#i just wanted to write smth angsty(?)

[urlocalwhumper]

OK LAST ONE FOR NOW. MAYBE. DEFINITELY NOT FOR GOOD THO LOL I WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY WRITE MORE EVENTUALLY

as always, rayan belongs to @sowhumpshaped

rayan felt horrible.

nana had only been with him for a few days when he noticed that her tail was bothering her. a little glint of pain in her eye whenever it wagged, she way she took great care not to sit or lay on it, and, most recently, how she yelped and flinched away when he, idly fidgeting with her tail while sitting on the couch, brushed his fingers over the unnatural bend near the middle.

he'd wanted to give her at least a week to settle in before taking her to the vet for a check-up, but he also wasn't just going to sit there and let her suffer when she was clearly in pain.

so, off to the vet they went. nana really didn't like it there, she shook like a leaf and stayed glued to his leg for their entire time in the waiting room, and once she was up on the examination table, he had to be at least holding her hand for her to stay somewhat calm.

even the vet winced once her x-rays appeared onscreen.

"oh yeah, no wonder she's in pain." the vet grimaced. "this is a really bad break, the bone is completely shattered around where that bend is." he said, pointing on the screen to what he was talking about.

"this kind of injury... the most likely cause is crushing." the vet glanced at nana's papers and pursed his lips. "repeated impacts. like being stomped on, perhaps."

rayan felt sick. he could tell, from the look in nana's eye and the way she curled further into herself, that the vet's assumption was correct. he trailed a comforting hand across her scalp and pressed a little kiss to the crown of her head.

the vet continued. "either way, for a break this severe, there really isn't much we can do to fix it. your best option is to amputate."

nana went stiff as a board. rayan felt her breathing quicken as she started to whimper under her breath. her loose grip on his shirt turned into an iron vice and she looked up at him with a fearful, pleading gaze.

he continued to scratch at her scalp and behind her ears, soothing and gentle, but internally he was just as frazzled as she was. he was expecting the worst case scenario to be needing to re-break a badly healed bone, not amputating most of her tail.

"can... can we have some time to think about it, please?" he said, wanting to at least get nana out of the examination room and hopefully calm her down.

the vet nodded. "of course. you know how to make an appointment, once your decision has been made."

it took hours for nana to calm down fully. once they returned home, she immediately retreated to her bed, curling up under the blanket like it would hide her from the world. rayan sat beside her, nearly lost for words.

"... i'm so sorry, nana." he said, resting his hand, palm-up, on the edge of her bed. her shaking hand reached out from under the blanket and gripped it tight. "this isn't fair, you shouldn't have to deal with this at all."

he sighed. "... but... your tail's just gonna hurt forever if we don't do anything. and it might even get worse." he squeezed her hand. "getting it amputated is scary, but it's the only option we have."

he felt horrible, trying to convince her like this. he knew that if he was in her position, he'd be just as terrified and reluctant to have a part of him cut off. but, he also knew that, for her health, it needed to be done.

and when he looked over and saw her peering out at him from under the blanket, her eye hesitant but trusting, he knew that she understood too.

nana was a nervous wreck on the day of her surgery. even though he could tell she was trying to be brave, the vet informed him that she wet herself out of fear the moment she was in the prep room, completely separated from him.

but it was finally over. the amputation had been performed with no complications, and now nana was at home - short half a tail and loopy from the meds they'd given her, but no longer suffering from a painful shattered bone.

she was napping at the moment, her head in his lap as he absently pet her hair. he frowned at the bandaged end of her newly shortened tail. it was the right decision, he knew that, but... it was just so unfair. for her to lose most of her tail just because some jackass decided it'd be funny to stomp on it... it made him angry.

angry that such a monster could get a pet license, angry that they'd been so cruel to a pet as sweet and loving as nana, angry that they even existed. it made him so angry that he felt like he could just- !

nana stirred in his lap, mumbling something unintelligible and snuggling further into him. right, he needed to calm down. all of that was in the past now. right now, she was safe and comfortable and happy with him, and that was all that mattered.

[psychofreakforc]

Angsty core 4 thought because why not?

What if chad and mindy are still grieving for their loss (liv, anika) and they just can't seem to see sam as a trustworthy person? they snap at her a lot and, mindy specifically, has a lot of shady remarks.

Sam doesn't really seem to notice because after what happened in woodsboro they were fine, even when they moved to New york they didn't have a problem with her, so they might be just a little stressed out? Right?

But on the other hand, tara does notice the change.

Whenever sam is around, chad and mindy are not really acting like- well, chad and mindy and that was very suspicious.

At first, tara didn't think any of it, but with the days passing by, this behaviour didn't change.

Actually, it only became worse.

Mindy couldn't really shut her mouth and kept on reminding sam of anika, of leaving tara alone with christina, of her father starting all of this

And chad-

Well, he wasn't like mindy, he didn't have the guts to actually say out loud whatever he thought about sam, but to tara, it was obvious that he wasn't really "okay" with her.

He was basically ignoring her existence, which is just weird asf if you ask tara.

Chad used to like sam more than anybody else when they were kids, and even after she came back, it didn't change, and he even defended her when the two sisters were fighting.

Tara needed so badly to fix all of this, whatever is going on with those 2 idiots needed to stop now.

"So will you two explain to me what the hell is your problem with sam? You've been treating her like shit for the past few weeks and i just don't get it"

Chad and mindy share a look and of course, mindy is the one that speaks up

"Maybe we just figured out that sam is not really someone that we want around"

Tara couldn't believe what she just heard, she was debating whether she should punch mindy or just handle the situation in a more mature way.

She chose the second option.

"Okay, if you feel that way, then you won't have to be around her... but you won't see me either"

"T be reasonable, you have to understand us" this time chad decided to speak up for the both of them.

"be reasonable? She saved our fucking life- multiple times, we would be all buried somewhere in woodsboro if it wasn't for her"

This time, tho, tara did choose the first option and slapped chad. The twins left without uttering a single word.

"What happened? I saw chad and mindy rushing down the hall- weren't they supposed to eat here tonight?"

"Yeah- they're not going to come over anytime soon... for now at least"

Sam had a confused expression, but tara was definitely not going to explain to her sister that her two friends were just not that fond of her. Tara and sam made a promise when they were kids "us against the world," and that's how it will always be.

Some weeks went by before the twins apologised, and tara made sure that they were aware that she was so ready to end this friendship and she won't hesitate to do it again of there's any weird behaviour going on.

And also made them promise to never mention this to sam because she doesn't need to know.

This is tara's way of protecting her.

[elfcollector]

there for you

rating: teen

relationships: platonic mason & the detective, mentioned adam/detective

warnings: none

summary: "No, no, it’s my fault, it’s my ——”  They spin and their smile is horrible, tight, mocking, and their voice goes too loud, too hurt “— it’s my fault for thinking I’d ever be enough for him!”

When there’s a knock at the door to their room, it’s all Blake can manage to choke out, “Go away.”

But the reply isn’t the silence they’d expected — and it isn’t the sound of Adam’s apology, which is what they’d stupidly, stupidly hoped for.  It’s gruffer, the voice on the other side of the door that says, “Don’t start sounding like me, Blake.  Your stupidly big heart is half of your charm.”

Despite the misery making a home in the soft center of their chest, Blake laughs out something soft and surprised and hoarse.  “You can come in, Mason.  ‘M sorry, I didn’t realize.”

The door opens, a slide of yellow light cutting through the darkness of the unlit room.  That darkness seems to surprise Mason a bit, if the way his shoulders hike briefly is any indication — when his eyes settle on Blake, they widen a little further, his lips thinning.

It’s strange, to see the Detective like this.  He’s seen them battered, bleeding, dying — but they’d always had a smile or a joke, that unshakeable confidence outshouting the pessimism that seemed like it should have made them less.  He’s seen them endure Adam’s stilted affections without ever so much as wincing, let alone seeming actually wounded.  But now, they’re curled on the edge of the bed, blankets wrapped around their shoulders in a makeshift cocoon, hair a mess and eyes lined with dark circles and red.  They sniffle, managing a weak smile at his apparent assessment and their awareness that they haven’t passed it.

“Hey.  Sorry I look like shit.”  Mason closes the door and doesn’t turn the light on, and they breathe out a relieved breath as the darkness lessens their headache marginally.  “It’s ‘cause I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” the vampire says as he crosses the room and, after a beat, sits beside them on the bed.  It creaks under his weight, the dip causing Blake to lean further into him, and he doesn’t flinch — Blake doesn’t bother wondering if that’s because he’s truly comfortable with them or because he knows just how Adam pulled away from them.  They just stare down at their knees and smile something pasted - on.  Mason continues, “None of us have really seen you for days, and I can’t remember the last time you had a lay-in.  Normally you’re up and at ‘em in the mornings, let alone by noon.”

“I don’t care.  I wanna sulk in the dark.”  They laugh around statement, but the way the words choke against their throat makes the sound a poor approximation of their usual sarcastic charm.  “Unless you’re here to drag me back to the light?”

“I told you I don’t make a habit of telling people how to live their lives,” Mason reminds them.  “That usually extends to ‘dragging them’ around.”

“Thought it might be a mission.  You’d listen to Adam if he was all like, ‘The detective has been shirking their duties in favor of their silly emotions.  Go collect them, Mason, so they can do their job.’”  They don’t even try to make the imitation a good one — they just hope they can drag a laugh out of Mason.  When there’s not so much as a chuckle, they look up at him with their red eyes, a brow quirked.

“I wouldn’t listen to Adam,” he says, finally, and Blake’s eyes widen.  “Not about this.”

They don’t know what to say to that.  They know Mason’s their friend, but the agent’s loyalty to Adam has always seemed so...absolute.  They manage to snap their mouth shut and turn back to stare forward towards the door, leaning a little further into the man’s side.  The silence stretches for a few minutes, Blake estimates, before they softly ask, “I’m probably worrying Felix, huh?”

“And Nate,” Mason adds, and doesn’t add ‘And Adam,’ true as that may be.  Adam doesn’t get to be miserable about the pain he inflicted and isn’t healing.  “And me.”

Blake laughs quietly.  Not surprised that he’s worried for them — they’re all past that, and Blake knows they’re loved — but that he’s admitted it.  The sound is a little less croaked.  “Sorry.  I’m just...doing really bad.”

Mason inhales and then breathes out a sigh.  “I think that’s what has us so worried,” he admits.  When Blake doesn’t reply, just breathes, too steady to be natural, he continues.  “Adam’s a dick —”

That gets something out of them, a muttered, “Tell me about it.”

“— But none of us have seen you like this.  About Adam or anything else.”  The agent wishes he had a smoke.  It would at least give him something to do with his hands as he dealt with the kind of emotional bullshit that doesn’t ever feel right from his mouth.  And he so badly doesn’t want to fuck this up.  “You’ve been — pretty plucky about his bullshit repression up ‘til now.”

Blake is quiet for a long moment.  Mason thinks they might not respond at all, and that would suit him just fine, so long as the silence and the company might comfort.  But suddenly Blake has pushed off the bed and is on their feet, blankets shed, and is pacing around the floor in front of him.  Dressed in only a loose t - shirt and a pair of boxers, he can see the bandages and the bruises that cover their body from the fight at the auction, though those concern him less than the laugh fleeing the smile they’ve stuck to their face, screaming in sharp contrast to the pain in their eyes.

“I was stupid,” they answer without hesitation, hands carding through their tangled hair as they pace faster, turning from him.  “I could tell — he’s been in love with me since the beginning, right?  It’s obvious.  And I’ve felt the same about him, and he’s so fucking dumb and repressed but we’re both good so I — I just assumed that — that if I — If I just waited it out, kept up the flirting and ——”

Mason does’t move, not sure if he’s frozen by the surprising depth of their pain or by the anger in their too-fast voice, their hunched posture, the hands tugging hard through their long hair.  He can’t tell if they’re angry at Adam or themself.

“I thought I — I was so stupid, and I — I shouldn’t even be m - mad at him, ‘cause he showed me exactly who he fucking is and I was fucking dumb enough to think I could help him, and I —”

“Hey, hey,” the vampire finds his voice, starting to rise, “It’s not your —”

"No, no, it’s my fault, it’s my ——”  They spin and their smile is horrible, tight, mocking, and their voice goes too loud, too hurt “— it’s my fault for thinking I’d ever be enough for him!”

Mason freezes, eyes huge, and Blake’s smile doesn’t fall, even when they inhale, ragged, and start to cry.

He isn’t a gentle man — he doesn’t show care this way, and love is so rare to earn from him that he’s rarely showed it at all, but it only takes a beat of looking at that miserable, heartbreaking expression before his body moves and he pulls the Detective into an unpracticed, awkward hug.

They stiffen, seeming as shocked as he is, but relax into the hug after only a few beats of their unsteady heart, hands wrapping desperately around his back and twisting tight into his shirt.  They bawl into his chest, and he can’t make himself relax or hold them right, but he hopes it’s enough.  He hopes they don’t think they have to keep smiling.

“I th-thought,” they whimper, so quiet he doesn’t think he’d catch it without his hypersenses, “that — h-he’s in love with me, and I’m i-in love with him, so we’d — and I just — I thought I’d b-be enough for him to — I thought I’d be wuh-worth letting the walls down.”  They hiccup, voice going smaller.  “I really — th-thought I’d be worth it to him.”

Mason loves all his family.  And he loves Adam, his stupidity and all, and he’s more loyal to that man than he is to the Agency or much else.  But he regrets, for a moment, not slugging the bastard when he’d had the chance in the hallways, days ago, when Adam had stupidly broken their fearless Detective’s heart.

“But I wasn’t,” Blake whispers.  “I — w-wasn’t worth it.  I wasn’t good enough for him.”

They’re more stubborn than anyone he’s ever known, himself included, and more full of love, too — and while Blake has taken guilt for those they’ve harmed or failed, or who’ve been harmed or failed by them, he truly never thought they’d ever hear the Detective doubt whether they were worth enough for another person.  Mason hates it, and he grasps their biceps to pull them away from his chest.  He’s relieved to see they’re not still smiling.

“Don’t talk like that,” Mason bites out, his hands tightening on their arms.  “You are good enough for Adam.  Hell, you’re too good for Adam.  That’s the whole problem.”

Blake sniffles out a joyless laugh, not smiling, head shaking.

Mason almost growls, “He’s the one who’s too much of a coward to deal with his feelings, not you.  He’s the one who’s acting like an ass, not you.”  They laugh again, still weak.  “You’re stronger than he is, and that’s the issue, not whether you’re worth it.  You didn’t do shit wrong.  Don’t let him make you think otherwise.”

Blake inhales, hard.  The tears don’t stop, but the sobbing’s faded to hiccuping whimpers, which Mason will have to take as an improvement.  “— He said the s-same thing.  That I’m stronger than him.”

“Then that’s about the only thing that he got right about this whole thing.”  Mason squeezes their biceps and hopes it’s encouraging.  One of Blake’s hands rises, still shaking, to wipe at their eyes.  “I’m not good at this shit, Blake.  But I know that Adam’s shit isn’t your fault.  And you shouldn’t feel like you’re less than anybody, especially not a guy who can’t even be honest with himself, let alone the person he loves.”

They steady in his arms at the words, nodding to themself after a long beat.  It hurts, but — the words help.  Mason’s belief in them, a belief they’d shared until so recently, helps.

“I think —” They have to pause, to inhale shakily, to get their voice back.  “I think you’re better at ‘this shit’ than you think you are.”

“Don’t you turn this around into comforting me or some shit.  I can only handle so much mushiness in one sitting.”

And they laugh — a real one this time, for however choked and soft it may be.  “I’m not.  I just — thanks.  I — hah.  I’m still fucking miserable but I — I feel better.  I feel — I feel better.”  They inhale, a little steadier this time.  “You’re a good friend.  I love you.”

He’s glad the light’s still off so the Detective can’t see the flush on his face.  This fucking human...  “I just said I can’t handle more of this mushy shit.”

And they laugh again.  “Okay, okay.  I’m — I’m gonna take a sh-shower and then show my face for the first time in days.  I’ll inflict any more mushiness on Felix.  Sound fair?”

Mason lets his hands drop from their arms.  “Sounds fair.”  His smile is crooked but sincere when he adds, “I’ll still be there, just pretending not to hear it.”

“That sounds perfect.”  Blake reaches forward and takes his hand, squeezing it once.  Mason groans — just to get another chuckle out of them — but returns the gesture.

[here-comes-the-snow]

*The snow felt safe. Icedagger was half buried in it, ensuring that he couldn’t be spotted unless someone was specifically searching for them. The small deity stared at the gear in their hands, feeling sick at the lingering traces of dried ichor he’d been unable to clean off. For a fleeting moment, they considered doing to themselves the same thing they had done to Firebrand. But even then, it wouldn’t fix anything. There was nothing Icedagger could do to fix the damage he’d caused except apologize, which he’d already done. Still, it was a tempting thought.*

*A sob escaped his throat and they once again experienced that familiar feeling of tears flowing from their eyes. How pathetic.*

[touyaz]

Another thing about me is that I love some plot w my porn <33

[stuffeddeer]

i got smth cooking but it's a bit different from my usual shenanigans. stay tuned mayb :) <3 !!!

[inlovewithkobenihigashiyama]

im mad at my parents and i dont want to do my summer schoolwork. or, insignificant ramblings from a child who doesn't know anything.

Guilt of rest is all consuming. Cant take harsh words from you. This is your fault, not the system we live in. you say, as i run on a hamster wheel, in a cycle of meaningless work and meaningful tears. Endless. I cant take breaks. The world is quite literally on fire. How is this any reprieve? I turn a blind eye and become ignorant for a time, though as it turns out i am always ignorant because at least im not the one being bombed or tortured or killed. Be grateful. 

the breaks i take are too long, when i do rest. The world keeps fucking turning. Wake up in a body that aches and a brain that is too loud. Wake in a room that feels like being cooked in an oven even through air conditioning, but its still better than outside. Wake up in a world where this is just another day. Its so hard just to keep on living. You want me to do more? Its a miracle im still alive. 

Why cant we be content with that. Why do you expect great things from me now. I will be great in my own time. I have done great things. I have laughed, i have cried, i have immersed myself in the dark and cold,  i have made music from wood and steel, i have listened, i have spoken, and i will do so much more. It is not enough, though. It is not profitable. 

Your happiness is not profitable. Why buy when you have all you need? Your misery is profitable. The drive to have enough, to consume, to feel secure. I am neither. I am angry. I want to make them suffer and drag them down and make them feel all the confusion and pain and fear and anger of a queer neurodivergent hispanic honors student living in the world that they fucking built. And then. And then i want to tear it down.

The world will keep turning either way. 

[myname-isnia]

I have. SO MANY THOUGHTS about toxic codependent sibling relationships and the parallels between Haya & Ghazan and Suiren & Midori, and I really want to write a meta analysis digging deep into the depths of it all but it’s half past 4 a.m and my brain barely functions, so for now here have a Haya-related meme I made:

[your-internet-parental-unit]

Found family trope but instead of a bunch of friends on a journey or smth(amazing yes), but instead its an elderly person who lost their son or grandson(you pick) many years ago, and suddenly they find themselves housing a wanted man who did not commit the crime but witnessed it so the elderly person hides them and helps them through the trauma of the crime(and the man helping them through the loss of their son/grandson), slowly forming a parent-child/grandparent-grandchild bond as they work towards a solution to the issue at hand

[httpsserene]

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now. 

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate. 

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental. 

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back. 

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives. 

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed. 

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened). 

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science. 

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline. 

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver. 

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug. 

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch. 

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed. 

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap. 

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?” 

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Hello! I hope you're having a good day! I was thinking about this Bakugou, where he penches his s/o lips whenever she teases him or compliments him, saying that her lips should be punished for driving him crazy or smth.

I just find this idea cute if you please can write about it 😭🤍

a/n:..wait...cus why are you a literal genius this got a lil kick teww ittttt.. (kinda soooorta angsty but like if you squint, katsuki is bad at feelings but he tries his hardest, kissing, no biting for once wow its been a while..dont worry yall its comin, short lil drabble, hope u enjoy ! <3)

"your eyes are so pretty katsu."

katsuki bakugou thinks he'll never be able to get used to you when he looks down at your head in his lap, raising a brow as a defensive mechanism to not turn red all the way down to his chest.

"where'd this come from ?" he leans into your hand almost reflexively when you place it against his cheek, still not breaking eye contact as you smile at him, he feels warmth crawl up his back and it makes him squint.

"nowhere," you run your finger across his cheek, than across his nose bridge "just wanted to tell you."

he gulps, clearing his throat his eyes fight to keep looking into yours, relaxed and happy and comfortable. it feels strange to see someone so comfortable around him.

"yeah ?"

"mhm, your lashes are so long too." you muse. it's casual, it comes out so easily.

he feels his heart beat loudly against his chest when you run your fingers over his eyebrows. you keep on touching him, and he likes it, usually. but it's overwhelmingly nice, you're overwhelmingly nice and he doesn't know what to do with it. because bakugou isn't sweet like you. he can't casually tell you that he loves your eyes, that he could be perfectly content staring at you doing whatever for hours on end, that random things he sees when he's out remind him of you and that you're the last thing he thinks about when he falls asleep.

because it comes out wrong, when he does. but even still your words make him so unbearably giddy. it's foreign receiving compliments, and if he does their almost always quirk related. but these are different and they're from you, so it feels even better and though embarrassment creeps up onto his body his heart buzzes and beats proudly. he feels like he can't sit still so he does the next best thing.

"shush." he mumbles, pinching your cheeks to make you pout. you splutter out a giggle when he leans down to place a sloppy wet kiss onto your duck lips. "you keep sayin' weird shit.." he dodges your grin when he lets go of your cheek.

"but they are long ! and your eyes are pretty ! that's not weird, it's the truth." you maintain, nodding afterwards like your word is law. fuck, he loves you.

"be quiet." he pinches your lips shut and you start flailing around with muffled giggles and squeals. katsuki follows, laughing through his nose and meanly moving your lips around in his grip.

"fuck, you drive me crazy.." your eyes snap open at his soft eyes and words. his eyes shine mischievously but his cheeks are bright as he smirks. you pout at him and it makes him want to squeeze you until you pop. ( he remembers you called it cute aggression or something)

"you talk too damn much." he pinches your cheek "needa be punished for drivin' me nuts all the damn time."

"jush shay yur not goo wif complimeshs." katsuki snorts at your attempts to talk with your cheek in his grip, and he can't help the half smirk on his face when you laugh. he releases your cheek in favor of leaning down to press his lips against yours.

"you're the pretty one, dummy."

"but we can both be pretty !"

"whatever, you're prettier then."

katsuki still feels his heart thump loudly in his chest, and he's sure he'll keep feeling like this for a long while. your words will keep sticking to his heart like they always do. and maybe he is 'pretty', he'll go along with that for you, but you're definitely prettier.

[weird-is-life]

Okay so, how about reader and Spencer Reid doing smth where they need to exchange kisses now and then. Reader has a crush on Spencer and can’t keep kissing him. It becomes too much for them. So one day reader tells him smth along the lines of him needing to stop kissing her like he means it. Bcuz she’s going to read into things wrongly and end up breaking her own heart” and Spencer answers with smth along the lines of “that’s b’cus I do mean it. Every single time. Ur just too dense to see it.”

But u write it like u want. I wanna give u creative freedom. It was just a thought. And if u don‘t wanna write it, that’s okay too. I hope u have a nice day :)

Ty for the request, lovely🥰! Hopefully, this is okay. Warnings: pet names, little angsty, fluff, mentions of kisses ofc, (0.5k)

Spencer keeps kissing you, well you keep kissing each other and it honestly drives you a little mad. Not because you don't enjoy it, you do, a lot actually, but because you don't know what the kisses mean.

They leave you so confused, you don't know what to think of them. Especially when Spencer kisses you so lovingly every single time. His kisses leave you breathless and confused at the same time.

So right now, as he leans in to kiss you again, being at your place to watch a movie, you turn your head away from his. You almost wince, when you notice Spencer's baffled and definitely a little hurt expression.

"What's wrong?" he immediately asks, worried, that he's done something wrong.

"I-I...it's just...," you try to find the right words, but you don't know how to tell it to him. You look down at your fiddling hands, just so you don't have to look at his worried, puppy eyes.

"It's okay, if you don't want me kissing you, I won't do anything, you don't want me to, I'm sorry, if I made you uncomfortable," he carefully takes one of your hands in his as he apologises.

"No, I do want to!" you say maybe a little too quickly, the embarrassment of it makes your cheeks go red.

"Yeah?" Spencer grins at you, not cheekily tho, softly as always.

You bury your hot face into your hands.

"What is it, huh? You can tell me anything, you know that right?" Spencer doesn't really understand what's going on. He's thought, you liked him, like he does you.

You take a few big breaths and then you slowly put your arms away from your face.

"It's just...I need you to stop kissing me, Spencer," you blurt out and it comes out differently than you intended it to be. Spencer looks stunned.

You try again, " I need you to stop kissing me Spence, 'cause I'm afraid, I'm reading into things wrong and I'm worried, that I'll just break my own heart by doing so."

Spencer is sure, that his relief could be seen from miles away. He was waiting for the worst possible rejection from you, but he definitely wasn't expecting this.

You look at Spencer's face, only to find him looking right back at you with the biggest happy smile ever.

"You're such an idiot, if you think, that you're readings into things wrong," Spencer starts, " because I like you. I wouldn't be kissing you, if I didn't mean it, sweetheart."

It takes you a few seconds to process, what you've just heard, but when you finally do, your whole face lights up. Spencer likes you back? This isn't a dream?

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. But I thought, you knew that already," he chuckles at your cluelessness, he really did think, that you knew.

"I don't know, what I thought," you say sheepishly.

Spencer doesn't think, he can survive looking at your cute, shy expression with the rosy cheeks any longer, so he just leans in to kiss you.

Of course, he gives you a moment to push him away, in case you still don't want him kissing you, but you don't do anything like that. Instead you are the one to finally connect your lips with his. Not afraid to show him how much you like him, too.

[solarmorrigan]

Hello! So I saw you were doing “angsty-ish prompts” and was wondering if you could do “you don’t have to stay” with Steve angst and the typical complex from his parents making him think he doesn’t deserve to be cared for. Or smth of the sort lol

If not that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore

You want me to write about Steve's abandonment issues and insecurity?? Gosh, anon, twist my arm, why don't you. (But seriously, I loved writing this, thank you for the prompt! I'm afraid the "parents" part didn't quite make it in, but I hope this is okay, anyway!)

[Warning for vague mentions of sex? Nothing explicit]

-

This is the part Steve has been dreading.

He lies on his belly, arms folded beneath his head, and listens as Eddie’s breath evens out beside him. He knows that as soon as the effects of the exertion wear off, Eddie will have no reason to stay, and he’ll pick his clothes up off the floor, get dressed, and go.

Steve had known that’s what would follow if he slept with Eddie. He’d known that if he finally acted on the weeks upon weeks of flirting and dancing around each other, the only possible outcome would be Eddie walking away when they’d finished.

He’d known it would happen, and it was worth it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to watch.

Steve keeps his head firmly turned away as he hears Eddie sit up with a rustle of sheets. He tries to keep his body relaxed, his cheek pillowed on his arms – the picture of lazy disinterest. He doesn’t want to make Eddie feel guilty by appearing upset; Steve’s feelings aren’t his problem.

Instead of listening for the sounds of Eddie getting up and hunting for his clothes, Steve tries to focus on the signs that he’d been there. He concentrates on the residual burn in his thighs and the slightly over-stretched feeling in his hips, where Eddie had made space for himself (where Steve had gladly opened up for him); he concentrates on the ache in his wrists, where Eddie had gripped him tightly, somehow making Steve feel safe and held, rather than trapped; he concentrates on the slight sting of the bruising bitemarks Eddie’s left on his neck and chest (and belly and thighs and elsewhere, probably). He focuses on all the ways Eddie had worshipped and pleasured him before their time together was up.

He's focusing so hard, in fact, that he jumps at the feeling of lips pressing to his lower back.

Eddie lets out a low chuckle and kisses him again, just above his tailbone. “Alright?” he asks, the warmth of his breath raising goosebumps across Steve’s skin.

“Fine,” Steve says, twisting to look over his shoulder; Eddie has situated himself near Steve’s hip and is leaning over him, pressing slow kisses up the length of his spine. Steve suppresses a shiver. “Just… wasn’t expecting you.”

Eddie hums, fitting his fingers in the dip of Steve’s waist as his lips reach Steve’s shoulder. “Not ready to take my hands off you just yet,” he says, and – oh.

Steve hadn’t been expecting this, but he’s definitely willing to work with it.

“Looking for round two already?” he asks, letting a flirtatious lilt warm his voice.

But then Eddie shakes his head, and Steve’s confused all over again.

“Just want to be able to feel you,” Eddie says, before he nuzzles his way into the crook of Steve’s neck and heaves a contented sigh.

He runs his hands up from Steve’s waist, over his ribs, up to his armpits, and then slides them back down again, the drag of his touch just heavy enough to keep from tickling.

Finally, Eddie settles, lying half on top of Steve, chest to back, one leg crooked over the backs of his thighs, his arm cradling his ribs with his hand tucked between his chest and the mattress. His bangs tickle Steve’s cheek and his nose is pressed so firmly to his neck that Steve’s not even sure how he’s breathing, but he seems happy there, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.

People don’t do this – not with him. Usually, he’s the one who has to initiate cuddles, has to find a sort of sideways method of accomplishing it because he knows he’s not supposed to ask. It’s not something he’s allowed to want out loud.

This is the most skin-to-skin contact he’s had in ages. It’s the most he’s been touched in ages, and it’s so much; it feels so good it hurts, but–

Steve doesn’t understand why it’s happening. Eddie doesn’t want to have sex again, and Steve isn’t sure what else could be keeping here, and so, like an idiot, Steve just says what he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Mm?” Eddie rouses, pulling his face from the crook of Steve’s neck. “What?”

“You can go,” Steve says, before realizing that sounds a little too much like a dismissal. “If you want to, I mean.”

For a long moment, Eddie is quiet.

“What do you want?” he finally asks.

Steve can’t help the bitter huff of a laugh that escapes him. “What I want doesn’t matter,” he says; maybe it’s a childish sort of answer, but it’s been proven true, time and time again, and Steve is tired of asking for things—for affection, for love—only to be denied.

Eddie sits up, and the colds sets in immediately, every part of Steve that he’d been touching now crying out for him to come back.

“Of course it matters,” Eddie says, sounding nearly affronted, before his tone gentles. “Steve… sweetheart, can you look at me?”

Maybe it’s the pet name, or the hand resting softly in the middle of his back, but even though he’s not entirely sure he wants to, Steve rolls onto his side to face Eddie.

There’s something lost and sad in Eddie’s expression that makes Steve want to turn away again, but he stays where he is.

“Did you really think I would just leave after this?” Eddie asks, and Steve shrugs, the muscles of his shoulders screaming after being held folded beneath his head for so long. Eddie’s face twists into a frown. “Why?”

“That’s… how it works,” Steve says. “People don’t want to stay. And they don’t have to – you don’t have to. It’s fine, I understand.”

“No, baby, I don’t think you do,” Eddie says, and while Steve’s brain is still fuzzing to static over the second sweet name in as many minutes, Eddie slides back down to lie in front of Steve and presses a soft kiss to his unresisting mouth. “I want to stay.”

Steve stares at him. Blinks. Finds that Eddie is still there, still offering him a gentle version of his usual infectious grin, and Steve has no idea what to do.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I want to fall asleep with you,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I want to wake up with you.” A kiss to his other cheek. “I want to fuck you again in the morning.” A kiss to his chin. “Or we can just shower,” a kiss to his forehead, “and I’ll make you breakfast.” A kiss to the tip of his nose, and Steve finally breaks, letting out a short laugh.

“This is my house,” he says. “And you don’t even cook.”

“I’ll have you know I fry a mean egg, and I am a master at making toast,” Eddie says with a grin.

“What if I like my eggs scrambled?” Steve asks, a little more quietly.

Eddie’s smile softens again. “Then I’ll learn,” he says simply. “Do you want any of that, Steve?”

And somehow, in the small, warm space between them, it feels almost safe, almost easy to nod and say, “I want all of that. I want you to stay.”

The only reply he gets is Eddie’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him close, and Eddie’s warm, soft mouth against his; but for Steve, that’s answer enough.

[forever-rogue]

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks. 

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson. 

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you. 

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up. 

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to. 

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do. 

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process. 

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you. 

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back. 

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside. 

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

[genderlessdude92]

FORGIVENESS

Angst-Fluff one shot

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: Alastor's work at the Hazbin Hotel keeps him preoccupied, leading to neglect in his relationship with Y/N. An argument later on arises, causing both to confront their feelings. Ultimately, they reconcile, promising to communicate better in the future. The story emphasizes the importance of understanding and communication in relationships.

WARNINGS: Reader is a sensitive little baby (っ◞‸◟c) (sorry not sorry), Story gets angsty but there is a happy ending with fluff yay, Neglect, established relationship (as seen above), takes place in present-day hell, reader and Alastor live in a manor-type house idk i would imagine him rich or smth, don’t imagine the manor like a richie rich mansion manor just…yk. emotional turmoil, verbal conflict, depiction of emotional distress, Relationship strain, mild violence (not physical), Reference to a soul bond (which is in most of my fics bc i feel like if Alastor really married anybody they would own each other’s souls idk what i’m doing shut up). Angel says an Angel-type sentence in the bonus writing. LMK if I missed anything <\3. This fix is rushed because i got a lot of good comments on my last one and i felt confident but i don’t anymore so L.

WORDS: 1.3k (with a side fic not counted)

!!TRANSLATING MY WORK OR COPYING IS NOT APPRECIATED!! (But thanks for liking it :3)

It was a typical morning in the manor of Alastor, the radio demon. The sun had barely broken over the horizon, hell’s birds were chirping, and the smell of coffee wafted through the halls. Alastor, as always, was in the kitchen sipping on his cup of coffee and writing down some ideas for the Hazbin Hotel. Y/N, his wife, was sitting across from him, her hair perfectly styled, just freshly taken out of curlers. But she was still in her damp robe from showering in the morning.

Alastor glanced up at her, a small smile on his face. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over him every time he looked at her. She was his wife, his partner, and his everything. They had been married for what felt like eternity, even though they had only been married since 1936. They had met in their previous life, both living in the same city, but they didn't truly fall in love until they met again in hell.

Y/N let out a small sigh from across the table, causing Alastor to look up from his notes once again.

But today, something was off between them. Well, more-so recently. He could tell that something was bothering her, her usually bright eyes filled with sadness. Without a word, he reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She looked at him, offering a small smile in return. But Alastor could see right through it, he knew something was weighing heavy on her mind.

“Everything alright darling?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N pondered for a moment, “…It’s nothin’, don’t needa worry, okay?” She reassured, her voice faltering a bit at the end.

Alastor sat back in his seat, his expression turning serious. “…You know i won’t let this slide, dear.” he reassured her.

Y/N nodded, the feeling of unease in the pit of both their stomachs. Alastor seemed sincere, but something in his gut told him that this was more to be a serious matter.

With a wider, more forced smile, Y/N stood up from the table, “I'm going to go get ready for the day…” she said before quickly leaving the kitchen.

Alastor watched her go, a frown appearing on his face. He hated seeing Y/N like this, but he didn't want to harp her and overwhelm her.

As the week went on, Alastor couldn't shake the feeling that he was neglecting his wife.

Charlie had been giving him countless tasks at the hotel, since Lucifer told her it was good to overwork the big guys just a little bit.

psh.

Probably because Lucifer isn’t even big.

Even when he got to work from home, they were still just ghosts to each other.

Even the dinner was cold.

“Sweetheart…” Alastor called from his seat.

She looked over to him after a moment, waiting if he would say anything else, “What’s wrong, Al?”

She silently asked.

“…The dinner tastes… different?…tonight?” Alastor tried to say with a sincere aspect. Maybe Alastor could help her with the cooking?

“…oh um…I’m sorry…”

Fuck.

“No, no- it’s fine! um…be a deer and… just microwave it, okay?” Alastor reassured with a cheery smile.

Y/N paused from working at the stove to look at him and then his plate before walking over to him and doing as he said-

quietly.

“…So…acid rain today, huh?” Alastor began to start some conversation, “-must have been a bummer.”

“…the last petunias died in the yard.” Y/N replied.

Later that evening, Alastor and Y/N were in their bedroom getting ready for bed. Y/N was brushing out her hair while Alastor was sitting at his vanity, humming a tune to himself. But his cheerful demeanor quickly changed when he looked up at Y/N's reflection in the mirror.

Her bottom was lip trembling, and she had to stop in between her brushes to take a deep breath. Alastor could feel a pang of guilt in his chest, knowing that he was most likely the cause of her sadness. He quickly stood up and walked over to her, “Darling, what's wrong?” he asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

Y/N turned around to face him and that's when it happened. “Just leave me alone, Alastor. You obviously haven’t been wanting to…i- interact with me recently.” She stated, “I’m doing you a favor.”

Alastor's frustration and guilt boiled over. “What do you want from me, Y/N? I have a lot on my plate right now and your attitude is really bothering me.” He replied, his tone harsh and genuine, alongside his smile that was tight and annoyed.

“You should really act your age for once, Y/N.”

She froze.

‘Act her age?’

“…I’m sorry I can’t be perfect all the time, Alastor.” She snapped back.

Alastor was to reply but she cut him off- “I’m sorry I have flaws.” She let her tears spill. Ones she didn’t even know she was barricading

“No, no- Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that-” Alastor started, but Y/N quickly was already opening the door to their bedroom, leaving Alastor alone with his thoughts.

He sat down at her vanity, wanting to inspect what she could’ve made her react like that. An object? maybe a broken object? A letter?

But nothing could have stopped him from staring at his reflection with shame and regret.

He had never gave Y/N harmful comments like that before, and he knew, always knew that words like that could deeply hurt Y/N. He had let his emotions get the best of him,

-and now he feared he may have damaged their relationship.

But he refused to let it end like this.

He quickly got up and went to find her, searching through their shared household. When he reached the living room, he could see her curled up on the couch, her face buried in one of the throw-pillows as she sobbed softly.

Alastor's heart broke at the sight, he had never seen Y/N like this before. He sat down next to her and slowly and softly began to rub his claw on her back through the silk nightgown she was wearing.

'I'm sorry, Y/N.”, He started. He stopped rubbing her for a moment to hear or see a reaction.

Nothing.

He continued, “I didn't mean it, I was just upset- things like this don’t happen, often, you understand…my emotions just got to me.” he whispered, his voice full of regret.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still spilling tears, “I know you didn't mean it, Alastor. But it still hurt me…I can’t just be p-perfect all the time,”' she mumbled with a hiccup, slowly sitting up. “I’m afraid there’s a reason that you haven’t been around me an-“

Alastor hushed her, “I understand, darlings…work got the best of me i suppose…”

Alastor pulled her into his warm embrace, holding her tightly as he buried his face in her hair. “-I promise I’ll never, ever, do that again. I understand that sometimes we all can act differently depending on the atmosphere, and I just didn’t bring that to mind at first,” Alastor noted, his demeanor wavering in his voice, “I’ll never forget this conversation, Y/N…”

“I can't lose you.”

Y/N pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, her eyes locking with his. “I could never l-leave you, Al.” she whispered before pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

From that day on, Alastor made an effort to be more open with Y/N, to share his troubles and concerns with her instead of bottling them up. And in return, Y/N opened up more to him, sharing her fears and worries.

Nothing could tear them apart.

Mostly because they most likely have bonded souls but you know what i mean.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

BONUS !! (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

(450-500 words)

After the heartfelt conversation and reconnection with Alastor, Y/N decided to surprise him one day at the Hazbin Hotel with lunch. She spent the morning preparing Alastor's favorite dishes, humming to herself as she worked in the kitchen.

Once the food was ready, Y/N packed it neatly into a picnic basket and headed to the hotel.

As she entered the lobby, she was greeted by Charlie, who smiled warmly at her. "Hey, Y/N! What brings you here today?" Charlie asked, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

Charlie and Y/N had known each other since after that big battle with the angels. Like the good housewife Y/N usually was, she offered to help heal and mend to the hotel staff’s wounds. From then on, the staff just knew her as, ‘a second mom’ of sorts.

Y/N grinned, holding up the picnic basket. "I brought lunch for Alastor. Thought I'd surprise him," she replied. Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement. "That's so sweet of you! I'm sure he'll love it. Let me take you to his office," she offered, leading the way down the bustling hallway.

When they reached Alastor's office, Charlie knocked on the door before opening it, revealing Alastor seated behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork.

"Alastor, you have a visitor!" Charlie announced with a sing-song like voice. Alastor looked up, a surprised expression crossing his face when he saw Y/N standing in the doorway, holding the picnic basket. His eyes lit up with delight, and he quickly set aside his paperwork, standing up to greet her.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he exclaimed, stepping forward to give Y/N a hug. "A surprise lunch visit from my lovely wife. You've outdone yourself, darling." Y/N chuckled, returning his embrace. "I thought you could use a break from all that paperwork. Plus, um… I wanted to spend some time with you, if that’s okay." she replied, placing the picnic basket on his desk.

Alastor's smile widened, “Of course, dear. Anytime i’m around you is like a gift sent from the overlords.”

As he opened the basket, he was revealed to see the delicious spread Y/N had prepared. "You truly are too good to me, Y/N," he said, pulling out a sandwich and taking a bite. As they enjoyed their lunch together.

Y/N noticed Charlie just awkwardly standing there, spacing out. “Charlie, dear, do you want some?”

Charlie snapped out of her trance, “Oh- no, uh, that’s okay! I’ll leave you two to it.” He gave them a thumbs up before leaving to the hallways of the hotel.

As she walked out of his office, she was surprised to see Angel and Husk standing next to each other, watching the whole things.

“So…since husk ain’t bettin’ it…” Angel began, a mishcevious mood setting in,

“…you wanna bet how loud they’ll get?”

NOTE: Second fic woohoo!!! This fic, although, was a bit rushed and i was feeling really confident in the beginning because i got SO MUCH great comments and support (tysm (,,•́ω ก̀,,) in the that fic…but then i lost a tiny amount of motivation…overtime. But i couldn’t just stop writing…my OCD wouldn’t like that (♥︎ω♥︎ ) ~♪ Also when Y/N was humming in the bonus story in the kitchen…100% was humming to a song that played on the broadcast the night before i just didn’t wanna add it in…REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! >:3

…support is appreciated

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

MY MASTERLIST!! (Click me :D)

[bellaveux]

i adored the soft college au wanda she’s so cute :(( may i request smth along the lines of r and wanda not going public yet because r is nervous but there’s still nat trying to pursue her and wanda gets jelly and clingy ? fluff or hurt/comfort pls ty <3

ALL I NEED TO HEAR | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: when fellow classmate, natasha romanoff, has her eyes set on you, wanda struggles to hide her jealousy.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, college au!, jealous!wanda, soft!wanda, minor natasha romanoff x reader, jealousy, insecurity, kissing

word count: 5.5k

note: do not ask me why this took me a whole month to write!! i’m so so sorry for the long wait but here it is finally! i hope u like it :> (i meant to do fluff along with hurt/comfort but as i was writing it turned more angsty *thumbs up*)

In the bustling college lecture hall, amidst the hum of anticipation and the eager shuffle of notebooks, Wanda couldn't help but steal glances in your direction. Her heart swelled with a tender longing, a yearning she struggled to suppress as she looked at you as you were intently listening to the professor. Each stolen gaze only deepened her appreciation for your beauty, igniting an unspoken fascination that seemed to vibrate through her very core. Every fine detail, from your sculpted cheekbones to the way your lips formed a gentle smile, held an intoxicating allure that effortlessly captivated Wanda's senses. It was a magnetic force, an enchantment that dared Wanda to surrender to her desires. As rays of golden sunlight danced through the tall, arched windows, they gently caressed your countenance, illuminating your flawless features with an otherworldly glow. Wanda, with her heart in awe, marveled at the graceful curve of your delicate jawline, the gentle curve of your supple lips, and the sparkle in your eyes as you keep your attention towards the professor in the front of the room.

Yet, in the face of this consuming temptation, Wanda exercised incredible self-control. She wanted to touch you. To feel you. To kiss you. To show everyone that you were hers, just as she was yours. She fought the urges that surged within her, understanding the sanctity of personal space and the importance of boundaries, being mindful of your decision to keep everything subtle and on the down low. Her hands, adorned with delicate silver rings, just itched to trace the contours of your visage, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath her fingertips.

But Wanda wasn’t the only one who seemed to admire you. No, there was someone else—someone sitting far, multiple seats down the lecture hall, eyes trained on you for much longer than Wanda liked. A hint of uneasiness coursed through her veins. Her captivating gaze was momentarily drawn to a woman named Natasha, who sat in a distant corner of the curved row of the lecture hall, far from your shared space. Natasha, an enigmatic figure with an aura of magnetism, possessed an allure that stirred Wanda's heart, igniting an unwelcome sense of jealousy. Though she knew your loyalty was steadfast, the persistent glances exchanged between Natasha and her beloved fueled a flicker of insecurity within Wanda's soul.

“She’s staring at you,” Wanda whispers quietly, the tips of her fingers softly fiddling with your free hand under the long table.

You shake your head slightly, all too familiar with Wanda’s regular signs of jealousy. You pull your hand away to write on the blank sticky note sticking onto your of her notebook saying: ‘ignore her.’ Wanda sighs in return and rolls her eyes at the piece of paper. After a beat, she huffs and leans back into her seat, beginning to nibble lightly on her bottom lip as her patience wore thin.

“Kind of hard not to,” she replied, tone laced with bitterness.

Wanda subtly places a hand on your thigh, close to your knee, underneath the table, wanting to touch in some way—almost as if she was reminding herself that you were hers, and if Natasha could see, that would be even better.

The pout that shows up on her face doesn’t go unnoticed as you move her hand away from you with a shy smile, “Wanda, they’ll see.”

“Sorry,” she sighed again, putting her head down against her arm on the desk as she glanced over at the other redhead who did nothing but keep her eyes on you. “It’s just annoying to me… that she’s staring.”

You chose to tune out Wanda’s jealous complaints, paying attention to the professor at the front of the room. As the professor's words flowed through the lecture hall like a gentle breeze, your unwavering focus became a testament to your dedication. Your nimble fingers gracefully danced across the pages of your notebook, capturing the essence of each scholarly utterance in a tapestry of meticulous notes. Meanwhile, Wanda, sitting still right next to you with an otherworldly charm, exhibited her annoyance by tapping her pen against the wooden surface of the desk.

Wanda seemed to get distracted once again, something she couldn’t quite control all by herself, so you decided to let her sneak soft touches of her hand on your thigh, tender and elusive, spoke a language only you could decipher—a language of intimacy and shared understanding. Her fingertips, grazed the softness of your thighs, traveling up towards the hem of your skirt—the one you decided to wear was especially pretty on you that not touching you became an impossible task. It almost didn’t feel fair, for her to hide the fact that this pretty woman, you, were not hers. She’d shout it to the world when she could, when you’d let her, whenever you were ready to.

After a while, the final bell resounds throughout the room, marking the end of another day of intellectual exploration, your delicate features transform with an unmistakable sense of serenity. The waning rays of sunlight, filtering through the slats of the partially drawn blinds, dance upon the mahogany desk, illuminating the array of meticulously arranged notebooks and pens that have been your steadfast companions throughout your entire academic voyage. With deliberate grace, Wanda watched as you reach out, your nimble fingers gathering your supplies and shoving them into your bag.

You were so pretty in everything you did that Wanda would never tire herself as she watched you. She was glad to call you hers, even though the people around her didn’t know it yet. To everyone else, the two of you were best friends, glued to each other, roommates sharing the same apartment, but nothing more. And Wanda continued to wait for the day when you would be ready to show everyone.

As Wanda sat still and poised in her chair while students squeezed themselves out of the door to head to their next classes, her eyes caught a flicker of unease. With an air of intrigue and curiosity, her gaze fixated on the elegant figure that graced the space, coming closer and closer to where the two of you were sitting. As Natasha began a deliberate stride, weaving through the sea of desks and students, Wanda's eyes narrowed—a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her, a potent concoction of jealousy, apprehension, and a burning desire to unravel Natasha's intentions. What does she want now? A tremor of uncertainty danced upon Wanda's delicate features.

“Hey, (y/n), you look beautiful today… like always,” she smiled that charming smile of hers, an action that would usually have others swooning for her. “Just wanted to check in. We still on for later?”

You ignored the compliment, one of many, and took a quick glance at Natasha, offering her a tiny, friendly smile as you packed your things, “Uh, yeah, 4:30, right?”

“Yeah, at the library,” she nodded before looking past you for a brief moment to smirk at the other redhead who had been eyeing her since class started. “Wanda.”

“Natasha,” your girlfriend greeted bitterly.

After a beat, Natasha cleared her throat and put her eyes on you once more, “Alright, well, I’ll see you, hon.”

Wanda glared at her as she walked away, biting the inside of her cheek as annoyance fueled in her chest. It was in those ephemeral moments that a tempest brews and Wanda finds herself grappling with the tumultuous waves of jealousy. Like a veil, thin and delicate, but bearing an invisible weight, her discontent unfolds, entwining her thoughts with insecurities.

Natasha and her had never really been close—not when they both fancied the same girl. It was always a fight for your attention, and now, a fight to keep the third party away from you.

“I don’t know if I feel good about you going later,” Wanda mutters so quietly under her breath, you almost didn’t catch it.

You give her a soft look, hoping to reassure her somewhat with a light smile, “It won’t be long, Wanda. And I won’t be the only one there, remember?”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. I just…” Wanda paused and looked into your eyes for a moment, practically using all of her strength to keep herself from leaning into your touch. “Just text me later. I’ll pick you up.”

Wanda watches you nod, bringing your hand up to give your shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You want so badly to kiss her, to remind her how much you love her, if only you weren’t too scared to show everyone your relationship with her.

As the time reached about almost forty minutes past four, you found yourself enveloped in a quiet study session, diligently engaged with a select group of classmates, immersed in a collective pursuit of finishing this class project. The light of the setting sun delicately filtered through the grand windows, casting a warm glow upon the diligent scholars. Textbooks, notebooks, and scattered papers adorned the table, bearing witness to their ardent quest for knowledge. As the ethereal scent of books permeated the air, your focus was unyielding, your mind attuned to the intricacies of the project at hand.

But within the depths of your intellectual fervor, a gentle longing tugged at your heart. You can’t help but think of her, Wanda, tiptoeing through your mind, like a melody echoing in your soul. In your mind's eye, you yearned for Wanda's presence, her soothing embrace, and the way her eyes sparkled with encouragement. You envisioned Wanda's tender touch as if it were the guiding light that fueled your fire. And while you wanted to get the work done as soon as possible, you couldn’t help but think of her.

You wondered what she was up to right now. Maybe, in your shared apartment, she was napping, studying on her own, watering her plants, or cooking dinner… Whatever she did, it always put a smile on your face.

“Hey, why are you smiling?”

It was a small whisper that only you could hear, coming from your right. You cleared your throat and took in your surroundings once more, noticing that Natasha was sitting next to you, doing some research on her laptop for anything useful to add to the project you worked together on for another class with a couple of other students.

You shake your head and whispered back, “I’m not smiling.”

Natasha scoffed playfully, “Well, smiling or not… You look pretty.”

The compliment didn’t phase you one bit. Instead, you turned your head to look at Natasha, who sported a smug smile as she looked at you. You were accustomed to the delicate dance of adoration orchestrated by Natasha, whose flattery and flirtatious overtures had become as predictable as the sun's rise. Yet, within your eyes lay a quiet strength, a spirit unyielding to the allure of superficial charm. Though Natasha's words, like sweet melodies, danced upon your ears, they fell upon a heart unmoved, resilient in its pursuit of genuine connection. It didn’t mean anything—not when you were loved by the woman you adored the most, when you had the most caring girlfriend waiting for you at home.

Natasha's advances, though flattering to the world's eye, did little to stir your heart, as it was already enveloped in a love so pure and profound that it painted every fiber of your being with colors of contentment. You, ever graceful and empathetic, offered Natasha kindness and friendship, cherishing the genuine connection you two shared, but resolutely protecting the love you held so dear. Wanda.

“Finish your work, Nat,” you say simply before turning your head away from her.

You could feel the redhead smiling in defeat, returning back to her laptop, the sounds of her fingers typing away on her keyboard filled the room.

As you delved deep into your project at the library, your once zealous spirit began to wane, and weariness settled in your bones. The weight of countless hours spent pouring over research and refining ideas bore down on you, urging you to seek solace beyond the confines of the library. Restlessness tugged at your thoughts as you yearned for the comfort of home and the embrace of your girlfriend.

She had been texting you quite a lot while you were here. And, “a lot” was practically an understatement.

She texted you minutes before you got to the library, then again after you sat down at a table, and again when you took your supplies out, and even more when you began working, up until now, right when you began to pack everything up. She kept telling you that she misses you so much and asked how long you were going to be there. She also went on about telling you to tell her if Natasha was doing anything to make you uncomfortable, checking to make sure you were okay, and asking quite a number of times if she should pick you up now.

And, you understood why. You understood her eagerness to talk to you as she was never good at hiding her jealousy which led to her clinging onto you in any way, whether it was texting you, talking to you, holding you, or touching you. Anything.

The vibrant colors of the library's surroundings dulled in your eyes as your focus shifted from the intellectual pursuit to the emotional embrace you craved. Thoughts of Wanda wrapped around your weary mind like a comforting shawl, igniting a renewed sense of purpose and drive. You sent her a quick text as soon as you were finished, telling her you were ready for her to pick you up, to which she replied that she was on her way almost immediately.

Your group of classmates walked out of the library, right into the chilly air, bidding their farewells and wishing each other luck for the presentation that was due in a couple of days time. They each left one by one until it was just you and Natasha left standing by the entrance doors.

“It’s a little cold out. I can take you home if you’d like,” Natasha says, shoving her hands into her jacket’s pocket.

You adjusted the bag hanging off your shoulder reluctantly, glancing over to the redhead, “Uh, Wanda’s already on her way, so… but, thanks, Natasha.”

“Right,” she says quickly, almost as if she knew what you were going to say.

She was quiet now. Uncharacteristically quiet. A mixture of excitement and apprehension coursed through Natasha’s veins as if every nerve in her body had suddenly been awakened. Despite her usual confidence, Natasha couldn't help but feel an unexpected wave of unease wash over her. Just as she was clueless about your relationship with Wanda, she found it hard to fight for your attention against her. Any of her words crashed into brick walls as she tried to flirt with you and it only made her want to have you more, even when you had told her that you weren’t interested. She didn’t know why, but she liked to think you’d end up liking her eventually.

“There’s… There’s this new Italian restaurant that opened. In downtown, by the bridge,” she starts, watching you closely for you your reaction. “Would you like to go try it with me sometime?”

You see Wanda’s car turning into the lot up ahead as she said those words. A sigh escapes your lips before you turn slightly to look at Natasha, “As friends?”

Natasha chuckles and drops her head down in defeat, knowing very well what your answer would be, after countless attempts and rejections. Her eyes lock onto Wanda’s car as well after bringing her head back up slowly.

“Your chariot awaits,” Natasha nods her head towards the car that pulls up right in front of the two of you.

You give Natasha a small smile before beginning your walk, “Have a good night, Nat. Drive safe.”

Natasha smiles in return, watching you step away. You get into Wanda’s car smoothly, greeting your girlfriend as a sense of relief washes over you.

As you settled comfortably into the passenger seat, your eyes met Wanda's, but instead of the warm welcome you expected, you noticed a flicker of annoyance and jealousy. Wanda's features, usually so radiant and full of affection, were clouded with a hint of unease. Your heart sank as you realized the source of Wanda's distress—Natasha, the persistent pursuer. A tumultuous mixture of guilt and longing swirled within your chest as you searched for the right words to soothe Wanda's troubled heart.

“Baby, let’s go home,” you say softly, your hand subtly ghosting over hers over the heartsick. “I’m tired.”

Wanda blinks and her eyes dart from Natasha, who stood still by the library doors waiting for the two of you to leave, over to you. Her eyes soften as soon as she looked at you.

“Okay,” she nods softly, before turning her head to the front, starting her drive back to your shared apartment.

As Wanda gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white with tension, an unusual silence enveloped the car. The soft hum of the engine provided a gentle backdrop to the muffled thoughts swirling in her mind. Casting a quick glance towards you, she noticed her girlfriend's serene expression, unaware of the storm brewing within Wanda's heart. Determined to shield you from her internal turmoil, Wanda reached out, intertwining her fingers with yours, seeking solace in your touch.

Wanda didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the drive home. She kept her hand locked in yours right over your lap, occasionally using her thumb to smooth over your thigh so gently that you wanted to kiss her right then and there.

The drive didn’t last long as Wanda made it her task to rush home where the two of you would finally be alone, where she could have you all to yourself.

With the click of the front door, you stepped into the serene refuge of your shared apartment, an oasis of tranquility and familiarity. A palpable sense of relief washed over you, permeating the air as you shed the weight of the outside world from your shoulders. The soft glow of warm lamplight in your living room enveloped the space, casting a gentle ambiance that mirrored your contentment. As the two of you kicked off your shoes, a collective sigh escaped your lips, releasing the tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

You went about the evening as usual. Wanda made dinner before picking you up and you ate together. As the meal drew to a close, your determined gaze shifted to the pile of books and papers scattered across a nearby desk. With a sense of purpose, you excused herself and retreated to your work, placing a small kiss on the top of Wanda’s head, leaving her to her own devices. You told her you had to check up on some of your work just in case, not wanting to leave any mistakes on your part of the project. She watched you for a bit as you went to work before turning the television on to watch that cute old sitcom she loved so much.

Wanda's eyes occasionally flickered towards you, filled with admiration and understanding. She reveled in the sight of your unwavering dedication, recognizing the passion that fueled your late-night endeavors. At the same time, she wanted to pull you away from your work, keep you all to herself, kiss you all night long. Their cozy apartment was awash in the warm glow of lamplight, casting a soft ambiance upon the room. Wanda, feeling a sense of contentment, nestled herself on the plush couch, watching her show, patiently awaiting you to finish.

When you do finish, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to refresh before bed. Sensing a subtle ache in her heart, Wanda couldn't bear the thought of being separated, even for a moment. With a surge of affection and longing, she quietly followed you into the bathroom, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew her towards you.

Inside the bathroom, the air was filled with the soothing scent of lavender, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. You stood by the sink, ready to wash off your face and brush your teeth. Wanda, unable to contain her yearning any longer, approached you, her eyes reflecting a deep longing. Your gazes met in the mirror, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Without wasting another second, Wanda's arms found their way around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. The warmth radiated through your bodies, your closeness a source of comfort and reassurance.

“Hey,” you smiled at her through the mirror, listening to her breathe against your neck. Although, your smile faded slowly as she didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?”

Wanda shook her head slightly, tightening her hold around your waist, “Nothing.”

“Wanda.”

“I just…” Wanda sighed and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, then one at the side of your neck, “I missed you a lot. That’s all.”

The words, gentle and delicate, struck a chord deep within your heart. A tingling sensation radiated through your being, as if every nerve ending had come alive, attuned to Wanda's every touch and breath. The weight of Wanda's absence had been temporarily lifted, only to be replaced by the overwhelming yearning that surged through your veins.

After a moment, you gently moved Wanda’s arms from your waist to turn around to face her. Wanda immediately put her arms around your frame once again as you wrapped yours around her neck. You saw her eyes flicker down to your lips, and it almost made you smile, knowing that she wanted to kiss you, but the undeniable fact that something else was bothering her interrupted your thoughts.

“What else?” you ask softly, bringing a hand up to h run your hand through her red hair. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes—your hand in her hair, massaging her scalp relaxed her in ways nothing and no one else could.

“There’s nothing else,” she says nonchalantly, not giving in to your gentle touches that would usually urge her to do whatever you asked her to.

You pull your hand back and give her a look, a serious one that told her that you weren’t buying every bit of what she was saying.

“I’m not jealous,” she said quickly as if she could read your mind, knowing very well that that question was floating around in your head somewhere, begging to be asked.

You shook your head, “I didn’t say you were.”

You watch as Wanda sighed and dropped her head down to your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to her body, pressing you slightly against the counter.

In an instinctive response to the relief flooding her soul, Wanda nestled her head into the crook of your neck, seeking the familiar scent and the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. Wanda's fingertips traced gentle patterns on your back, her hands under your shirt, drinking in the sensation of skin against skin, reveling in the closeness that had been sorely missed. Wanda's heart found respite, the ache gradually dissipating with each passing second. With a profound sense of gratitude, she clung to you, her body pressed against yours.

It took a few more moments of silence before you asked her another question.

“Is this about Natasha?” You knew the answer when Wanda didn’t move or say anything.

The air held a moment of silence as Wanda's heart wrestled with conflicting emotions. With a heavy sigh, she found herself caught between her desire for transparency and her fear of burdening you with her insecurities. A battle raged within her, but she summoned a fragile smile to her lips, masking the jealousy that had woven itself tightly around her heart.

“A little bit,” Wanda whispered reluctantly against your shoulder.

It was. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it’s been bugging her the whole day. She wished Natasha would back off. She wished she could tell her to back off. She wished she could show her that you belonged to her, just as she belonged to you. And Wanda wanted to tell you. She wanted to voice this constant struggle of jealousy that she had been going through each time when the two of you were in the public eye, but she had to wait for you.

And she’d wait for as long as you need her to.

A heavy sense of guilt weighed upon your heart as you observed Wanda's pained expression. Though you knew you should have revealed your relationship to the world, fear had tightened its grip around you, preventing you from openly embracing your love.

Each time Wanda's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of insecurity and longing, your own heart ached with remorse. In the confines of your mind, you fervently wished for the courage to proclaim your love, to shield Wanda from the torment of doubt and protectiveness. Yet, the words remained lodged in your throat, locked away by apprehension and uncertainty.

“I’m scared of losing you to someone else,” she confessed, rubbing circles against the small of your back.

As you watched Wanda battle her internal turmoil, your desire to ease your girlfriend's worries intensified. With each passing moment, your resolve strengthened, your determination to overcome your own fears deepening. You knew that the time would come when you could no longer keep your love hidden away, for the pain inflicted upon Wanda by you and her clandestine existence was a stark reminder that love thrived when it was allowed to bloom openly, casting its vibrant hues upon the world.

“Listen to me carefully, please.” You brought both your hands up to cup Wanda’s face gently in your palms, your eyes filled with empathy and understanding, “I’m not ever leaving you. I love you, Wanda, so much. And… I know it’s hard not to, but don’t listen or think about Natasha or anyone else. She doesn’t have me… And she won’t ever have me. Only you. I belong to you.”

I have you. Your words repeated in her head.

Wanda's expression softened as she leaned into your touch, finding comfort in the warmth of your palms, “I have you.”

You smiled softly as did Wanda, “I don’t belong to anybody else.”

And as if relief washed over her worries, Wanda smiled smugly, knowing no one else has you the way she did. The heaviness that had settled in her heart dissipated like morning mist under the warm rays of the sun. Your words, spoken with tenderness and understanding, had acted as a balm to Wanda's troubled soul. With every gentle stroke of your hands against her cheek, Wanda felt the lingering tendrils of jealousy and insecurity unravel.

She saw the sincerity in your eyes, a mirror of her own love and devotion. The weight that had burdened her heart had transformed into a newfound lightness, replaced by an unwavering trust and a sense of security that only you could provide.

“I love you so much,” she said with a smile, placing a tender kiss against your forehead.

However, Wanda's smile faltered as her gaze met your tearful eyes. In that fleeting moment, the air seemed to still, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. Wanda's heart ached at the sight of your glistening tears, a stark contrast to the usual vibrant warmth that emanated from your expressive eyes. A mix of concern and tenderness etched itself onto Wanda's face as she reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing against your cheek. She yearned to understand the depth of your sorrow, to offer solace and support in any way she could, just as you did for her just a second ago.

No, no, no. Wanda started to panic as your eyes got glossier by the second, tears threatening to fall any moment now. If there was absolutely one thing Wanda hated to see, it was you crying. And if she was the reason behind your tears, she’d do everything in her power to make it right.

“Hey, hey, talk to me, baby,” Wanda pleaded, leaning down to get a closer look at your face, trying to figure it out somehow on her own. “(Y/n)… Don’t cry—I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Sorry, I– I don't– I can’t– I can’t—“

Tears streamed down your face, their cascading path tracing the contours of your anguish. Each sob that wracked your body seemed to tear through the tranquility of the room, filling the air with a symphony of heartache.

Wanda stood frozen, her heart sinking as she witnessed your tear-streaked face, overcome with a depth of sorrow she had never seen before. Wanda's chest tightened with an overwhelming surge of emotions, her own eyes welling up with unshed tears. The sight of your vulnerability shook Wanda to her core.

As your cries grew louder, Wanda's immediate thought was to provide solace, to offer a safe haven within her arms. Without hesitation, she pulled you close once more, holding you with unwavering strength and tenderness. Your sobs found refuge in the curve of Wanda's neck, the soft fabric of Wanda's shirt absorbing your tears as her hand smoothed over the back of your head repeatedly. Wanda whispered soothing words, her voice a gentle balm to your wounded spirit, assuring you that you were not alone, that you would weather the storm together. Always.

When your sobs died down to soft labored breathing, Wanda moved to place soft kisses down against your temple, then over to your tear-stained cheeks, wiping her thumb over them in the process.

“I’m sorry,” she heard you say.

“For what, baby?”

“For being too afraid… to tell everyone. I know you’ve been waiting and that it hurts to wait. And watch, and hide. But, I’m… I’m still…” You found it hard to breathe as you spoke, not exactly meeting Wanda in her eyes, scared of what she might say.

“I know. It’s okay,” she didn’t let you finish. She already knew. Wanda’s heart ached when you still didn’t move to meet her eyes, so she repeated her words. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wanda's touch became an anchor of solace, her fingertips tracing soothing paths along your back. With each delicate caress, Wanda poured her love and compassion into her gestures, whispering soft reassurances that echoed like a soothing lullaby. The warmth of her connection enveloped you, creating a haven where vulnerability was met with understanding and acceptance. In this intimate moment, Wanda's touch spoke volumes, conveying a depth of empathy that words alone could not capture.

“Everything will be okay,” Wanda told you, kissing your temple once again. “I will be patient. I’ll wait a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade… a century. Whenever you’re ready to. I’ll be there. You have me, too, (Y/n). I’m not going anywhere.”

Wanda used her hands to turn your face towards her, forcing you to look at her.

As you gazed into her eyes, you found yourself captivated by the depth and intensity within them. The windows to Wanda's soul revealed a profound sincerity and unwavering devotion that surpasses any spoken words. In the gentle flicker of candlelight, you witness a kaleidoscope of emotions reflected in Wanda's eyes—love, adoration, and an unspoken promise of a lifetime together.

“Did you hear me?” Wanda asked, using her finger to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I heard you,” you smiled softly, sniffling cutely as you moved to lay your head against her chest. “I love you.”

Wanda smiled again, hands moving downwards to your waist, as a surge of overwhelming love cascaded through her being, filling every inch of her being with a profound sense of warmth and contentment. In that tender embrace, time seemed to stand still, and the outside world faded into insignificance. The soft curve of your back molded perfectly against Wanda's chest, as if you were two puzzle pieces destined to fit together. The steady rise and fall of your breath against her own served as a rhythmic reminder of their intimate connection. Wanda moved to bury her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent, a scent that held the essence of home. She felt the steady beat of your heart beneath her fingertips, a steady cadence that echoed the unwavering love that bound them.

“I can kiss you now, right?” Wanda mumbled into your neck. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your girlfriend couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on her face as your lips turned up into a smile as well, “Kiss me, then.”

“Oh, I will,” she said with a smirk, hands running up and down your waist, feeling you in her hands.

And she did. In that timeless space between breaths, Wanda leaned in, capturing your soft, quivering lips with her own. The world seemed to stand still as your mouths fused in a passionate dance of love and understanding. The taste of your tears mingled, but it was the sweetness of your love that prevailed, a balm that soothed both your souls. As you lingered in the embrace, your lips locked, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the profound beauty of your love.

She loved you forever. And she made sure to prove it to you the whole night, and many more nights to come.

— navigation!