wasn’t on very good terms and although the years may have done away with the wounds from what had happened, no amount of time could change a future friendship that might simply cease to exist because of the past.

So Wanda had to settle with having only a single brief conversation with the person whose letters she’d kept since college, and she left the potluck early with her husband so the boys could bring one of their friends home for a playdate.

To celebrate the start of the summer and the successful lunch, Wanda and Victor stopped at a farmer’s market that they passed in the car for ice cream with the twins and the friend they were bringing home.

As they waited in line, Wanda began to wander and eventually found herself in front of a handmade jewellery booth. She was initially looking in a solely appreciative way, not planning on buying anything but in awe of the shop owner’s talent until she laid her eyes on a pair of earrings.

She reached for them and brought them up into the light of the sun and out of her shadow so she could more clearly look at the tiny silver dolphins hanging from them. They were perhaps half an inch in size and really adorable and subtle.

The rest of her family caught up to her with ice cream in the young boys’ hands while Wanda had just purchased the dolphin earrings. She showed them to Tommy when he questioned what she’d bought.

“It’s so pretty,” Billy mused.

Wanda agreed, “It is really pretty.”

“Is it a gift, mama?” asked his twin.

“A little bit of one, maybe,” she answered with a contemplative hum then took his hand as the five of them headed back to the car together.

She’d wear it eventually.

Dolphins were your favourite animal.

That evening after the boys had gone to bed, Wanda straddled her husband’s hips in their bedroom, knees hugging either side of his lap as he guided her forward with his hands on her hips. He thrusted up into her while Wanda leaned forward with her hand flat beside his head to keep herself up.

She was too much in her head to enjoy herself — not that Victor cared whether she was involved during sex, and she couldn’t stop thinking of the letter she reread earlier that week and the dolphin earrings she bought and how pretty you looked at the potluck.

With a final grunt and a particularly harsh thrust into her that made Wanda wince beyond the mess of her hair, Victor released into her and soon untensed. He lifted her from his hips and ran his hand down the side of her bare thigh, perhaps meant to be some act of affection, before turning onto his side with a satisfied exhale.

Wanda cleaned herself up in the washroom and once she finished washing her face before heading to bed, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt something curious and desolate, so she stepped forward to get a better look at herself.

She wasn’t under any form of illusion; she was well-aware of how she’d aged over the years, from occasional periodic observations like how her skin looked a tad different in certain places.

But under the burning scrutiny of the washroom lighting, all Wanda could see were smile lines and signs of ageing and reminders upon reminders about how differently she looked from the last time she was with you in college.

Ever since she saw you for the first time in eight years on Monday, you were her landmark in time for nearly everything. She made dozens of comparisons a day, seeing how much things had changed and when the last time she thought of something was — minuscule things that seemed significant when she wondered about how you saw things from your perspective.

Tonight, she wondered how you might think of how she looked now.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, but Wanda knew she’d been hoping for something because the very sight of how she looked in the mirror made her feel let-down, almost hopeless.

And you looked so pretty at the potluck.

There were things about herself that she was glad had changed since college, but she wasn’t in any way thrilled about how much she seemed to have aged.

Victor had brought it up a handful of times before, but it was only under the light of the washroom with the thought of you in mind that Wanda realised how right he was.

Wanda wasn’t sure how exactly she was feeling by the time she shut the washroom light off and went to bed, but she knew that she was certainly glad to finally pull her attention away from the mirror and to think of only you when she closed her eyes instead of her reflection.

Over the next week or so, Wanda tried her best to be impartial with how she approached driving the boys to and from preschool while also ensuring that she only behaved as any other mother would around you.

She allowed Victor to drop the twins off and pick them up without insisting she go along just to see you, and if she did catch sight of you, she’d try her best to wave only when it seemed necessary — when anyone else would’ve done it.

The feelings that buried themselves deep within Wanda’s chest ever since she first saw you nearly three weeks ago had begun to overcome her in a way that she could only rely on convention to ensure she was behaving as she should.

But after a while she began to miss interacting with you and after an amount of time she started to feel picky about how to approach you again.

Fortunately, Tommy and Billy’s birthdays were approaching and they were adamant about having you there; it gave her an excuse to start a conversation with you.

So while Wanda went to pick the boys up from school, she approached you while you were with the kids, waiting for them to get picked up by the rest of the parents as they played outside.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greeted with a smile, elated at the feeling of saying your name out loud.

She was standing on the outside of the picket fence while you were on the other side, turning to face her.

“Oh, hey!” you said and smiled too in a way that made Wanda feel like she wasn’t being too awkward. “Let me get the twins for you.”

Before you could leave, Wanda quickly interjected, “Actually, I was wondering if I’d be able to ask you something.”

You seemed the slightest bit wary and that brought about a twinge of sadness within Wanda, but she pressed on anyway; she could understand why you’d be doubtful of her intentions, even after all the years that’s passed.

“This is... a little embarrassing to ask,” she began hesitantly, “but the twins begged for me to invite you to their birthday party this Sunday, so I was wondering if you’d like to come. They talk about you a lot and I think they’d just like for their favourite person to attend.”

She probably talked too much.

“Favourite person, huh?” you repeated with an amused smile.

Wanda was reassured by your lighthearted response. “Their words,” she said.

“And their mother and father?”

“Forgotten — completely.”

You both laughed, though Wanda a moment after you as she was initially taken by the sight of sheer joy on your face, caused all because of her.

After taking a moment to seriously consider the offer, you said, “Sunday? I can’t do that day, sorry. Would I be able to drop off a gift instead on Saturday?”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Wanda reassured with a wave of her hand. “Actually, we’re having dinner with just the four of us on Saturday, so you’re welcome to join us then instead.”

You had a feeling that Wanda was sort of trying her best to have you attend something for the twins, but a part of you also felt she was trying hard just to have you there.

Though you knew you were completely free on Saturday, you took a moment before answering to look a bit less rushed in responding to Wanda’s offer.

“Saturday should work,” you confirmed with a nod.

Wanda perked up and smiled, thrilled at succeeding in inviting you over for dinner. “Alright. That sounds good.”

She watched as you pulled your phone out from your pocket and she swallowed, forcing herself not to hope too much from what you were about to do, as you easily could’ve been checking the time.

But then you asked, “Would you mind if I got your number? So you can text me the address and all.”

Wanda hoped her fingers weren’t trembling as much as she felt they were as she reached forward and took your phone with an attempt at a professional nod.

“Of course,” she managed to say, repressing the onset of an excited smile.

You caught sight of her flushed cheeks and the forming dimples as she held back a smile, but you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Years ago you would’ve pinned it as a flattered blush, hints of a heart tenderly-touched and a sensitive soul. But the Wanda you eventually came to know… was disingenuous.

Most things with her were.

You tried not to be bitter and childish about what had happened years ago though you were almost certain that people like her didn’t change; you had to look away.

On Saturday evening, Wanda had finished getting dressed in something casual for a dinner at home but formal enough for having a guest over, and she was standing in front of her vanity surveying the dolphin earrings in the palm of her hand.

She hadn’t worn them yet; she was saving them for a special occasion, for when she really wanted to make a gesture.

But the silver of the dolphins were too reflective and the shape of the animal would’ve been clear from even two metres away, and that wasn’t subtle enough for the steadily-budding rekindling between her and you.

So she opened her jewellery box and tucked the earrings away safely for a different time — a time she hoped would eventually come.

And most importantly, Wanda didn’t want to drive you away.

Wanda was in the kitchen putting together some drinks when you knocked at the front door, gift in-arm. She looked over at the door, feeling a fury of anxious butterflies burst in her stomach as the reality set in that she was going to have dinner with you.

Victor announced that he’d get the door and descended from upstairs where he’d been helping the boys get dressed for their very special guest.

From the kitchen, Wanda could hear you greet her husband at the door and she began to steady her breathing. She focused instead on carefully placing mint into the cocktail glasses.

“Is she… here?” she asked Victor over her shoulder in the most inconspicuous way she could when he stepped into the kitchen to check on the food.

“She’s waiting in the den,” he answered. “I told her you’d come around with drinks.”

Wanda told him it’d only be a few minutes until the rice and stir-fry would be ready, so he went back up to help finish getting the twins dressed before dinner was served.

On top of the fireplace in the den was a framed picture of Wanda’s college sorority, and leaning close to take a better look at it felt like peering into a sort of time machine. It felt like a completely different life, yet you could almost just recall things like when exactly the photo was taken as if it’d happened only months ago.

The photo was of the entire sorority coming together to take a picture before campus closed for a week for the holidays. It was during a sorority event at the city’s ice rink, and you recalled being dragged over to it by Wanda, who was your girlfriend at the time.

You were posed together near the corner of the group of other girls, Wanda’s arms squeezed around your shoulders while she stood on a pair of ice skates.

“I made this for you,” a voice approached from behind, and you turned to see Wanda walking into the den with a drink in both hands. “A mojito. But for yours, without any alcohol because I know you’ll be driving home.”

She was wearing a red turtleneck and slacks. She had an expensive-looking watch on and pearl earrings, and for the first time you considered how rich she must be now that she was married to Victor Doom.

Wanda saw the drink in the cocktail glass tremble slightly before you finally took it from her with a ‘thank you’ and she rubbed her palm down her hip nervously.

The warmth from the fireplace made her cheeks feel so warm, and the shade of the fire made your skin look so pretty and soft with the way the gentle orange flickered against your face.

“So you have this picture here,” you noted and took a sip of the mojito as you gestured to the framed picture. “Framed and up on the mantle.”

Wanda tapped her fingernail against the side of the glass as she looked at the photo over your shoulder.

Damn.

She forgot to take it down before you came, and now she looked obsessive and childish and overbearing. She would understand if you saw it that way, for there was really only one reason she’d ever have that photo up in her house, and she looked at it every single time she passed it since she moved in.

“Y-Yes,” Wanda stuttered and straightened, feeling the condensation from the glass trickle down her fingers. She smiled a little, because she was a bit proud of the picture.

She couldn’t read your expression, not when your back was turned, until you looked back at her and said in a lighthearted tone, “You must’ve not changed very much since college, huh?”

It wasn’t accusing or rude, and Wanda felt that it would’ve hurt less if you had said it as an insult; you said it as if you’d never expected her to be different.

Even if it were true that Wanda hadn’t changed since college, the realisation wouldn’t have even disappointed you.

You would’ve expected it, and that made something behind Wanda’s ribcage ache.

Her lips parted to say something, perhaps to protest, but she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say before the shrill cheers of Tommy and Billy ran into the room at the sight of you.

Wanda stepped back and allowed them to tackle you excitedly before you set the mojito on the coffee table so you could lean down and hug them, wishing them both an early happy birthday.

She listened, partially-absent, as you told the boys you’d give them their gifts after dinner. She watched you mostly, and how little you’d changed in the way you laughed and teased.

Did it always feel like this, eight years ago?

Had she been so cruel with you that you truly couldn’t believe she was one to change after so long?

Was this the first time, out of all the inevitable others, that she realised the hurt she made you feel?

Victor called from the kitchen announcing that the dinner was ready and Wanda blinked out of her stupor to kiss the foreheads of her children and let you walk ahead first as the twins led you forward.

You looked so pretty wearing a knit pullover that made everything about you look so soft and smelling of sweet sparkling champagne.

The mojito made her a little tipsy and she felt her face’s warmth as she kept looking up from her plate and over at you across the table where you were discussing all sorts of things with Tommy and Billy, who were still practically buzzing with joy at having you over for dinner.

She watched your lips as they moved, imagined you reciting the words from the letter you wrote her years ago — imagined you meaning them like you did back then too.

Since she reread the letter for the first time in a while just three weeks ago, she could recall every word of it again like she used to be able to when she was much younger.

She felt ashamed of herself and looked away from you to spare her dignity, though it would not be the last time she did.

For most of the dinner, Wanda was silent; Victor was always more of the talker between the two of them, she liked getting to watch you without the fear of sounding obsessive, and she very much enjoyed listening to you interact with the twins without interrupting.

It was only during the gift-opening after dinner that Wanda blurted out in the middle of a conversation.

They were opening up a wrapped book to see a picture book guide of dolphins, and Wanda was only halfway into feeling shocked about the coincidence before Billy giggled and said, “You really like dolphins as much as mama said.”

“What?” Wanda all but coughed out.

Billy excitedly flipped through the book and insisted, “Mama, you said.”

“I…” She cleared her throat and her eyes flickered over to your face, half-expecting you to be furious for some reason. “I-I said what, Billy?”

“That Y/N likes dolphins,” Tommy answered and looked up from the book, now confused by his mother’s confusion.

Wanda shook her head insistently. “I don’t think I…” She trailed off and brought the rim of her mojito up to her lips to shut herself up.

Her avoidance of your eyes made her miss how you looked across the dinner table at her and her flushed cheeks.

Victor made a joke about how forgetful his wife was and although it was a tad too degrading for dinner with their children, Wanda was thankful for it anyways for it cancelled out any impending awkward silences caused by her inability to behave properly around you.

Just how much had she been thinking of you to the point of completely tuning out when she spoke about you in front of her children?

“We’ve been talking a lot about dolphins at school,” you said and wiggled your eyebrows at them. “We’re learning about our favourite animals.”

You reached into the bag and pulled out two adorable stuffed animals, a horse and a red cardinal — the twins’ favourites.

As they cheered and stood from their seats to round the table and hug you tightly, Wanda felt a mix of emotion whirling within her, a sense of shame and humiliation, but also so much adoration for you.

To the boys’ dismay, their bedtime came quicker than it felt it had and Wanda had to put them to bed. They both whined although having been given an extra hour to stay up for their birthday dinner with Y/N, but like the sweet boys they were, eventually listened to their mother’s delicate discipline.

Her greatest, greatest prides.

They were good boys.

Wanda had the twins say goodnight to you and thank you for coming, then excused herself for a moment to put them to bed. She’d come back down to see you out, but until then you promised to help clean up after dinner with Victor.

“You know, I remember a lot about you from college,” Victor told you as he handed you a glass to dry.

You placed the dry glass onto the rack beside the sink then replied, “I remember a lot about you too. Though, uh, we didn’t really talk, I think.”

“Yeah, but I talked a lot with Wanda,” he said. “And she’d blabber about you, like, every other day sometimes. So it feels like I know you well.”

Something about that made you bristle; you didn’t want to be known by Victor Doom.

When you were finished with the dishes, Victor dried his hands and leaned against the sink, scrutinising you in an odd way.

“You look good,” he then complimented.

The flicker in his eyes suddenly became perceptible, and you quickly picked up on what he was trying to inch closer to.

You eyed the front foyer then looked back over to him to continue seeing civil. “Thank you,” you answered simply.

He was tall.

Imposing.

“Are you with anyone I’d know from college?” he asked, moving the dish cloth between his fingers.

“No.”

He scoffed in teasing disbelief. “I’m not under any illusion that…” He trailed off with a chuckle, leaving the rest of his words to imagination. “Especially when time’s done you so well.”

You felt like tearing your hair out and you felt a dozen weights being lifted from your shoulders when you heard Wanda begin to descend the staircase.

“Give me your number,” Victor then asked in a hushed, hurried tone. “We’ll set something up.”

Wanda reaching the bottom of the staircase allowed you to quickly slip out of the constricting corner of the kitchen and you grabbed your things from the sofa in the den before following you out to the front porch.

Victor Doom was still a huge dick, and you were beginning to have a terrible perspective on the couple. They didn’t change at all, and you weren’t sure what you came to the dinner anticipating, but knowing that Victor was still the kind of man Wanda was comfortable being married to planted an indescribable bitterness in you.

“Thank you for coming,” Wanda said quietly as the warm silence of the summer evening soon enveloped the two of you alone on the porch when she closed the front door.

“The boys really, really enjoyed having you over. I’m sure they’ll be talking about it for weeks,” she added with a laugh.

You nodded and turned to look at her. “Yeah. It’s no problem, I really enjoyed celebrating with them. They’re lovely,” you answered.

Being in front of you now, Wanda wanted to say a lot and wanted to ask you about everything you’d been up to over the last eight years.

There was no one to interrupt now, and it would be alright and objectively appropriate to start some small talk about your life while also being able to hide her buzzing curiosity behind convention.

But all she could find herself telling you was one thing — all that she could get past her lips.

“I really… I really have changed since college, Y/N,” she uttered quietly, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb in front of her stomach.

It was important to her that you knew that for some reason.

You regarded her for a moment then nodded, and Wanda seemed relieved at what seemed to her as trust established.

The moment you stepped onto the porch, you told yourself how irritated you were at both Wanda and Victor, how unimpressed and upset you’d felt because of how little she’d changed since college.

Yet all you could think about on the way home was her.

It felt that something was gnawing at you from the inside, pricking at your skin each time it fought its way closer to realisation, but still you couldn’t figure out why you felt the way you did with Wanda.

For years the feeling had been asleep within you, unwoken and put to bed the day of college graduation when you caught sight of Wanda trying to approach you before you left the graduation ceremony.

That was the last you ever saw of her before earlier this month.

It was painful to recall the time you used to spend with her, but freeing, in a way.

You remembered how idiotically in love you were with her at the time, how naive and new everything felt. It was torturous to recall how it all ended up, but… thinking about how she used to make you feel made you feel exhilarated and you wondered if what you were doing was some sort of sick form of masochism.

All the music CDs burned for her to play when she was away from you, the letters to her written with a careful hand — all so childish that it was worthy of some form of envy.

You questioned if you were envious of the childish-like view of the world that you had when you were in love with Wanda or if it was the love itself.

Either way, it was an unreachable thing of the past.

You grew up, and Wanda…. was Wanda. She always would be.

Weeks before the actual breakup, things had begun to dwindle between you and your girlfriend. She took frequent rain checks on your plans together to be able to tend to the sorority as the end of the year was approaching and the group traditionally began recruiting for the next year before the summer.

But at the same time, your theatre was finally putting on the show they’d spent all year putting together, months of hard work spent on funding and prop and costume design — everything from the casting to the lighting crew was created from scratch since the start of September.

You understood, time and time again, that Wanda had her own priorities with her own friends and hobbies. She helped with some things where she could, and you loved when she did.

Some late nights were spent designing costumes together because Wanda had always been interested in fashion, and oftentimes she helped with those designs while you worked on putting together props.

She wasn’t a college student or a sorority girl when you spent those late evenings together — she was just Wanda. But sometimes you felt like even Wanda didn’t know who she was during those years, and that was hard to keep up with.

In spite of missing your practices and flaking on days where she promised to read over your scripts or touch up on the costumes, Wanda vowed to make it for your play’s showing.

The only issue was that on the same day there was an initiation for the new recruits, and Wanda was required to attend as an upcoming alumni.

It would end before your showing and although there’d be an afterparty to celebrate, she also promised that she’d go right to the theatre to watch once the initiation ended.

Anxiously, you stood by the edge of the stage behind the curtains with a clear view of the front doors as you waited for Wanda to arrive. She had a seat in the front row where you could see her from anywhere to the right of the stage behind the curtains so you could watch her reactions to her performers wearing her designs.

Then a few anxious minutes turned into half an hour, and she still hadn’t come.

By then you knew that the initiation was over because Wanda gave you a definite time it would be finished by, which was well before the start of the play.

You sent her a few texts, but by the second to last act, you knew she wasn’t coming and you stopped messaging.

Maybe it was unfair to place her attendance on the kind of pedestal you did, because it wasn’t any sort of objective truth how important it was that she came.

It was a play you helped write while thinking of her, props you made sitting with her in the living room — just the two of you, hours upon hours painting and writing and designing all while trying to see the set through her eyes.

You imagined you knew her well enough to see from her shoes, anyways.

A whole year’s effort for her.

It wasn’t like you told her any of that; not even you knew how important Wanda had been to every single thing you did until you were broken up.

When Wanda finally arrived, she burst through the theatre doors, heels in hand. She looked like she’d been running, as she was out of breath and a bit dazed as she looked around at the empty theatre.

And the soft flush of her cheeks and the mess of her hair.

She was drunk too.

You were packing up the last of the props into boxes on your own when Wanda stepped up to the stage and looked for someone.

“Is… Did I miss it?” she asked, slowly catching her breath.

“Guess,” was all you could manage to force out from the bitter feeling that squeezed the air out of your lungs.

She caught sight of the props you were putting away; some of them were things she could recall making with you. She remembered helping you hot glue some of them together and pick out the paint and cut up the little details.

She felt terrible.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I lost track of time. Really, I did. I didn’t mean to miss your play. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean to, but you should’ve cared about it enough that coming to see something important to me wasn’t an extra effort to you.”

You closed the stage curtains and stepped down from the staircase leading out to the side where the door to the theatre was, and Wanda followed behind you.

You placed the prop box down by the foot of the staircase.

“I know you were busy, but I just thought you’d prioritise your own girlfriend over some stupid sorority,” you muttered.

The anger was well-founded, yet the way you insulted Wanda’s interests wasn’t. But you were so upset and jealous and you felt so belittled.

Maybe she felt the same way too, because Wanda quickly countered, “You don’t have to make me feel bad about it. I just apologised. And besides, it’s not like you had anything that important going on here.”

Your face contorted and you turned to look at her.

“What?” you asked.

Although seemingly hesitant for a moment, the drinks Wanda had earlier catapulted her emotions forward and in the moment, she’d say anything to get a reaction from you just to make herself feel better about what she did.

“You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have something important happen to you, Y/N, because you always give me shit for pursuing the things I care about,” she argued.

With a disbelieving scoff, you replied, “I ‘give you shit’ sometimes because I want you here with me. I wanted you here! And I’ve always understood when you had other things to do.”

“You would want that, because you have nothing going on without me anyways.”

Sensing criticism in her tone, you questioned, “What does that mean?”

“It means that you could never understand having real things matter to you, because all you have is this idiotic nerdy theatre shit and nothing else important, so you leech off of me to make yourself feel better for at least having someone who’s actually doing something with their lives close to you.”

Wanda didn’t know why she said that, and even in the moment she hated the taste of her words as she spat them out. But she said them, still.

She loved how nerdy and creative and hardworking you were. She adored you so much — looked up to you.

Hours she’d spent listening to you talk about how much you loved theatre and watching performances with you online. She loved the part of you that loved theatre and film and art; she thought it was endearing and adorable, and it made you the most creative and sensitive person she knew.

The argument pressed on, both of you fueled by the insecurity of not being prioritised by the person you loved. Perhaps all either of you needed was to confess that you really did care about the other, for in your own ways, it felt to both of you that it had become lost somewhere along the line.

Wanda felt criticised and betrayed that you would look down on her, that you saw yourself as so different from her. The entire sorority paled in comparison to you, but the feeling that you thought you were truly that different from her, that someone else would be better for you instead, made Wanda say just about anything to get some sort of emotion out of you.

In a way you felt the same, constantly feeling that Wanda prioritised things more than she did you. You were patient and understanding with her and your love for her remained in the face of her distance, but where did that get you if she didn’t care about you anyway?

In the heat of the moment, someone accidentally nudged the prop box and made everything in it drop and clatter to the ground.

The loud noise of broken props you and Wanda had spent countless nights working on together put an abrupt stop to the argument.

There was a particular prop that tumbled out of the box and broke, a small chalice that took hours to design to make it as historically accurate as possible for the play, put together by an actual blacksmith that Wanda knew, and intricately decorated by the both of you afterwards over Indian takeout and the span of two movies.

Wanda felt so terrible looking at it, and how its base was bent and its handle broken off.

“I think I’m done,” you said suddenly and started getting your things from a small closet beside the exit. “I think we’re done.”

It took a few moments for Wanda to process your words, blinking in the face of watching you begin to pack up and leave her. Then she managed to utter, “What?”

“We should break up before the school year ends. Let’s stop pretending this is gonna work out, okay? Just focus on our own stuff while we can.”

Wanda scoffed out a nervous laugh and she approached you, stepping over the broken props. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not breaking up because of… of this. Y/N. Come on.”

“Why not?” you asked and zipped your jacket up. “Be honest with yourself and try to tell me that you see this working out any better than it already has been.”

If Wanda were more sober and less overwhelmed, she would’ve told you just that, because she loved you and she knew she could give you what you needed — what you deserved.

She would gladly apologise for what she did and how she’d been treating you, and she’d be honest about how she’d been feeling too.

And if you were thinking properly, not acting rashly, not too emotionally, you would’ve taken a step back and realised how much Wanda did love you.

Maybe you still would’ve wanted more of her — more of her attention, more of her affection — but you would’ve told her that too, and Wanda would’ve felt like the most important person in the world for being wanted so much by you.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Wanda began pleading, “Please don’t leave me. Y/N… No one really likes me but you. You know that. No one knows me, really. You’re all I have.”

“You have your sorority,” you muttered and pulled your hat on.

Wanda started to cry then, almost immediately brought to tears by the suggestion that her sorority could mean anything to her like you do.

Was she so terrible that she'd led you to believe that was even possible?

“I don’t care about them like that, and they don’t even really like me. They don’t like anyone,” Wanda insisted tearily. “But you like me. I know you do.”

She wrapped her fingers around your hand and tried to hold it.

“Please don’t leave,” she begged.

Recalling it now made you feel like the worst person in the world — truly.

In spite of the situation and what happened, Wanda really had been trying. She was crying in front of you and begging you to see that your relationship was stronger than you thought it was, and that she cared about you more than you realised.

And all you could do was be bitter and cold and look away from her, pull your hand away when she held it and turn your back to her weeping.

What were you protecting back then?

Your ego?

Back then you wondered if it was a worthy trade-off, and today while you drove back home from Wanda’s house, you wondered the same.

In the morning you continued to think about Wanda, and for an inexplicable reason, even checked your phone for a message from her.

It’d been a while since you did that.

But you didn’t hear from Wanda until Monday when she picked the boys up from school, and by then you’d been thinking a lot about change and the breakup and if it was possible to be normal with each other again.

“I wanted to… to apologise. For dinner on Saturday,” Wanda said to you the moment she stepped down from her car, walking up to you waiting by the front door of the school. She was bold about it, didn’t hesitate before apologising for something you weren’t sure needed apologising for.

“What are you apologising for?” you asked curiously, looking between her and the children being picked up by their parents.

You doubted that Wanda knew her husband tried to get your number, but you were almost sure that she at least knew about the infidelity.

Had she really settled for someone like that?

Victor was who Wanda started going out with after you broke up, and it bewildered you that she was still with him.

Didn’t she at least once think that she could do better?

She indeed knew about the infidelity — she’d known since college. But what was she meant to do about it? She’d begged him for normalcy and to upkeep appearances for Billy and Tommy, but she couldn’t beg for him to love her like a husband did his wife.

Nor could he.

Wanda spun her wedding ring around her finger anxiously. “I just felt that things might’ve been uncomfortable for you, and I would never want to make you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

It felt like she was talking a lot faster than you could catch up with.

“I-I can get ahead of myself sometimes, and if I said anything to make you feel… uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

The sight reminded you all too well of that evening in the theatre — Wanda’s nervous fidgeting and her apologetic tone, and most of all, the pleading to keep you close.

It was different now, of course, because it was in a different context. But it was the same, really.

It was always Wanda begging you to stay with her.

“It’s… alright. You’ve done nothing to make me uncomfortable,” you reassured, and Wanda smiled.

Then you scratched at the back of your neck and looked away awkwardly before saying, “Listen, it’s kind of stupid, but I have, um…”

You hesitated to say it because of the subject matter, but Wanda was patient and so understanding as she regarded you with such kind eyes as she waited for you to continue.

For the first time you noticed how a part of Wanda had aged — changed, even. She looked older in the way she looked at you, the innocent levity ever present but now wrapped in the years that have passed and the maturity that came with it.

Wanda reached out a little and brushed the pad of her thumb across your knuckles softly, reminding you that it was okay to say to her what you wanted.

She did change — but not all of her.

Though you’d been so adamant about wanting her to be different from college, you found that you really enjoyed knowing some parts of her were exactly the same.

The parts you loved.

And the parts of her that were different you wanted to get to know too.

You’ve seen how hard she was trying with you, and you were finally determined to do the same for her.

“I have some play going on this weekend. I helped put it together with a few theatre friends from college,” you said finally. “So, if you wanna come, I can get some tickets for you and Victor.”

Wanda’s interest was immediately piqued and she straightened, her eyebrows raising as her lips parted to accept the offer.

But you added hurriedly, “But you really don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s not really your thing.”

“N-No! I’d really love to go,” Wanda insisted with a reassuring nod. “Would it be alright if I just went on my own?”

Imagining Wanda going alone to one of your plays made the offer a lot more intimate than you initially planned it to be, and the ease at which she suggested it made your breath catch in your throat.

Wanda took it as she was being too forward and she immediately began explaining, “It’s just that Victor gets impatient with those sorts of things and I wouldn’t want to have you waste a ticket.”

“Yeah, I get it. Totally,” you replied and cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure. Just you. I’ll text you an entry ticket and they’ll just scan the barcode on it before you go in.”

“Okay,” she said with a reaffirming nod and a wide smile. “So, this weekend? When, Saturday?”

You corrected, “Sunday. At eight.”

“I’ll save the date,” Wanda said, practically beaming. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten.

Maybe she hadn’t been as unfortunate with her attempts as she felt she’d been.

Was it apologising for dinner that got her an invite to your play? Or did the twins win all your affection for her?

Or maybe you just blurted out the invitation without really thinking it through, and you regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth.

If that was the truth, Wanda would try her hardest to make sure you’d end up enjoying having invited her. She’d be what you deserved eight years ago, and she’d show you that she still could be what you deserved now.

After that, she wasn’t sure what would happen; expecting anything more than your forgiveness would be selfish.

Almost every day until Sunday came, Wanda sorted through her closet and her jewellery box to put together an outfit for you. She’d be wearing it and it was ultimately up to her whether she wore it, but it was for you.

As she picked out a cream knit sweater and a floor-length black skirt, she thought about how you’d like her outfit and also wondered what you might think of the perfume she chose too.

When it was the evening of the play, Wanda put her hair back into a French twist — this she did with the intention of not seeming too much like how she looked in college, as never she wore her hair up in something so formal back then.

Wanda laid the dolphin earrings in her palm and surveyed it as she wondered whether it would be okay to wear it tonight. She worried about making too big of a gesture where it wasn’t appropriate, but there was a chance you wouldn’t notice she was wearing them at all.

After several moments of deep consideration, she took off her pearl earrings and put on the ones with the small silver dolphins hanging from them.

You swore you hadn’t been this nervous leading up to the play’s first performance until tonight. You’d worked on plenty since college and it wasn’t like this was anything like your first project since graduation.

Why were you so nervous?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you took it out to silence your notifications until you read the text message.

It was Wanda, and she messaged: I got a spot in the front row! I’m excited!

When you stepped out from backstage and stood beside the edge of the curtains to be able to get a little glimpse into the crowd, you looked for her, eyes sorting through the front row of the audience.

In the midst of the soft buzzing from the crowd’s chatter and an audience of nearly three-hundred people, you saw Wanda sitting in the front where she said she was. She wasn’t with Victor or the twins; she came alone like she said she would, even though you ended up sending her three extra tickets in case she changed her mind.

The very sight of her made you ache, a thrumming longing beating at your sternum as you watched her look around at the theatre and adjust her skirt.

Quickly, before the performance started, you messaged back, I see you. You look great.

You wished so badly to have been able to see her face when she read the text, but you were pulled over to help with the lighting last minute.

When the curtains finally opened, you checked your phone one more time and saw Wanda’s message: Thank you. :)

The theatre lights dimmed and lights from the stage turned on and your position at the far-left of the curtains allowed you to see her much clearer — like you’d wanted to do years ago.

You paid little attention to what was going on during the performance, though you miraculously kept enough focus to be able to do things like help keep the performers on time with their costume changes. But mostly you were watching Wanda.

In a theatre full of hundreds of people, she was your only audience.

During pauses in the script where the theatre was full of only silence, you could hear the pulsing of your heart and for a moment forgot it’d ever done anything but beat only while you watched how pretty Wanda looked in the pale light of the theatre’s stage.

When the play came to a finish and the curtains closed, the crew and performers gave their thanks to the audience before the theatre lights were turned back on and some of the crew and performers lined up by the door to thank people as they filed out of the theatre.

The line shorted gradually and the crowd of people made it so that you couldn’t spot Wanda, and though you’d completely understand if she already left — after all, she didn’t need to stay to do anything else — a part of you hoped she stuck around a little.

But not for any particular reason, for you didn’t even know what you’d say to her if she did; you just wanted to see her wait for you.

“Hi,” a soft voice greeted, and you turned your head away from the theatre doors to the woman in front of you.

Wanda.

The sight of her made you rather nervous, and you realised you’d been worrying a lot about whether she’d enjoy the play.

Your only audience.

It was her opinion you cared about the most.

With a smile that made her own widen at the sight, you replied, “Hi.”

“I really liked it,” she told you. “The performers were incredible.”

“I’m… I’m really happy you liked it,” you said, internally feeling pretty relieved. “Yeah, they’re super talented. We had to move around a few dates, actually, so they’d be able to perform for us.”

“And the script…” Wanda said, something brief and unsaid exchanged between the two of you as you looked at each other. But the question that was implied wasn’t answered when she added, “The script was wonderful too.”

Someone approached from behind and waited around Wanda to be able to talk with you, so she uttered, “I should leave. Thank you for inviting me. I really loved being able to watch.”

You nodded once and smiled cordially at her, but the sight of her turning and heading for the theatre doors reminded you all too well of something similar from years ago and you reached out suddenly and took her hand. She stopped and looked down at your hand wrapped around hers.

Her fingers twitched before she looked up at you.

“Stay,” you said and took a breath. “Until I’m done here.”

An unusual feeling began to grow within her as she ran her eyes over your face, seeing the hesitancy that seemed to make the corner of your mouth twitch as you anticipated her response and the look in your eyes that meant something she couldn’t interpret.

Her throat tightened and Wanda had to swallow to ease the tension there so she could reply to you.

“Okay,” she replied, hoping you didn’t hear the way her breath caught in her throat when your fingers tightened around her hand. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

Was she stuttering when she answered? She couldn’t tell.

She focused only on keeping her legs steady as she moved one foot in front of the other, her thumb rubbing at the heel of her hand as the feeling of your fingers running down her palm when you let go of her hand lingered even when the doors closed behind her.

Minutes felt like seconds in that hallway where Wanda waited for you. It felt like time simply ceased to exist there when her mind ran rampant with what it might’ve meant that you invited her to see your play and asked her to wait for you.

She wondered if things would’ve gone just like this if she had come to your play like she promised eight years ago.

The theatre lights turned off and you stepped into the hallway once the doors opened, exchanging a smile with Wanda who straightened from the adjacent wall and stepped towards you.

“Thanks for waiting,” you said gratefully. “Sorry for taking so long. There was a problem with the lighting again.”

“It’s totally okay. I didn’t wait long at all,” Wanda reassured. Then she said, “You’ve always been such a talented scriptwriter. I’m glad I got a front row seat to your play.”

Her words made you flush and the way she looked at you with such innocent and sincere optimism in her eyes that presently glistened with the dim light of the hallway made you stutter until you were finally able to thank her.

You cleared your throat and said, “You really do look great tonight, by the way. I mean, a lot better now because I can see you more clearly. Compared to before, like, behind a curtain.”

That made Wanda laugh and she nodded. “I get it. Thank you,” she replied. She was glad that you liked how she looked. She wore it all for you, after all.

Really, neither of you knew what you were expecting when you made time for each other alone. You didn’t know what you had wanted when you asked Wanda to stay, and she didn’t know what she’d been hoping to get out trying her hardest to be friendly with you again.

“Did you drive yourself here?” asked Wanda.

“No, I got a ride from one of my friends. He had to drop something off at his place, so he’ll come back to get me. His car couldn’t fit me in there with the set stuff.”

Immediately, Wanda offered, “I can drive you home. You don’t have to wait for your friend.”

“Really? You don’t have to. I don’t wanna bother you.”

“It’s not a bother at all. Tommy and Billy are out of town visiting Victor’s parents, so I don’t have to be home early to make them dinner or anything.”

Things seemed to be going well — really well. But you still weren’t sure what you wanted from all this.

Maybe there wasn’t anything to want.

Maybe you and Wanda would just end up being casual friends who went out for lunch sometimes when she was free or went with her to her pilates classes when she could bring a friend.

That was kind of amusing; you couldn’t ever imagine someone like her being a casual anything in your life.

Knowing Wanda would never be something casual.

“Would you mind if we stopped at my place before I drop you off? I have something I’d like to give you,” Wanda told you as she buckled her seatbelt then started the car.

With a piqued interest, you asked, “What kinda thing?”

“A surprise,” she teased and grinned at you.

That made you feel all warm. It reminded you a lot of how you remembered her when you used to go out. She was such a tease back then.

Seeing her behave in some ways like how you remembered her but now dressed in expensive jewellery and clothes with shorter hair and a more mature face made her teasing even more endearing.

She talked a little about the twins and how their birthday party went, all the while you were watching how the streetlights casted on her face. Her face had become less round over the years and the pale lights from the street she drove down made the angle of her cheekbones cast a particularly sharp shadow along her face, making her face look sculpted, but by hand, like a Grecian statue.

Her nose was the same.

Her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled over at you after perhaps noticing you watching her. That was different from when you were together — the way she smiled — and you liked that a lot. So you didn’t care that she caught you.

If you had looked away, you wouldn’t have seen how she looked when she smiled at you.

“Come in and wait in the den,” she told you when you arrived before leading you into the house. She set her purse down beside your things on the couch then started the fireplace. “I’ll just be a second. I have to get it for you upstairs.”

Somehow the room looked different now knowing it was only Wanda at home.

You looked at the picture you had been staring at the last time you were here, and even that looked different too. You’d noticed how Wanda was hugging you when you last saw the picture, but now you couldn’t stop looking away from her.

And how happy she looked with you.

Wanda came down from upstairs and you could see her holding something for the fireplace reflected off of what looked like metal.

When she stepped into the den, you could see she was holding some kind of prop.

It was the chalice the two of you worked on years ago that broke.

“Oh my god. You still have this?” you mused and carefully took it with both hands when she handed it to you.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed and she played with her wedding ring. “It’s all fixed up now,” she said. “I was really careful with it. You should take it.”

“No,” you immediately contested. “It isn’t right for me to take it from you after you’ve taken such good care of it.”

“It’s still yours. It was for your play. Please take it.”

You looked down at it, turning it carefully in your hands and reading in all the details of the prop the late nights you spent with Wanda making it as if the very metal and its details had words written on them. You wondered what she must’ve thought every time she saw it over the last eight years.

It belonged to the both of you if anything.

When you set the chalice down by your things, Wanda quietly asked, “Y/N… Was tonight the play you wrote for me in college?”

You blinked and were taken by surprise. You started writing a script for Wanda so you could have it finished by the middle of February, but you ended up breaking up before her birthday, and you never had the chance to give it to her.

Initially when you first met Wanda again last month, you thought it was by complete coincidence that you had also just found the drafted script from years ago and had just decided to finally make it into a show.

But maybe you truly had been thinking of her a lot more over the years than you originally thought you did.

“How did you know that?” you asked.

She confessed, “I read a few pages of it back then.”

“When I…”

“When you told me not to,” she confirmed. “But I was curious, and… Well, that was the play, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You wrote a play for me,” she said, teasing you.

Without taking your eyes away from her for a second, you smiled and repeated, “I wrote a play for you.”

At first your sincerity made Wanda swoon and her teasing demeanour melted into a warm flattered mess before guilt overtook her at the sight of how you looked at her.

You looked at her with so much admiration.

Wanda swallowed and quietly said, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“You apologise a lot.”

“I know, but–” She cut herself off and seemed to be recollecting things internally before she began again. She struggled with maintaining eye contact but she tried anyway, and you wondered what was so important that she had to try this hard to communicate it.

She said, “I should’ve gone to your play in college.”

You tried to interrupt her before she could apologise for something that happened so long ago, but she wouldn’t let you interject.

“It was important to you and I should’ve gone like I promised I would. I prioritised other stupid, meaningless things over you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve…”

She finally broke eye contact and looked down at the floor, pressing her fingers against her palm anxiously.

You weren’t sure if you should try interrupting her again until the light from the fireplace reflected against the silver of her earrings.

You reached out and laid the earring against the pad of your index finger so you could get a better look at it and Wanda looked up from the floor and ran her eyes over your face.

“Dolphins,” you said.

It was then that Wanda realised the feeling that had been planted deep within her the second you took her hand in the theatre, then blossomed rapidly until this very moment.

She was falling in love with you again.

Her eyes moved over your shoulder to the photo of the two of you from years ago, framed and showcased right on the mantle where she could see it.

She recalled how her eyes always found their way over to the photo whenever she passed the fireplace, even when she hadn’t any idea if she’d ever see you again.

The box stored in her closet of all the things that reminded her of you from when the two of you were dating years ago came to mind too.

She wasn’t falling in love with you again — no.

Wanda had always been in love with you.

“I bought them to wear for you,” she confessed, stepping closer to you so your knuckle accidentally ghosted against her cheek.

Your eyes left the earrings to meet hers. “They’re pretty,” you said.

“If only I’d have kept my promise,” Wanda whispered, “things would’ve been different.”

You ached as you realised how much guilt must’ve been on her shoulders the last eight years, how quick and easy it was for her to blame herself for what happened.

“Wanda, our breakup wasn’t your fault,” you told her. “I made mistakes too.”

She immediately shook her head and looked away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

You insisted, “Yes.”

“It was my fault that–”

You had to cup Wanda’s cheek with your hand to make her look at you again and stop talking. She shut her mouth and looked at you, and that was when you sternly said, “It was my fault too.”

She began to tear up and you carefully swiped the tears from her eyes with your thumbs.

“I don’t care how things would’ve been,” you said. “All I care about is what it is now — what we are now.”

Wanda took in a shaky breath and quietly asked, “What are we now…?”

Your eyes fell to her lips and Wanda was too distracted by how you looked and how good you smelled and how warm your hand was on your cheek to notice you were leaning in for a kiss until your lips were pressed against hers.

She’d forgotten how good those could feel.

But she never forgot how yours felt.

Her arms raised and she wrapped them around your neck so you couldn’t back up from her too far when you parted from the kiss.

“I could… I could do right by you this time,” Wanda found herself promising the moment you pulled away enough so she could look into your eyes.

What was she saying?

“I could treat you right this time around too,” you vowed.

What on earth were either of you saying?

“Is that okay?” you whispered.

Wanda didn’t wait a moment before replying, “That’s okay. That’s… really, really okay.”

She leaned in and kissed you again, feeling you smiling against her own grinning lips.

──────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ────────

Until she filed for divorce from her husband, all Wanda Maximoff has known how to do is compromise, because until then, she never imagined a future wherein she could be any more than someone who lived in her husband’s shadows and never pursued the things she loved.

That night of your play changed so much for her.

It was painful to have to say goodnight to you and eventually have to drive you back home for her husband would eventually come back later that evening, but all Wanda could think about when she was in bed was how much things could change.

She thought about the kinds of futures she could have with you and the twins, the kinds of lives you could lead and the things she could do with herself.

But there was one thing she had to do before she could have any of that, and she wasn’t willing to wait and sit still anymore; when she turned to look at Victor sleeping beside her, Wanda knew she had to file for divorce.

It wasn’t that the filing was so uncalled for at all, and it was easy to build a case against him.

The infidelity on Victor’s part and arguments that they sometimes failed to keep quiet from Tommy and Billy and dozens of other issues had built up to the point where Wanda’s lawyer confessed to her upfront that she was surprised she hadn’t filed for divorce much earlier.

They were trying to keep it as delicate as possible for the twins were still young, and in spite of their differences, neither their mother nor their father wanted to subject them to the complications that parents went through during a divorce.

Wanda rented her own apartment large and comfortable enough for both her and the twins, and you when you stayed over.

You slept in Wanda’s bedroom, naturally. Though it still made you giddy recalling the mornings and nights you spent together in the same bed, in the same apartment.

Despite the relatively smooth move, Victor was still a very rich and power-hungry man, and he hadn’t been making the divorce process easy for Wanda. Oftentimes she was tired and drained, but also so impassioned.

It’d been a long time since she stood up for herself and what she wanted, and really, it was also first time she’d ever stood up to him.

“He wants to have them five days a week, each week,” Wanda told you presently, scoffing.

You leaned against the table and watched her as she worked.

“What’s his lawyer saying?”

“I don’t care what that asshole is saying. I’m not compromising, Y/N,” she said sternly. “I’m not settling for two fucking days a week with my children.”

Rounding the table, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her against you. “That’s my girl. That’s good,” you praised and shook her around a little, making her stifle a laugh as she looked up and smiled at you.

You kissed her temple and told her, “It’ll work out, Wands. Be strong.”

“Is everyone ready for the picture?” a voice called from the front of the stage.

It was the start of a new season at the theatre and it was tradition for your company to take a photo of all of the crew during the very early days of production development.

“Oh, hurry, hurry!” you hissed and took the pencil out of your girlfriend's hand.

Wanda tried to protest, “Y/N–”

“Finish the costume design later. Come on. Come on, come on, let’s go!”

You took her hand and pulled her to the stage where the rest of the crew was getting together for the photo, the camerawoman standing by the edge with her camera ready.

Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s hips and she wrapped both of hers around your shoulders, squeezing each other tight and smiling widely together as the photo of the entire production crew was taken.

You asked, “Wanna see it?”

“Very much,” she replied.

You rounded the camera together and Darcy approached Wanda.

“Wanda. Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” replied Wanda with a smile and she turned to face the young woman.

“When you write the article for the newsletter, could you mention that we’re looking for backup dancers?” she asked. “There’s, like, several big musical numbers in this one and we were pretty understaffed for the last show.”

You frowned and looked over at her. “Okay, not ‘pretty understaffed,’” you corrected. “Moderately understaffed.”

While ignoring your lighthearted offence because you’d been the primary one in charge of performer recruitment for the last play, Wanda answered with a reassuring smile, “I’ll add it.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said with a relieved exhale.

When you turned around to look at the camera for the photo, Darcy mouthed at Wanda before leaving for backstage again, ‘Very understaffed.’

“Wanda, this is gonna look really great on the mantle,” you told her, turning the camera around so she could see the picture.

“Framed and right under the television in the living room,” she affirmed.

Wanda still had the picture of the two of you with her sorority, though now it was stored away in the box with all her other keepsakes from you.

It was always a symbol of the past, a reminder to her of a love she couldn’t ever get back. But now that things were different, Wanda didn’t need to think about anything but her future wherein you and the twins were always in it, no matter how many different lives she imagined for herself.

So there was a new framed picture put up where everyone in her apartment living room could see it — a photo of the theatre crew and you and Wanda right in the middle in the front row, smiling widely in each other’s arms with her cheek pressed against yours.

#gif credit to kcthrynns on twitter tho they are a deleted account now #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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uncouth-the-fifth · 5 months

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good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

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the-ace-with-spades · 1 year

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An AU where Jake didn't go to USNA but got a scholarship for football at the same uni Bradley got a scholarship for baseball.

They're both part of NROTC but Bradley is a second-year midshipman and he's one of the very few midshipmen who are not mentoring anyone in the program dunno how nrotc works I'm guessing similar to our military youth programs, bear with me

He's instantly intrigued — Bradley seems to be the most unavailable person in the whole program, never really engaging for after-training outings or parties, never making small talk and never trying to even make connections that would help with networking once they were commissioned.

So Jake kind of observes from afar for the first few months and he realizes Bradley is exactly the same outside of NROTC too.

Despite the lack of engagement, every single instructor and coordinator from the program seems to know him. More so, most of them don't even comment on his lack of extracurricular engagement or mentorship, but even send him off for extra trainings that are typically only awarded for being exceptional.

They live in the same student building but on different floors. Bradley is an RA for his floor and the female-only floor above, something Jake only discovers when his own RA is kicked out and his heating problem is delegated to Bradley.

Bradley is also a TA (which is very unusual for a sophomore) for one of the physics professors — Jake is studying mechanical engineering and Bradley is doing aerospace engineering and he sometimes sees Bradley assisting, even if it's mostly for different majors.

Jake's fascination grows even more because he doesn't get it — Bradley is unavailable to anyone but he's also so nice. Most of the students in the dorm he's coordinating like him, which is not really something that happens with RAs, he's respected both by the midshipmen and their instructors and seniors, many of which keep on friendly jabs with him or extend invitations to outings despite Bradley's repeated refusals. He is incredibly nice to the actual few students who come for help from him as a TA, from what Jake heard, and he's got a good few girls crushing on him, some of which are pretty popular in the uni circles.

Despite that, he doesn't seem to have any friends. Jake doesn't see him at parties, or going outs, or study groups, or even of some midshipmen-organized extra trainings. It's like he's keeping everyone at arm's length.

Finally, he has an occasion to start something with Bradley when he goes downstairs to the mail room. Technically sorting the mail and putting it in the right boxes outside of the mail room is the porter's room but the porter seems to be there maybe four hours a week so usually they just break into the room and look for their own shit in the mess.

He goes downstairs and Bradley is sitting on the floor with a list of the students in the building and a stamp with red RETURN TO SENDER, sorting through piles and piles of mail.

"I didn't think it was part of your job."

"It's not," Bradley answers. "Someone has to do it, might as well be me. Seresin, right?"

Jake doesn't squeal but oh god, Bradley knows his name. "Yeah."

"Your parcel is in the ready pile," he says, pointing his thumb parcels near the door.

"You want some help?"

"You've got nothing better to do on a Friday night?"

He could've asked the same question. "I have three assignments I need to procrastinate on."

Bradley gives him a long look but finally says, "Fair enough."

They stay in silence and Jake doesn't know how to start a conversation. Bradley seems focused and aloof and just, once again, so unavailable.

The opportunity arises when he is going over the stack of parcels in the corner of the mail room.

"Your name is Bradshaw, right?"

"Yeah."

"Those are for you."

"They're not."

"I mean, there's no room number but it does say Bradley Bradshaw."

Bradley is quiet for a minute but gets up from where he's been sitting on the floor and slowly walks to stand next to where the boxes are stacked on itself.

Without hesitation, he stamps both of them with RETURN TO SENDER.

"You aren't even going to check what's inside?"

He gets quiet again, looking at the stamp on top of the parcel far longer than needed, before he says, "I don't have any family left, whoever sent it isn't anyone I'd like to get anything from."

Jake bites down apologies — Bradley doesn't seem to be the type to need pity.

"It can't be returned to the post," Jake points out. "No return address."

Bradley sighs and takes out a pen from his pocket, leaning over the boxes.

He doesn't mean to snoop but he catches Bradley writing P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky in the addressee line and San Diego a couple lines lower. So obviously Bradley knew who it was from.

Some things change after that evening — Bradley answers his hi when they see each other at training or waves back when Jake sees him in the lecture hall or brings his mail straight to Jake's room and chats with him for a few minutes at his door.

But most things don't change — he still refuses to join any going outs, even if it's Jake asking him, still doesn't talk much to anyone, still refuses simple invitations to grab lunch together in the cafeteria or go to a movie later that week. Still seems to be using a Don't have time or If you don't need me, I'm going as frequent excuses. Still seems to be entirely unavailable to anyone who wants to catch him outside of his strictly obligatory settings.

He's talking about this with his mom, using the phone booth outside of their dorms, because he's never had trouble making friends with anyone (even if he admits he could make more than friends, with Bradley, eventually, maybe, wishful thinking aside) and his mom tells him, "He sounds really busy, baby, he probably doesn't have time for friends."

"How can you have no time for friends? It's college."

"Jakey, he isn't like you, he doesn't have any support from his family, he's probably struggling to stay afloat with the scholarships requirements and the college job and studying and military training on top of it."

"So what? There's no way to—be friends with him?"

"I think you'll have to fit into the free time in his schedule, baby. because that's the only kind he has."

It takes some time but he does realize that Bradley's time is truly limited. His days are packed tight, on top of what Jake already knew — the TA job, the RA job, the baseball scholarship and the NROTC training — he also works in the local garage one day a week. He literally has a few hours he can actually spend with someone during the day and Jake slowly tries to use them up.

Brings him coffee for the early morning walk-in tutoring he hosts at college, eats lunch with him when they have a training break, even as Bradley does his assigned reading and only half-pays attention to him, comes downstairs to the mail room every evening Bradley sorts through it, brings him cupcakes from the cafeteria on the lunch break between lectures, even though Bradley spends it alone in the professor's office, making lesson plans or marking papers. Visits him in the garage he works at and keeps on constant chatter as Bradley gets covered in black oil and stinks like fuel.

Slowly, he can see Bradley smiling when he sees Jake. Can see Bradley sharing his homemade divine lasagna and chicken soup made from scratch with Jake. Can see Bradley joining him in the gym, not just staying on the outside of the group. Can see Bradley chatting back as he continues to do what he's doing, no longer just letting Jake run his mouth.

There's a bit of a hiccup when Jake offers Bradley to join him on Christmas break in Texas — tells him they can drive if Bradley doesn't want to pay for plane tickets they can make a road trip of the thing and all. Only another call to his mom makes him aware that Bradley probably can't afford either and, as his mom doesn't hold back and points out Bradley won't react well if he offers to pay for it.

So instead, Jake stays for most of the Christmas break in the halls. Apparently, Bradley is organizing a small Chrismas dinner for anyone from the halls who is staying over (a total of seven people), so things get a bit busy — the spare time Bradley has is, well, spare. When he finally has the time, he is working in the garage or finishing his assignments — Jake sometimes forgets, with all the things Bradley does to stay afloat, that he's actually still a student — so he mostly trails behind him and chatters when he thinks it won't annoy Bradley too much.

Bradley offers to drive him to the airport. It's the first time he's offered to take a good chunk of his time and make it free by rescheduling things, just for Jake.

He even parks at the airport and walks him all the way to the security check line, not just leaves Jake in the drop-and-go area.

Jake gives him a small Christmas gift — a key chain with A4 Skyhawk he bought when he visited the aviation museum in Horsham with some of the other midshipmen. They both want to go into the aviation pipeline once graduated so it seems like something Bradley could like, even if it's a bit silly.

He wasn't sure, if Bradley would actually take it — he's been reluctant to take many things, every single lunch or coffee Jake got him had to be either repaid or covered by Bradley the next day.

But Bradley hugs him. Puts the key chain on his car keys ring.

When Jake comes back, he's expecting progress because, you know, Bradley's been warming up to him. Instead, Bradley seems to be dead on his feet, getting annoyed quicker than usually, going as far as telling Jake to 'keep quiet for a goddamn minute'. It all kind of becomes clear when he is car pooling with the guys for the NORTC training and sees Bradley, honest to god jogging the three miles from the halls to the training site, military backpack with his uniform and gear towering over his shoulder — it's five in the morning.

"You doing a new training regime or something? Running everywhere instead of driving like a normal human being?"

He doesn't look at Jake as he says, "The Bronco broke down."

"I mean, that car is older than you," Jake points out, trying to tiptoe around the issue and get Bradley to admit what the exact problem is — he never does, if you ask directly, Jake knows by now. It's like asking for help isn't in his nature.

"It's not safe to drive," he explains. "I can't brake in time anymore, the brakes are about to give out completely."

"Can't you fix it?"

"I need a new drum brake master cylinder," he says. When Jake stares at him, he adds, "It's gonna cost around two hundred bucks, which I don't have."

"I could lend you the money," he offers.

"I don't want your money," Bradley says, just like he thought he'd — taking any offered help from anyone isn't in his nature either.

So Jake tries to work around it — asks his dad and his uncles if there's anyone they know who could maybe give him the right master cylinder for free or at a very discounted price. When they finally find a guy who has a collection of spare parts for the early Broncos but no Broncos anymore and is willing to send the cylinder as long as someone pays for the postage, he writes down his number and promises his friend Bradley is going to call soon about that.

And thank the fucking god, Bradley accepts this kind of backhanded help.

Bradley fixes the Bronco on the hall's parking lot. He jogs from the garage with a borrowed jack lift strapped to his back, pops the car on it and the other one he already has in the trunk so the wheels are up, pops the tires off and pops the front mask up and gets his white tank and plaid shirt covered in grime. It's already dark by the time he takes the jacks away and sits behind the wheel.

Jake's spent the whole time uselessly chattering to him as he always does — he has absolutely no idea about cars — but he lets himself be waved into the passenger seat.

Bradley drives out of the parking lot, down the empty road to the campus and brakes so hard Jake has to hold himself up against the dashboard.

"Better than new," Bradley says and Jake's never seen him grinding as widely and as honestly as he is now.

He is sweaty and covered in oil and stinking a bit, but his curls are flopping on his forehead and the ratty mustache he's been growing lately is out of order and he's looking at Jake with those big brown cow eyes — he just can't not kiss him.

So he leans over the console and kisses the smile on his face.

The leap of faith pays of because Bradley keeps on kissing him — he pulls the hand brake on and lets both his hands settle on Jake's waist and things continue until Jake is being guided onto the backseat over the console and being kisses again and again, and Bradley's hands go lower and lower.

They get each other off and then go back to the halls. They don't talk about it but now any time they're alone — in the lecture hall, in the mail room, in Jake's or Bradley's room — he can just lean in and kiss him as much as he wants to and still get the brightest of smiles as a reward.

They're back in the mail room and maybe Jake's just spent twenty minutes trying to crawl up Bradley's lap (to no avail) when he notices — Bradley got another package, this time PLEASE AT LEAST LOOK THROUGH THE THINGS BEFORE SENDING IT BACK written in bold marker on top.

Bradley curtly tells him to just stamp it with RETURN TO SENDER. But he can't help himself — he gets his keys out and cuts through the tape on top, opening the giant box.

"Jake—"

He takes out the first thing that's on top of the pile inside — a stuffed goose the size of over half of Jake's torso. It's a bit grayed up and smells like dust but it's also so cute.

"That yours?"

Bradley gets up from where he's sitting so quick — a second and he's next to Jake, taking the plushie out of his hands. "Ducky—"

"Ducky? That's a goose, isn't it?"

Bradley is honest to god red in the face but doesn't let go of the goose, bringing it closer to his chest and it's freaking adorable. "I was two, I couldn't tell the difference."

"So," Jake says, feeling like he's defusing a bomb. "You still wanna send it back?"

"I—I don't know."

"Maybe—Maybe I could help with that," he offers. "If I know the details, or at least some of them."

It takes him a minute but when Bradley finally starts talking, everything just spills out of him. He tells Jake about his dad, and about his mom, and then about his other dad and pops. He doesn't get too into details but they come around back to his last year in high school and how his dad pilled his papers and they haven't talked since Bradley found out and left the house with a bag and his car and nothing else.

Jake says, "That's just stupid."

The second it leaves his mouth, he knows he's said the wrong thing even if it was honest — he can see in real-time as Bradley rolls back into himself, closing off in less than a minute and suddenly there's so much distance between them.

He angrily writes down the same P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky and San Diego address on top and chucks the goose plushie back inside.

"I guess I'm stupid then," he says quietly and a blink and he's out of the mail room. He's not answering when Jake knocks on his room door.

Jake doesn't have the heart to actually let that package go back to P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky, or Bradley's dad and pops. So he brings it into his room upstairs.

He doesn't mean to go over the things inside, not too much, but he thought he could at least grab the goose — Ducky — and give it a wash. When he reaches inside, there's a goddamn plushie of a Spitfire in there, its tag saying RAF Museum, London, and Jake can't help looking for more.

There are photos and polaroids, three people commonly on all of them with a baby Bradley. Old Hawaiian shirts, a leather jacket, knots of seashell jewelry, a few rolled-up posters, a whole notebook with handwritten recipes, birthday cards.

He doesn't look any further but instead takes the return address from the box and writes up a postcard to P.Mitchell & T. Kazansky saying he'll force Bradley to keep it all.

Problem is, Bradley isn't talking to him, no matter how hard he tries. He thought he'd be like that for a few weeks at the most and then forget but he's worse than he was before he and Jake met in the mail room for the first time — doesn't even say a word to him when Jake tries to start a conversation, he's gone so far as to change his complicated schedule completely so Jake can't see him outside of NROTC and his TA role.

He calls his mom again.

"Jakey, honey," his mom says, with a tone that suggests he's an idiot. "That boy bared his soul to you and you said his feelings were stupid."

#not finishing it sorry #they get back together and Jake forces him to talk to Mav and Ice after all but it takes like two years #(also he doesn't realize that T.Kazansky is the four star admiral Kazansky until he actually meets them on Thanksgiving)#this should be a 60k slow burn fic but i don't have enough energy #or time #sorry #i hated uni and i might be going back to it so im having the feelsTM #hangster #fic ideas #op #charlie writes

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murderthecat · 10 months

Text

Space Ghost

Written By: ChryslerBuildingFeathers https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChryslerBuildingFeathers

Art Prompt #20 By: SapphicSaphir https://www.tumblr.com/kipo-oak

EctoImplosion 2023

Vast cold crowded silence. That's what this was. Like lying lonesome in a local lake long after the day’d gone dark. So much happening around him, so many stories to be told, and here he was floating. On, and on, and on. Comforted and aching at the same time.

Danny was having a very strange last summer vacation.

Prologue:

Split

It started, as most things do for Danny, with Jack and Maddie Fenton. The two had burst through the house's front door, raving about an old colleague they'd ran into again during their nightly ghost hunting: "Scotland!" they cried in unison.

"We're going to Scotland this summer!"

"We.. Are?" Danny asked worriedly.

“Well, we certainly are!" Jack replied, exploding with giddiness.

"But…" Jazz trailed off expectantly.

"Er, well, me and your mother, anyway." Jack corrected himself.

Maddie continued for her husband: "But not you, obviously, Jazz. We know you've got work and college stuff. And, well, Danny..."

"Danny, we were thinking. This is your last summer before adulthood. Maybe-" Jack said.

"Maybe you're old enough to spend it on your own, and figure out what you want to do for yourself." Jazz finished for them with a smile.

"You.. You mean it?" He asked.

The three nodded. "That's great!" Danny grinned.

And so his summer was set. It was gonna be an awesome couple months!

Except.

Except, when he went to tell Sam and Tucker about it:

"You're both going on college trips? But I thought you were set on MIT, and you've been there a dozen times by now!"

"Well, we were- " Sam replied, hesitantly. "But then we got these new letters, and you see..."

She sighed. "Danny, of all places, Harvard offered us a full ride."

"I know we had everything all planned out, and we wanted to tell you sooner, but-"

Danny groaned. "But you didn’t want to bum me out while we were studying for finals, this is an amazing opportunity, and I'd have to kill you both if you didn't at least think about it?"

He couldn’t even blame them for waiting until now, because he knew he’d probably do the exact same thing in their place.

Sam smiled sadly. "Thanks Danny, love."

"And sorry, dude. Seriously." Tucker added on.

"Hey, maybe this could be a good chance for you, though?" Sam suggested.

"Maybe you can do something just for yourself?"

“I guess so.” Danny said.

The two wrapped him in a hug.

“And hey, you can still give us plenty of ghostly visits while we’re on our trip, you know? You’re our boyfriend after all!” Tucker cheered him.

So here he was, following their collective advice. Or at least, trying to. Alone in space feeding his obsession, swallowing as many stars as could fit in his eyes. The portal was locked, the ghosts knew to leave him alone, and he had all the time he could need to try figuring out what to do with his afterlife.

He’d planned to go to community college, hit the books hard to make up for his bad high school years, and then join Sam and Tucker at MIT. But, if his partners went off to a school as exclusive and Ivy League as Harvard? There’s no way he could make it into there, let alone afford it. And even if he could, he still had no idea what he’d do with himself after finishing college.

Get a job in aerospace engineering so he can at least be close, only for the inevitable trouble that follows him everywhere to steal that away too? Become a professor so he can teach everyone else how to accomplish his hopes and dreams? No.

The human world is not built for a ghostly prince.

Him, or his space fantasies.

#Danny Phantom #Space Ghost #ectoimplosion #ectoimplosion2023 #Everlasting Trio #Danny Fenton #Fanfic #phanfic #phandom #Space #Ghost

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halfagone · 2 years

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What would Danny do for work?

I have a quick question to my fellow Danny Phantom fans... When you imagine Danny picking a career/job, what do you headcanon for him? And this is if he can't- for whatever reason- be an astronaut. This is a hypothetical question, it's not- like, going to affect any of my stories in the future or anything *chuckles nervously*

For me, it's always depended on the headcanon I choose for any particular story/AU. But that gets complicated when I have multiple headcanons that could offer opportunities for him.

For example:

Astrophysicist/Aerospace Engineer - He can't be an astronaut, but that doesn't mean he can't still do some kind of work that involves his love for space.

Engineer - In a similar vein, he could be a regular engineer. Especially if he takes after his dad, Jack, more and maybe even creates his own prototypes and inventions.

In a subset to engineer, in my story weekend wonders, Danny is majoring in biomedical engineering. This is because in this AU, the accident gave him chronic pain, and that's how he gained an interest in this field. This could also work great if he gets attention from the Justice League in a DP x DC crossover, or the Avengers in a DP x Marvel crossover; Danny could just as easily work with heroes who have disabilities or chronic pain from many decades of work as heroes. It helps that he personal experience with the same struggles, after all.

Translator - If you headcanon that Danny can understand a lot of languages (or maybe even them all) due to ghost speak, then Danny could totally use this to his advantage with work. Plus!! This offers many different avenues that could be used to your advantage. Want Danny to be connected to the UN in some way before debuting as Ghost King? Have him be a translator that works there. Want Danny to be busy often with his royal responsibilities/ghost fighting? Have him be a translator; he can work remotely or stay self-employed/on contracts.

Teacher - Danny doesn't have great experience with educational staff, so I could imagine him going into this field of work due to nothing but spite. And! He could teach ectobiology, or just ghosts in general. He could do so many topics: Biology, government, history, hell he could do a whole semester on how physics work in the Ghost Zone.

Blacksmith/Ironsmith - Okay, this one is more self-indulgent, but imagine if Pandora teaches him how to fight with a sword and then he gets obsessed with the sword itself that he wants to make one that's perfectly suited for him and this just dominos into going full-blown into this field. (Trade skills are still important, and sadly, don't get as much attention even when they can usually offer fairly decent pay without the thousands of dollars worth in student debt.)

Writer/Author - If you wanted him to be more artistic, he could be a freelance author/novelist or something similar. I feel like being an author would be one of the better choices for him because, again, if you were writing a story where Danny would be busy with a lot of other responsibilities, then he could largely work on his own schedule. Plus! I can totally imagine him hanging out in Long Now with Clockwork when his head is just full of ideas for a story but he wouldn't have the time to write it otherwise. So he kind of uses Long Now to get that time, but he can promise it's for a good cause, stop laughing, Clockwork!

Actor - I really love the concept of Danny being an actor, just for the laughs if nothing else. While this could be a pain if Danny does actually get famous, since that's a lot of media he would probably prefer not to deal with, the concept alone offers a great deal of shenanigans. And... if he does get a good movie deal, he could very well be set for life afterwards. He could be one of those one-hit wonders in television or something.

If anyone has other possibilities, feel free to add! My head is constantly spinning with even more ideas, I might just add some myself.

#danny phantom #danny phantom headcanons #danny fenton #this is a boy of many possibilities #i cannot choose one for the life of me #works for crossovers too!!

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since0202 · 2 years

Text

Taking Time—Fifty-One

With you in my head

Word count: 6,907

There’s this rush I used to get anytime Paul was near but I couldn’t see him yet. Whether he would sneak up behind me or was simply patrolling the forest near our home, I would get this short tingling drop in the pit of my stomach. Like that anticipatory rush at the top of a rollercoaster right before the descent—pure elation, euphoria, bright, light happiness. And that feeling would dissolve into a warm satiated buzz when he would put his hands on me, wrap me in his arms, or lower his lips to my shoulder, the side of my neck, my cheek. Lately though, I’ve been feeling that rush all of the time. As if he’s right behind me, peeking over my shoulder, his warm breath rushing across my neck. When I turn around though, there’s no one there and that unrelenting rush never dissipates into that satisfying buzz. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy.

“Cheers!” The collection of engineers, scientists, and interns raised their plastic cups filled with cheap champagne in the heuristic lab room amongst scattered papers and gently whirring machinery. Maya’s blunt, shoulder length hair was half pulled up into a messy top knot and she beamed at the colleagues she had come to know and become friends with this summer.

Dr. Bronnard’s lab held some of the most invigorating and fascinating work Maya had ever encountered. Everyday she woke up in her shared bungalow with Rosalie and Emmett and was thrilled to get to the lab to work. Each day was a new and exciting discovery and Arden had been right—the work that Dr. Bronnard was cross-creating with the aerospace and biodynamics team was right up her alley.

Surrounded by such brilliant and passionate people bolstered Maya’s belief that the decision she had made to stay away from the rez this past year was the right one. She knew she might never have had this same experience otherwise. The drama back home, or pending threats, or urge to take care of her chosen family may have overridden any opportunity. Not to mention that with Paul’s absence this past year, Maya was able to work closely with Arden without interference and show him that she was worthy of his time and effort. His vouch to Dr. Bronnard pretty much guaranteed her spot in this internship and it was safe to say, it had changed her life.

Maya felt good. She smiled at the people around her, casually joking and chatting about all of the breakthroughs and progress they had made this summer. These people had genuinely become her friends and the opportunities this work held for her future were limitless. She had basically secured herself another industry internship Dr. Bronnard was a part of for next year which would ensure her Junior year was well spent in setting up her thesis and job prospects in her final year.

It was all going according to plan. Even Noah had come regularly to visit his parents on the occasional weekend and let Maya tag along with him. Noah’s parents were wonderful, warm, and welcoming. Their home was a generous three story renovated farmhouse—his father’s DIY pride and joy as Noah explained that first sweltering afternoon as they walked up the front porch steps.

The home was a marvel to be sure, all shiny, polished wood, and bespoke flooring. Noah’s dad, Reggie, was a bit of an aspiring carpenter. Maya thought, upon first entry to the home, that Paul would appreciate the love and care Reggie had put into restoring the home, but she quickly pushed that thought out of her head as the familiar ache squeezed at her heart.

Maya spent many weekends at Noah’s family home, helping his mother Martha bake rhubarb pies, picking weeds and gardening a fresh plot of summer squash with Reggie, and even thumbing through some of Noah’s old highschool yearbooks with him in his childhood room. She would throw her head back and laugh every time she came across a floppy haired candid of him amongst his highschool friends.

For once, Maya felt normal.

Rosalie and Emmett rented a cabin in the Ohio wilderness and would spend about a week hunting. The short time alone in the bungalow gave Maya a glimpse into what her life might be like if she carried on this way. She spent time with her new friends from the lab, Noah, and sometimes just quietly by herself. Her nights were slow, and she cooked meals quietly to Rosalie’s beloved thirties and forties love ballads. She’d spend most of those late summer nights tucked into a hammock on the porch or in the soft low light of the cool living room combing through that day’s research and findings.

Each day was peaceful and pleasant. It was one of the best summers she had had in recent memory. Certainly better than last summer with her and Paul so strained.

Still, even in her moments of peace, there was a faint, hollow ache that echoed through her and let her know that something was missing. Maya knew what that meant. The imprint was alive and well. But she didn’t begrudge it this time.

Now, as the celebration began to die down around her in the lab, she smiled as a bittersweet feeling came over her. This is everything she’d wanted so far, and she felt like there was so much more to come. But what would she have to give up to get there?

Maya’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she set her cup down excusing herself from the group of scientists surrounding her. She quickly opened her messages, her heart giving an involuntary flutter.

The fluttering settled once she saw that it was a text from Arden. She promptly opened it, ignoring the still astronomical amount of messages, though now dwindling, that were from home.

Arden: Today’s the last day of your internship, right? When are you back in New York?

Maya bit her lip and smiled before replying: Yeah, just finished up today. I’ll be back this weekend.

Maya watched as the bubbles appeared and disappeared on her screen. She couldn’t help the butterfly sensation from erupting in her belly despite herself. It was odd—it was only a microscopic feeling of what she used to experience with Paul, but it was there.

Even stranger, Maya hadn’t heard anything from Paul since she had ran into him at the art show back in May.

For those first few weeks, she was convinced that he would track her down or that Arden would show up with mysterious bruises one random afternoon. But it was all quiet.

No texts. No calls. No Paul on her doorstep.

She didn’t even know if he knew where she lived to be fair. And that felt….weird. Her imprint had no idea where she lived. An involuntary shudder rushed through her, one that left her feeling cold and uncomfortable.

Arden’s reply finally pinged through and Maya raised her cup to lips, letting the bubbles of the champagne tickle her nose as she read from him:

Perfect timing. I’d love to grab a coffee and catch up on everything before the semester starts. Maybe informally interview you for a TA’ship. What do you think?

Maya stared at the text message feeling the swirl of uncertainty flip over and over in her stomach, mixing with the champagne.

Sure. When and where?

She responded with a smile and downed the rest of her glass before slipping her phone into her back pocket.

-----

It was nice to be back in the city. As much as she enjoyed the late afternoons in the lab back in Ohio, she had missed the buzz of New York and all of her usual haunts. When Rosalie, Emmett, and Maya returned that Friday, it was dark and drizzling rain—perfect weather for vampires returning to their city. Emmett carried their bags into the three story Brownstone Carlisle had owned since the early 1900’s. Rosalie and Emmett typically occupied the top two floors and Maya had the entire first floor to herself equipped with a wide marbled kitchen, complete with cozy hearth, couches and lounge chairs that spilled into an ample living room, a library off to the left of the main entry, two large bedrooms and a lush, well manicured garden complete with glassed in sunroom off of the main kitchen.

Maya had only lived at the Brownstone for a couple of weeks before heading to Ohio after the semester ended, but in that short time, she had fallen so deeply in love with it that when she crossed over the doorway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Rosalie gave her a soft smile and promised her and Emmett would join her downstairs in a bit after she got settled.

Maya walked down the hall and set her purse on the marble kitchen island before sinking into a soft, overstuffed yellow armchair in the living room and took a deep breath. The vibe returning to New York was calm. As far as Maya knew, there hadn’t been any new developments regarding the Volturi scouts looking for her. Or any new vampire sightings in Forks or the greater Washington area that seemed to be a threat for that matter. She had gathered that Rosalie and Emmett felt fine leaving Maya mostly on her own both in the city and during her time in Ohio.

Again, Maya felt fortified in her decision to return to New York, despite the tension at home and her falling out with Paul. She never wanted to feel so at odds with her imprint, but for now, it still seemed like the best decision to leave the reservation and leave….him. She swallowed hard and fought back the sting of tears forming behind her eyes. Before she could devolve too deeply into her feelings, Rosalie’s soft footfalls could be heard across the foyer. When she entered the kitchen, she gave her a knowing look, but Maya averted her eyes and was thankful for the distraction when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She fished it out as Rosalie clinked pleasantly around in the kitchen, no doubt preparing her some tea with a punch. Maya opened her messages and smiled at Arden’s recent text:

If we’re still on for tomorrow, I’ll swing by and pick you about 7. My co-collaborator invited me to the opening of this new ritzy club in Soho. Would you be interested in dropping by with me?

A club. Fuck. Maya would have to really dress up now for this ‘catch up dinner’ that was certainly turning into something more. A feeling akin to guilt started to stir in her stomach, but Maya banished any hesitance and quickly typed back.

This is all starting to feel strangely like a date.

Before Maya could even shoot off her next text he responded with.

We’ll see.

She’d be lying if she didn’t say the quip didn’t send a thrill through her. So, she smiled and typed back.

Sounds good then. I’ll dress accordingly, trash bag and all, and see you around 7 tomorrow.

Maya turned her screen off just as Rosalie set her tea down on the small side table next to her.

“Mm,” Rosalie hummed softly. Maya took a minute before meeting her golden gaze. “I’m assuming that’s Arden.” Maya let out a huff of breath and grabbed her tea.

“We’re catching up over dinner tomorrow,” she said matter-of-factly. Rosalie watched her for awhile and then simply said:

“Just be careful, Maya.”

To which Maya fixed her with a somewhat annoyed stare and shook her head. “Nothing is happening, Rose. I’m not an idiot.”

“I know,” Rosalie said softly, “I just worry about the perception of others in this…delicate situation we have so far successfully maintained.”

“By ‘others’ I’m assuming you mean Paul?” Maya shot back a little too harshly. She closed her eyes tight and just as breathed out a “Sorry” Rosalie stopped her.

“You never have to apologize for choosing this path, Maya. To be honest, while I understand the spirit of a thing like an imprint, it still feels very much like being put into a box sometimes for your friends and family. We just need to be mindful of what gets back to them and how. Jacob…Jacob and I have been friends for a long time now. And he has a tendency to change his mind,” Rosalie said this all very sympathetically and Maya gave her a small smile.

“I know, but if I live under the weight of a fickle alpha decision, I’ll never truly get the life I want out here. Arden is a….friend. A colleague,” she quickly corrected. “I’ll be careful, though.”

Rosalie patted Maya’s hand and got up to grab a book off the bookshelf in the living room and headed out into the soft glow of moonlight in the garden. Maya toyed with a loose thread on the armchair and thought about Rosalie’s words again. There was nothing to worry about. Arden had set a clear boundary with Maya earlier in the year when she’d slipped up. Plus, unless Rosalie and Emmett were reporting back to Jacob—which they’d never said they were—she wasn’t really sure how anyone could perceive her out here.

Still, she’d be careful. If not for herself, then for her life out here.

----

Just as Maya had expected, the dinner with Arden was friendly and focused solely on her internship in Ohio. He asked her such thoughtful questions and posed ideas to her regarding how to build her thesis around what she’d learned.

Maya was happy to just be back and in comfortable company. Rosalie’s warning was unnecessary, Maya thought as she sipped her third glass of white wine and laughed at Arden’s recounting of his hapless solo trip to Rome this summer.

They were friends. Maya could have friends.

After dinner, Arden placed his hand on her lower back and guided her outside to hail a cab so they could drop in on the new club he had mentioned in his text the night before. Maya tugged down at the hem of her burnt orange halterneck mini dress. The soft fabric clung to Maya’s curves and ended tightly just above her knees.

Arden opened the taxi door for her and helped her into the cab. They laughed and chatted all the way to the club and Maya was having such a good time that she didn’t notice Arden’s warm hand on her bare knee.

Once they’d made their way across town, Maya could tell that this was definitely not your average night club hang out. The outside was lined with expensive foreign looking cars and real lighted torches flickered and set the entryway off with a sensual glow.

Arden’s hand landed lower on her back this time and Maya couldn’t shake that tingling tug in her belly as soon as they got out of the cab. He ushered her past the line and through the front door as the guard waved them in without a second glance. Maya beamed up at Arden, completely enthralled by her surroundings.

Once in the main lounge, Maya was overtaken by the high ceilings that glittered with faux starlight and opulent gold chandeliers that mimicked planets. There was a low bar at the center and plenty of lounge spaces with black leather and deep purple suede chairs and couches.

Maya was definitely dressed up, but even here she felt a little out of place. Most of the seats were packed with well-dressed New Yorkers, socialites, and even some celebrities Maya recognized. Low, articulate pop pulsed through the club and the hum of constant chatter buzzed through Maya’s ears. It felt like she was in a much too high-society hangout and was such a stark contrast to the home she had come from that it made her slightly dizzy.

She pushed some hair behind her ear and tucked herself a little more into Arden’s side in hopes of blending in. Arden led her toward the bar and leaned down to whisper softly: “Most of these folks are socialites and artists, so don’t worry too much about giving them the signature science Maya razzle dazzle.”

Maya giggled and ducked her head a bit as they leaned conspiratorially toward one another against the bar. He did have an easy way of drawing out some of the best parts of her personality, she had to admit. Still, that aching tug wouldn’t leave her and Maya grimaced as she brought the fancy cocktail to her lips that Arden ordered her, wishing she had a warm whiskey to calm her nerves instead. She was determined to have a good time despite the sickening feeling growing in her stomach.

Maya was halfway into her second drink when a prickling sensation began on the back of her neck. Arden had stayed close to her by the bar and carried on talking and laughing with her, even touching her occasionally. Although Maya became a little quieter as that aching feeling grew. He didn’t seem to notice though, not even when Maya winced and leaned across the bar to order a water mid-conversation.

He was absently stroking her thigh and carrying on when Maya got the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

Suddenly, the bar felt sweltering and Maya had an overwhelming flash of stress brought on by the last time she was at a club and there were preying vampires about. Instead of bolting, which she desperately wanted to do, Maya covertly glanced around the bar for any standouts. Rosalie and Emmett had schooled her well in picking up on vampires when they were out and about, but Maya couldn’t pinpoint any here, though she was sure there must be given the scene. Her heart rate picked up and she felt a soft bead of sweat start to form on her forehead.

“You okay?” Arden finally said, his voice sounding like he was under water. Maya snapped her head back toward him and swallowed thickly to clear her head.

“I, uh,” Maya stuttered and tried to give him her most convincing smile, “No. Yes, I’m fine, I just got a little hot, I guess. This tequila really warms you up,” she joked. Arden nodded and watched her curiously. She was sure she didn’t look too good at the moment. When she felt that sharp tug again at her belly, Maya was awash with a sudden sense of dread. She remembered this feeling.

Slowly, she let her eyes sweep across the club again and finally travel up across the elevated area of the club that held VIP sitting areas, roped off with gold chains at the top of a short wide staircase. Maya didn’t have to scan for long before she met the dark pair of eyes that had been staring at her for god knows how long. Sitting in the VIP area on a plush leather couch was Paul.

His arms were outstretched on the back of the couch and his left foot was crossed over his right knee. The dark, trimmed beard and soft swept back hair was still the same as it looked from their last meeting all those months ago—seamlessly put together, darkening his entire face, and matching that sharp, brooding look that emanated from his eyes. Maya’s mouth went dry as she let herself drink in his image—black slacks covering his thick thighs, black button up covered with a fitted black sports jacket. His eyes were locked onto her, dark and alight with something terrifying and feral.

A line of fire could have erupted between them from the heat of his gaze on her. Maya’s lips parted as she stared back, and felt that familiar tug in her belly that pooled warm and thrilling at the apex of her thighs: the imprint, or Paul maybe, beckoning her over. Maya snapped her mouth shut and set her mouth in a firm line, turning back to Arden and placing a hand on his bicep to help steady herself as she tried to continue their conversation.

The tug became more persistent though, and the pang between her legs grew to an unbearable level that she could barely concentrate on what Arden was talking about. Her face heated as warmth pooled between her thighs and she abruptly interrupted Arden just as he was going on about something Maya knew she’d be interested in normally:

“Could you excuse me for just a second?” Without waiting for a response from him, Maya hopped up and turned on her heel to stomp toward Paul. His arms were still outstretched across the couch and he turned his head lazily toward her as she ascended the short steps to the lounge area he occupied. He gave her a warm, knowing smile, but his eyes held complete fire. He glanced behind her to see that Arden had stayed put by the bar with a worried grimace on his face for a half a second. Paul let out a short low laugh before turning his attention back to his imprint.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Maya snapped. Paul let out a low chuckle and the sound sent a thrill through her. This was ridiculous. She had barely seen him in over a year and her body hummed with such intense heat and desire that she thought she would combust on the spot from just his laughter.

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” Paul finally replied gently, a condescending tone in his voice, taking a sip from his whiskey. His eyes never left Maya. She bristled at his tone.

“This is New York. There are literally so many other clubs you could go to and you just happen to be at this one?”

“Imagine that,” he said bluntly. She couldn’t stand this blase way he drenched his every word in as if he was bored, as if he was fed up, as if he might snap at any moment. Maya’s thighs clenched together instinctively. Her eyes drifted over to the collection of people scattered around the small VIP area Paul occupied. They all gave her varying looks of interest, but no one really paid much attention. A hard blush rose up to Maya’s cheeks regardless. Paul’s eyes lit up at the wash of color on her face.

“I am happy here you know,” she nearly pleaded, as the anger pumped through her, the heat of her blush stinging her ears.

“Oh, yeah, I can tell,” he mocked, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maya took a step forward in her fury as if to grab him or slap him, but she stopped herself. Paul’s eyes shot down to the miniscule step she had taken forward before his gaze slowly traveled up the length of her body to her face. A smug look replaced that blase attitude and Maya stilled as the anger roiled up in her. It was as if getting a rise out of her was the whole point. Or to prove that he still had an effect on her and always would. Maya clenched her fists.

“Get over yourself,” she spat, “It’s a little desperate that you keep showing up like this.” She would do anything at this point to throw him off this smug little hill he was standing on.

“Oh, so you’re fucking drunk,” he quipped, his words echoing in his glass as he took another nonchalant sip. Maya almost lost it at that, her fingernails digging into her closed fists as a sharp jolt of anger ricocheted down her spine unpleasantly and landed between her legs. She took a minute to get herself under control before deciding not to take the bait.

This wasn’t her Paul. Or at least, not the Paul she had fell in love with, but something darker, angrier. She couldn’t help but feel like she had driven him to this point and she wondered what it meant. This distance between them, this lapping lick of anger that they threw at one another was what their relationship, or lack thereof, currently rested upon. It filled Maya with such sadness that she had to clench her jaw tightly to dispel the tears fighting their way out behind her eyes.

“Fuck you,” she finally said with a hard smile as she flipped him off. “Have fun watching me walk away. Again,” Maya whirled around, her hair swishing against her back and stomped back down the steps without a second glance. Maya could feel Paul’s eyes burning into her back but she didn’t dare look behind her.

The minute she reached the bottom, she felt the imprint slam through her, hollowing out her stomach and making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, the club felt too crowded, over-perfumed, and loud. She didn’t even look up to try and find Arden. Maya knew she had to take a minute of reprieve, to gather herself and catch her breath before returning to him or else he’d ask her too many questions she couldn’t bear to answer.

So, she stumbled off in the direction of what she thought might be a bathroom. Maya pushed through a dark door and found herself in a secluded hallway. Not thinking too much about it, she carried on toward another door at the end of the hallway, and pushed it open. She reveled in the gentle breeze of summer air that hit her face. The door led outside to a dark alleyway and Maya let it close behind her as she leaned up against the cool, damp brick of the building taking in deep lungfuls of air and trying to calm herself down.

Back on the couch, Paul seethed. He had watched Maya stalk away from him, his whiskey glass clenched dangerously tight in his hand. When he watched her make her way out toward the back door, he immediately snapped up and after her, unable to stay seated a moment longer. The people around him gave him an odd glance as he quickly glided off toward the direction Maya had gone, simmering with rage.

He had realized her presence the minute she had arrived in the club, that asshole’s arm wound down around her waist and leaning down to whisper something in her ear. It had taken everything in him not to shout at her across the lounge just to get her to see him—Jacob’s ridiculous alpha order not to interfere kept him glued to the spot. Instead, he stewed in his own shimmering rage, disinterested in the conversations happening with his artist friends around him. His eyes had stayed glued to Maya’s form, traveling down her soft curves that her dress clung too.

She made his mouth water. Her image sitting at that bar with that old, fucking professor consumed him and he shot through with feral anger whenever Arden would lean forward to say something closer to her so she could hear, his hand travelling the length of her thigh nonchalantly.

Was this what he meant to her? Their bond, their life? Easily discarded and forgotten at the first opportunity? No. He wouldn’t allow that. She was his. Their bond was taut between them and he could feel it sharpen every day to an excruciating point since she had left him behind. Now, he wielded it against her. Prodding at the imprint to stir her awareness of him in the club. He smirked when he saw that familiar grimace come over her face, that pang of understanding and uncomfortableness that plagued his every waking moment that he wasn’t near her, that she wasn’t underneath him.

The last year had been nothing short of excruciating. Paul knew he had to get Maya back, but this time things would be different. She belonged to him, body and soul, but tethering her to the reservation had been his downfall. Trying to box her in had backfired. This time, she would have to come to him. Willingly. No more promises, no more broken bonds, no more running off.

But in all that time, Paul’s black and burning anger had grown, not necessarily at her, but rather at the absence of her. And, even moreso, at himself. He would get her back, but he didn’t know if he could quell his rage long enough to do it. So, he acknowledged that things might get a little messy.

When Maya had finally seen him, her gorgeous amber eyes connecting with his across the room, he knew he had her. When she had stomped over to him, barely acknowledging Arden in her haste, a sick thrill had rocketed through him. And when she was close enough to him, he could smell every enticing inch of her. Getting her angry was easy. Getting her back would be harder.

So, he’d start there—with anger. That oh-so-familiar feeling that he had too much experience with and had tried not to let completely consume him again this past year. Anger. He could get her angry to get her close, or at the very least weaken the alpha order so he could remind her of who exactly he was.

Her little charade had been cute—asking him what he was doing here, as if he had even planned their encounter. He hadn’t, but he’d let her think that just to get under her skin a little bit. That pulsing anger would be her undoing if Paul had anything to say about it. Which was why, when she had taken a step toward him after he had mocked her happiness, Paul felt the cinch of the alpha order loosen in that moment. His eyes lit with fire and he worried he was giving too much away, because Maya retreated almost immediately, but not before giving him a hardy ‘Fuck you.’

Oh, you will baby. He had thought to himself as he watched her walk off for a moment. Patience had never been Paul’s strong suit however, and the anger ticked a vein in his forehead.

Slamming through the hallway door, he saw it was empty and quickly walked the rest of the way to the door that led into the alleyway. The sound of the metal door banged against the brick wall, startling Maya who had had her eyes closed, with her hands over her face, trying to take calming breaths.

Maya straightened, her back pressed into the cold brick as her wide eyes watched Paul glare at her from a somewhat safe distance.

“What the fuck, Paul?” she nearly choked out.

“You left me, remember? I’m the one who gets to be mad this time,” his voice was grave, halting as he slipped his hands in his pockets. Maya shook her head, unable to hold back the tears this time as one escaped and rushed down her cheek. Her hands shook as the rush of the imprint pulsed painfully through her and she thought she’d collapse on the spot. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Why wouldn’t he just go? If he left, maybe she could get this pain under control and get back to her life. She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes tight as the tears came in earnest now.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, pain lacing her tone, “Just…fucking go, Paul. Please just go,” she begged as she wrapped her arm around her stomach. If she had been able to keep her eyes open, she might have seen him take the five short paces to close the gap between them. Suddenly, Maya’s bare back was pressed firmly in the cold brick making her gasp. Her eyes shot open and she was immediately enveloped in his warm, soft aroma. That soft spice and citrus that smelled like the forest after a fresh summer rain invaded her senses and her gaze traveled up his frame to his eyes that were burning with so much anger that it physically made Maya wince. “If this is how it’s going to be, please just…leave me alone,” she couldn’t even say each word fully she was lacking so much breath.

This must be how she’d die—with the imprint tearing her apart piece by piece until there was literally nothing left. He lowered his fact toward hers so she could feel his warm breath cast across face as he said in almost a growl:

“I’ve heard you in my head everyday for a fucking year,” his warm hands cupped either side of her neck as his thumbs coasted across her jawline. Maya erupted in goosebumps down her spine at his touch. When he lowered his forehead to hers, his mouth hovering over hers she couldn’t help but groan with need. The imprint thrummed in her, the pain still erupting and subsiding as waves coming in with the tide. Paul was only holding her head against his, leaving just a little bit of space between them, but Maya arched her body up to connect with the line of his and she felt him breathe out across her face as if in relief at the contact.

He was so big. Was he always this big? She wondered as he pressed his entire body against hers in response. Her naked back dug into the brick wall of the alleyway as he ground his hips into hers. Maya was dizzy, she was aching, and that pulse between her thighs was making her knees buckle. She held onto the underside of his biceps to steady herself, but she was close to shattering or bursting apart into a million pieces and scattering across this alleyway. Paul stilled, his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to hers simply breathing her in, or trying to get himself under control, Maya wasn’t sure. She hadn’t forgotten that feral, dark look in his eyes she had seen just a moment earlier. That cruel and unabashed tone that had eviscerated her heart when she had just been starting to get by again.

Her hesitation was laid plain by her shuddering breaths despite her body pressing and pushing against his, her hips moving of their own accord as her body called out to his. His eyes shot open suddenly, boring into hers and Maya could have moaned for all that need it shot through her. His eyes were wanting, dark, hard, but shining with that same need that she felt.

“Please,” she mouthed wetly, not knowing exactly what she was pleading for. For him to go? For him to stay? Her head was a dizzy mess and Maya would have given anything if this pain and overwhelming sensation would just stop so she could think it through.

Paul’s eyes danced around her face, searching for some answer, but his need overtook him before he found a compelling answer in her and he crashed his lips down on hers, pressing her body impossibly harder onto the brick. Maya groaned and deep inside, she felt her belly erupt into white hot flames and spread outward to every limb, searing that pain clean away and leaving nothing behind but relief.

Her mouth remembered his instantly, and she opened her lips eagerly to taste the forest on her tongue, to taste home again. She had never quite quelled the tears that had burst forth and brought him closer, but she felt their plain wetness on her cheeks as he brushed them away.

Paul let a guttural moan escape into her mouth, chasing his own relief as the imprint rejoiced in both of them.

His hands never left her neck as he gently tilted her head to the side to gain more access to her mouth, hungrily devouring her, claiming what was always his again. Maya was lost in the rush of him, all at once, and she couldn’t breathe let alone pause to think about what it meant.

Here, again with him. It always felt right with Paul, even when she was running, she knew he was it. And if he needed to give chase for a bit so she could get some distance and fulfill her dreams, then so be it.

But this was no longer the chase. Maya was well and truly caught and as Paul let out another satisfied groan into her mouth, she couldn’t bring herself to care just yet. All that mattered in this moment was that that dull ache was finally gone for the first time in a year and Paul was here, kissing her.

Maya had no idea how long they stayed pressed together, reveling in the home they found once again in one another. But when Paul’s kisses softened and slowed, gently peppering her lips and around her mouth, Maya took her first full breath as her eyes opened slowly.

She had no words, as she looked up at the man who had all at once loved her, trapped her, found her, and invaded all of her senses again. Her breathing was labored, but the pain was long gone as she held tightly to him.

“Come on,” he said gruffly as his eyes narrowed. He took a step back from her, the cool summer air rushing in and sending a chill across her.

“Where?” Maya breathed out softly, her voice a heady whisper as her heart raced. But she was already following him, her fingers lightly tangled with his as he tugged her down the alley and toward the busy street. She felt like a lamb being led to slaughter, but the ache between her legs urged her on anyway.

When they reached the street, Maya bumped into him and wobbled a bit on her heels. She grabbed the wrist of the hand that held hers and looked up at him as he towered over her, his free hand high in the air as he hailed a cab.

Maya felt like she was floating in a dream and before she could will herself to wake up, the cab pulled up to the curb and Paul yanked the door open to usher Maya inside before he followed her.

She had no idea where he was taking her but when he opened his mouth and easily said, “Upper East, 5th and Madison, please,” it took Maya a moment to realize he had said her address.

“You know where I live?” she finally managed. Paul glanced at her sideways and gave a low chuckle.

“Of course, I do.” He said it so easily, as if she was ridiculous for even thinking he would have no idea where she was at all times. Maya pursed her lips and looked down at their gently clasped hands as the lights of the city washed them in a warm amber glow. “Hey,” he said with a bit of a tenderness. Maya looked up at him and almost lost her breath again just at the sight of him.

She opened her mouth as if to respond, but nothing came out. He smirked and leaned forward to kiss her again, his other hand gently caressing the side of her cheek. Maya felt her nipples tighten and that fresh need sweep through her again. But just as she began leaning into his kiss, running her free hand down his neatly trimmed beard, the cab pulled over and the cabbie cleared his throat. Paul pulled away slowly, his eyes racing across every inch of her face again. Maya was dumbstruck. All from a kiss.

He paid and opened the door, pulling her out behind him and up toward her house like he had been here a million times. Maybe he had. The thought made her heart race as they reached the stoop awash in a soft amber glow from the iron porch lamp that hung above them.

Again, Maya was lost for words and she was seriously starting to second guess her education at such a prestigious school if she couldn’t even string a few words together in front of the man she loved.

They just stood there, looking at each other, standing just a few inches apart. She needed to say something, anything to him. To explain, to set things right, or at the very least ask him what exactly was happening. But she stayed quiet, her body content just to be close to his in the moment and not in pain.

His eyes never left hers as he tried to understand what might be racing through her head. When he suddenly leaned forward slowly, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck, Maya’s breath hitched in her throat.

“Maya,” he said softly with so much adoration, love, and desire that she thought she was going to combust right there on the doorstep. But instead, he leaned forward, kissed her softly and said, “Goodnight.”

Maya’s eyes fluttered open just as he was stepping away and moving gracefully down the stairs, leaving her there. Her mouth fell open as she watched him push his hands into his pockets and walk down the sidewalk and out of sight.

She stood there for awhile after he had disappeared and when she had finally shut the front door behind her and leaned against it, she breathed out a sigh and said “What the fuck?”

What the fuck, indeed.

Later, when Maya was tucked away in her bedroom, she pulled her phone out and listened to every voicemail and read every message from each of her friends and family back home until the early hours of the morning.

Next > >

#taking time #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote smut #paul lahote x oc #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #rosalie cullen #jacob black #twilight wolf pack

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mitcorerbarshi · 5 months

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From Campus to Career : MITCORER creates exciting opportunities in Corporates and Railway Engineering fields

Embarking on the journey from campus to career is a pivotal moment for engineering graduates, filled with anticipation and excitement. At MITCORER (MIT College of Railway Engineering and Research), this transition is not just a step, but a leap towards a future filled with opportunities and achievements. Renowned for its excellence in both corporate and railway engineering fields, MITCORER goes above and beyond to prepare its students for success in their professional endeavors.

MITCORER's commitment to academic excellence forms the cornerstone of its approach to placement preparation. The institution leaves no stone unturned in ensuring that students receive a robust education that not only equips them with technical knowledge but also hones their critical thinking and problem-solving skills. With a curriculum designed to meet industry standards and evolving trends, students graduate from MITCORER well-prepared to tackle the challenges of the real world.

However, MITCORER's efforts do not end with academics. Recognizing the importance of industry exposure and practical experience, the institution goes the extra mile to facilitate internships, projects, and industry interactions for its students. From corporate giants to niche railway engineering firms, MITCORER invites a diverse array of companies to its campus, providing students with firsthand exposure to the workings of the industry.

In the mechanical engineering field, for instance, MITCORER ensures that its students have access to opportunities in leading companies such as Tata Motors, Mahindra & Mahindra, Larsen & Toubro, Bosch, and Siemens. These companies offer internships and job placements across various domains, including manufacturing, automotive, and aerospace, allowing students to explore their interests and gain valuable experience.

Similarly, in civil engineering, students have the chance to intern or work with reputed companies like Larsen & Toubro, Shapoorji Pallonji, Hindustan Construction Company (HCC), Tata Projects, and Gammon India. These companies are involved in a wide range of projects, from infrastructure development to real estate, providing students with exposure to diverse aspects of civil engineering.

In the E&TC (Electronics and Telecommunication) and CSE (Computer Science and Engineering) fields, MITCORER ensures that students have access to opportunities in both IT giants and startups. Companies like Infosys, TCS, Wipro, IBM, and Google actively recruit MITCORER graduates, offering them roles in software development, data analytics, cybersecurity, and more.

Moreover, MITCORER takes pride in its global reach, with alumni spread across more than 10 plus countries, making significant contributions to society through their engineering expertise. Whether it's designing sustainable infrastructure, revolutionizing transportation systems, or developing cutting-edge technologies, MITCORER alumni are at the forefront of driving positive change in society.

In conclusion,

By providing a strong academic foundation, ample industry exposure, and a global perspective, MITCORER ensures that its students are well-equipped to excel in both corporate and railway engineering fields. As graduates embark on their professional journeys, they carry with them the values instilled by MITCORER – excellence, innovation, and a dedication to serving society through engineering.

#MITCORERSuccess #EngineeringJourney #CareerLeap #IndustryPreparation #GlobalOpportunities #EngineeringExcellence #RealWorldReady #IndustryInsights #FutureEngineers #SocietyServingEngineers

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chatgptdetector · 8 months

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The Top 10 Jobs in Canada for 2024

Canada, with its picturesque landscapes, diverse culture, and robust economy, continues to attract individuals from around the world seeking new opportunities and a higher quality of life. As we step into 2024, the Canadian job market is brimming with exciting prospects across various industries. Whether you're a recent graduate, a seasoned professional, or an immigrant looking to build a career in the Great White North, here are the top 10 jobs in Canada that should be on your radar.

Software Developer: With the technology sector experiencing exponential growth, software developers are in high demand. From cutting-edge startups to established corporations, Canada's tech industry offers a plethora of opportunities for those with coding expertise.

Healthcare Professionals: The healthcare sector in Canada is perennially in need of skilled professionals, including nurses, doctors, and allied health workers. The aging population has led to a surge in demand for healthcare services, making it an excellent field for those looking to make a meaningful impact.

Construction Project Manager: As infrastructure projects continue to dot the Canadian landscape, the demand for construction project managers is on the rise. This role involves overseeing the planning, execution, and completion of construction projects, making it a key player in the nation's development.

Data Scientist: In an era driven by data, the role of a data scientist is crucial across various industries, including finance, healthcare, and e-commerce. Analyzing and interpreting large datasets, data scientists contribute valuable insights to guide decision-making processes.

Electrician: Skilled trades, such as electricians, are essential for maintaining and expanding Canada's infrastructure. From residential wiring to large-scale industrial projects, electricians play a pivotal role in ensuring the smooth functioning of the country's electrical systems.

Marketing Specialist: As businesses vie for consumer attention, the demand for marketing specialists continues to soar. Whether it's digital marketing, content creation, or market research, individuals with a flair for promoting products and services are sought after in the Canadian job market.

Registered Nurse: With an aging population, there's a growing need for compassionate and qualified nurses. Registered nurses are integral to the healthcare system, providing essential care and support to patients in hospitals, clinics, and long-term care facilities.

Mechanical Engineer: From designing innovative machinery to optimizing existing systems, mechanical engineers contribute significantly to Canada's industrial landscape. Industries such as manufacturing, automotive, and aerospace rely on the expertise of mechanical engineers to drive innovation.

Financial Advisor: Canadians are increasingly recognizing the importance of financial planning, leading to a surge in demand for financial advisors. Helping individuals and businesses make informed decisions about their finances, financial advisors play a crucial role in ensuring financial well-being.

Environmental Scientist: With a growing emphasis on sustainability, environmental scientists are in demand to address ecological challenges. From assessing environmental impact to developing conservation strategies, these professionals contribute to Canada's commitment to a greener future.

Conclusion:

As Canada continues to thrive on its commitment to diversity, innovation, and progress, the job market reflects these values with a wide array of opportunities. Whether you're drawn to the tech hub of Toronto, the vibrant culture of Vancouver, or the economic powerhouse of Calgary, these top 10 jobs offer a glimpse into the diverse career landscape that Canada has to offer. So, whether you're a local job seeker or an international talent looking to make Canada your home, these professions could be your stepping stones to a fulfilling and prosperous future.

#Canadian job market

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usafphantom2 · 2 years

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Canada concludes agreement for 88 F-35A fighters

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 01/09/2013 - 18:05 in Military

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After selecting the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter as its future fighter in March 2022, the Canadian government finalized an agreement to acquire 88 copies of Lockheed Martin.

The Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) expects to receive the first aircraft in 2026, with a milestone of total operational capacity for the entire fleet between 2032 and 2034.

The estimated investment for this project is US$ 14.2 billion and represents the largest RCAF investment in the last 30 years. Includes associated equipment, configuration and maintenance services, as well as the construction of hunting squadron facilities in Bagotville, Quebec, and Cold Lake, Alberta.

"In today's complex global environment, Canada requires an army that is flexible, agile and capable of responding to a variety of unforeseen situations. We are committed to ensuring that our current and future aviators have the most advanced equipment possible to do just that. Canada requires a fleet of fighters to contribute to the safety of Canadians and protect the sovereignty of one of the largest expanses of airspace in the world. We are excited to announce today that Canada has selected the F-35 as the fighter that will play this important role," said Anita Anand, Canadian Minister of National Defense.

The Canadian government said that the announcement of the contract “is also excellent news for Canadian companies and workers in the Canadian aerospace and defense sector”.

The initial acquisition and support of the F-35 project has the potential to contribute more than C$ 425 million annually to Canada's gross domestic product and about 3,300 annual jobs for Canadian industry and value chain partners over a period of 25 years (direct and indirect). In addition, there will be investments in the renewal of national defense infrastructure at various bases throughout Canada, which will include many Canadian site construction and maintenance companies. The Canadian industry will also have significant support opportunities related to the Canadian fleet. Opportunities are expected in areas such as fuselage and engine maintenance units, as well as in training and maintenance of components over the life of the fleet.

The F-35 strengthens Canada's operational capacity with its allies as a cornerstone for interoperability with NORAD and NATO. As a critical node in the space of the 21st century security mission, the F-35 offers pilots an advantage over any opponent and allows them to carry out their mission and return home safely.

Canada is buying the F-35 after launching the bidding process to acquire a successor to the CF-18 Hornet fighter fleet in 2017. A formal request for proposals was launched for qualified suppliers in July 2019 and closed in July 2020.

USAF F-35A fighter during demonstration at the Canadian International Air Show in Toronto in 2021. (Photo: U.S. Air Force Staff Sgt. Thomas Barley)

It is noteworthy that Canada is already an international partner in the F-35 program, alongside the US, United Kingdom, Italy, the Netherlands, Australia, Norway and Denmark. Canada has been investing in the Joint Strike Fighter program since 1997, which has provided the Canadian industry with the opportunity to become part of the F-35 supply chain, in addition to ensuring guaranteed access to the F-35.

To date, the F-35 operates from 27 bases worldwide, with nine nations operating F-35s in its territory. There are more than 890 F-35 in service today, with more than 1,870 pilots and 13,500 maintainers trained on the aircraft.

Tags: Military AviationF-35 Lightning IILockheed MartinRCAF - Royal Canadian Air Force/Canada Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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thxnews · 1 year

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Defence Industry Scotland Focuses on Boosting Economic Impact

Continues Legacy of Supplying Royal Navy with Combat System Mast

Leading defence companies, the UK Government, and the Armed Forces are convening in Scotland today to discuss strategies for maximizing the defence sector's contribution to the economy. The meeting coincides with the confirmation of a significant defence contract worth £169 million awarded to Thales Glasgow. The contract is for the construction of the integrated optronic combat system mast, which serves as the "eyes" above water for the Royal Navy's future nuclear deterrent submarine class, Dreadnought.

Thales' Long-standing Contribution to Royal Navy Submarines

Thales has a rich history of supplying periscopes and optronics masts for Royal Navy submarines. Every submarine in service since 1917 has been equipped with a Thales-manufactured periscope or optronics mast from their facility on the Clyde. The new version of the Dreadnought class will carry on this tradition, supporting over 150 jobs. The entire Dreadnought program, from design to construction, is expected to create approximately 30,000 jobs across the UK, making a substantial contribution to the country's economic growth.

Scottish Defence and Aerospace Sectors' Impressive Performance

During the meeting, ADS, the trade organization representing UK companies in the aerospace, defence, security, and space sectors, will unveil new figures highlighting the contributions of Scottish businesses. In 2022, these businesses generated a turnover of £7.3 billion, providing a value add of £3.2 billion to the economy. The sectors employed 33,500 people in Scotland, including 1,500 apprentices, showcasing the significant impact of these industries on employment and economic prosperity. Scottish Skills and Innovation Benefiting the Defence Industry Scottish Secretary Alister Jack acknowledged the significant role played by Scottish skills, expertise, and innovation in the defence industry, emphasizing the benefits for national security and the economy. The UK Government is committed to supporting the defence industry's success both within the country and in international markets, fostering economic growth and high-skilled job opportunities in Scotland. The Importance of the Dreadnought Contract Minister for Defence Procurement James Cartlidge emphasized that the contract awarded to Thales is an investment in maintaining the UK's nuclear deterrent. The combat system mast will provide crucial capabilities for the new Dreadnought Class Submarine, contributing to national security. The Dreadnought program is expected to support tens of thousands of jobs, boosting the economy and ensuring the country's defence readiness. Thales' Contribution to Global Security CEO of Thales UK, Alex Cresswell, expressed pride in Thales' role in providing the combat system mast and sonar for the new Dreadnought Class. Cresswell highlighted the showcase of UK engineering skills and innovation in the boat build, led by BAE Systems and partners. He also mentioned the excitement surrounding the development of the AUKUS submarine program, which will deliver future capabilities for both Australia and the UK, further contributing to global security.

Defence Roundtable Aims to Maximize Economic Benefits

The defence roundtable, the first of its kind, aims to establish a biannual gathering to ensure the defence sector maximizes its economic contributions to the UK. By establishing a direct relationship with Scottish industry, the UK Government and Armed Forces seek to address sector priorities, challenges, and upcoming milestones. The roundtable will feature representatives from ADS, member companies across the Scottish defence industry, Armed Forces personnel, and Ministry of Defence representatives. Supporting Scottish Exports Minister for Exports, Lord Offord, highlighted the importance of supporting the thriving defence and security industry in Scotland, which employs tens of thousands of people and makes significant contributions to the local economy. The roundtable serves as a platform for direct engagement with sector stakeholders and facilitates better support for their future endeavours. In addition to ADS, the roundtable includes a wide range of member companies from the Scottish defence industry, such as Thales, BAE, Spirit Aerosystems, Leonardo, QinetiQ, Raytheon, Castle Precision, Glenalmond, and Babcock. The presence of Armed Forces representatives and Ministry of Defence officials further underscores the significance of the meeting. The UK, as the second-largest global defence exporter after the USA, has a robust defence industry. In 2021, UK security export sales reached £8.22 billion, and defence orders were valued at £6.64 billion.

Background

The UK has maintained its nuclear deterrent, known as Continuous at Sea Deterrent (CASD), since 1962 to protect NATO allies collectively. Currently, the Vanguard Class submarines fulfil this role, while the new Dreadnought Class submarines are under construction at BAE Systems' site in Barrow-in-Furness, Cumbria. The optronics mast for the Dreadnought Class represents an innovative evolution of the traditional periscope, providing enhanced visuals and improving the safety and effectiveness of the crew's operations. Scotland is also home to crucial defence capabilities, including the Quick Reaction Alert at RAF Lossiemouth and the ongoing construction of Type 26 and Type 31 frigates in Scottish shipyards. Sources: THX News, Office of the Secretary of State for Scotland, Ministry of Defence, Defence Nuclear Organisation, Defence Equipment and Support, Submarine Delivery Agency, Lord Offord of Garvel, James Cartlidge MP & The Rt Hon Alister Jack MP. Read the full article

#Aerospaceanddefencesectors #Defencecontract #Defenceindustryroundtable #Dreadnoughtprogramme #Nucleardeterrent #RoyalNavy #Scottishbusinesses #Scottishexports #ThalesGlasgow #UKeconomy

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maisie-espinosa · 2 years

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THE BASICS

Name: Maisie Inez Espinosa.

Age: Forty-Two.

Gender: cis Female, She/Her, They/Them.

Occupation: Professor of Aerospace Engineering at Providence Peak University.

Birthday: February 24th, 1981.

Zodiac Sign: Pisces.

Location: University Heights, Providence Peak, Colorado.

Birthplace: Providence Peak, Colorado.

Orientation: Pansexual, Panromantic.

THE PHYSIQUE

Eye Color: Brown.

Natural Hair Color: Dark brown.

Height: 5′ 3″.

Body Type: Slim.

Allergies: None.

Dominant Hand: Right.

Scars: A few non-notable scars from small scraps with her brothers when they were younger, always insisting that she could beat them easily in a wrestling match. Most of the time she could hold her own for awhile until their parents scolded them or her brothers gave in.

Tattoos: A minimalistic rocketship near her collarbone.

Piercings: Earlobes.

THE INTRODUCTION

(death tw, loss tw, grief tw)

Maisie Inez Espinosa was born a local to Providence Peak, the fourth in line after three brothers born prior to her, her very own cavalry ready to ride into any battle and wage any war for her. That backing she needed very little of, even though tiny as she was, Maisie was scrappy and insisted that she could fight with the best of them, often insisting on wrestling her brothers for fun and often not folding until she won, whether that meant they gave in or more often the case, their parents scolding them for the mock violence they inflicted on each other. Despite being born at the tail’s end of winter, she thrived in the springtime that gave way to new life and new opportunities.

New opportunities seemed to be the theme in her life as she found herself growing up and navigating a world that wasn’t built with her in mind. A world that she didn’t just navigate with the bare minimum, but set out to change and prove wrong with everything that she did. It didn’t hurt that she had the help of her second oldest brother who, struggling just as she was, had already paved the way before she was born and despite their parents leaning toward the stricter side of parenting, they did everything they could to make sure their children were set up to be successful in life, even if society thought that being born deaf should have led to failure for Maisie.

Failure was the last thing on her mind as she worked her way through school and college falling more in love with the idea of space each day, just as she had with the planetarium she’d spent days in as a child in the local science museum in Providence Peak, and eventually graduated with a PhD in Aerospace Engineering, leaving Colorado and her family behind for the first time as she scored her dream job with NASA’s Aerospace department in Washington D.C., slowly working her way toward the stars. She was nothing short of a genius (okay, maybe a little more humble than that), but all it seemed to take was a soft look and a smile from someone at a coffee shop for her to realize that maybe the only stars in the world weren’t those that existed in space.

And for awhile, Maisie allowed herself to fall, building a whole galaxy with the person who seemed to hang stars on Earth just for her and it was good. But just like all good things, this too eventually came to an end. Her job with NASA became more demanding until she was rarely seeing the outside of their headquarters, leaving for work before dawn and sometimes not getting home until the last metro ran for the night, barely crawling into bed before she had to wake up and do it all over again. She was married to her career and it took a toll on her relationship. The stars began dimming until they all faded and all she was left with was an empty apartment and, for the first time in her life, too much space.

Paired with the untimely death of her remaining parent, Maisie decided to make the decision to leave her job in Washington D.C. and move back to Providence Peak to be closer to her family, her third brother who she was always closest to, and her nephews, not wanting to destine herself to an empty life that revolved only around work. Even though she gave up her dream job, she still found satisfaction in teaching aerospace engineering at Providence Peak University and fostering the next generation of space explorers. Ultimately thankful that she’d moved back when she did so she could be there for her nephews when her brother and his wife lost their lives in an accident, a loss she is still navigating her way through as she offers whatever help she can to, Nari Yang, the woman who stepped up to raise their shared nephews in the wake of the unforeseen tragedy.

THE HEADCANONS

Loves space more than Earth and was often jokingly told to get her head out of space by her father. She can often be found at the Planetarium at the Wonderwell Science Center and absolutely takes her classes on field trips there.

She has three older brothers, the oldest of which being roughly 55 years old and the younger of the three was around 43. Although her middle brother was the one who shared in being deaf and taught Maisie how to utilize the world around her to her advantage, she was always closest with her youngest brother and is still working her way through grieving the loss of him.

Maisie has a cat named Constellation and jokes that he’s the biggest ‘Con’ artist she’s ever met because he’ll stop at nothing to steal a bite of every meal she has.

Gender is usually an afterthought for Maisie and she happily accepts she/her or they/them as her pronouns on any given day.

Though she does primarily use ASL to communicate, she doesn’t expect everyone to be fluent in the language and therefore always has a tiny lil notebook in her pocket and a pencil behind her ear to communicate or just utilizes an app on her phone. When the opportunity arises, she will always take the time to teach someone a sign or two during their conversation.

#providence.intro #intro — maisie

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noahvon · 2 years

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✦ NOAH VON the THIRTY-SIX year old has been in Hidehill for 36 YEARS ON/OFF and was a FRENEMY to Ronnie Nilsson, the most recent shadow of Hidehill. Whispers on the streets are that the MECHANIC who lives in HADLEY PARK are said to be QUICK-WITTED and VIOLENT but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

tws for biography: violence, law enforcement, arrest, injury, blood, murder, overdose.

BIOGRAPHY.

first born and only son of hafsah yasin, second born of seven of ben von.

while noah’s mother’s family saw his conception and birth as a mistake, she saw it as an opportunity to not just raise a good man, but a great one.

with that in mind, being raised by her was no easy feat for him, unattainable expectations were the foundation of his life and meeting targets was seen as the only plausible outcome.

the only reprieve he got from his mother’s suffocating ideals was when he was with his siblings, which only seemed to multiply as the years went on. having always looked up to his older brother mason, the only goal he placed on himself was to also be someone that his younger siblings could also look to and rely on.

despite how much control the woman tried to exercise over his temperament, no amount of long talks about manners and instruction could stifle the anger that resided deep in him. he was never good at regulating it, but he could keep himself in check for the most part, even if that did mean he got comfortable lying about where cuts and bruises on his knuckles came from and why friendships for him seemed to come to a sharp and drastic end.

always excelled in academics, especially in physics, mathematics and anything in the realm of engineering.

wanted to be an astronaut when he was a child, but after one too many times of his mother tutting and telling him he had his head in the clouds like it was an insult, he settled on aiming to be an aerospace engineer.

was a little bit of a wayward teen and liked to push the limits of both his mother’s patience and his own luck, which resulted in him nearly being arrested at 18 which he narrowly avoided. that was a wake up call for him and he decided to focus his all on the future he had been working towards.

graduated with a bachelor’s degree in aerospace & aeronautical engineering from massachusetts institute of technology. went on and did a masters for two years after that.

at 27, after a slew of internships and short term employment opportunities in industry, he finally got his dream job and uprooted his life to california to work as an aerospace engineer at nasa’s neil a. armstrong flight research center in edwards.

he was back and forth to hidehill as much as he could be to check in on his siblings, never missing a holiday or a family event, but by thirty he knew his life was no longer there.

at 32, he found out he was going to be a father with his then girlfriend malee. everything looked like it was set to fall into place for him, until she found out that he had cheated on her previously with edith teller. their split was fast and nasty, and despite getting her to agree to move to hidehill to raise their daughter, he didn’t make the move himself initially and kept putting it with empty promises of timeframes he wouldn’t stick to because he was so dedicated to his career trajectory.

his career was on a steady incline and noah had eyes on how he could move up internally, but that all came crashing to an end with more damage than any test flight gone wrong he had over seen at the end of october 2022.

following news of his sister nancy’s death and his brother nate’s overdose, noah lost control at the worst time in the worst place.

during a routine ground test for an aircraft, a sideways comment from a co-worker he had never gotten along with had him seeing red. the reports of the incidence afterwards read that it was unprovoked and vicious, resulting in broken bones and blood on the cement but even when he had been dragged off of him by three members of site security, noah hadn’t been able to see it as anything more than an inevitability.

his dismissal was immediate and absolute and he knew there was no salvaging his career with nasa. with nothing else holding him to california and the possibility of a criminal charge that would further impede his employability, noah knew it was time to come home.

he’s been back in hidehill full time ever since.

PERSONALITY.

+ quick-witted, intelligent, precise.

- violent, hot-headed, inconsiderate.

FUN ADJACENT FACTS.

father to a three year old called amara, possibly the only thing in his life he doesn’t feel like he’s actively failing at.

is working as a mechanic at quick fix which he already hates while he tries to figure out what his life is going to look like.

can read arabic, but isn’t great at speaking it and wouldn’t do so conversationally unless there was no other option.

used to go to egypt every summer with his mother until he was 21.

his favorite beer is stella and no, he doesn’t mean artois, he hates that one.

has told people he’s an astronaut before to get laid / avoid having to get into explaining what it is he actually does.

fond of alcohol but is more hesitant with drugs, knows from experience they don’t mix well with his personality.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

older brother of @nashvcn and @hardlygclden

childhood friends to lovers to enemies of @westmaeve

older brother’s best friend / long time fwb with @edithteller

childhood friend / current employee of @javierxsanchez

ex-boyfriend of/ended on bad terms/co-parents with @maleezhou

SPECIFIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

childhood friends: self explanatory, the folks he goes way way back with. can go any way dynamic wise.

california based muses: folks he would have known over the last near decade he was living/working in cali. can be friends/co-workers/exes whatever the heart desiresss.

customers: let him fix ur car, or any sort of electronic. will he be pleasant about it? streets are saying no KJSHGSHJ

more to be added!

GENERIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

connections wise he’s pretty much an open book right now, but some baseline ideas that can be springboarded off are:

friendly.

a best friend(s) / ride or dies / close friends / childhood friends / friends / drunk friends / new friends / people he knew from massachusetts when he studied there / people he knew from california when he worked there.

romantic

flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / unrequited crush (can be either way) / exes from high school / exes from his twenties / exes on good terms.

antagonistic.

enemies / former (best) friends / exes on bad terms / frenemies / rivals / negative influence / people he’s fought with (can be several, for a variety of reasons from serious to downright stupid).

#intro.#hidehillintro #tws look heavy but its mostly allusions and i wanted to cover all bases!

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wiseoldowl72 · 2 years

Text

I just posted chp 1 of my first multi-chapter story on ao3.

All that I’m after is a life full of laughter

As long as I’m laughing with you…

~ Life after You; Daughtry

21 Years ago

Dean and Cas Novak-Winchester were both quite aware that their twenty year wedding anniversary was coming up. Turning back the clock to 2001 would see their original wedding in a small church in California, where they both had gone for college. They had agreed to marry right after their undergraduate graduation on the 28th of June. They did a traditional service just like the “industry” sold them: tuxes, flowers, music, groom party, vows, and reception, but on a tight timeline and miniscule budget. They didn’t have a honeymoon as they were thrown right back into life with preparing for the next phase of their lives, more school and then pursuing jobs.

They each had chosen Stanford, neither knowing the other before the beginning of their freshman year. By chance the two were put together as roommates. Neither knew it was going to be the beginning of a friendship that would progress to being lovers over the course of their four year undergraduate life.

Dean Winchester was full of life, ready to take on the world, 18 years old from Overland Park, Kansas. Even though the city was on the western side of Kansas City, a large metropolitan area, he was looking desperately for a new chapter after high school out of the middle of fly-over country. Stanford offered him a full ride for academics and a place in their engineering department based on his application. He was completely surprised because of the low acceptance rate the highly selective institution had. Dean jumped at the chance to move west without a second thought.

He had been tinkering with everything he could get his hands on trying to learn how it worked or improved its function. He learned how to take cars apart and put them back together by the time he was in early high school. Mechanical Engineering was a role he had set for himself once he had mastered restoring cars at his Uncle and Father’s garage, Singer-Winchester Automotive. Dean had made a small name for himself of being able to solve just about any technical problem presented to him. He wanted to have a career in design and testing either in automotive or aerospace. He soaked in the sun, sea and opportunities the West Coast presented to a gay young man who had come from a Red State that looked unkindly on his sexual preferences.

Castiel Novak followed in the footsteps of his family into the medical profession. He hadn’t decided what he wanted to do, but an undergrad degree in biology or chemistry would be enough for now. Castiel moved from Naperville, Illinois, to the coast as well. He attended a top high school in the bedroom community of Chicago. It offered him many opportunities other high schools didn’t, resulting in his graduating in the top two percent of his class with a GPA well over 4.0 due to taking multiple Advanced Placement courses.

He had received several enticing offers due to his class standing. His father was a heart surgeon at Edward Hospital and while he didn’t see his father much, the family enjoyed the fruits of his work. Castiel had his choice of schools and didn’t have to worry about paying for it. What he did know is that he didn’t want to be a surgeon like his father. He wanted more out of life than working all the time. Stanford won out because it was on the coast, had a medical school, and was consistently ranked at the top of national universities.

When both fresh-faced teenagers moved into the dorm of the historic school for their first quarter as Stanford freshman. Stanford worked on a quarter system rather than the semester system most universities and school districts used. The school used three main quarters, Autumn, Winter, and Spring. Summer was optional, but it could be used to get a foot up on the next year, finish the previous year’s requirements, or be involved in a special session or internship. Unlike more traditional schools that started in August for their undergraduate programs, Stanford started their Autumn quarter in September and it finished December.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They quickly found that they had very opposite personalities. Castiel knew he was in for a big change from his room in Naperville when he walked into the dorm room to find one side already filled with another’s belongings and a man laying on the bed with headphones. This was his first impression of his roommate for the next year. Cas came from a family and area that was welcoming of queer people. His choices were never met with hostility or homophobia. When he saw Dean laying on his bed, his first thought was that he was very lucky to be given such a handsome roommate. It was quickly followed by wondering if his attractions were similar to Cas’ own, very high on the Kinsey scale.

Dean was out-going, always busy, loved cars (especially muscle and race cars), military aircraft, and was not a neat freak. He didn’t bring very much with him to move in. Just the basics: clothes, a couple Vonnegut books, a record player and vinyl spanning the late 60s to the 90s, cassette tapes with a Walkman, and only a couple of photos.

His only prize possession was his parent’s 1967 Chevy Impala, named Baby, that his Dad had given him the keys to upon high school graduation. It was the one thing that Dean kept immaculate and constantly in top shape. Since Dean loved to drive and didn’t want to fly (why be trapped in a tin can, when people weren’t supposed to fly anyway?), he thoroughly enjoyed the trip from Kansas City to Palo Alto. The first thing he did after putting his things away was clean and wash Baby to get the dirt off her.

Castiel started bringing his things into the room in boxes labeled to make unpacking easier. “Bedding”, “clothes”, “books”, “desk supplies”, and “family” were among the Sharpie-written names Dean could make out before he closed his eyes to go back to his music. Castiel wasn’t always completely orderly and neat, but he wanted to know where everything was at any given time.

Castiel quickly found that Dean liked to talk, he narrated to himself even when he didn’t have anything to say to anyone. He, himself, was taciturn, more formal in his speech and attire, kept to himself, and wasn’t into music or movies, preferring to read the classics. He spoke and read fluently in French and Spanish, and enjoyed books in those languages. He appreciated Greek and Roman works, which he read in English translations. He also made his bed every morning.

Dean was lucky to make his laundry hamper or make his bed. The only thing that stayed organized was his music, books, and he remembered to hang his towel up to dry every night.The only thing he meticulously kept clean was his Impala. That was drilled into him from his Dad with military diligence. John had been a Marine and never lost his training or mindset. He was also Dean’s reason for interest in military mechanics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the year wore on Dean and Castiel, or Cas, as Dean had started calling him, found that they both were savagely protective about their study time and supported each other in getting the best grades on their work. They ate in the dining hall, walked to the library and classes together as often as possible. They were two Midwestern kids, who didn’t really fit in with the usual college kids at an upper class institution.

By the end of their freshman year, Dean had declared a major in mechanical engineering with the Bachelor of Science. Cas decided on a double major in biology and chemistry. Dean knew he wanted to go all the way and work with the Design school. By the time he was interested in graduate school the Mechanical Engineering degree would be integrating with the Design school. Which fit Dean perfectly because he wanted to create and see the fruition of his work. Just like in the old days when he was working on cars, he could see the product of his work by the end of the project.

Back in their room, while down time was minimal, Dean usually listened to his music, rock usually on vinyl or cassette, and watched movies on his laptop. Cas preferred his mp3 player with the soft tones of Mozart and Bach while he read either in his reading nook or on his bed.

Even though their personalities were radically different, they found they really liked each other. What started as a friendship based on mutual desire to be the best at their studies and enjoy what college offered, turned into mutual desire for each other by the end of the year.

It began by walking closer to each other on the sidewalks and paths, then their hands started brushing without knowing it, and they held eye contact for longer than necessary when talking. Dean was able to pull out more of Cas’ dry wit and the two found themselves quite compatible. Soon, they were staring at each other hoping the other wouldn’t notice the sense of longing.

The next development came when Cas agreed to watch movies with Dean after the New Year. They picked a bed and alternated movies. Dean chose Star Wars, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, sci-fi and adventure movies. Cas was drawn to the Golden Era of Hollywood, movies with Gary Cooper, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart, etc. He also found he liked Film Noir. While they were watching their hands found each other, to hold or slip around the other’s shoulders or waist, and many times they’d wake up in the morning finding that they’d end up cuddling overnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting for hours in the library, class or desk didn’t do much for maintaining the fit shape Dean and Cas were both in. Dean had spent hours at the garage physically working with engines, body work, or anything else car-related back at his relative’s shop back home. Cas had chosen to run to clear his mind after studies at home. They both had their life turned upside down by school, so a new routine was created around full classes schedules, assignments and studying.

When they weren’t otherwise occupied the two Midwestern boys tried to get to the beaches, boardwalks, hiking and biking paths. Both visited used bike shops to get cheaper mountain bikes in good condition to ride to help burn off excess energy and keep in shape. While it wasn’t their old routine, it was better in some ways because of the variety and views.

They had found several favorite rides and hikes by the end of the year. Land-locked Dean found he enjoyed being in the ocean, even though he didn’t know how to swim. Cas always stayed near because he had been a stand-out athlete on his high school swim team. Through the college gossip network the duo had found several different places around Palo Alto that were within 20-30 min driving time. Since Dean loved to drive, he never minded a chance to get Baby off campus and open her up on the highway.

The time in the sun, sea, and other joint activities gradually changed both young men. Dean’s hair, which was more light brown than blond when the school year started, turned more honey colored from the sun that brought out the gold flecks in his green eyes. Cas’ hair remained dark brown, almost black, and unmanageable. It also curled more on the ends from the humidity. Dean didn’t care if it stood out like Einstein’s as long as the sun, time away from campus, and laughter brought out the mirth in his velvet blue sapphire eyes. The long hours of studying turned them to a pale, cornflower color, a color Dean found reminiscent of the flowers on his mother’s cookware.

It was spending so much time together, mostly because they were the only Midwest kids either of them took to, that changed their affections for each other. Dean couldn’t believe somebody else knew where Kansas was and there weren’t cows roaming the streets of his hometown. When the relationship moved to a more romantic one at the end of their Spring Quarter in June, it was Dean who hesitated. He didn’t know Cas was out of the closet and had been for years. It just had never been discussed. Dean’s years back home taught him to be reserved and careful about letting anybody see his true preference to be with a man. Homophobia had not been expressly discussed, but Dean knew his Dad well enough to know that he didn’t approve. Cas though had no such apprehensions.

They headed out to the beach before heading home for a quick visit before the start of the summer quarter in twelve days. As they were putting their beach things back into the Impala, Cas lifted his hands up to gently hold Dean’s jaw and kissed him solidly, but gently on the lips. Dean reciprocated with a steady, soft kiss of his own that slowly deepened until they were in a locked embrace. The energy and buzzing in his heart and gut told Dean that there definitely was potential there that he wanted to explore. But only if he could do it in the open. No more trying to hide his true self.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas flew home to Illinois, while Dean drove Baby back to Kansas for the short visit. The long drive gave him plenty of time to think about the kiss and sort out his feelings. He would drive anywhere if it meant he didn’t have to fly. Even airports made him nervous to an extent, mostly because he’d never been in one more than half-a-dozen times that he could remember before agreeing to be Cas’ ride to the airport.

With the Impala opened up on the highway and roaring east, Dean contemplated his current situation. Baby was the car his father bought when his mother was pregnant with him. It was the car he learned to restore and keep running at top condition. Honestly, it was the reason he became interested in getting an engineering degree. While he thought the car was perfection, the pinnacle of motor development when it came off the line April 21, 1967. He pondered the major changes in car design in the last 50 years and thought how much he wanted to be involved in that world. Even without air conditioning, 2 speed automatic, cassette player, and legos in the radiator Dean couldn’t bring himself to make any changes to his Baby. It was perfect just as it was.

Cas had told him before he went through airport security that he was interested in pursuing a relationship with Dean. He had actually been attracted to him all year, but wasn’t sure how Dean felt about him. Cas asked him to think about their talks and how he felt about being together when they returned to school. Dean thought about the kiss, how slowly all year they gradually became closer, holding each other, and falling asleep together. It all culminated in that kiss. The energy, desire, longing, affection infused in it, honestly told Dean what he needed to know about how Cas felt about him. It was clear how he responded and wanted for them once they returned to school. Now it was dealing with the time at home and not losing his courage.

Dean spent the majority of his drive and the several days at home feeling like he was missing part of himself. He caught up with his family and spent time at the family garage. He told them all about his classes, the campus, what he did for fun around the city, but only told them surface level details about Cas.

Even though his family knew he wasn’t really into girls, they hoped he would find someone someday. If anything they thought he wasn’t really interested in anyone. Though they weren’t homophobic, the idea that Dean was homosexual was something they didn’t want to consider of talk about until confronted with it. John’s manly views were well known in the family. Real men were patriotic, liked cars, football, and enjoyed the ladies. Mary was more open than her husband. She understood that love is love and comes in many forms. As always, she was the mediator between her husband and the boys.

Dean’s devotion to Cas didn’t waver though on this break and they texted every night. He really didn’t have to think about how he felt about the blue-eyed beauty. He wanted to be his boyfriend and see if he could finally have a relationship with someone he felt deeping, emotionally drawn to. One text really stood out to him and he kept it safely archived in his messages. Cas had been telling him how he missed him as well and had him listen to a song by Rachel Platten called ‘Stand by You.’ Dean was extremely lonely while they were parted, missing his best friend and new possible boyfriend. Cas had written back the lines,

“Love, you’re not alone

‘Cause I’m going to stand by you”

Those couple of lines solidified Dean’s desire to do his best to have a romantic relationship with Cas when they returned for Summer quarter.

Cas had been quite open with his feelings in the time after finals until it was time to fly home. He knew how he felt about Dean. How he’d felt about Dean all year. He felt his attachment grow between completing all the Frosh requirements, knowing he was going to go for two majors and planning his next 3 years. He still wasn’t sure how long it was going to take him, but he hoped to graduate with Dean in the spring of 2001. He just knew he wanted Dean with him as his support and alternately to support him through his desire to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Engineering.

All year he slowly tried to feel out Dean’s sexual preferences by brushing up against him, letting their hands touch and he couldn’t stop taking in the green eyes of the knockout he hoped would date him. In June, knowing finals were coming he looked back at their year and took in all the positive responses he’d gotten from Dean when it came to affection. Cas never regretted taking that chance to kiss him at the beach just before they left for break. It led to honest discussions about their mutual attraction.

Cas finally understood why Dean hadn’t been forthcoming about his preferences. He explained it was because of the only “just tolerated” acceptance of gays in his part of the Midwest. Dean didn’t have the best self-esteem due to that and his family’s unenthusiastic support of him. Dean also told him about his father’s more traditional views and his mother’s mediation. Cas made a point to tell him how different his life had been and that other parts of the country, including California were quite different. He hoped when Dean picked him up from the airport before summer quarter their reunion would be unequivocally positive and a step forward for them. Cas missed Dean more than he’d missed anyone before in those few days between quarters. The texts they shared felt like the only tether he had during that time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean picked Cas up from the airport right before the start of summer term he greeted him with a swinging hug and hungry open-mouthed kiss in which he swept his tongue over Cas’ soft lips and gently inside his mouth to show his boyfriend-to-be that he had made his decision. Cas acknowledged Dean’s response with eagerly accepting his kiss and hug with as much excitement as he could. It was more than he ever expected out of Dean, knowing how the entire year he had been shy about showing affection in public, much less as a gay couple. That was the beginning of what became a very profound bond between the two men.

For the next four years as they steadily worked through their requirements for their degrees they stayed steady by each other through everything during University. They were able to move into an apartment-style residence in one of the school neighborhoods. That allowed them more privacy, while still staying close to classes and their departments. Testing and assignments were rigorous, but each quarter they got the grades they needed, their mentors were pleased with their progress. Cas did eventually apply for a double major, a BS in Biology and Chemistry. Their professors helped them get ready for Graduate School in Dean’s case, and Stanford’s University of Medicine for Cas. Dean was on a long-term path for a Ph.D in Mechanical Engineering with emphasis in Design and hope of a career in automotive or aerospace design. Cas still planned on being a doctor. He didn’t have to decide on a specialty yet. He had until his third year when he started looking for residency programs.

In the Autumn of their undergraduate Senior year, both men were thinking of marriage. From everything they experienced together, fights over laundry, fights over study time, and lack of private time their relationship continued to blossom and mature. Dates on the beach, candlelight dinners in the apartment on the sofa, and sticky notes found inside class notebooks were little things that kept them going. The lines of Rachel Patton’s song, ‘Stand by You’ continued to be their mantra for the last three years of schooling. They had their eyes on matriculation in June of 2001, but they also knew they wanted to spend their lives together. Cas and Dean had discussed the pitfalls of being a couple trying to complete the goals they each had, they never once questioned the loyalty and commitment of the other. Those two lines of lyrics Dean had archived in his home from his first summer visit home always reminded him of his promise to Cas. Each had probably played the whole song on repeat a thousand times to remind them they were not alone in this endeavor and get them through the tough times when they felt lonely.

And hey, if you wings are broken

Please take mine ‘til yours can open too

‘Cause I’m gonna stand by you…

We can find a way to break through

Even if we can’t find heaven

I’ll walk through hell with you…

And the lyric that choked Dean up the first time Cas texted it to him and set him on this course…

Love, you’re not alone

‘Cause I’m gonna stand by you

It was their anthem. There was no denying they metaphorically wrapped their wings around each other. They developed an intimate home in their apartment from Stanford housing and shared one room, while turning the second bedroom into an office. The school still considered them roommates, but they had created their own bubble. Their physical relationship included as much gentle touching and reminders that they weren’t alone as they felt they were at times. Dean was not as intimate as Cas would have liked, but Cas had more experience. Making out, sleeping together in one bed, showing love by gentle caresses carried him over as they slogged through their classes. Dean became bolder as the years moved on, but he never took that final step of climaxing together. Cas was willing to wait for his love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Dean who surprised Cas at the end of the Autumn Quarter in December with an unassuming proposal beneath the stars at their favorite beach. They had taken a picnic dinner and beach towels with the idea of just laying and watching the stars in the peace and quiet after the hell week of finals. They both were headed into their last quarter of their undergrad year and stress was at an all time high.

Under the stars, while sharing a piece of apple pie and a beer, Dean secretly pulled out a simple silver titanium band with a blue lapis insert all the way around. Ideal for the doctor-to-be. Dean wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings, but the years with Cas had taught him that honesty and words from the heart meant more to him than anything a wordsmith could create. With a trembling heart, Dean asked Cas in the most sincere way he could to be his husband. To stand with him and by him through all the years and seasons to come. Cas started crying immediately when he figured out what was going on and said yes. He accepted the ring with a shaking hand and very overflowing heart.

Dean shyly told him he’d already bought his own ring in the hopes Cas would say yes. It was nearly a match to Cas’, but instead of the Blue Lapis insert in the center of the band, his was black Tantalum insert that had been textured inside the Titanium. Both rings were extremely durable and meant for men that worked with their hands. Dean’s Tantalum was corrosion resistant, which was a huge plus given his work with chemicals, engines, simulations, and other activities that were required by his profession.

Cas slowly took Dean’s ring and put it on his hand and they celebrated their engagement by enjoying a private beach that allowed them to take the time to cherish, caress, and enjoy each other’s bodies until they both came to completion for the first time in only the way a soulmate pair could. In the early morning hours they cleaned up, dressed, and went back to their apartment relishing the fact they were now fiancés.

Both of the men had decided to stay in Palo Alto on Campus for the holiday break. Too much work to do for school and prep for moving on to post-grad choices had made the decision easy for them back in November. Now with their new relationship status they spend part of the time enjoying each other intimately without the rush of school, and the rest talking about how to coordinate life after their graduation. Cas planned to go directly into Stanford’s medical school and Dean had already taken the appropriate prerequisites to continue on with his mentors.

Christmas was a quiet affair since there wasn’t isn’t a big reason to celebrate. Their engagement was enough of a surprise to both of them and kept their spirits light until the next academic quarter started. They caught each other looking at their hands as if they couldn’t believe they were actually engaged. Three years of being together, two and a half as an official couple and something each of them had wished for had happened. Dean didn’t even intend on proposing that night. He just felt right about it and apparently it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At New Year’s while they were kissing and holding each other on the beach watching the fireworks light the sky with their multitude of colors, out of the blue Cas asked if they could have the marriage after graduation that summer. It seemed logical to him to cap off two important parts of his life with memorializations. June 12th was the graduation date and only the important family would be coming in for it. Cas’ parents and his brother Gabe. The other brothers and sisters were otherwise occupied with their lives. Dean’s parents, brother Sam, and his Uncle Bobby and his wife Ellen had already responded they would be coming. Cas figured if the family was already coming in, then maybe they could stay a couple weeks more for a wedding. Nothing big, but special enough for the two of them. Dean easily agreed knowing that they had six months to plan it.

The last quarter flew by in what seemed like a month between papers, end of year projects, tests, finals, Cas’ first MCAT test, and formal applications to their chosen post grad schools. They made sure they had their educational needs settled according to an ever growing list kept in the kitchen. All the things they needed to do and dates to make sure applications were turned in by the appropriate date, scholarships applied for, student housing applied for, academic mentor meetings, finals week dates, and final senior project dates. Late in the quarter both received the letters they’d been waiting for that they’d been accepted into their prospective schools. Cas got his place in Stanford’s Medical School and Dean into the Graduate program in Engineering. They applied for spousal housing and were accepted. Living in on campus housing made getting to all the places they needed easier and much less expensive.

While Cas had money he could have used, Dean didn’t. They tried to keep the differences between their social strata as unrecognizable as possible. Dean had worked on campus to earn spending money and pay extra expenses, while Cas holed up working on his double major with his allowance. It was true that Stanford was known as having one of the most wealthy student populations, but that wasn’t the case for everyone. Dean bought everything he needed, like their rings, without any help from his family. In fact neither of them had told their family about how far advanced their relationship was or that they had gotten engaged. Both families knew they were living together and were best friends. Cas’ family knew more than Dean’s because of how accepting they were of his homosexuality. The Novak’s knew that Cas was extremely smitten with Dean and they suspected more than what they were told due to how he talked, smiled, and acted. When Cas would talk about his time with Dean and their adventures they knew enough not to ask for more than Cas was willing to tell.

The Winchester’s were more in the dark because Dean played his feelings close to his chest. The only one to know a bit more was his younger brother, Sam. Sam was graduating from high school this year and planned to start at Stanford in the fall on a full ride with the intention of going into Law. He knew his brother well enough to know his tells. He never had any of the hang-ups the older generation did and accepted Dean for who he was. Love is love, and whatever made Dean happy was his opinion and nobody could tell or persuade him any different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wasn’t at all surprised when, in March, Dean and Cas called together to talk to the family and ask them to stay two weeks longer after graduation. The couple took the plunge with Dean’s family first telling them about the engagement and a small ceremony on the 28th of June for family only. The phone call was mildly tense, mostly because of the new information and being kept in the dark for so long. They also realized they were dealing with their oldest boy, who had always been taciturn when it came to talking about emotions. By the next week though, all three of Dean’s immediate family, his uncle, who was his Dad’s partner in the automotive garage, his wife, and daughter all agreed to stay through the end of June. Sam took it all in stride and was happy to have some extra time to look at the campus and prepare for his own move later in the summer.

The phone call with Cas’ family went a bit more celebratory. Even though they were meeting Dean through a computer screen, none was surprised at the request to stay longer and be a part of the wedding. Michael, Hannah, and Gabe were home at the time of the call and the fiancés heard them talking about who won the bet that it was with Dean that Cas was in a relationship with. When Cas’ parents offered them money for the ceremony, they turned it down saying they had everything handled. What they did do was allow them to buy a meal at a nice, but not too nice, restaurant for both families.

The list for the wedding slowly got crossed off too. They found their location early in the year, one of the rooms at Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto that would hold only a dozen or so people. They rented their tuxes, bought boutonnières from the florist to be picked up before the ceremony, asked Gabe and Sam to be their best men, secured an officiant for the ceremony, decided on the order of service, and started a playlist for the wedding and wedding dances. They also chose to use traditional vows because they knew they wouldn’t be able to come up with their own with all the other stress on them. As for a bachelor party, neither was really interested, but they did plan on a rehearsal dinner and reception. After much discussion they let Cas’ parents pay for it. The Novaks also took care of gifting the church a donation in lieu of the usual wedding rental fee. The couple was okay with that because Unity did good works throughout the community and was interfaith. They knew the money would be used wisely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day of graduation seemed like just one of many. As each dressed the other in their suits the fiancés took a bit of extra time to kiss and explore each other’s bodies. The school work was finally completed and they would graduate today. Then it was time to turn their attention to the highly anticipated wedding. Same-sex marriage had just been passed and they were taking advantage of California’s new lar. Once the afterglow had passed, they straightened their suits, took their robes and drove to the event location. Putting on their robes, it struck the men that they had made it over one hurdle together despite so many obstacles. They would meet their families after the event was over for a quiet individual get-together.

The time between graduation and the wedding flew by. The night of the rehearsal was the first time the families really had time to talk to each other. The Novak’s were very relaxed and knew that eventually this day would come. Their son would find the love of his life and marry him. They were jovial all evening and Gabrial was the proud older brother, very happy to be standing up with Cas. Becky and Chuck, Cas’ parents, were chatterboxes at the table over their excitement for the next day.

The Winchester family was more reserved, they had resolved that their son was not heterosexual or even asexual, but gay and had found the man he wanted to spend his life with. While they didn’t show it as much on the outside, they loved Dean very much and wanted him to be happy. If that was with Cas, then so be it. They would accept the marriage with graciousness and make a point to get to know Dean’s love and the Novaks. Sam was just like Gabrial, proud as he could be to be showing his support for his older brother by standing with him.

The official, a minister from the Unitarian Universalist Church, called the evening to order and the rehearsal went smoothing and quickly. The family was seated, Dean and Cas walked down the aisle together, the order of service was recited. Dean and Cas used the same rings that were their engagement rings. The minister said she would pronounce them married, the traditional kiss and recession. There wouldn’t be a reception, just the families going out for a joint dinner and then meeting at a bar for socializing so Dean and Cas could leave when they wanted. After the rehearsal, they all retired to Vaso Azzuro, a top Italian restaurant in Palo Alto, for dinner. It had a romantic vibe and since it was a beautiful night they chose to eat outside. Soon enough it was time to end the night with the expectation of a busy wedding day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas and Dean’s wedding day was a clear, sunny day with wispy clouds. The kind of day that is dreamed about. Not too hot, nor too much humidity. It seemed like a dream. While there were the expected nerves, both men got ready at home and helped each other into their tuxes, with sensual touches, kisses and promises of the night to come. They met their family at the Universalist Church at ten in the morning for an eleven am wedding. The boutonnières were put on the men by their mothers, the best men, fathers and uncle Bobby by Dean and Cas. The men also gave hand corsages to their mothers, aunt Ellen and cousin Jo.

They received words of encouragement from their family and tears from everyone. Anyone who tried to deny the validity of the love in the room was gone as soon as they saw the love shine from both men’s eyes at each other. The minister said it was time for the family to take their place. Cas’ family on one side and Dean’s on the other. There were only a dozen people in the room total, but at the end of the day, the men would still be as married as those that spent tens of thousands of dollars on their wedding day.

The men walked into a portion of ‘Open Arms’ by Journey, then the minister began the traditional Universalist marriage ceremony. After the commitment and blessings were finished, the readings were said, one by Gabe and the other by Jo. The vows were then recited, rings exchanged to the left ring finger, and the unity ceremony completed. Dean and Cas signed the marriage register, received a blessing from the minister and she pronounced their marriage by her vested power by the Church and the State of California. She asked them to seal their vows with a kiss and both men brought their hands up to gently cradle each other’s jaws to put everything they felt on this day into the soft, loving sensuous kiss. Dean reached around to put one hand on the back of Cas’ neck to feel the curls at the top of his shirt collar and pull him in closer, making the kiss deeper.

Closing words were said and she pronounced Dean and Cas for the first time as Mr. and Mr. Dean and Castiel Novak-Winchester at 11:20am. It was a simple, but traditional ceremony. There really wasn’t a recession, but they enjoyed listening to their chosen recessional song, ‘At Last’ by Etta James. Since there were only a dozen in the room, when the newly married couple greeted their family they took the opportunity to dance to this vintage love song. There wasn’t an inch between them as they kissed, held each other, and enjoyed finally being each other’s forever.

Once the marriage license was signed and witnessed it was time to retire to each family’s place in the city before gathering for a late lunch to celebrate the wedding. This time everyone had changed into more comfortable, but still business casual, clothing for a late lunch at and socializing at Off the Rail Brewing. They had booked a private room so the families could really finally spend time together, eat and drink in a more relaxed atmosphere, but also let Dean and Cas leave when they felt ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a couple of beers, thoroughly fulfilling dinner, and a couple of hours of conversation and laughter with their families The newly married men retired back to their home for their own celebration. They had spent much of their money on the “stuff” that went along with the verbal ceremony. It hadn’t left much for their evening at their apartment. But they had candles in their bedroom, clean sheets, an inviting bed, and most of all each other.

Slowly, they undressed and hung the rented tuxes. Each took in the other’s bodies as they stood looking at each other like they were newborns. After sensual touches, open mouth kisses and nibbles on the mouth, neck, shoulders, and collarbones, it was determined that instead of physical sex what they most craved is to lay spooned up, soaking in each other’s love. They got under the comforter, enjoyed the flickering candles with the curtains drawn to keep out the afternoon sun. Cas was the big spoon and pulled Dean close to him, draped a leg between Dean’s knees, kissed the nape of his neck, and they held each other’s arms on his waist. It wasn’t long until they both promptly fell asleep feeling complete in a way they hadn’t before.

When they awoke a couple of hours later Dean felt rutting against his cheeks. Their lust hadn’t been put out, just dampened by the activity of the day. The candles were still burning and Dean turned over to kiss Cas, pulled him closer by a hand at the small of his back. The buzzing in Dean’s but meant one thing, he needed Cas. He needed to feel his body, to feel them together. Precome was already gathering at the slits of both their hard members. Dean was ready to take one step further, he took the precome and slid it around both of their shafts and took them together in one hand. Cas gently added his hand to Dean’s and they started to pleasure each other, together this time. They kissed every part they could reach of the other as they built to a mutual climax and spilled over both of their hands with moans of pleasure.

They took a shower together to clean up. They enjoyed taking time to soap each inch of the other up and rinsing the sandalwood smelling body wash off. Dean started washing Cas’ hair with his clean smelling shampoo. Cas’ reciprocated and slow kisses and compassionate touches were exchanged until the water turned cool. They weren’t ready for a round two, but craved each other’s company. After drying off they decided to eat leftovers for supper and spend the rest of the night curled up with nothing they had to do for hours.

Cas murmured to Dean, “I can’t believe this day finally came. I am so exhausted, but I am so in love with you that even I can’t find the words.” Something Dean would tease him with in the years to come. The wordsmith couldn’t find the words to describe his own feelings on his wedding day.

Dean laughed softly in response, “Welcome to my world sunshine. I love you with everything I have.”

It was the first time since they decided to marry on New Year’s that they had completely free time for an evening. Soon enough the real world would come barreling back in like a Nebraska thunderstorm. But for one night, they relished being married and alone.

#writing #destiel #ao3 #au story #my writing #fic writing

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