#i’m sorry if your life is difficult without your wife

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[pucksandpower]

Prove Them Wrong

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: when an invitation to your high school reunion arrives, you are ready to throw it in the garbage … but your husband convinces you to go and prove them wrong

Happy Charles Leclerc contract extension day to all who celebrate 🫶

The invitation arrives in the mail on a Tuesday morning. You’ve just finished your coffee and are clearing the breakfast dishes when you see it — that familiar crest imprinted on the thick, creamy stationary. Your five-year high school reunion.

Immediately, your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about high school in years, haven’t had any contact with your classmates in just as long. Those weren’t the easiest years for you. In fact, they were some of the hardest.

You were shy, quiet, a bit awkward. You never quite fit in with the popular crowd, though you longed to. Much of your time was spent alone, lost in books and music, wishing you could break out of your shell. The kids were cruel in their exclusion. You still remember the whispers, the laughter at your expense, the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

After graduation, you left it all behind without a backward glance. You built a new life, one where you finally found your place. You have a successful career, an amazing husband, a beautiful home. You’ve traveled the world, experienced things you could have never imagined as that geeky teen.

Yet holding the invitation in your hands, the old insecurities come flooding back. Could you really face those people again? The ones who looked through you like you were invisible? Who made you feel small?

You’re lost in thought when Charles comes into the kitchen. He kisses your cheek and asks what’s wrong. Wordlessly, you hand him the invitation.

He glances at it and understanding dawns on his face. “Ah, a reunion. I take it you’re not thrilled?”

You shake your head. “I hated high school. The kids were really mean. I don’t know if I can go back there and face them again.”

Charles pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry you went through that, love. Kids can be terribly cruel.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, this might be a good chance to show them how wrong they were about you.”

You give him a skeptical look and he continues. “Think about it — you’re not that shy girl anymore. You’ve accomplished so much, you have an amazing life. Maybe going back will give you some closure. A chance to prove to yourself and to them how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t know ...” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your shoulders, looking into your eyes. “You are an incredible woman. You have nothing to feel insecure about. I know it won’t be easy, but I think this could be good for you. Let them see the strong, successful person you’ve become. And I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. Maybe he’s right. This could be an opportunity to flip the script, to rewrite the ending to that difficult chapter of your life.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Charles grins and pulls you in for a real embrace now. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Over the next few weeks, you have moments of confidence mixed with waves of doubt. Charles is a constant source of reassurance. The night before the reunion, your nerves are frayed.

“What if they’re still awful? What if all those old feelings come rushing back the moment I see them?” You fret as you get ready for bed.

Charles takes your hands, his gaze earnest. “I know you’re scared, chérie. But don’t forget — you’re not alone now. I’ll be by your side the whole time. And if anyone says one nasty thing, we’ll walk right out that door, okay?”

You smile gratefully at him. “Okay. Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

He kisses you softly. “You’ve got this. Get some rest, mon cœur.”

***

In the morning, you take extra care getting ready, donning an elegant dress and styling your hair just so. Looking in the mirror, you remind yourself that you belong in these clothes, in this life.

The reunion is at your old high school, in the gymnasium. As you walk in hand-in-hand with Charles, the smells hit you first — sweat and sneakers, just like you remember. There are balloons and streamers, a table of snacks and drinks. And clustered together, familiar faces you haven’t seen in five years.

Your heart begins to pound. Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he murmurs. Then you lift your chin and step forward to greet your past.

As you scan the room, you recognize faces that used to fill the halls of your high school. Some look familiar, unchanged by the passing years. Others you barely recognize at all.

You steel yourself as a group of giggling girls comes into view — the former popular clique. Lindsay, Heather, and Bethany. Once the queens of the school, rulers of all they surveyed.

Lindsay spots you first. Her overly plumped lips curl into a smirk. “Well, look who it is. Little Y/N Y/L/N.”

You squeeze Charles’ hand tighter as that old childhood instinct to shrink kicks in. But you lift your chin and meet Lindsay’s gaze head-on. “Lindsay. Hello.”

Her eyes flick dismissively over you before landing on Charles. They widen, lips parting. Of course she recognizes him — his face is rarely out of the public eye.

“Y/N!” Bethany exclaims with obviously fake delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

You allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. “Of course. This is my husband, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gives them a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”

The mean girls’ jaws drop in unison. You can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the impressed once-overs they give Charles.

Heather recovers first, plastering on a sycophantic grin. “The pleasure’s all ours! What a lovely surprise.” She touches Charles’ arm lightly. “We would love to catch up and hear all about your life, Y/N.”

You catch Charles’ eye. His lips twitch, seeing right through them.

“That’s kind of you to offer,” you say smoothly. “If you’ll please excuse us, I see some other classmates I’d like to greet.”

You steer Charles away, leaving them sputtering. As soon as you’re out of earshot, he chuckles. “Well, they certainly changed their tune quickly.”

“Once they realized they could get something from me now,” you reply wryly.

You make small talk with a few classmates, keeping it surface-level. Charles’ presence by your side is bolstering. With him here, you’re reminded that you have nothing to prove to these people. Your worth isn’t defined by their approval.

After grabbing drinks, you scan the room again. Your stomach sinks as your eyes land on a familiar figure — Brad Collins. Handsome as ever, surrounded by a gaggle of admirers.

Brad was your biggest crush all through high school. You pined for him secretly, knowing he was way out of your league. He never gave you the time of day — too focused on football, parties, and whichever popular girl caught his eye that week.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks, noticing your expression.

You nod tightly. “My old crush is here.”

Charles spots him and understanding crosses his face. He presses a kiss to your temple. “His loss, mon amour.”

At that moment, Brad looks up and notices you. His stare is cold, dismissive. He says something to his friends and they erupt in laughter, eyes cutting your way.

Your cheeks burn. Some things never change.

Charles’ jaw tightens. He takes your hand firmly and starts steering you toward Brad and his posse.

You glance at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going over to say hello,” he replies calmly.

“Charles, you don’t have to ...”

He silences you with a look. “Trust me.”

You swallow hard and nod. Brad watches you approach with that familiar cocky smirk.

“Well, look who it is,” he drawls as you come to stand before him. “Never thought I’d see you at one of these things, Y/L/N.”

You stare him down unwaveringly. “Yes, well, people can surprise you.”

Brad’s gaze slides to Charles, brows lifting. You can see him trying to place how he might know this handsome, expensively dressed man by your side.

“Brad, this is my husband, Charles Leclerc,” you say sweetly.

Brad’s smirk disappears. His friends gape between you and Charles.

“Husband, huh?” Brad says after a pause, regaining his bravado. “Well, congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you to land a guy like this.”

Fury rises in you, but before you can respond, Charles steps forward. His voice is pleasant but his eyes are steel.

“Clearly you don’t know much about my wife at all. But that’s your loss. I’m the lucky one who gets to experience her incredible heart and mind every day.”

Brad flushes under Charles’ stare. An awkward beat passes.

Charles continues calmly, “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I just hope you realize what an opportunity you missed out on back then. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He turns, guiding you away and leaving Brad speechless behind you. Your eyes shine as you gaze up at Charles.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

He grins. “Feel free to tell me again. And I meant every word.” He nods over at Brad’s group, now whispering furiously. “Hopefully that wipes the smirk off his face.”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss Charles’ cheek. “This turned out to be good advice after all. Thank you for being here, for reminding me who I am now.”

The rest of the reunion passes uneventfully. You mingle, laugh, and share stories with classmates who weren’t part of the toxic popular crowd. They’re welcoming and kind. For the first time, you feel like you’re reconnecting with peers, not tormentors.

As you and Charles get into the car to drive home, you let out a long, satisfied breath. The demons of your past have been conquered for good. You faced your bullies and they’re the ones who were left lacking.

You squeeze Charles’ hand, your heart full of gratitude. “Let’s go home.”

***

The adrenaline rush from the reunion slowly fades as you and Charles drive to your hotel. You lean your head back against the leather seat, letting out a long exhale.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asks, glancing your way.

You consider the question. “Good,” you realize with some surprise. “Really good actually.”

Charles smiles. “I’m glad to hear it.”

You shake your head slowly. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank you for pushing me to face them. It was so empowering to see their reactions, to realize how little I care about their opinions now.”

“You did all the hard work,” he reminds you. “I just gave you a little nudge. I’m so proud of you, chérie.”

Warmth spreads through you at his words. Not for the first time, you feel a rush of gratitude that this man chose you, sees you, loves you exactly as you are.

Once in your suite, Charles makes you a cup of chamomile tea and you curl up together on the couch. You rest your head on his shoulder, replaying the events of the night in your mind.

“Do you think they’ll actually learn anything from tonight?” You ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “All those kids who were so terrible — will seeing me change their perspectives at all?”

Charles considers this, running his fingers idly through your hair. “I’m not sure. Hopefully it gave them something to think about, but some people never grow out of that mindset. The important thing is that you held your head high and didn’t let them make you feel small.”

You nod slowly. “I think if I could go back and tell my teenage self that this night would come, it would have made those years a little more bearable. Knowing I would come through it stronger. That I would have you by my side.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll remind you as often as you need. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’ve always had an inner strength, even if it took time to fully embrace it. Those kids certainly didn’t put it there.”

You smile up at him. “Have I mentioned lately that you always know exactly what to say?”

He chuckles. “Once or twice.”

You talk softly as the evening winds down, the tea warming you from the inside out. Your reunion with the ghosts of high school is finally behind you. It’s time to let go of the last lingering traces they have over you.

Over the next week, life returns to its normal rhythm. You throw yourself back into work, energized by a new sense of confidence and peace. Every day the experience recedes further into the past.

Until the phone call comes.

You’re just sitting down to lunch when your cell lights up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment you simply stare at it, perplexed.

After a brief internal debate, you answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Lindsay chirps in an overly bright voice. “How are you, hon?”

You hold the phone away from your ear, making a face at her faux familiarity. “I’m fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask evenly.

“Well, I was just calling to see if we could get together! You know, have a little reunion of our own. I’d love to catch up outside of that whole silly event.”

You nearly choke on your water. “You would?”

“Of course!” Lindsay laughs airily. “I barely got to talk to you. And I’d love to spend more time with that charming husband of yours ...”

Ah. There it is. You have to stifle an eye roll.

“That’s … kind of you to offer,” you say carefully. “But I’m afraid our schedules are pretty busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find the time!” She presses. “I would love to take you two to dinner. My treat!”

Tempting as that is, you have zero desire to spend more time with this woman, despite her transparent new interest in you.

“Appreciate the invitation, but I’ll have to pass,” you say, your tone final. “Take care, Lindsay.”

You hang up before she can protest further. Shaking your head, you go back to your salad. Some things never change.

When Charles gets home, you regale him with the bizarre phone call. He looks equally astonished.

“She actually asked you to dinner? Just to get closer to me?” He gives an incredulous laugh.

You grin ruefully. “Yep. I guess you made more of an impression than we realized.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. Then his expression turns thoughtful.

“You know what? I think we should take her up on that offer after all.”

You stare at him. “What? Why?”

His eyes glint mischievously. “Because I’d like to make it very clear what I think of people who treat you so poorly. And a free dinner out sounds lovely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his unexpected scheming side. “Look at you, getting all protective and devious! I have to admit, it would be gratifying to knock her off her pedestal a bit more.”

Charles winks. “That’s what I was thinking.”

And so, despite your better judgment, you call Lindsay back and accept her invitation to dinner that weekend.

You take more care than usual getting ready, playing up your most striking features. Charles looks unfairly handsome in his designer suit, hair perfectly tousled just to annoy Lindsay further.

When you arrive at the trendy upscale restaurant she chose, Lindsay is already there waiting. She air-kisses your cheeks in greeting, fawning over you and Charles effusively.

As the meal begins, she dominates the conversation, barely letting you get a word in. She name-drops shamelessly, trying to impress Charles with all her supposed connections.

“Oh Charles, you simply must come stay at our villa in Positano sometime! I’d be happy to arrange it for you both. Anything for Y/N’s hubby!” She titters, touching his arm.

You and Charles exchange subtle amused looks across the table. When the waiter appears for your order, Charles gives him an easy smile.

“My wife will have the scallops and I’ll take the filet. Oh, and send over your most expensive bottle of champagne, please. My treat tonight.”

Lindsay’s smile freezes. You bite back a grin, catching his eye again. Message received.

As dinner winds down, Charles finally turns the tables on her. “So Lindsay, what have you been up to since high school? Y/N tells me you two were quite close.”

Lindsay flushes, flustered. “Oh … well, you know, this and that!” She forces a laugh. “I’m in between ventures at the moment. But I stay very busy with charity work and running in social circles.”

“How lovely for you,” Charles says neutrally. “And your husband? What does he do?”

“I’m, uh, not married,” she mumbles, clearly off-kilter now.

“I see. Well, I’m sure the right man will come along someday.” He smiles placidly. “Everyone deserves to feel that kind of love, don’t you agree?”

Lindsay just nods, face pinched. You stifle a satisfied smile behind your napkin.

Later in the car, Charles grins over at you. “That was entertaining.”

You lean over and kiss his cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best husband ever?”

He laughs. “A few times. But I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[lightlycareless]

I found a picture of Naoya playing the piano and want to show it to you. My fav scene where naoya teaches his wife piano. I love the scene sm 🤭🤭

HIIII how are you!!!!??? Thank you for patience 🥺

Omg thank you so much for sending me this ajkghajgajgs Naoya is a man of many talents, and him using them to brighten your day is 🥺 I'll always hold that scene close to my heart, them bonding together is just 😭 oh, I wish we could have more moments like that.

And we can... I mean, I wrote a little something, like a deviation from what I have planned lol a what if, if you must 😏

warnings: none. fluff. it's based on this fic. now that's a whole can of worms. proceed with caution.

Imagine you deciding to continue your piano lessons after growing somewhat genuinely interested in learning.

After a few sessions you’ve began to show improvement. Sure, you still struggle with certain things, such as jumping from one octave to the other, but anyone could easily admit you were not the same amateur from before.

And yet… there seemed to be something holding you back from taking the next step. You were already a master of twinkle twinkle little star, so why couldn’t you move onto something a bit more difficult?

Well, it was plain simple. Quite obvious, actually, for an outsider that is. Naoya was too blinded by his role as a teacher to even notice.

It was all intentional, made from your desire to keep him close, enjoying the way he’d place his arms around you, his large hands over yours as he guides you into the correct position to play even if you already knew how.

All to keep feeling his breath on your skin, the cologne you now solely associated with him, and you suppose his attention too, especially when you played the shy, tense student that desperately needed the guidance of her sensei.

To voice such ploys made you feel silly, if not selfish, but you didn’t know how to voice your need without feeling embarrassed. You didn’t want to appear needy before a man that is always busy, and yet, here you were, acting as if you’d never seen a piano in your life.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Naoya loves spending time with you, even though seemingly mundane activities. But even he was getting a bit… frustrated with these lessons that were quickly growing repetitive. His perfectionist temperament demanded he’d do everything right, or at least strive for it, naturally extending to you. Obviously for you, the woman whom he wanted to please more than anything in this world.

You showed enough promise, a talent that could be polished if pursued, so why weren’t you advancing?

Was it… him, perhaps? Your actions consequence of his failure as a teacher?

Maybe. Naoya isn’t known for being a particularly good listener, less of an educator. There’s enough witnesses to asses to it.

Your husband just hopes his incapability doesn’t push you away from wanting to learn piano, Naoya would rather die than to cut short these already scarce moments with you.

Though it’s more likely that he’ll do that anyways, a well-prepared teacher appears to be a better alternative.

“… but I don’t get it. Maybe there’s something I’m not seeing.” Naoya frowns, adjusting his position near you and taking your hands with him once more, hoping that it’ll come to him. The solution to your problem.

He sighs when it doesn’t. For the nth time. Maybe he is a bad teacher after all.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll be able to teach you anymore.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m just having a tough time figuring out how to help you.” Naoya laments. “I may have underestimated my skills.”

You know what they say, the best way to check if you know something is by teaching it to someone else. Something like that, or so he’s heard.

“Don’t say that I think you’re doing great!” You encouraged, looking over to Naoya and his deep frown, evidence of the frustration your little ploy has inflicted on him. Had you known he would be so affected by it you would’ve gone easier with your obliviousness…

And yet, it was endearing to see your impact on him. How hard he was trying to make things work for you—you still couldn’t believe how much of an influence you had on him, even if he’s already proved the lengths he was willing to go to make you happy.

…Like the protective husband he swore to be on your wedding day.

“You don’t have to mock me, mochi” Naoya insists. “I think you’d be better off with an actual teacher if you still want to learn.”

You do, but…

“…I want you.” You murmur, so lowly, so… sweetly, that Naoya had to double check he heard you right the first time around, quickly swirling his head onto your direction, frozen the moment your doe-like, hypnotizing eyes, those he could never get enough of, landed on his, with such intensity that let him know it was all true.

The purpose you were attempting to convey many lessons ago instantly becoming clear to him. The intentions you were too shy to speak out loud, but not enough to sway you from trying, an unknown edge of yours that had him both impressed and absorbed.

One never stops knowing their partner, do they?

What an enthralling thought to have.

“Is that so?” He murmurs back, leaning closer to you. “You’d be fine with someone like me as your teacher, princess?”

“I couldn’t think of anyone… better.” You blush. And though intimidated by his piercing gaze, you persisted. When you once cowered away, you now wished to be the only person his eyes saw.

“Then I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Maybe it’s because he was within your reach, or because you had enough of going around in circles, whatever it was, you couldn’t hold back anymore; and with the noise of your heart deafening your ears, you lean closer to him, removing the gap between the two and placing your lips over his. Gently, sweetly, like it was your first time, and took him in—sealing your newfound sentiments with a kiss he’s long been dreaming of.

So much that he’s almost in disbelief, remaining still as he tries his best to both contain his excitement, heart ready to burst through his chest, hands itching to pull you closer and keep you there, afraid that the moment he peels away you’ll disappear, just as he’s forced you to through the beginning of this marriage.

Naoya too felt like it was the first time he’s ever kissed anyone—perhaps kissed anyone with love. With that soft warmth he could only label as true love. What he feels for you now, has always been so, and hopefully, you too.

After a few seconds, much to Naoya’s dismay, you’re the first one to separate, slowly pulling away and opening your eyes to the sight of your flustered husband, the adorable face of a man that has dreamed of this day for god knows how long, giving you the impression (alongside a sense of guilt) that maybe you should’ve been a bit more direct with your actions.

Though how everything came to be… wasn’t that bad.

“You didn’t have to go through all that, you know?” Naoya teases, his attempt to cool down the heat on his cheeks. “If you just wanted to kiss me, you just had to say so.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you joke back, and he smirks, letting out a chuckle. “…But I guess I shouldn’t have wasted your time.”

“Being with you is no waste of time.”

Now it’s your turn to grow speechless, face red, perhaps even more than Naoya’s, due to the vast, unexpected sweetness of his words, and the overwhelming embarrassment it provided you, leading you to cover your face with your hands and making him laugh even louder.

“You don’t need to act this way with me, love.” Naoya says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “We’ve done more… heated things, after all. This is nothing.”

“Oh, stop it! Is that your way of comforting me?!” You gasp, burying your face deeper into his chest.

“It is the truth, love. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“You know well I wasn’t referring to that” you murmur. “…but… do you really feel that way…?”

“I’d give you the whole world if you asked.”

But even if you didn’t, he was going to do so, because he has long sworn in his own life that he’d do everything in his power to make up for all the wrongdoings he’s inflicted upon you. His best to erase the vile acts he did when he called himself your so-called husband.

For as long as it takes, all of his lifetime if so needed, and the next one, and the next one.

“I think I’ll be happy just to hear you play the piano for now.” You eventually add. “If you don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’m all yours today—”

“And...” you interrupt, Naoya blinks.

“And?”

“If I can kiss you again.” You say, shyly looking up to him. “If you want…”

“Hm, I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

“How do I do that?” you tilt your head.

“By giving me a kiss for each time you had me going around in circles.”

With unprecedented speed, you quickly grabbed his face and begging to pepper kisses all over his face, Naoya more than happy that you were, and a bit startled too.

“Wait, Y/N—did you even want to learn how to play??” He rightfully concludes.

“A bit, I guess.” You giggle. “But really I just wanted to be with you.”

Naoya immediately succumbs to your gestures soon after that, putty on your hands as he lets himself be appreciated by the woman of his dreams, the love of his life—the owner of his heart.

Your heart squeezes with longing. Who knew Naoya could be this… adorable? So sweet, you didn’t have the heart to deny him—

Nor would you, setting to live out the rest of your life as his wife.

For good, this time.

I always liked the idea of you being able to feel Naoya's heart. Like, how fast it is beating because of how happy he is with you 🥺 Thankfully I do have another prompt with that exact same situation, though it's a HS au. Also, this is not their fated kiss I owe y'all, I think what I have planned is much better 😏 (or so I hope)

Now, thank you so much for waiting for my answer 🥺 I'm still slowly but surely working through them requests :> I always appreciate whenever you send me something (so don't be afraid of sharing more hehe)

Take care and hope to see you soon!!

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#8: The Last Letter (1.01)

gif cred: @vidco

Rick's 'last' letter to Michonne made my heart break into a million pieces. It was beautiful and devastating and also a major testament to the way Richonne’s love was the pulse of Rick’s life and without Michonne, that pulse essentially came to a stop 😢...

But backtracking a bit, after that powerfully acted scene between Rick and Okafor, Rick sits alone in his apartment with a drink as he stares out the window and again looks like he loathes the window's constant reminder that he’s stuck far from home.

I just know whenever Rick comes back to that cold bare apartment he would so rather come home to a home with toys on the ground, paintings on the fridge, his wife’s cat statue on the mantle - any signs that his home is the home of his family. The apartment reflects his emptiness and it’s clear he resents being here stripped of being a husband and father which is what he loved being more than anything.

This scene also always makes me think perhaps on this very night, an adorable little boy with Rick’s good kind heart is sitting at a dinner table asking the love of Rick’s life for more tomatoes, while Rick is forced to sit in this apartment alone, looking fine and depressed with just a drink to nurse his woes. He should be at those family dinners right now with Michonne, RJ, and Judith. The CRM has to burn for taking this from him. 😞

Rick, clearly a little buzzed from his drink is about to get up when Pearl urgently enters. And she enters without knocking to which I was like Thorne, ma'am…

She tells Rick to turn on the TV and they see that Omaha has been destroyed. Pearl is understandably overcome by this news.

She then expresses a lot of belief in the CRM and their secrets and how the CRM is the answer to creating a future and Rick looks up at her sorta just checked out. You can tell it's difficult for him to be present at this moment after his whole hope of going home has been completely crushed by the previous Okafor exchange.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Pearl gives him more info about the little girl that he saved and then she says, “You and me and that girl…we all want to be somewhere else with someone else” and Rick again has a quiet emotional reaction as he turns away from her with tears in his eyes. Bringing up Michonne & Judith with these CRM people is always a sensitive thing for him.

Pearl adds, “But we got stuck in the right place” and Rick doesn’t look at her but tilts his head and reacts like he clearly disagrees with that assessment. If this place doesn’t have Michonne and Judith it can never be the right place. 

She then says Rick is gonna see that this was for the best someday and she says she’s not sorry she stopped him, stating, “I’m not sorry I saved your life, even when you didn’t want it to be saved.”

gif cred: @twdfranchise

And the way Rick looks at her. He has this weary smile as he lets her know point blank, “You didn’t save my life.” First, he’s like don’t be taking credit for Michonne’s work lol. Michonne truly saved his life and every one of his kids' lives. She's the one who brought Rick back time and time again. 

Also I think Rick feels like if I can’t go home then I don’t have a life to live really, let alone a life to save.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

It seems the way Rick sees it, Pearl just helped play a part in keeping him stuck here permanently.

And it’s super interesting how he delivers all this with a drained smile because I think he knows what he’s contemplating right now and is pretty resolved to go through with it. Almost like he’s coming to terms with the fact that he doesn’t plan on living much longer so Pearl didn’t save his life because he’s seriously considering taking it after enduring such painful hopeless circumstances.

But Pearl begs to differ saying, “Yes I did.” She takes a sip of Rick’s drink without asking and then breaks the glass on his floor which again…imma need her to chill throwing glasses around Rick. Idc if it’s your schtick, Pearl, it’s a hazard.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Before leaving Pearl says, “At least there’s one more good man in the world, hmm? One more good man to try and save the world…whether he wants to or not.” This was Rick getting yet another reminder that even though he doesn't want power, power wants him.

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Pearl leaves and we’re brought back to the teaser moment as Rick sits alone and nears ending it all by his own hand. Which I’ve discussed this scene in the first TOWL post, but just to add - now knowing the exact circumstances that led him to this point, when he looks out the window and at the drawing of Michonne it just feels like he’s thinking 'I really won’t ever see her again outside of these sketches.' 🥺

Like he had probably fought so hard to never even entertain the idea of not seeing Michonne again because, like his wife, he too tries to not fantasize about failing. But now, that very possible reality of never seeing her again has sunk in and it's killing him.

gif cred: @vidco

And as he stares out the window at the view of the city that he hates, he seems to be accepting that this might be the last view he has.

This city that’s supposed to promise its residents a new life is the very reason Rick wants to take his. 😞

With the glass shard from the cup Pearl threw placed to his neck, Rick then has flashes of memories from his childhood home burning and, while we don’t know it at this time, it becomes clear these memories popped into his head at this moment because it’s a reminder of the sacrifice his dad made for their family.

And now Rick is going to make the ultimate sacrifice for his family. Deciding to stay alive to save the world for his girls all while feeling dead inside without them.

source: myobsessionsspace

So then begins Rick’s last soul-crushing letter to Michonne. 💔

The scene cuts to Rick waking up alone in bed for his first official day as the walking dead. It says a lot about Rick’s resilience that it took five years before he ever became this broken.

But he’s only human and can only take so much (especially without the family that fuels him) and so now he’s arrived at what he believes is the point of no return, no returning home that is. And as he wakes in this bed, you just know he’d give anything to return to the mornings when he’d wake up to his arms wrapped around Michonne. 

Rick says, “I thought about ending it. Just stopping it all.” And I think it’s moving how he even wanted Michonne to know the darkest places he went to. Like she gets access to even his suicidal thoughts. He says, “But then…then it would all just be for nothing, wouldn’t it?” I like that he poses it as a question, even if rhetorical. He knows Michonne would say the answer is yes and would be so glad he didn’t go through with it.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Also, the survivor and protector in him wouldn’t let him go through with it because if he can in someway still save his girls from afar he’s going to try.

He says, “All of it for nothing. I couldn’t do it” and Rick’s face and the vulnerable delivery and breathing within this letter is so well executed and just makes my heart ache.

We see him writing the letter and I really like the detail of him having a ton of pages ripped out of the notebook. It goes to show he’s been writing a whole bunch to Michonne over the years. 

Then we enter the depths of despair with Rick as he says, “But I still decided to die. I’ve been writing you letters the whole time. Reaching out to feel something. Writing just to imagine you could read them.” Ok I’m crying. 😭 Like that’s so beautiful and painful and I appreciate that Rick is so aware that connecting with Michonne in any way possible is the only way he can feel alive here.

gif cred: @taiturner

Seeing him write in that chair with his hand missing, just knowing he’s been through so much hardship and pain alone...y’all it’s too much. 😭 

When Rick says, “This is my last one, the last letter I write to you that you’ll never see” the first time I heard it and every time after my heart just drops. I was shattered because this was him feeling forced to close the door on her and him in a way I’d never want to see. 🥺 Had me fully like...

After that Okafor exchange, Rick has finally accepted that all his hope of telling Michonne all this in person one day might be futile.

It’s also very poignant to have this letter occur over a montage of Rick restoring an office and moving up the ranks. As he declutters the conference room and becomes more involved in the CRM machine, he’s building things for them and bringing their vision to life while he himself dies inside. It’s a tragic and impactful contrast. 

Then Rick says what he’ll say a total of three times throughout this one letter - “I love you.” 🥺

I adore hearing him tell her 'I love you,' especially while under these sorrowful circumstances. He says it so certain, like it’s something he knows will never change nor fade even if he has to be dead now and give up on seeing her.

gif cred: @candiedblue

Something I’ve said in many of my posts is all versions of Rick love Michonne. It’s just the truth. And even Dead Rick - the Rick who has had to shut himself off and feel nothing to survive as the walking dead - even he still loves Michonne. In fact, it’s like now all he is is love for her and their daughter and there’s no other part of his humanity he entertains or recognizes anymore. 

By saying 'I love you' at this moment it’s him saying even tho this is the last letter, it’s not at all because he doesn’t love her. In actuality, it’s the last letter because he loves her so passionately that if he doesn’t kill the parts of himself that long to escape and be with her then he knows he’ll always try to get to her and he believes that will only put her in danger. So in a way, like Okafor, he too had to kill the idea of being with his wife. But even so, he still wants Michonne to know over and over that he still loves her. 

Rick says, “I don’t see the dead anymore or the ones I lost.” This will come into play big time in the immaculate fourth episode. And it’s such a traumatizing thing to realize you don’t see anyone you love anymore. That would make you lose yourself entirely. 😞 So Rick's super forlorn, I'm super verklempt, it's a lot. And the letter only grows more devastating as it goes on.

The most painful part of this letter for me is when Rick devastatingly says he also doesn’t see the sun, the sky, or the water and “I don’t see you anymore.” 😭😭😭😭

The way he says that. 😥 The way his voice breaks just a bit saying 'anymore,' knowing that it was seeing Michonne that was keeping him going before this. 🥺

So many of us have always said that when Rick looks at Michonne he sees the sun, the moon, and the stars, and his whole universe. And sure enough, Rick confirms that here by saying if he can’t see her anymore he literally can’t see anything anymore - no sunlight to lead the way, no sky to reach new horizons, no water to cleanse the pain.

He can’t see any of those things in nature because it was Michonne who lit his path like the sun, who made him rise up higher than the sky, who washed away his fears and pain and replaced it with hope and joy. Their love was an electrifying life source and without her, he can't live and the whole world goes dark.

And I firmly believe that this is such an accurate in-character response from Rick. Like this isn’t something he’s saying because TOWL is an epic love story so they have to dramatically play up their romance and yearning - no this is truly how deep Richonne’s love goes and has always gone, to the point that Rick could see his entire world fade to black without the hope of having her in it. 

gif cred: @perryabbott

Rick says, “I just see what’s ahead” and when his voice breaks as he says this it feels like his heart is breaking finally accepting that being with her is no longer what’s ahead. Now what’s ahead is far more cold and bleak as he says, “metal rotors, and gun oil and blood.” The beauty of nature replaced with the dark lifeless things of this apocalypse.

It’s interesting because you’d think when the world ended and turned into an apocalypse all those years ago, that’s when all you’d see ahead is blood and guns. But Richonne and their family managed to carve out such a beautiful life that it wasn’t until Rick lost them that he stopped seeing the good and beauty in the apocalyptic world.

And my heart melts over how this implies that part of why Rick could still see the sun, sky, water, and beauty in the world all those years ago was because he was with Michonne. 

Rick goes on saying that all he sees is “What I have to do, what I can do to help save the world even if you never know I did that.” An ultimate act of sacrifice.

And then the greatest loverboy to ever walk the earth says, “I love you so much. I love you so so much.” And what I love so so much is the way he has to tell her this and emphasize it. 😭 Like you can just feel that as Rick writes this last letter he’s still so overcome with love for her and all he wants is to let Michonne know she still has his entire heart. Even the dead version of his heart is hers.

I'll forever adore hearing this. It made me think about how we went from being so eager to hear Rick say I love you just once in TWD to now hearing him say it three times in one letter in the first ep of this miniseries. TOWL is a blessing in every way. And the way he repeats it in this letter it really feels like he could say 'i love you' 100 times and he wouldn’t feel like it was enough to convey all the love he has for her.

Rick burns the phones and letters as he tells Michonne he loves her so much. And seeing him burn those, I was like...

One; I wanted Rick to still be able to keep those phones just to have some bit of his girls with him. And two; I was like Rick, your wife is on her way to save you and I want her to have the chance to read all your letters like you hoped she would. Like I really wanted Michonne to be able to read those letters one day - especially because, while she'll later say it in a moment of tension, Rick really is a great writer. 😊

This last letter right here would have Shakespeare applauding Rick. Even tho maybe it's good Michonne never got this letter because it would be absolutely heartbreaking for her to read. But I just love that Rick earnestly and honestly pours his heart out to Michonne so romantically in words. This was yearning at its strongest.

But Rick burns these items because he believes he has to burn this hope of being with them for their sake. Plus, these phones and letters are essentially what got him “caught” by Okafor in a way so he’s getting rid of the rest to not risk any more exposure again. But also, these phones are what got Michonne to realize Rick is alive so they did more good than damage.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As he burns the phones and letters it’s Rick following his dad and grandpa's footsteps and adopting the mindset that sometimes it's for the best to die and live and it’s an act of protection to let things burn, no matter how painful the sacrifice. And honestly, this is a huge act of love from Rick because he’s literally dying for his wife and daughter. Ending his life to save theirs - something he's always been willing to do as evidenced by the bridge sacrifice.

And as fire is one of the most prominent motifs in TOWL, I really like the theme of it for its duality. Fire both cleanses and destroys and Rick will wrestle with figuring out which one he does on this TOWL journey.

The most heartbreaking letter in history then concludes with Rick saying, “I tried. Please just know I tried.” as he stares into the fire, watching the flames burn away the last few parts of the Rick he once knew.

He so longs for Michonne to know just two things: 1) he loves her with everything in him and 2) he tried as hard as he could for her.

But as hard as he tried, things just haven’t worked out so he ends the letter saying one more time in a broken whisper “I tried…but I failed.” And well if TOWL wanted to shatter my heart then mission accomplished because this letter never fails to break me. By the end of this letter Rick and I were in the same boat because I was watching like...

It’s hard enough to know Rick decided to die while still alive. Like that’s such a painful choice. Especially because choosing to die is different than choosing to become numb imo. You can still technically 'feel' numbness, but when you decide to live but die, you stop feeling anything, not even numbness. You shut off your humanness just to get through the pain.

And since our humanness switch is never meant to be turned off it’s no easy feat to turn it back on. Speaking from experience, once you shut off that switch, sure you stop feeling the pain but you stop feeling everything else too and it takes time and a lot of love to turn it back on. Like even love almost becomes a 'concept' more than a feeling because you're so alienated from having love in your life.

Fortunately, the woman who loves Rick more than he’s ever been loved is on her way to love him back to life. And thank goodness, because Rick needs Michonne desperately.

But then on top of all this, the aspect that makes this last line of the letter so heartrending is Rick didn’t just die but feels he died a failure.

Every day that Rick struggled to break free and had to live knowing his wife and daughter were out there and he couldn’t hold them, protect them, or love them added such a painful layer to his sense of failure. And it’s heartbreaking to hear his final letter conclude not by saying he tried but just couldn’t escape the oppressive CRM, but rather “I tried, but I failed.” It gives us insight into how much Rick’s mindset is that he is the cause of the failure.

He thinks this is on him and feels he’s let them down. He didn’t just ‘die’ disappointed, he thinks he ‘died’ a failure even despite really being a victim of his circumstances. And when I tell you that breaks my heart. It really really does. 💔

And now Rick just has to live dead and thinking he fell short of the one thing he thought he’d never fall short of which is finding his way back to his family.

That has to change him on a foundational level -thinking he’s failed and let his family down by not being able to overcome the CRM and get to them. I hate that he had to carry that false thought that he’s a failure for so long. 

This letter also shows that Rick is the literal embodiment of loving his wife more than life itself. He feels there is no version of him that can be alive without her so he has to die. And even dead, he knows he'll still always love Michonne which makes this outcome a punishment worse than death because at least in death you don't have to be aware of your loss. 😞

But let me stop here because...

I'll conclude by saying - Rick's last letter was painfully beautiful and tragically romantic. I love that his love for Michonne makes him want to write poetry and prose about how he feels about her and how much she means. I get it because Richonne’s love has me writing for days too. 😇

After this letter, I so needed a reminder of the light at the end of this super dark tunnel and once again, Rick’s dreams came to the rescue to deliver in all ways. 🙌🏽

I mean this next scene delivered Richonne, it delivered gorgeous chemistry, and also it delivered pizza and a ‘proposal’ so naturally it’s my favorite scene of the episode. 😊👌🏽

[or0ch1maru]

Could you write an angst to fluff fic where mihawks wife gets injured and maybe he's like depended on her and now he has to manage while she is maybe in a comatose state with a happy ending

hiii babes :3

I would just like to start this by thanking all of who wished me a happy birthday yesterday. My day at work was great, and I gifted myself 2 pairs of hello kitty sneakers ^.^

Warnings: none

Let’s get into it🫵🏻

•

-you and Mihawk met a few years back. Running into each other after being set after the same bounty. And neither of you have looked back since.

-married life has been great, your husband being the absolute best man. Treating you with such care, love, and respect.

-both of you sharing the household duties, cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc.

-Mihawk always called you his sunshine, as no matter what, you always brought light into his heart. Which, over time, caused him to be more and more open about his past, and, his feelings

-which many would say is rare. No one living long enough to see any other type of reaction from him besides his usual stoicism

-but you, you got it all and a part of him knew he’d become dependent on your love that he’s not really sure to handle the situation he finds himself in currently

-both of you got called to handle a rather ‘difficult’ bounty as the marines put it. And things were going well until your opponent got the upper hand on you

-causing you to miss calculate your neck move and resulting in you being in a comatose state.

-Mihawk’s private doctor said you’ll come out of it, it just depends on when. He unfortunately wasn’t sure. It was a waiting game

-you had your own private room set up in the castle, being hooked up to this and that. A nurse would come by everyday to check in on you and handle a few things

-Mihawk would stand in the doorway every time like clock work. Watching as she tends to you

-it’s only at night, when it’s just you and him that he sits in the chair beside your bed and talks to you. He’s unsure if you can hear him but he doesn’t care. He speaks all his worries, about how much he misses and needs you. Scared that he won’t be able to do this much longer without you

-explaining that he’d wait as long as you need for you to come out of this. As long as he gets to hear your voice, witness your smile, be able to feel you touch and hug him back

-during the day, he keeps himself busy. Cleaning, reading, paperwork, more reading, going into town to shop, buying things for you, anything to keep his mind preoccupied

-he has good days and bad, most of them blending together

-poor guy has used dissociating to get through most of this as he truly doesn’t know how to come to terms without you

-the castle is too quiet, he misses hearing your sweet voice bouncing off the walls when you call for him, or when you come bounding down the hallway towards his office to ‘annoy’ him

-when he’s tossing and turning in your shared bed, he has one of your shirts or hoodies with him. One that has the scent of your perfume lingering on it. Which eventually gets him to sleep

-now, today has been a particularly difficult day for Mihawk. Marines constantly on his ass, giving him shit for not handling every single bounty they’ve been giving him. It annoys him as they know of his personal situation and don’t show any sort of respect towards it

-so by the time he gets back home, his mood is sour. He stands in the doorway, watching you as the nurse tends to you once again

-“any change?” He asks, and even though he already knew the answer. Watching the nurse shake her head and reply with her usual “no, I’m sorry”, is when the damn breaks

-no one has seen him cry, you witnessed a single tear roll down his cheek the day you two wed but that’s it

-he waits until the aid is gone for the night and that’s when the tears come flowing. Hard, and heavy.

-he’s sitting at his desk, his chest heaving as he tries catching his breath, and every time he thinks he’s calming down, more tears come

-Mihawk doesn’t realize it’s a panic attack, as it’s his first time experiencing one since he was a boy

-this goes on for hours, before he eventually falls asleep at his desk, his forehead resting against his forearms. A single hand resting on the photograph he keeps on his desk

-but he’s jerked awake around 3am. At first he thinks it’s a dream when he heard your voice from the room next door

-but when he hears a choked “baby?” He almost falls from his chair

-he wastes no time running into the room you’ve been treated in all this time

-and that’s when he sees you. Your eyes open, a look of confusion on your face as you take in the tubes you’ve been hooked up too

-“my love?” Are the first words that fall from his mouth and he nearly collapses when you look over at him. A small smile forming on your face when you see your husband

-as bad as he wants to run over to where you’re laying and hug you. He keeps himself composed. Approaching the bed slowly, sitting down beside you

-his large hand engulfs yours. His thumb rubbing circles against the inside of your wrist.

-after asking if you’re okay, and giving you some water, he catches you up on everything that’s happened the entire time you’ve been out

-you can see the toll this has taken on him and you feel horrible. You’re so used to your strong and composed husband, that seeing how stressed his been breaks you

-your free hand comes up, cupping his cheek. Something you’ve done during the entirety of your relationship. He instinctively nuzzles into your palm and that’s when he begins to cry

-you’re slow with your movements, being careful as you sit yourself up before having him climb onto the mattress beside you. Your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him against your side as you hold him

-listening to his broken sentences of how scared he’s been and unsure.

-he stays there for a long time before lifting his head to look at you. Pressing his lips to yours after not feeling you kiss back in what felt like forever to him

-“maybe it’s time that I retire.” You murmur against his lips before kissing him again. You’d hate to have something like this happen a second time.

-you never liked seeing your husband worried, let alone about yourself.

-“I think I might just join you.”

•

Okayyyyyy so it’s been a while since I’ve written any angst so I apologize if this isn’t great😭😭

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (9/22)

Chapter summary: Several weeks later, an unfortunate situation drives Wanda to seek you out, only to be met with someone she least expects.

Chapter word count: 9k

Pairing: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader (heavy in this chapter)

Author's note: And we start the second phase :)

Next chapter: Ten

AO3 | Masterlist 

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife

-

Nine

Five Weeks Later

“By the power invested in me, by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The minister reads from his pamphlet without as much as a glance to the enamored audience.

Wanda hadn’t known that she was going to attend a wedding near the start of autumn; if she had, she’d have been more than ready with an ensemble that’s appropriate for both the event and the cold season. To be fair, Pietro hadn’t known either. Just a week ago, Shannon surprised him with a date, a venue, and a business card of some designer that she commissioned to provide Pietro’s suit for the ceremony. Wanda might have considered it a trap if it hadn't been for the fact that Pietro was the one on his knees with a ring a year ago. Shannon had simply grown tired of his excuses and took matters into her own hands. Wanda still thinks it’s a colossal mistake but his history with women and commitments tracks. She just wants to know how many more of these she’ll have to attend for the rest of her life. 

“You may kiss the–”  

The minister is cut off by Pietro diving in for a sloppy kiss, and the small crowd of thirty people cheer the newly weds. Wanda claps for the sake of being a good attendant. She almost feels sorry for Shannon, but if she wanted this, she probably wanted it for the wrong reasons. 

And, well, karma is a bitch.

Having been sober for exactly thirty-two days, Wanda’s been nursing the same mocktail she’s had before the start of the program, and she finds it difficult to enjoy anything that’s watered-down. A longing to light a cigarette tugs at her, but the establishment's strict no-smoking policy extends even to the outdoor gardens. Pietro asked that she stays until the party’s over, and knowing how much her presence means to him, she reluctantly agreed. 

“Stop brooding at my wedding, for god’s sake.”

It’s Shannon, dressed in her second gown, a simpler one that makes it hard to tell her apart from her bridesmaids.

"Hi, Shannon," Wanda drawls, swirling the tiny ice left in her rocks glass.

"It's Mrs. Maximoff now," Shannon mutters proudly, displaying both her wedding and engagement rings.

Wanda hides her grimace behind her drink. “Try not to get used to it though. I’m pretty sure you’re aware that there had been two other Mrs. Maximoffs in his past.”

“Don’t sass me on my wedding day, it’s just disrespectful.”

“Point taken. I’d offer to get you a drink, but I think that’s just gonna push the stick further up your ass.” 

Shannon sourly responds with one of her signature fake smiles, but Wanda can see through the facade. She takes pride in having hit a nerve.

Taking the seat next to her, much to Wanda's dismay, Shannon changes the subject. "Anyway, your ex-wife is doing exceptionally well at our company. She's managed to turn around all the bad practices that have been going on for ages."

Wanda’s brows stitch together in confusion. “Your company?”

“Stark Industries.” Shannon says, taking a sip of Wanda’s untouched water.

The revelations throw her off. You didn't appear too thrilled when Wanda saw you right after your interview, so she had assumed you either didn’t get the position or you passed up on the opportunity. But what surprised her even more was discovering that someone like Shannon held a high-ranking position at a popular tech company–which now explains where the extreme confidence comes from.

Shannon smirks. “Don’t look so surprised that I work for the number one company in the world.” 

“Number one?” Wanda scoffs, rubbing her nose with her middle finger. “Hardly. And why are you keeping tabs on her?”

“She works in my department and I interviewed her. She was a disaster, by the way,” Shannon says. “But her references were solid. I mean, Scott Lang? I hired her solely by his recommendation.”

Wanda can't help but smile at the mention of Scott, reminiscent of the old days when she used to host dinners for your boss and your co-workers. She doesn’t, however, dwell this time about the people you’ve brought with you when you walked out of her life. The reality is, people take sides, and rightfully, they have chosen yours. 

"I'm happy for her. She's brilliant and hardworking. You won't regret having her on your team," Wanda says softly, her voice a little bittersweet; she remembers a time when she used to be the first one to know every little thing about you, and it's a feeling she misses.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re hearing this just now?” Shannon smacks her lips together and then fixes her lipstick that has stained the rim of her drink. “I thought I saw you at our lobby right after her interview.” Shannon gives her a knowing look, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and malice. It's as if she's perfectly aware of the unspeakable things you did to Wanda that day.

"Y-You did?" Wanda stammers, her blood rushing to her face.

“I assumed you were seeing each other again. You looked like a lost little housewife in your little jeans and little shirt.”

“I stopped by to bring her food. I didn’t know I had to dress up for that.”

“How sweet,” Shannon says, though her tone is barely mocking. “Well, if you’re not back together, then I have a piece of information you might find useful.”

Wanda leans back on her chair and crosses her arms in front of her. “And what makes you think I’m interested?”

“Because despite my wrong assumptions earlier, it’s clear that you’re still head over heels in love with her,” Shannon says. “Or am I wrong?”

Wanda looks away and takes a sip of her watered-down mocktail and tries to hide the displeasure on her face. 

Shannon takes this as her cue to continue. “She recently changed her address in our database. I know because those things usually undergo my approval.”

You moved out? Wanda hadn't attempted to contact you, but while running errands for her cafe, she had found herself in your area a couple of times. Each time, she observed that your curtains were drawn and the lights in the living room were always turned off.

Wanda looks on quietly as Shannon reaches into her purse, retrieves an eye pencil, and grabs a napkin from the table. With deliberate movements, she begins to scribble on the napkin.

“Here,” Shannon hands Wanda the napkin with your address scrawled neatly on it. “You’re welcome.”

Wanda hesitantly accepts it, and then asks, “Why are you doing this?”

"Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic," Shannon shrugs, though the glint in her eye betrays her nonchalant demeanor. It almost penetrates Wanda’s defenses, but then she says, “Or I’m supporting your unhealthy obsession knowing it won’t lead anywhere.”

Wanda finds herself laughing. Unlike Pietro, Shannon had never treated Wanda delicately, even after her hospitalization. She finds it oddly refreshing and, in a peculiar way, endearing.

Shannon adopts a small, awkward smile herself. 

“Fair enough.” Wanda says, folding the napkin carefully before putting it inside her bag.

Shannon gets up and runs her palms over the creases on her gown. “Good luck, Wanda. I’m sure you’ll be needing a lot of it.” 

Pietro finds her in the gardens, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. The nighttime breeze isn’t particularly chilly, but Wanda’s always been susceptible to the cold regardless of the season. He looks particularly dashing in the dark blue suit that Shannon picked for him; and with his hair back to its natural brunette color, the similarities between them have become uncanny once again.

“Sorry about that.” Pietro mutters as he approaches.

Wanda tilts her head at him, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Sorry about what?" she quips, her voice laced with humor. "You mean this wedding?"

Pietro laughs and then shakes his head. “I saw you talking to Shannon and I could tell you weren’t having the best time.”

Wanda doesn't hold back as she speaks her mind. "She's still a bitch," she says bluntly, not mincing her words. "No offense."

“Do I hear fondness in the way you said ‘bitch’?” 

“Not a chance.”

“Between me and her, you forget I’m actually the asshole, right? I know she told you I cheated on her countless times.” Pietro says, somewhat seriously.

“You are,” Wanda says. “But I stand by what I said.”

Pietro sighs. “Anyway, I’m not here to negotiate how you feel towards my wife. I’m here to say goodbye.”

Wanda sobers at that. She’s been so used to having her brother in the same city, a call and a cab away. 

“You’re returning to LA?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Pietro confirms with a nod. 

“Doesn’t she work at Stark Industries?”

“Oh, did I tell you that?” 

“She told me a while ago.” Wanda says.

“She can work remotely,” Pietro explains. “And she prefers doing that from our home in LA.”

The wind begins to pick up, its gentle breeze evolving into a stronger gust. The air becomes alive, stirring the surroundings and causing leaves to dance and swirl in a mesmerizing display. 

Wanda sweeps her hair back from her face, and asks, “Tell me, honestly, why did you stay here for so long? Even before the–” Wanda finds herself having difficulty naming the accident she had more than a month ago. 

But if there’s something she’s learned from therapy so far, it’s that confronting her inner demons requires acknowledging their existence.

“Before my overdose.” Wanda finishes, managing to keep her tone even.

Pietro regards her with a tender look that conveys his immense pride in her recent growth and progress.

“At first, I just wanted to check in on you,” he says, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “And when I saw you and the cafe, I thought ‘see, she doesn’t need you’. But at the same time I also realized it was me–I needed you.”

Pietro pauses and rubs the back of his neck–something he does a lot when he’s trying not to be emotional. 

"I missed you, Wands. These past few months, I've felt more like myself than I have in years. I know I'm free to visit you anytime, even when you and Y/N were still together, but it's just not the same when–"

“–when it’s just us.” Wanda finishes for him, her voice thick with emotions that her brother is trying so hard to hold at bay.

“Yeah. I had a really great time with you here, it was good to be home after so many years.”

“LA is your home.” Wanda reminds him. 

"You're my family, Wands," Pietro says, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a warm side hug. "You're my home too."

“I love you, Piet.” 

“I love you too, sis,” Pietro says. “I’m rooting for you–your happiness. Whether it’s with Y/N or someone else or no one. You deserve to be happy. You have a big heart–I know this because you love me just as I am.”

“Then why don’t you just stay here so we can be close to each other all the time?” Wanda sniffs. So many losses. So many changes. Wanda craves normalcy and consistency–things you used to provide in her life with your steady presence.

“Shannon’s family lives in LA, and we’ve already talked about settling there once we’re married.”

Wanda shakes her head, smiling in contempt.

Pietro notices the change in her demeanor and starts rubbing her arm in comfort. “Don’t blame Shannon for this. I suggested it because she’s more comfortable living there if we’re going to start a family.”

“You’re already talking about babies? Piet, that’s a huge step.” she says.

Pietro falls into a thoughtful silence, weighing the decision of whether to share the news with Wanda now or wait a little longer. However, the anticipation and joy of becoming a father soon overpowers his doubts.

With a burst of excitement, he finally speaks up. "Actually, she's pregnant."

"Wow," Wanda exclaims, embracing him tightly, more than thrilled at the news. But as suspicion creeps in, she pulls away abruptly. "Hold on, is that why you rushed into marriage? Because she's pregnant?"

“No. She actually just told me last night, as a wedding gift.” Pietro says. 

“I’m going to be an aunt?” Wanda giggles. “I mean, congratulations! You’re going to be a dad!”

"Thank you, Wands," Pietro says, returning the hug.

Wanda pauses for a moment, a realization dawning on her. "I should stop being mean to her," she admits.

Pietro chuckles. "My advice is to take everything she says or does with a grain of salt."

Wanda's expression softens. "I'm going to miss you, you know? Your future kid, and, fuck it–even Shannon. I'll try to visit this Christmas, okay?"

"You better. I already got you plane tickets."

“Oh, and Piet?”

“Yep?”

“I’ll cut your balls off if you cheat on your wife again this time. Not because she’s having your child, but because it’s… not normal. It’s fucked up. We’re fucked up. The stakes are higher for you now, but even if it wasn’t, it just ruins everything in its wake. it's the biggest regret of my life," Wanda states firmly. Although she feels like a hypocrite as the words escape her lips, she feels compelled to express her feelings in the hope that it carries some weight.

“I know,” Pietro says, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been seeing a professional for two months now.”

“You are?”

Pietro smiles and takes Wanda’s hand, leading her back inside the reception. “Where do you think I got your therapist from?”

***

"You've really nailed it with this restaurant choice," Natasha exclaims at you, her fork stabbing into the juicy medium-rare steak. Her mouth waters as the meat releases its flavorful juices. She’s sitting to your left and Yelena’s right, and when you haven’t developed a psychic link with your partner yet, navigating a delicate situation feels like a sailor and a pilot has come together to figure out how a tractor works. 

Natasha had phoned you earlier today, informing you that her flight from Washington D.C. was scheduled to depart in a mere two hours. This left you with approximately three hours to prepare for her arrival, as well as to have a conversation with Yelena on how you’re both going to break the news to her unsuspecting sister. However, due to Yelena's demanding work schedule, it was difficult to abruptly pull her away from her assignment and so you took it upon yourself to organize this impromptu dinner. 

Your girlfriend, in a state of panic, had only just read your texts an hour ago and arrived late. Since then, there has been absolutely zero opportunity to discuss what your relationship entails for Natasha.

Delaying the inevitable, you focus on other topics.

“So, how was your flight?” you ask Natasha.

“Quick.” 

“When did you find out you’re coming home?” you inquire, eyebrows wiggling at Yelena, attempting to seek her support in engaging in the conversation

“The other day.” Natasha says.

“How do you like your steak?”

Natasha gives you a funny look.

Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you try to think of more questions to ask, but Yelena beats you to it.

“We’ve been seeing each other.” she announces over her plate of untouched meatballs. 

Your eyes widen in alarm as you look at Yelena, but she nonchalantly shrugs at you, then whispers, "I thought that's what you were trying to tell me with your eyes."

Natasha serenely savors her steak, taking a graceful sip of wine before responding, "Yes, I'm aware."

Surprised, you murmur, "How did you...?"

With a hint of amusement, Natasha replies, "If I were to reveal my skills, I would be violating at least ten pages of a non-disclosure agreement."

"Right," Yelena huffs, a feeling of ease finally settling over her. She indulges in her own plate, eagerly digging in and savoring each bite.

“You know,” You start, shoulders dropping and feeling some of the tension leave your body. “I thought I’m used to what you do, but it’s still weird that you disappear for several weeks and then you come back like,” you snap your fingers. “And we can’t ask you questions.”

“It’s why I love my job so much. People are literally not allowed to ask questions,” Natasha says with a satisfied smirk, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “But I can. So, how did this happen?” she says, motioning between you and Yelena with her finger.

“Didn’t you already know?” you say with a teasing smile. 

Natasha fixes you with a piercing gaze, the kind she typically reserves for her job, making you retreat but not before a nervous gulp catches in your throat.

"Yelena?" she prompts, noticing the uncharacteristic silence.

“I, uh–”

"Hotdog sandwich," you blurt out abruptly, interrupting Yelena's non-existent train of thought, while your mind drifts back to the night when you and Yelena officially started dating. Two pairs of eyes fixate on you, their faces a mix of surprise and bewilderment, as if questioning your sanity. Realizing the awkwardness of your outburst, you quickly clear your throat and gather yourself to continue, "I asked her out one night, shortly after I started my new job, and we kind of just decided to give it a shot while eating a hotdog."

When you look up, Yelena’s eyes carry a fondness, effectively deepening the blush on your cheeks.

“That’s a nice story, Y/N, but I didn’t mean literally. More like… how did you arrive at the decision to be together?” Natasha says, her gaze on you unwavering. You avoid her eyes, suddenly determined to finish the remaining vegetables in your dish.

“It came to us organically, Nat. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding a bit cheesy.” Yelena says. 

“I don’t mind cheesy. Cheesy is good. Love is often cheesy, right?” Natasha says, her gaze directed at you. The mention of the word 'love' catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your peas. Although you feel it deep in your heart that you love Yelena, neither of you have actually said those words to each other.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "Okay, then. It happened because we still have deep feelings for each other, and we felt it was necessary to give it a chance."

You smile, fully understanding and appreciating Yelena's sentiment. "I agree." 

“Can I speak to Y/N in private?” She tells Yelena, who just shrugs, and then turning to you, Natasha says, “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” you reply, rising from your seat.

You and Natasha emerge from the cozy Italian restaurant, deciding to take a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. The rain has just subsided, leaving behind glistening streets and puddles that dot the pavement, making each step a bit precarious. The dampness in the air seems to mirror the tension in your chest, and you can't shake off the feeling that this walk holds more weight than just enjoying the post-rain atmosphere. The droplets on the ground reflect the streetlights, creating a mesmerizing shimmer that momentarily distracts you from your unease. 

Yet, as you walk alongside Natasha, the silence between you only heightens your anticipation for the impending "sister talk." 

You value your friendship with Natasha deeply, and the prospect of jeopardizing that bond fills you with uncertainty. 

Just as your pulse falls into a steadier rhythm, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice filled with a sense of pride. "I'm proud of you," she declares. "Honestly, I half-expected to return and find you still unemployed, living in my apartment. But look at you now: a new job, a new place... and a new girlfriend," she adds, without a trace of animosity in her words.

“I was the crutch you had to get rid of after all.” Natasha says. 

You laugh nervously at the ‘girlfriend’ remark, appreciating the genuine support from your best friend. "I suppose I relied on you heavily after my divorce," you admit. "It was easy to succumb to self-pity and a meaningless routine because you were there to take care of me. Eventually, I knew I was rotting away no matter how indulgent these Netflix shows are,” you laugh a little. “And well, things simply worked out, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that it worked out pretty well with my sister.” Natasha quips.

"I care about her, Nat. I always have." you say, coming to a stop to face Natasha and properly look her in the eye.

Natasha nods and takes hold of your elbow, urging you to continue walking. "I know," she acknowledges, a knowing smile touching the corners of her lips. "She may not have shown it earlier, but she’s giddy as fuck. Kind of grosses me out seeing her eyeing you like a piece of candy.”

“But kidding aside, you have my blessing.” Natasha says, and you give her a soft smile in return.

A slight pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you decide not to mention your encounters with Wanda. You understand why Natasha requested this private conversation, and you don't wish to complicate matters by bringing up the brief rupture caused by your connection with Wanda. You and Yelena had reached a mutual understanding regarding Wanda, recognizing that your current relationship should not be overshadowed by your past with your ex-wife. 

Besides, you haven’t talked to Wanda since you and Yelena entered into a relationship. Things have been going well; consequently, you see no justifiable reason to stir up any unnecessary complications or rock the boat.

But nobody reads you the way Natasha does, as she brings up the person you’ve been trying to forget all this time.

“And Wanda? Is that over?”

Lying to Natasha is akin to attempting to deceive a lie detector machine; there’s just no way out of it but the truth–or at least some of it.

“We were briefly in touch,” you admit, carefully filtering the story in your mind as you speak. "Coincidentally, she happened to be at the same club where Clint organized your going-away party."

Natasha raises an eyebrow; you read her well enough too, and it tells you that she hadn’t had an inkling that Wanda had reentered your life at one point.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asks, the level of her tone masking how she feels about that new information.

“Because you hate her?” You say, daring her to deny it but Natasha only rolls her eyes. “And, uh, I don’t know… Maybe because I knew you’d be disappointed?”

Natasha takes a deep breath, the crisp evening air filling her lungs as she gathers her thoughts. "Did I," she begins, "did I push you into making choices in the past that you weren't entirely comfortable with?"

"Why would you say that?" you inquire, puzzled by Natasha's question.

Natasha's gaze softens, and she replies with earnest sincerity, "Because I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't be completely open with me about anything. I never wanted you to fear my judgment regarding your decisions."

You wonder if Natasha would say the same thing if she knew you had fallen into Wanda’s bed post-divorce. You think about how Natasha urged you to file for it in the first place, how she helped in preparing everything from finding a suitable lawyer to ironing out the details of the agreement. Despite your emotional state during that period, you acknowledge that you made those decisions and chose to take responsibility for them.

“You’re like family to me, Nat. Of course your opinion of me will always matter.” you say.

“I’m happy you stood by your decision without me,” Natasha says. “I was worried you’d go back to her as soon as I was gone.”

A nervous smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flit to anywhere but your best friend; the weight of deliberately concealing a significant portion of the story makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Now more than ever, you regret being with Wanda that way. It had every potential to jeopardize your friendship with Natasha.

“How about you and Bruce?” you say, taking the spotlight away from yourself.

Natasha’s smile is sad as she shakes her head. “That ship has sailed. For good.”

“I’m sorry.” you say.

“Don’t be. He can finally allow himself to be happy. He’s a good man. He deserves more than I can give him.”

“What about you?”

“I’d like to believe I deserve more than he’s willing to give,” Natasha says, her voice not harboring any resentment; but it’s clear that she has accepted the fact that their desires and needs diverged, leading them down separate paths. 

“Are you happy?” you ask suddenly, widely curious.

Natasha takes a moment to reflect, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "As happy as I can be," she contemplates. "I've learned that life shouldn't solely revolve around falling in love, you know? I have my work, my sister, my friends, and well, you're not that bad either," she adds with a light-hearted chuckle.

Turning the last corner back to the restaurant, you both bump into Yelena who’s wearing a frown after being left for so long.

“You were both gone for a while already so I thought I’d settle the bill and join you guys for a walk.” Yelena says. “You guys are okay, right?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” you say, taking her hand and interlacing your fingers together.

Natasha ignores Yelena’s question and says, “How much do I owe you for the food?” 

Yelena pushes the receipt in her sister’s hand and says, “Everything.”

Settling beside Yelena on the bed, you reach for the lamp on your nightstand and switch it off. The room is cast in a soft, bluish glow, as the moon's radiance filters through the blinds. It hasn’t been too long since you and Yelena started sharing this room, and despite initially intending to take things slow, the pace of your relationship accelerated naturally. With busy careers, it felt right to embrace the opportunity to spend more time together without the added complexities of planning and scheduling dates.

“It was weird introducing you to Nat as my girlfriend,” Yelena says, turning on her side to face you as soon as your head hits the pillow.

"I think you handled that quite smoothly," you say with a quiet chortle, the sarcasm failing to come across as strongly as intended.

"You were absolutely perfect though," Yelena whispers, her hand gently cupping your cheek as she pulls you in for a kiss. It begins with a slow, tentative pace, reminiscent of the other kisses you have shared since becoming a couple. 

Tonight, however, there's an undeniable intensity in Yelena's kisses that sends a fiery sensation rippling through your body. Her touch, tracing the skin below your belly button, ignites a rush of heat that intertwines with the passion of the moment. With your hands threaded in her hair, you boldly deepen the kiss, your tongue exploring the depths of her mouth, eliciting a surprised moan that you eagerly swallow.

As Yelena's fingers venture past the waistband of your underwear, a sudden jolt of surprise shoots through your body, causing you to abruptly sit upright. In the process, Yelena loses her balance and falls back onto the bed.

“Y/N?”

"Sorry," you stammer, attempting to calm your nerves and the racing of your heart. "I just remembered I have an important work email I haven't sent yet and..."

Yelena nods understandingly. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I've got some editing to do anyway."

You offer a grateful smile and lean in to press a tender kiss on her forehead. Then, you trail another moist kiss just below her ear, eliciting a soft sigh from Yelena's lips. 

“I’ll wait up, okay? Hurry,” Yelena purrs against your neck. 

“I’ll be back.” you say.

At half past midnight, you return to a snoring Yelena, her arm sprawled over the empty spot where you’re supposed to be. It was one email and you got carried away. And even if Yelena’s awake, you’re too exhausted to continue earlier’s steamy exchange.

Carefully, you remove her arm from your side of the bed and mold yourself to Yelena’s sleeping form. 

You haven’t had sex with her yet. The desire is there–a hot burning coal of it–and you have entertained the thought numerous times, but each time the moment draws near, you find yourself hesitant and not quite ready to take that step. It's a decision you have consciously made, respecting your own boundaries and wanting to ensure that the timing feels right for both of you.

Kissing the back of Yelena's head, you savor the softness of her hair against your lips. With a contented sigh, you nuzzle your nose into her locks, finding comfort in her presence as sleep gradually envelops you.

***

“Ms. Maximoff? Over here.”

Wanda looks up to find Sparky’s doctor motioning for her to come inside the check-up room. She gets up and hurries to where Sparky has disappeared into for almost twenty minutes now, and sees him hooked up to an IV, dozing off on his side. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Wanda asks immediately.

“The results of Sparky’s blood test don't look good. His liver is significantly higher than the normal range, and that could be the cause of his recent vomiting. For now, we’ll keep him confined here for one or two more days, depending on his condition, and if he’s responding to medication, you can continue giving them at home.”

“And what if he doesn’t respond to his medication?”

“We will conduct further tests to see what’s going on there. Surgery could be an option, depending on the outcome. While liver diseases in dogs can be treated and managed, there is always the possibility of expiration, I’m afraid.”

Expiration. Dogs have significantly shorter lives; Wanda knows this. But hearing it spoken so soon directly shatters Wanda’s heart. “W-What could have caused this?” she asks.

This is her fault, Wanda makes the conclusion, even before the doctor is done explaining the common causes in detail. She successfully fucked up another important thing in her life. 

In the absence of a little furry baby wagging its tail to greet her, Wanda returns home to a dark and empty apartment. Seeking solace, Wanda clings to the hopeful possibility that Sparky may return home in the next few days. 

Without bothering to turn on the lights, she kicks off her shoes and curls up into a ball on the couch. Her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, eventually focusing on the small desk where the potted chrysanthemums you gifted her rest. The faint light casts a peculiar shadow on the wall, capturing her attention. Yet, it is the piece of napkin discreetly slipped beneath the pot that her mind is apprehensively fixated to; a thin, fragile thing that would ultimately lead her to you.

It has remained tucked away in Wanda's study, for a month now, as she couldn't bear to disrupt your life once again. She imagines that you are likely doing well, leading a quieter and less tumultuous existence without her. As for Wanda, she has been diligently working on herself, taking each day as it comes. However, the passage of time hasn't diminished her feelings for you, not even in the slightest. The void in her heart, shaped by your absence, remains steadfast, but she has learned to adapt and coexist with it, allowing herself to grow while carrying its weight.

And she wouldn't—not even for a moment—consider disturbing your peace if it weren't for the dog. If your roles were reversed, and you were the one keeping him, Wanda would undoubtedly want to be informed if his brief existence was endangered by an illness.

But then again, you've made your choice. You didn’t want anything to do with her. It was evident in your absence, when you stopped your visits to her apartment, her café; when Wanda's phone could no longer detect any recent online activity from you. You had simply vanished without a trace.

It would be unjust to intrude on your decision when you clearly didn't want to be found.

…And she’s still, quite literally, debating it when she finds herself at your doorstep an hour later.

Your new building looks lavish, Wanda can only imagine how much you’ve spent on the deposit alone. It was a little intimidating when she was asked to leave an ID and the receptionist had to ring your unit to inform you that you had a visitor–dropping her name to you in the process. More interesting than that, however, is that she gave Wanda the go signal to proceed to the elevators, meaning that you gave your consent for her to see you.

There's a sense of relief in realizing that you wouldn't go to the extent of turning her away just to avoid her altogether. She sets aside the questions that her heart desperately wants to ask, knowing they would only thwart the initial intention she has of seeing you.

She is fully aware of how guarded and cautious you were the last time; memories of her well-crafted plans to lure you and get close to you for the obvious reason of winning you back are still fresh in her mind. Wanda understands that she needs to approach this meeting with sensitivity and genuine concern, keeping her intentions clear and focused on Sparky's well-being.

But as she’s about to knock, the door swings open.

“Hi, I–” Wanda’s words die on her tongue and the nervous smile on her face fades into uncertainty.

Standing there, clad in nothing but a t-shirt (which she recognizes having bought it for you) that goes past her thighs, is the woman from the club. The woman who drew the curtains for you in your living room. Her blonde hair cascades in messy beach waves, framing her face and reaching her shoulders. 

She is breathtakingly beautiful. 

But what strikes Wanda the most is how effortlessly the woman seems to blend into the space, appearing more like a tenant than a mere guest who just happened to visit you at this particular time.

Does she live with you?

“Is Y/N home? I’m Wan–” 

"Wanda. I know. I’m Yelena," Yelena interrupts, her tone firm yet not unkind, like she’s struggling as much as the brunette. "She's still at work. Is there something you need from her?"

“You’re Yelena? Natasha’s sister?” Wanda asks.

Yelena nods tentatively, her eyes studying Wanda's reaction; she was surprised to get a call from the reception that a certain Wanda Maximoff wanted to come up to her unit. Despite the nagging question of whether you've been seeing Wanda all this time behind her back, she makes a conscious effort to maintain her composure in front of your ex-wife.

Meanwhile, something in Wanda's mind clicks. It's Yelena, not you, who allowed herself to go up to your floor. It's her, not you, who wanted to meet her. Wanda's mind races with questions. Does Yelena know about her? Did Yelena feel the need to introduce herself to your ex-wife?

"Uh..." Wanda's voice trembles with the onset of a panic attack. It turns out, coming here was a mistake, and she’s just grateful you’re not around to witness it. "I'm sorry. Please forget that I came here. Don't let her know I was here, please? I'm really sorry. I'll just go."

Yelena sucks in her cheeks as she reads into Wanda’s sudden panic. "Sure," she replies before softly closing the door on Wanda.

-

The nights are longer at Stark Industries. You knew what you signed up for when you accepted the job, but now you're starting to feel the repercussions. The stress is taking its toll not only on your work-life balance but also on your relationship with Yelena. You haven’t had dinner together recently, much less a conversation that lasted longer than a few exchanges of “how are you” and “I’m fine”. There’s a lot to make up for, but no date in sight to actually start doing so.

The office is empty except for you and the maintenance worker assigned to the night shift, so when your ringtone cuts through the stillness, the sound of it reverberates off the walls of the empty room, making it too loud for you to ignore.

With your eyes concentrated on a formula on your spreadsheet, you answer your phone without looking at the caller.

“Hey, I’ll be home soon.” you say, assuming it’s Yelena on the line.

“Y/N.” A vaguely familiar voice that’s definitely not Yelena greets you. That’s when you remove your phone from your ear and notice the unknown number on the screen.

“Who’s this?”

The caller doesn’t answer right away. Instead, you can hear rain pouring heavily in the background, something you haven’t been aware of due to the thick windows of the office blocking out outside noises.

“It’s Vision,” The voice cracks over the speaker before you can decide to drop the call. “Wanda needs your help.”

The rain had been relentless throughout the day according to the weather app on your phone. You’ve just been too busy to notice, and so you find yourself without an umbrella. Thankfully, by the time you arrive at the location Vision instructed, the downpour has subsided into a gentle drizzle.

“Jesus, it’s freezing.” you mumble to yourself, wrapping your jacket tighter around your body.

You recognize this part of the city, having gone here numerous times in the past to visit your favorite dive bar where you, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda would hang out for hours just talking and having a good time. Although Natasha and Wanda don’t really talk, they engage in group shots, and Wanda would always challenge you to a game of pool, and you would win one or two matches in a best of seven, because your wife–ex-wife–is just so gifted in just about all kinds of sports. 

However, it's not the same bar where you find Wanda. Instead, it’s near a dead-end street and you stumble upon her slumped against a light post in a sorry state. It's obvious that she has consumed a significant amount of alcohol, leaving her almost blacked out. It makes you suspicious if this happens often–Wanda getting shitfaced in random places with Vision in tow. 

The sight of Vision doesn’t bother you as much as before, but it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth to see them together in the same place. Vision, to his credit, keeps a respectful distance, yet the yearning in his face is unmistakable. It's a familiar look, one you've witnessed on Wanda's previous boyfriends when they believed you weren't paying attention.

As you draw closer, Wanda's head tilts back, and her intoxicated eyes, heavy-lidded and unfocused, widen ever so slightly in recognition as they lock with yours.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Wanda drunkenly slurs, her struggling eyes attempting to focus on your face. “If you’re not, please tell Y/N that I’m not with him,” Wanda says, pointing her thumb in his direction, refusing to even look at Vision. “He just showed up out of nowhere and I told him to stay away. I swear, I’m telling the truth. Vision, tell her, please. Tell her to tell Y/N.” 

The street lights become too much for Wanda to bear, and she buries her head into her arms, her knees drawn to her chest. She looks so small and insignificant against the backdrop of a vibrant metropolis. 

Steeling yourself against her sorrowful pleas, you turn to Vision instead. “How did you find her?” you demand.

“I was out with my friends, and happened to pass by this area on our way back,” Vision recounts. “I saw two men trying to take her home, and we intervened. I tried asking Wanda where she lives so I can take her home myself, but she refuses to tell me. I tried calling you using her phone, but I think you blocked her number, so I tried calling you myself.”

You’re inclined to believe him, but there will always be bouts of suspicion lingering on the surface when it concerns Wanda. Though as your eyes return to Wanda’s shivering form, you can’t help but wonder if she would truly rather die in the ditches than accept help from him. For the first time, you find yourself contemplating the possibility of believing her, although a part of you wonders if it's simply your enduring soft spot for her attempting to sway your judgment.

“Thank you,” you say to Vision, surprised to find a little sincerity in your voice.

“If I find out you’re the reason why she’s this miserable, I’m putting everything on the line to make sure you stay away from her.” he declares, igniting a cigarette as you support Wanda, draping one of her arms over your shoulder and lifting her up. In that moment, she feels noticeably lighter than before, and your hand can discern the protrusion of her ribs as you secure her against your side.

“Is that a threat?” you say, clenching your jaw, your own clothes getting soaked fast, not realizing early on just how drenched Wanda is from the rain.

“It’s a warning,” Vision answers coolly. “As far as I know, you haven’t atoned for anything. And it’s not because you don’t deserve it. It’s because of her.”

He’s right–you walked out of that bloodied room unscathed from the law. All along you thought the consequences of what you’ve done to Vision just miraculously resolved on its own with the help of Natasha, but if Wanda had anything to do with how you’re not being served with at least damages for physical assault, what price did she have to pay in return?

It’s a conversation for later–you don’t need Wanda to protect you, especially if it means being coerced into complying with Vision's demands.

“I’m ready for anything,” you tell him, goading him with a smirk as you feel Wanda nestle closer to you, seeking your warmth. “Now, get your jacket off her and I’ll take it from here.”

As Vision gently takes off the garment from Wanda's shoulders, your eyes catch sight of a distinct mark on her finger, a faded indentation left by a ring that she no longer adorns.

-

Upon arriving at Wanda's place, there is no sign of Sparky. You feel a twinge of disappointment, as you had been somewhat anticipating him despite the circumstances. However, your attention swiftly turns to Wanda, who appears even worse now that you have brought her home: her lips are dry and pale, the flush all over her face down to her neck is still there, and she feels excessively warm to touch, almost as if she is–

“Shit, you’re burning up,” you mutter as you place your hand on her damp forehead.

Then all of a sudden, Wanda forcefully pushes you away, her hand covering her mouth, as she rushes towards the bathroom. In her haste, the straps of her sandals snap, breaking under the pressure. Swiftly, you trail behind her, conscientiously removing your shoes along the way to prevent leaving any dirt tracks on her pristine floor. 

When you enter the bathroom, you find Wanda hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach. Grimacing at the sight, you kneel beside her and carefully gather her dark hair, holding it up while you wait for her to finish. Once she's done, you flush it down for her. Wanda, seemingly drained, rolls away from the toilet and crawls towards the shower where she simply sits in one corner, closing her eyes with the clear intention of settling down for the night right there.

Faced with a decision, you find yourself contemplating your next course of action. You weigh the responsibilities you had undertaken which was to get Wanda to her apartment safely. What happens to her thereafter should no longer be your concern. After all, Yelena is most likely still waiting for you back at home.

Home. A year ago, the extent to which your definition of it has changed would have been unimaginable.

“Y/N,” Wanda’s weak voice draws your attention away from your thoughts. “You should g-go.” she says hoarsely.

Your fingers close around the doorknob, silent and unmoving, as anger wells up within you; Anger at Wanda for getting herself into this mess. Anger towards Vision for asking you to come to her rescue. Anger at yourself for feeling unable to leave Wanda behind, despite everything.

"Did she tell you about me? I told her not to, Y/N. I'm so sorry..." Wanda's whisper reaches your ears, her eyes remaining shut and her head tilted back, revealing the graceful column of her neck. You instinctively avert your gaze.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“I-I went to see you. But she said you were still working. I didn’t mean to intrude, I just wanted you to know about Sparky…”

She? Yelena? You didn’t think Yelena would allow Wanda to go up to your apartment just like that.

"He's not well," Wanda continues, her gaze focused on your face as she takes in every detail of it, as if trying to capture the memory of you in case this is the only opportunity she gets.

Your grip on the doorknob tightens. So that explains why Sparky is nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened? Is he okay?”

Wanda hiccups, thoughts too jumbled to put together anything coherent. "Liver–not normal," she manages to say, her voice trailing off. She had convinced herself that she wanted to see you for a legitimate reason, but as she gazes at you now, it becomes painfully clear that it was her deep longing for you that has ultimately prevailed.

"Is there anything I could-" you start to offer your help, your concern for Sparky overriding whatever tension lingers between you and Wanda.

"You should leave, Y/N," Wanda interrupts, mustering the strength to open her eyes and meet yours. The shame and despair swirling in those green orbs are hard to ignore, but you try to remain steadfast. "She's probably worried about you."

You chew on your lower lip for a moment, and then, instead of doing as she says, you close the door behind you. Silently, you begin removing your own clothes, stripping down to your underwear.

"I have to dry them anyway," you mumble after feeling the weight of Wanda's stare. "Come on, let's fix you up and get you ready for bed."

Wanda reaches for the hem of her shirt, her hesitation evident as she refrains from removing it. Sensing her struggle, you take the initiative, hoping to expedite the process so you can attend to her needs and leave soon. With gentle care, you lift her shirt up and over her head, exposing her trembling form. 

That's when you notice it–her wedding ring that Wanda used to wear on her finger, even after your divorce. But now it has taken on a new form, transformed into a pendant hanging delicately from a chain around her neck. It rests there, nestled between her breasts, a symbol of a past chapter in her life–and yours–that she carries with her, in a different way.

Wanda notices where your eyes are lingering and removes the necklace herself when you remain passive and unmoving. 

The next task is unclipping her bra, and as your fingers reach for the hooks, Wanda's hand covers yours, halting your actions.

“Is this–I mean, do you think should…?” she stammers out, and you’re unsure if the blush on her face is still from the alcohol.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," you say, feeling your own face heat up. "I think you have a fever. I need to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?"

Wanda nods meekly, giving her consent.

A few seconds later, Wanda is naked except for the pink she wears on her cheeks. You help her get up and move under the shower. You twist and turn the knob of the shower until you find the desirable temperature, and then start shampooing Wanda’s hair. 

As the water cascades over her and rinses away her self-loathing, Wanda finds herself surrendering to your care, allowing her to cherish this rare, tender moment she never knew she’d get to experience again. She is grateful for the water, realizing how weary you must be of seeing her cry; it’s just not possible to restrain herself from it when you’re this gentle with her.

“Can you handle the rest?” you ask Wanda, putting your hands under the shower to get rid of the soap.

“Yes,” she answers.

“Okay. I’ll go get some towels.”

Collecting both yours and Wanda's clothes from the floor, you quickly step out of the bathroom before you can start processing what you’ve just done.

Don’t think, just do, you say to yourself as you put the clothes in the dryer. 

Don’t think, just do, you repeat as you get fresh towels from the cabinet.

Don’t think.

When you’re both dry and you’re back in your work clothes and Wanda in her pajamas, you accompany her to her bedroom. You tuck her in and touch her forehead once again to check her temperature. The heat still radiates from her body, and it becomes clear that her fever isn't letting up soon. It won’t go down unless she takes something, but with alcohol still in her system, you don’t think that’s a good idea.

Here, drink this," you offer, extending a sports drink to Wanda.

"Thank you," Wanda murmurs, taking a generous sip before returning the bottle to you.

"Try to finish it. You're likely dehydrated," you suggest. Wanda, acknowledging your advice, obediently continues to drink.

“Better?”

Wanda nods with a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to go through all that trouble. I didn’t think Vision would–”

“You’re welcome,” you interject as soon as she mentions his name. “We’ll talk soon.” 

Wanda's gaze remains fixed on her folded hands in her lap. "You don't have to," she whispers. "You don't have to talk to me or see me if you don't want to. I'm sorry. This doesn't happen a lot anymore—not as often as you might think. Just something happened, and... I didn't mean to involve you, Y/N. I'm really sorry."

Something? What exactly happened? Regardless, you don't think it's healthy for Wanda to subject herself to such a high level of intoxication, no matter what the circumstances may be.

"We'll talk soon," you repeat, keeping your tone firm but gentle. "Take care, Wanda. Good night."

-

Yelena is wide awake in the living room, her attention focused on a book resting on her lap as you arrive home. The soft glow of a lamp illuminates her features, casting a gentle light on her face. There's a stillness in the room, interrupted only by the turning of pages and the sound of your footsteps.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of her. 

"Hey," you greet her wearily. "You're still awake?"

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” she says, somewhat bashfully. "There's salad in the fridge if you haven't eaten." she offers.

You pause for a moment, and then meeting her gaze, you ask, "Do you have something to tell me?"

Yelena levels you with a look, putting her book down, she says, “No. Do you?” 

Taking a deep breath, you tell her you do. “I took Wanda home,” you declare, bracing yourself for Yelena’s reaction but her face remains stoic. There's a flicker of something in her eyes, almost as if she had been anticipating your words.

“Can you clarify?” Yelena finally speaks up when you make no further effort to elaborate.

"In the office, I received a call from Vision," you explain. “He said Wanda needed my help. She was in no condition to go home on her own so I took her.”

“Why didn’t he take her home himself?”

You shrug slightly. "Wanda refused to go with him.”

There's a quiet intensity in her eyes, a depth of emotions that she holds back, yet you can sense them lingering beneath the surface. And then, she asks, “And nothing happened?”

“I helped her get change and manage her fever,” you say. “Nothing else happened.”

Yelena's gaze softens, and any trace of her being bothered by your confession finally reveals itself in the form of a soft sigh that escapes her lips.

"Thank you for telling me," Yelena says, wrapping her arms around your neck. "In that case, I should have mentioned that Wanda came by, and I let her come up here."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask curiously.

"She told me not to let you know," Yelena reveals quite casually. "And I didn't think it was important anyway."

You hum in response, grateful for her honesty and openness at least. Although, you sense that there might be more to the story than meets the eye.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I've been in touch with her?" you inquire, unable to ignore the nagging curiosity in your mind. Yelena's seemingly mild reactions in response to her encounter with Wanda is slightly unsettling.

“I wasn’t going to,” Yelena confesses, lowering her gaze before they come back up with a vulnerability that wasn’t there before. “But have you?”

You shake your head in response, indicating the truth. Yelena’s shoulder slackens and she steps closer to you. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I missed you,” Yelena mumbles the words like a secret, before capturing your lips in a short, sweet kiss, effectively stealing you away from your thoughts.

"Me too," you whisper back, feeling the day's events weighing on you, you take her hand and guide her towards the bedroom. "Let's go to bed."

[justmeinadaze]

My Little Man (Steddie X You) (Part of HFOD and SS Universe)

A/N: I guess you guys would call this season 3? Lol. My angst hella took over as well as some feelings I've been dealing with lately.

Enjoy please <3.

Part of this Universe

Warnings: Demon Steddie & Human Fem Reader, No SMUT in this one, FLUFF, they love each other and their son. Demon Steddie is navigating how to be human while taking care of a pregnant Y/N.

ANGST: More or less the normal level of angst that comes with this series. The theme is grief and PTSD (from a soldiers perspective). Y/N is still struggling with the notion of her parents not being there to see Ellis grow up and the guys (especially Steve) is struggling with being raised how they were and taught to fight. Eddie struggles with feelings of enabling because of everything they went through.

The dreams probably have the most feels. They talk to their loved ones and Ellis says goodbye. Steve has nightmares that involve his dad being a dick (of course) and something that happens within one angers Eddie (blood briefly mentioned).

Word Count: 6398

"Don't you know I love you more than life itself Don't you know that you're my pride And I would not have you walking through this world Without me by your side

Go to sleep my little man Don't you weep my little man"

3 Months Pregnant

Steve sits on the bench outside of the library he had just exited from, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

Ever since the three of you got home, he and Eddie had been doing research on which human job they would best be suited for in your realm but were struggling to find much of anything. For him, it was even more difficult since he was raised to be a solider. He genuinely didn’t know how to do anything else and it didn’t help that even though you explained a lot of human behavior, he still felt slightly ignorant with many things. 

“May I sit?” The demon jumped at the sound of a gravelly voice beside him. “Oh, shit. Sorry, son. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s alright. Um, please.”, he gestures towards the area beside him causing the man to flash him a thankful grin as he takes a seat. 

“How long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked how long. I know the look of a fellow veteran trying to figure out how to adapt to a civilian lifestyle. How long has it been since you saw combat?”

“Oh, uh, it’s…it’s been a few years. But I did it the bulk of my life.”

“I can imagine with you being so young. I bet one of your parents was a solider as well?”

“Wow. Yeah, that’s amazing. How did you…?”

“I told you, son. I know the look.”, the man chuckles as he extends his hand. “Truman Duvall; Ex Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army.”

“Steven Harrington. Um, Sergeant in the US Army. Well, Ex.”, Steve laughs nervously as he hopes his memory of things he’s learned about humans in the past is still up to date.

“Nice to meet you. If I may ask, what were you thinking so hard about specifically?”

“My girlfriend is pregnant and I’m trying to find a job so I can help support my family. I want my son to have a better life then I did but I have no idea where to start.”

“Congratulations on the little bundle! I have four myself, two of them grown and out of the house already. My wife pretends like she’s glad they’re out but she misses them.”, he laughs. “I don’t know if you would be willing but down the street here, we have a recreation center where veterans go to relax and let loose. They’ve been looking for a counselor to lead the group therapy. I think you’d be a good fit.”

“Yeah? Um, I guess I could…”

“Look, you don’t even have to make a decision right now. Why don’t meet me there tonight? We’re having a little party get together thing. Of course, you can bring the girlfriend and you both can meet the person in charge. See if you feel comfortable.”

“O-Ok. I, um…” Steve pauses as he debates on if he should tell the truth about Eddie. That was a fight they had when it came to going home. He had been afraid that they would have to hide their relationship and he never wanted to hide or be hidden when it came to the man he loved. But this is also where he wanted to raise his son and he didn’t want to cause a commotion before you four even had a chance to settle in. What would Eddie do?

“Can I bring my boyfriend as well? He’s a veteran to. We actually met during our tour.”

Truman’s mouth pouted out ever so slightly as his eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Oh, um, sure! The more the merrier.”

***

“Steven, oh my God, that’s amazing!”, you exclaim as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Hang on, now. I don’t have a job yet but…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, bud.”, Eddie grins from his place on the kitchen counter. 

“I hope it’s ok that I kind of…announced…our relationship. We actually didn’t talk about what we wanted to do but I know if we had stayed in our realm I’d want to be honest.”

The long-haired demon opened his arms and Steve promptly placed himself between his legs with his back against his chest while Eddie rested his chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you did. I love you and I’m not hiding that.”

“Me either.”, you smiled as they beamed right back. 

Suddenly, the happiness drains from your face before you turn and bolt towards the bathroom. You three had been home for a couple of months and within the past week some of the normal symptoms of pregnancy began springing up such as the morning sickness you were currently experiencing. 

“It’s alright, baby. Get it all out.”, Eddie tries to sooth as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail. As soon as you were finished, you fell back into his arms and thanked Steve when he handed you a bottle of water. 

“This is normal, right? Humans get nauseas like this.”, he asked. 

“Yeah, honey. It’s normal. I’m alright. I think I’m going to take a nap so I can be 100% for tonight.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to go.”

“No, Steve, I want to go. I want to see where you’ll be and the people you’ll be around.”

################

“Steve! You made it.”, Truman shouts excitedly as he reaches out to shake the boy’s hand. “You must be the girlfriend.”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman and this is your…boyfriend? Right, son?”

“Yes, sir. This is Edward.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Steve said you’re a veteran as well. Were you a sergeant like himself?”

“Oh, uh, no. I was more of a private I guess you’d say. But we spent a lot of time together especially on the battlefield.”

“Wow and for you two to still be so close and find a relationship through all that chaos! That’s amazing. I always tell my wife if she met me during my tour she would have hated me. A lot of civilians don’t understand the headspace you have to fall into to do what we have to do.”

Both demon’s nod in understanding and you can’t help but softly smile as you watch them interact with the other people around them. Steve was definitely in his element and you could tell in some way he felt more comfortable in this setting because he was around beings who seemed to understand what they both went through. As his new friend spoke, his eyes remained intense and focused as he absorbed everything he said. 

Eddie excused himself to grab some drinks but became distracted talking to another couple and began to laugh at something they were saying. The first time you met him he expressed a particular distain for humans but he seemed to open up more since they were freed, finding something interesting in each person he interacted with. 

“Hey, this is my girlfriend Y/N.”, he introduces when you walk over to check on him. “Y/N, this is Lisa and Shawn Bennett. Lisa did a tour in the Air Force flying jets and Shawn was a DJ overseas.”

“Oh wow. For the military or just on your own?”

“For the military. I’m kind of like that Cronauer guy they made the movie about. I read the reports and played music I thought would lift the troops spirits.”, the man explains. 

“Kind of like me.”, Eddie whispers in your ear making you smile. “What do you two do now if I may ask? Steve and I have been searching for employment but we have no idea what would fit us.”

“Well, I actually own a store of my own selling books and comics; things like that. I’m a bit of a nerd.”, Lisa laughs. 

“And I teach media and music courses at the local community college up here.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun actually. Are they looking for another music teacher because Eddie is an amazing musician.”

“Yeah? Unfortunately, they aren’t but you should consider maybe starting your own business as well. You can teach kids to play guitar or any other instruments you know and you can do it from your house or maybe the music store downtown is hiring.”

“Are you looking for a job to, Y/N? I’m trying to hire someone to help me with my shop.”, Lisa offers with a smile. 

“Oh, I’d love that. I’m, uh, I’m actually pregnant though and I wouldn’t want to leave you stranded after you just hired me.”

“That’s fantastic! Don’t even worry about it. You don’t seem very far along yet. I can teach you the ropes before you give birth and that way when you come back, you’ll already know what to do!”

As you glance at Eddie, his eyes widen with encouragement as he nods his head. 

“Ok, I’d love to work for you.”

Lisa claps and gives you a big hug as your demon beams behind you.

***

“Hello fellow veterans, spouses, and partners! Glad you could all join us tonight. I hope you are having some much needed fun! I do have just a quick announcement to make. I would like to introduce you to Steven Harrington who is new to Hawkins and after speaking with him I feel like he will be a great addition to our center here as the group counselor.” The man at the podium smiles as he gestures towards the demon and everyone around the room claps. “Steve, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

When he hesitates, you gently push him forward, urging him softly before he relents and nervously climbs up the makeshift stage. 

“Um, hi. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been seen by so many people.” The people chuckle as you and Eddie grin knowingly. “Like Thomas said, I’m, uh, new to Hawkins but my girlfriend is from here and my partner and I thought it would be better for her to be back home where she felt safe with her family so we can start raising our own. I-I-I…shit I used to better at this.”, he chuckles before glancing your way, your gentle smile comforting him. 

“I was raised in a military household. My dad was a solider so that’s what I was expected to be. As soon as I was able, he handed me a weapon and commanded I train to be the best. There was no wiggle room there. It was all or nothing. When I saw war…I shut down and did what I had to. I took no pleasure in killing, contrary to popular belief.”

“The worst part about shutting down that way was how it flowed into my every day. I was as an asshole to everyone including women I dated and people I trained… except for some of the people closest to me…Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie. When Edward and I got out…I felt so out of control…so lost. I lost my identity and everything I knew. If I didn’t have him by my side… Then we met Y/N and without her we literally wouldn’t be here today.”

Steve paused, looking out into the crowd, and realizing he may be talking too much. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you so much for this opportunity and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

The people in the room clap as he steps off the stage and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist as Eddie lightly caresses his cheek. 

***

4 Months Pregnant

You beam at Eddie as he softly strums his instrument. That day after Shawn suggested it, he went down to the music store in town and applied for the job as a guitar instructor. After playing and showing off for them he got the job. He loved hearing the kids try and play reminding him of the children he watched over with Steve during their war. 

Today was everyone’s day off so they were being lazy in bed with you in your pajamas and both demons in nothing but their sweats. 

“Ok, this thing here says for humans you should be feeling him move around now.”, Steve announced as he gestured towards the book he was reading. 

“I haven’t felt him move yet unless the occasional nausea is him saying hello.”, you giggle. Leaning over him, you grab his hand and place it on the middle of your stomach. “Talk to him.”

“Uh, I…hey, Ellis. It’s, um, your daddy. I’m not scaring him with my voice, right?”

“No, baby.”, you grin as you pet his head. “This is how he’ll get used to it though. Hearing and seeing you both in your demon form.”

“Buddy, you have no reason to be afraid of us in any form. I’m sorry your dads aren’t as beautiful as you and your mom but—”

“Hey, speak for yourself.”, Eddie teases making you laugh. “I’m a sexy motherfucker.”

“Oh.”

“What?”, Steve’s eyes shift up excitedly. 

“You didn’t feel that?”

When he shakes his head, you place his hand closer to the side you felt movement, gesturing for the other demon to do the same.

“Say something else.”

“Hey Ellis. This is your other daddy and I assure you we are very handsome.”

“Holy shit.”, Steve exhales as he grins up towards his partner. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you agree, kid.”, Eddie smiles.

***

6 Months Pregnant

Eddie growls at the crib he was trying to assemble as his glowing red eyes glare at the instructions again. Over these past couple of months, you three had made your dad’s old room your bedroom and begun shifting the room you used to sleep in into Ellis’s. 

Going off his personality from your dreams, you painted the room blue with images of guitars along the base boards and up along the ridges of the ceiling. Near where his crib would be, you put up pictures of everyone in his family that loved him including Robin, Wayne, Dustin, and everyone who had passed that he had been conversing with these past six months. 

The boys were able to get everything a baby would need from your realm but also from theirs including those books that Eddie had wrote and some toys demons normally played with at a young age. 

“Whoever invented these contraptions should be tortured for eternity.”, Eddie grunted as he tried again putting a few of the pieces together. 

“You guys don’t have cribs in your realm?” 

“Yeah but they were like boxes essentially. Or at least mine was. I’m sure Steven had gold porcelain or some shit.”

“No.”, Steve chuckled as he took the wrong part from his partner’s hand and handed him the correct one. “I had a regular little wooden thing with soft blankets.”

“I wish I could see what you two were like as kids.”

Since they left Maeve, they weren’t able to snap memories into your head like they were before. It hurt them more than you because you always seemed curious about them and they wished they could show you everything from their point of view, not Henry’s or Mirage’s. 

“How much did Mirage show you?”

“She showed me big events more than anything. Steve always looking for his parents especially your mom. She did play sword fight with you once and you looked so happy until your dad yelled at her for ‘ruining your training’.” You rolled your eyes as Steve pet your head and sighed. “Eddie, I did see what your uncle told me about with your mom singing to you.” The demon’s glow receded in his eyes as he glanced your way with a small smile. 

“Until my father told her to shut up?”

Tilting forward, you crawled over his work to kiss his lips making his smile widen as he caressed your face. 

“What about your parents, honey?”

“Both my parents were amazing. My dad always loved to make us laugh. He liked being a girl dad and my mom exploited that.”, you giggle. “She would make him wear tutus while I would do his makeup and they both would dance.”

A tear left your eyes and both demons promptly gave you their attention. 

“I’m sorry you guys don’t have your parents here. You both deserve better.”

“Baby, it’s ok—”

“Eddie it’s not okay.”

“Will you let me finish?”, he jokes. “It’s ok because I had my mom and I had Wayne. Then as I got older I got my other family. Steven, Robin, Chrissy, and even Dustin. Now, sweetheart, I have you two and Ellis. I couldn’t be happier.”

“I agree. I’m thankful for the memories I do have with my mom but the kids I trained and beings I fought with…that was my family. I’m so excited to see what’s in store for us, you know. See what Ellis is going to do with his life.”

You smiled as you kissed their lips before you wince and lean away. 

“Ow. Little butthead is kicking my side.”

“Hey, kid.”, Eddie teases as he tilts towards your tummy. “Why don’t you stop hurting your mother and come help me make your torture technic of a crib.”

###############

8 months Pregnant

You, Steve, and Eddie walked into the house you three had been in so many times these last few months except now it was completely empty. All the furniture and everything was completely absent as you entered the living room full of people.

“Ellis?”

Everyone in the room moved out of the way to where Eddie’s mom was hugging her grandson to her chest as he sobbed. 

“I don wanna go!”

“You have to, baby. Your mommy and daddies need you now. They’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

“Mom?”, Eddie asked as he stepped towards her. “What’s going on?”

She softly smiled as she handed him to your father who spun him around as he chuckled but your son just buried his face further in his neck. 

“Come on, little guy. Your parents have made you an awesome bedroom and knowing my daughter she’s going to show you so many amazing things.”

The little boy shook his head as your dad kissed his temple before handing him to your mom. 

“Steven, remember, you once told me that everything would be ok and you were right. I’ve watched you both take care of my baby and I assure you, you both are going to be more than ok. You are going to be amazing parents.”

He beamed at him as he wrapped his arms around the demon and pulled him in for a hug. 

Your mother grinned as she reached out to touch your face as you started to cry. 

“I’m scared to do this without you.”, you whisper. 

Your parent’s smiles widen as she kisses her grandson and places him in your arms. 

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re always right here.”, she soothes as she points to Ellis’s forehead. “Right behind that door, honey.”

“I love you.”, you son coos as each grandparent reciprocates his affection. 

As both your demons come to your side, you look down to no longer see a toddler but a newborn baby wiggling in your arms. Steve gently pets his head as Eddie reaches for his tiny hand that immediately clings to his finger. 

All of your eyes shoot open but yours is followed by a grunt as you place your hands on your stomach. 

“Fuck! I think…”

They don’t waste any time as they collect you and your things before rushing towards the hospital. 

***

“How long are they going to keep him back there?”, Eddie growled as he held your hand.

“Calm down. Y/N said this was normal. They need to clean him, check his vitals, and all that.”

“Yeah, but Steven, what if something comes up in those vitals that frightens a human.”

The other demon’s eyes flash red in warning in his direction as a low rumble leaves his chest. 

“Maybe we should have had him in your realm.”, you respond groggily as your heavy eyes shift their way. 

“Baby, don’t let Edward scare you, ok? He’s fine. He’s got more human in him right now than anything. Dustin said he would grow into his demon parts.”

“He also said we’re the first couple ever to do this so…”

“Edward Munson, I swear—“, Steve’s anger was cut short when the door to your hospital room opened and a nurse casually sauntered in.

“Hey Munson-Harrington family.”, she smiles. “We have little Ellis here fast asleep and everything looks good. Mommy, how are you feeling?”

“Like I gave birth.” The nurse laughs at your joke as your demons roll their eyes. “I’m alright. A bit exhausted.”

“Yeah, that’s normal, sweetheart. Good news is your baby is in perfect health. Would you like to meet him?” Your eyes fully open as you sit up, smiling softly when she places him in your arms.  “I’ll come check on you three in a bit.”

Tears start to fall as you fully take him in. Right now, he seemed like a completely normal child with soft skin and just a sliver of brown hair poking out of his blue beanie. 

“Hey, honey. You’re so handsome. I’m your mommy.”, you coo in a whisper as you kiss his forehead. “Oh my god, he smells so good.”, you laugh as you look their way. 

Eddie was the first to step forward, sitting beside you on the bed as he caressed his son’s chubby little cheek with his finger. 

“Holy shit. He’s so soft.”, he breathes. “You’re perfect, kid.”

Steve finally takes a seat as well and reaches out to feel his tiny hand. 

“He’s warm to. Is that normal?” When you nod, he almost breathes a sigh of relief. “Ellis, we’re your daddies. You ARE perfect, oh my god.”

The baby squirms a bit in your hold giving them pause before pulling away. 

“I think that was his way of saying thank you.”, you smile. 

###########

3 Weeks Old

“Fascinating.”, Dustin muses as he rocks Ellis in his arms while swaying around the living room. “He really does look just like a little human with the soft skin and everything. Nothing has stood out?”

“Can you stop analyzing our baby and just enjoy him?”, Eddie snaps as he sighs. 

“No, nothing.”, you giggle, answering his question. “And so far he seems to eat but not as much as normal babies.”

“How so?”

“Babies are supposed to eat every two hours; we’ve been feeding him every six. I was worried at first but we just took him the doctor and she said he was healthy. When I tried to give him a bottle every two he would cry and push at my hands.”

“Interesting. That has to be hard, Y/N. Him not being able to verbally tell you things like that. I hated when my kids cried in general but you…you still have that whole trial and error thing going.”

Glancing towards your demons, Eddie had fallen asleep with his head nestled in Steve’s lap on the couch who was already napping when Dustin arrived. 

“It is. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us though and I know they do to. I’ve been keeping a record like you suggested should this ever happen for anyone else.”

“Good.” When he notices your gaze shift again, he takes a seat on the floor beside you and lays Ellis on the blanket between you both. “Everything ok with you three?”

“Yeah, I’m just a little worried. They were both already so protective over me and now that he’s here… Steve’s been having nightmares. He pretends he doesn’t but I hear him groaning in his sleep and feel him wake up. I asked him the other night if he still has access to my dreams and he said he can’t find the door anymore.”

A tear fell down your check as Dustin reached out to comfort you. 

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Eddie’s attitude has been a lot shorter lately. He’s exhausted and worried about the three of us. He triple checks everything to the point that I find him asleep on the floor by Ellis’s crib because he’s too tired to make it back to our bed and would just rather be closer to his son just in case.”

“What about you? Besides the worry I mean.”

“I know I’m probably being paranoid but sometimes I feel like we’re being watched. It may just be because of our dynamic. I know not everyone is excepting like the new friends we’ve made but no one has said anything… I don’t know. Just…mom brain maybe.”

“Hm, maybe. Keep an eye on that. From what you’ve told me, you’re always pretty intuitive. Wouldn’t want to miss something you know?”

#########

5 Weeks Old

“Oh my god, Y/N, look at him.”, Lisa coos at Ellis as she holds him in her arms. 

“Are you alright, Steve? You look like you haven’t slept.”, Shawn chuckles. 

“Yeah, I’m doing alright. Just…little guy keeping me up.”, he forces a smile. 

Your friends were having a get together for veterans and their families and since Steve worked at the center you suggested you three should go and be seen. Truthfully, you thought it would be good for them both to get out of the house as well as having him specifically spend some time with his new veteran friends to talk about anything that may be weighing on his mind causing his nightmares.

As the night wore on you noticed their soft grins return to their faces as he and Eddie mingled with the people around them. They radiated warmth as they talked about their son and everything he had done with his short little life so far.

“Have you guys started baby proofing yet? I swear when my daughter started crawling it was like she knew which areas were the bad ones!”

“Oh no, not yet. He did smile at Y/N the other day. Ellis has a beautiful little grin.”, Steve boasts.

“At that age usually it’s just reflexive. They see you guys smiling so…”

“Isn’t that all babies though? Like that’s how they learn?”, Eddie genuinely asks as the dads around him laugh. 

“Yeah but who knows some babies are different! You may just have an extremely happy baby who couldn’t wait to show you guys how much he loves being here.”

Time passed and a few of the guests left, leaving the main few that you had really gotten to know. You all sat in the living room while Eddie patted his son’s back as Ellis slept soundly. Steve tenderly petted the baby’s head as you beamed at them from your place in the chair across from them. 

“So how has everything else been going?”, Thomas asks as he chugs back some of the beer in his bottle. 

“Everything has been good, man. Just focusing on them, ya know?”

“Yeah, I understand. When my son was born, that first night I checked on him every hour on the hour. Then for some reason I kept checking on my wife. I knew our son needed us both and I kept thinking ‘What if something happened to either of us?’”

“I can understand that. I, uh, before Y/N and Steve, I lost a lot of people I loved and there was nothing I could do. Now that Ellis is here…it would kill me if anything ever happened to him.”

“Do you have nightmares about it? About losing them?”

“I don’t but Stevie here does.”, Eddie answers causing Steve to toss a glare his way. 

“I do but it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“I had them to. Sometimes I would dream they were on the battlefield I fought in. I would run to them but I could never quite reach them.”, Thomas sighs at the memory. “What do you dream about?”

“It’s fine really.”

You’re not sure if anyone else heard but you and Eddie did as the demon’s voice fluctuated to his real one for a split second.

“Steven…”

“It’s ok, Y/N. Like I said, I get it. If you talk about it, it gives it validity right? You’d hate to manifest something like that into existence. Someone killing Y/N and your son.”

Steve’s eyes closed as his head ticked to the side. 

“Ok, Tom, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I’m putting my foot down. You’re going to push him too far and he’s already got enough on his mind.”, Eddie defended rising to his feet and handing you the baby. 

“Ah, you’re the enabler I imagine. You allow him to shelter his feelings so he doesn’t have to deal with them.”

“You’re damn right I do. You humans have no idea what we’ve been through!”

“Interesting word choice. Is that how you separate people from your experiences?”

“Come on, guys, let’s head home.” As the long-haired demon grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, he remained frozen in place. Kneeling in front of him, he cupped his face in his hands. “Steven, it’s ok alright. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Let’s go home and get some sleep, huh?”

When the demon finally opened his eyes, Eddie’s widen in fear; he knew this look all too well. As subtly as he could, he got to his feet and towards the front door with you trailing after him. 

“Steven—”

Once the wind of the outside hit your faces, he expanded his wings, cutting you off as he vanished into the air.

***

“Edward, baby, are you ok?”

Eddie nodded from his place on the floor next Ellis who was sleeping soundly beside him. After laying down as well, he softly smiles your way as he continues caressing the baby’s open hand. 

“DO I enable him, Y/N?”

“Eddie…”

“I just…we went through so much… Every day I had to watch the man I love breakdown. Even when we were out, summoners never treated us with any kind of respect. They knew we wouldn’t be there for long. In our realm, he was hero and with one choice, he was banished and imprisoned…because of me.”

“No, Eddie. Everything you two went through was because of Henry. He killed Chrissy and framed you. Jason didn’t give Steve much of a choice. He was going to disobey orders and hurt you.”

“I always tried to make it up to him… I tried not to show my feelings, pretending I didn’t care we were trapped. Pretending I wasn’t scared and just as angry as he was. I’ve done that my whole life, Y/N. When my mom got sick, I did everything I could to make her laugh so she wouldn’t see how devastated I was. Every time my father came home upset, I acted like I was tough but I was fucking terrified, baby. I was so scared.”

A tear fell from his eye and your immediately wiped it away with your thumb.

“When he fled, I was afraid for my uncle. I didn’t even think twice when I signed up but I was positive I wouldn’t last a month out there on the battlefield. Steven and Robin helped me become a better fighter. With Chris I pretended to be more together than I was. She had enough on her plate at the time and I wanted her to feel safe.”

“It seems like that’s why you pretend, Eddie, so the people you love feel safe.”

Sitting up, he started to cry harder and you immediately crawled to him, curling up in his lap as you held him in your arms. 

The sound you recognized as a portal opening grabbed both your attention as you called Steve’s name.

“Hey, no, sorry. It’s just me. I have him here though.”, Robin answered as she came around the corner with the demon leaning half-conscious around her shoulders. “My girlfriend sent me a message saying he was there at the bar. He had been babbling about how human drinks aren’t strong enough and something about you two and Ellis.”

After leading her to the bedroom, she gently placed Steve onto the mattress. When Eddie entered the room, she smiled when she saw your son’s wide eyes looking back at her.

“He woke up.”, the demon announced as Ellis yawned to emphasis his point. 

“You need to let your parents get some rest, booger.”, Robin coos as she pokes his nose making him smile. 

“Some of our friends said for human babies around this time smiles like that are a reflex.”

“Yeah but he’s not entirely human and that beautiful, drool filled grin didn’t seem reflexive.”, she responded. “It seems like he can handle the demon skin since he’s letting us touch him.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the potion.”, you nod as you reach out to tickle the baby’s chin. “Thank you for bringing Steve back, Robin.”

Softly smiling, she leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Seriously, you and Ellis are so soft—”

“Ay yi, ma’am. This human is ours.”, Eddie playfully scolds as he swats his hand in her direction. 

***

Loud banging and clinking echoes behind the door you’re looking at as smoke occasionally slips through the seams. Taking a long exhale, you reach for the handle but someone tapping your shoulder startles you as you turn and smack the person’s face. 

“Ow! Jesus woman. How many times are you going to pop me?!”, Eddie whines as he rubs his cheek. 

“Edward, how did you—”

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for the door for months. Maybe you finally calmed me down enough to know what I’m looking for.” Nodding, you kiss his lips. “So what’s the plan?”

“I think…this is Steve’s door. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to access his dreams but I haven’t been able to.”

Holding your hand, he carefully turns the knob and you both step through. Glancing down at his attire, Eddie realizes he’s suddenly in his old battle armor and you both are on the battlefield they fought on all those centuries ago. 

“Why am I not in armor?”

“I mean, you weren’t there, baby.”

“What the fuck are you two doing here?!”, Steve’s father shrieks above you as he lands on his feet. “Leave. NOW. My son needs to learn his lesson.”

“YOU’VE been giving him his nightmares?”, you growl.

“Not exactly. He started having them on his own but I’ve been fueling them.”

Shifting your gaze behind him, you both watch as Steve slaughters enemy after enemy, panting as he slowly tires himself out.

“Steven! Do better! You think these fuckers are going to show mercy on your son?! You have to do what I taught you to get the truth!”

Eddie gripped Bill’s throat and angrily threw him to the ground. 

“You made your hell his hell, you fucking asshole. He told me all about you and everything you did to him. You ruined his life enough! Leave him be.”

“Please. He’s doing this to himself. He’s worried about you two peasants and that thing. I’m making him better. Stronger.”

Grabbing a sword from the ground, you lift the handle and point the other end towards his throat. 

“You heard him. Leave Steven alone or else I swear to God, Bill, I will find a way myself to keep you in hell.”

Growling under his breath, he tried to stand but you and Eddie forced him back down with your weapons. Huffing he suddenly disappeared as well as every other solider that had fallen around the other demon. 

“Ed-Edward?”, Steve panted heavily when you noticed you both there. “Y/N? What are you…? It doesn’t matter. We need to get to Ellis or else Henry’s going to kill him. We have to—”

“Baby, look at me.”, Eddie tried to soothe as he cupped his cheeks in his hands. “You’re dreaming ok? Henry is gone and Ellis is in his crib fast asleep.”

“N-No. No? I can hear him. I can hear him crying! Can’t you hear that?!”

“Steven—”

“NO!”, the demon growls loudly as he shoves the man he loves hard backwards. “Who are you?! You’re not Edward. Y-You’re…You’re trying to trick me. Are you Mirage? Did Henry and his dad hire you to stop me?!”

“Steven…”, Eddie cried with worry as he threw the sword he was holding to the ground and held up his hands. “Sweetheart, please, it’s me. I promise. I would never hurt you like that. I would never keep you from our son.”

As he tried to step forward, the other demon shoved him to the ground.

“I-I-I need to get to my son.”, Steve sobbed as his voice cracked. “I know you’re not Eddie. Tell me where he is.”

When he didn’t answer, he pulled back and pushed his weapon downward. 

The sound of your grunt filled their ears as your eyes met Steve’s wide glassy ones. When you both looked down, blood drenched his sword where it had pushed through your stomach and around your back. 

“Baby?”

Looking up at him again, you smiled through the pain as blood dripped from your lips. 

“Why…why does it hurt?”

The three of you opened your eyes at the same time as you sat up clutching your stomach. Lifting up your shirt, there was no wound but it felt so real. You could still feel the stinging pain lingering on your skin. 

Eddie’s head slowly turned meeting Steve’s still shocked expression as is mouth hung open in shock. 

“I—”

The long-haired demon’s growl cut him off as his eyes glowed bright red. 

“Take us to another realm that we can fucking damage NOW.” You didn’t say anything as Steve rose to his feet with his head hung preparing a portal for them to go through. “Stay here.”

Coming around the bed, he waited for the other demon to finish as you peeked into the world they’d be going to. It was completely baron with nothing but white as far as the eye can see. 

“Fitting.”, Eddie responded in anger as he and the other demon walked inside. 

As the portal began to close, you quickly got up and jumped through right as it disappeared. 

You knew Eddie may be mad but after what happened this wasn’t something you were going to let them handle alone. 

##############

@tlclick73 @tiannamortis @steeldaisies @goodhappyfriday @paleidiot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@strangerthings64 @howlingco @eddiesguitarskills

@prettypeachsworld @nailbatanddungeon @notlempet

[navybrat817]

It's a Ginger Thing

Pairing: Soft Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: Feeling a bit stir crazy from your daily routine, you share an idea with Nick that may be good for the other wives. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Implied smut, noncon/dubcon elements (you have been warned), gaps in memory, gaslighting, coercion, creepy vibes, Nick Fowler (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Nick and Ginger's Intro for my Disturbia AU! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Nick took you to the gym at the same time each day before he went to work. Exercising was your favorite part of your daily routine. It gave you a chance to get out of the house, stay in shape, and have some time with your husband before he went on his way and you got to work on your chores. It was also a good way to get some of your frustrations out of your system, which you could only do so much through cleaning.

A good wife keeps a tidy home for her husband.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you stopped in mid stretch. It was difficult to pinpoint why you weren’t overly fond of cleaning. It wasn’t that you didn’t like a put together home and you would never look down on anyone who thrived on being a stay-at-home spouse. But it wasn’t a way for you to flourish. It was as if one day you just decided to give up on your wants without a second thought.

What did I want to do before we moved to The Haven? I had goals, didn’t I? Ambition?

You sometimes liked to imagine that you wanted something more beyond the duties of a housewife. Something exciting or a job that could help people in some way. It was possible to support Nick in the ways he needed while having something of our own. Was that too much to ask?

Yes. Because Nick helps so many with his job, along with taking care of me. Supporting him should be enough.

“What’s wrong?” Nick asked when you quickly finished stretching.

“Nothing,” you said, putting your hands on your hips as his bright blue eyes focused on you. Seeing him in his workout clothes, the taut muscles defined through the fabric, made it difficult to concentrate. “Just don’t really think I’m up for doing any housework today.”

“Your head bothering you?” he asked, taking a sip of water with an unwavering gaze.

Nick was a little different from some of the men you knew in the neighborhood. From what you observed, Steve ruled his home with an iron fist and he expected Cherry to fall in line. You had to bite back a retort more than once when you saw how he treated her, especially since she was so kind. Scott was one of the nicest guys on the block, but traditional in that he expected Rose to find fulfillment as a homemaker and future mother. Andy and Ruby, you still weren’t quite sure how they fit together, but they at least seemed happy.

But Nick? It didn’t bother him if you skipped cooking one night to order takeout or if you let laundry go for a day. The last time you snapped at him to put his own plate in the dishwasher, he laughed and bent you over the kitchen table until you were a drooling mess. All while telling you he loved the fire inside you. Because at the end of the day, he wanted you by his side and in his bed.

That was the only true rule he enforced: Don’t ever leave him.

And why would I? Nick Fowler is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

“I think you went away there for a second,” he said.

“Sorry. Guess my head is bothering me,” you replied, graciously accepting the other bottle as he handed it over.

You never expected to crave fruit infused water, but it soothed the aches in your body. You once asked if he put muscle relaxers or something in your drinks since you always seemed to feel better once you had them. He said “yes” with the most serious expression before he winked. And you promptly dumped your drink out. He had to make them in front of you for a week straight before you took them again without question. It didn’t matter that it was a joke to him because you took it seriously.

Nick wouldn’t hurt me though. He loves me with his entire being.

“So, I was thinking,” you began, pausing to take a large sip.

“That can’t be good,” he joked, chuckling when you grabbed his towel to toss it at him. “Kidding! I was kidding. What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?”

I don’t know half the time and that scares me.

“I was thinking that it might be good if I taught the girls a little bit of self-defense. Maybe we can rent out a spot here? Or I can even teach it in our backyard?” You told him, giving him a pleading smile. “What do you think?”

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked, motioning for you to follow him to one of the sparring mats.

Where Nick goes, I’ll follow him.

“It would be good for me to break up my routine a little bit. I love our time here at the gym and it’s fun hanging out with the girls, but I think it might be good for all of us. I know that we live in a safe neighborhood, but you never know what'll happen.”

“I'm sure Ruby can defend herself just fine,” he joked, running a hand through his short hair. You could tell he was trying to get your attention on him and not the topic at hand.

“And what about Cherry and Rose?” you asked. “And didn’t you say someone is living with Bucky now? What about her?”

“Plum. We haven’t met her yet,” Nick shrugged a little. “I understand that you don’t want to stay home all the time, but I really don't see the need for a self-defense class. The others will probably feel the same way.”

“Of course, you don't see the need for it,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “You know why? Because you're not here. Day in and day out, you get to leave and go to work. The other husbands get to leave. And the wives? We’re stuck here. It’s enough to drive me crazy.”

Don’t raise your voice at your husband.

A shuddering breath left your lungs when Nick clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. It reminded you of a nightmare you had before you moved into the neighborhood. Of him chasing you down and catching you with that same terrifying look before he fucked you into submission. There was an ache between your thighs when you woke up, but he assured you it was nothing more than a vivid, terrible dream.

You felt so bad about it that you ended up apologizing to him.

A good wife knows when to concede to her husband and chooses her battles wisely.

“Whatever it is that you're feeling, you don't need to take it out on me. I'm on your side,” he reminded you before he took a deep breath. “Look. I can’t make any promises that anyone will be okay with a self-defense class, but I’ll at least ask.”

“You will?” you asked in a softer voice, bringing your water to your lips and deflating a bit as the cool liquid flowed through your body.

“I will,” he promised, taking the drink away from you when you gave a smile. “May I offer a compromise in case they say no? An aerobics class? This way you can still get quality time with the girls here.”

That didn’t seem like a fair compromise to you. How would aerobics help the girls, besides staying in shape? But the smile Nick gave you was enough to back down the rising words in your throat.

Nick knows the best course of action.

“I’ll consider that,” you said, gasping when he kicked your feet out from under you. Luckily, you didn’t get the wind knocked out of you as you landed on your back. “Nick!”

“Always be aware of your surroundings, Ginger,” he smirked, joining you on the ground. He easily caught your wrists and pinned them above your head. The position left you vulnerable. “If you’re going to help these girls, you need to be able to help yourself.”

“I can,” you said through your teeth.

I’m not weak. I’m stronger than he thinks I am.

“Yeah? Then get out from under me or stay there and let me get you off,” he said, bending down to brush his lips against yours. “Or maybe I should leave you hanging for snapping at me.”

You moaned when he dipped his hips against yours. Was it the control he had that made him hard or the fact that anyone could walk into the gym and catch you? It wouldn’t be the first time. He liked it when others caught him fucking you.

He’s a proud husband and there’s nothing wrong with that.

“Sorry I snapped,” you whispered, arching your back when he tightened his grip on your wrists.

“Why don’t you let your pussy show me how sorry you are? Then I’ll believe you.”

Whatever Nick wants, he gets. And I’ll be happy to give it to him.

Good life with Nick, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[scythesms]

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Edmund's discomfort grew with every step Imogene took beyond the gates.

He couldn't stop apologizing for the neglected state of his property. It’d been his first time ever feeling ashamed of the overgrown grass and cracked pavement. He’d even caught himself in a lie when assuring her the inside of his home was better off.

“Please, Edmund, there's no need. Grass always grows in grief. It seems nature understands the burden of sorrow.” Imogene interjected, ending his apologies. He only nodded, grateful for her understanding, but unable to find words to match her sentiment. Proceeding cautiously, she said, “I only recently learned of the tragedies that befell your family. I am so sorry for your losses.”

He forced a look of little gratitude, reluctant to delve into the past. The mention of his late wife, sister, mother, and father made him tense. While he acknowledged Imogene's sincere apology, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out.

She sensed his disdain all too quickly, expected it even. “I, too, lost someone to the lung. My youngest brother. It’s been… difficult.”

Edmund remained silent, unable to express his sympathy without betraying his desire to keep the past buried.

She pressed on, “Grief has a way of consuming us, doesn't it?” His eyes reflected the weight of her words, although his silence and avoidance of her gaze revealed much. “We don't have to speak of it if you'd rather not. Sometimes, just knowing someone understands can be enough.”

The air grew dense with the burden of unspoken words as they wandered deeper into the garden and the grounds of his estate.

Edmund led her along the path to the weathered fountain, where she broke the silence. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, after all this time,” she confessed, her voice tinged with uncertainty as her lips formed a nervous smile. “I thought you had left, disappeared into the world beyond our little town. I never saw you on the streets again… I must also admit that there was a time your absence brought me relief - knowing I wouldn’t have to face you after-”

Edmund frowned when she stopped herself. He wondered if her motive for coming was to find closure with him and release years of harbored resentment.

“I suppose... I suppose I came here hoping to find solace. But now that I'm here, I'm not sure what I want you to say.”

Since her arrival, he had grappled with finding the right words, torn between the desire to make amends and the fear of rejection. Her face fell as she observed his inner conflict. Without a word, she moved to settle beside the fountain, leaving the onus of conversation to him.

At length, he found his voice. “I... I don't know what you want to hear from me, but I want you to know that I am sorry - deeply sorry for what happened between us and what I did to you… I realize this apology comes late in life, and for that, I apologize as well."

“Thank you…”

Edmund awaited her further response, hoping for more, yet was met with silence. Although his admission released some of the obvious tension between the two, it was evident that there remained unresolved matters. Drawing closer, he sat beside her.

“You didn’t come solely for an apology,” he deduced.

She looked at him, hesitant before asking, “Can I ask about her? Rosalyn?”

His reluctance was apparent as his gaze drifted, wrestling with memories long buried beneath layers of grief and the mere mention of her name. “It’s… it’s not an easy subject for me.”

“I understand,” she responded, her voice gentle. “But I must know… Did you truly love her?”

Without hesitation, Edmund confidently nodded. “Yes. I loved Rosalyn... with all of my heart. And I always will.” He didn’t feel ashamed saying so. If there was one thing he knew, that was it. “I don’t regret it – my decision. But I do regret how I went about it… We’ve carried this burden for far too long.”

Her smile took him by surprise. “I'm glad your decision brought you happiness in the end. There’s no intent to change the past,” she affirmed, her voice soft yet resolute, “but perhaps we could move forward as friends?”

He was unreadable as he considered the offer. Eventually, a subtle smile graced his lips. “Friends... yes,” he murmured with quiet resolve.

She extended her hand first, a testament to her sincerity - a handshake. He found the gesture slightly amusing, and despite his initial impulse to resist, he allowed his hand to meet hers in a tentative grasp. With a single shake, they sealed their unspoken pact - an almost senseless act but necessary.

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[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 6

A/N- sorry I’ve been so behind lately guys! Life has been kicking my ass and writers block has reared its ugly head. But I’m finally here, we are going to do a couple of time jumps in the future but if you’ve read Lover you know we have a happy ending, so don’t worry!

Summary- Jake and Stormy hadn’t seen each other in a month, finally a long weekend sees our lovers reunited, but not everything is smooth sailing.

Warnings- Drinking, language, a little bit of violence, smut (save a horse, ride cowboy Jake 🤠). Minors DNI.

Song inspo- “I miss you”- Adele

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (oc Stormy)

It had been nearly a month since you’d seen Jake, your perfect week in San Diego heavy on your mind as you packed your bag for the holiday weekend. The two of you had been swamped with work but every available hour of free time was spent on FaceTime, most nights falling asleep together through the phone.

Stepping out of the airport brought it all back, sometimes you still couldn’t believe he was really yours, especially when he was scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style to his truck, giggles pouring from your lips at his need to be touching you at all times.

He’d missed you so damn much, he’d barely made it in the door before he’d taken you up against the wall (you knew that sundress had been a good idea) and then again in the shower before you both finally collapsed in the sheets of his California king bed he’d let you pick out before you went back to Florida.

Waking up to him would always be your favorite thing, he looked so at peace and almost boyish in the mornings it made your heart clench as your eyes took him in. Heavy body half slung over yours, perfect hair in complete disarray as he let out little snores (that he vehemently denied were a thing).

You’d spent the day at the beach catching up with the daggers and getting all the hot gossip from Phoenix and Bob’s wife Ellie. Rooster had been relocated to the Golden Warriors due to an altercation he’d had with Jake on your last visit, he and Mirage were apparently working on a relationship and she was still very much pregnant. You had ripped him to shreds before you left and hoped he would get his shit together so it was refreshing to hear that he at least seemed to be trying for his future child. Ellie also spilled the beans that she and Bob’s newest baby would be a little girl, their very first and you had to laugh and say a silent prayer for her 3 big brothers, sweet little thing would no doubt be spoiled rotten.

—————————————————————-

Dinner and drinks at the Hard Deck were a must, you never thought you’d be so nostalgic for one of Penny’s greasy cheeseburgers and a night of pool with your friends. You offered to grab the next round of beers, copping a feel of your super hot boyfriend as you passed, truly the man had no right to look this good. It made it more and more difficult to leave San Diego being in his orbit, he’d clearly been spending way more time in the gym without you around and it definitely showed, you were pretty sure one wrong move would split the sleeves of his button up from the swell of his biceps and it had you hot and bothered already.

Penny rang up your beers as you two chatted and got caught up, but you noticed a concerned look from her in the direction of your group that had you craning your neck to see the issue. You’d barely been gone 5 minutes and already two of the little tag chasers that frequented the bar every weekend were crowding Jake and Javy, barely there tops and cut off shorts leaving very little to the imagination as you caught one of the girls place her hand on Jake’s chest.

“Hey no fighting in my bar Stormy, you know the rules” Penny said with a gentle hand on yours, she should practically see the steam billowing from your ears as you took the scene in.

“I know the rules Pen, I promise to be sweet as pie” you scooped up the beers and gave her a wink, she groaned and facepalmed as she mentally prepared herself for what you had in store for those poor unsuspecting idiots.

Natasha caught your eye as you placed the beers on the table, probably a little rougher than was necessary and she tried to catch your arm but you easily slipped from her grasp as you looped through the crowd of your friends. Jake looked a little panicked when he saw your face, he had tried to warn them off that his girlfriend was here and he wasn’t the least bit interested but these girls were persistent, one had even gone so far as to suggest you could come home with them and watch and Javy had to stop himself from laughing directly in her face. You didn’t share and you certainly didn’t take kindly to someone trying to touch your man, so when you’d crossed the threshold to the pool table everyone seemed to stop what they were doing, very interested in seeing where this situation would go.

One of the girls had her hand on Jake’s bicep as he was trying to let her know his girlfriend was behind her, as she whipped around to say something snarky but it all died in her throat when you grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her backwards.

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” You said as you pushed her towards her friend, both of them stumbling backwards in their ridiculous stilettos.

“Look honey I get that you think you’re something special but your “boyfriend” isn’t the relationship type, he’s told me so before several times after we’ve hooked up so I-“

She didn’t get very far before you lunged at her, it took Jake, Javy and Mickey to hold you back as the bell rang out from the bar. You hadn’t hurt anyone yet but Penny decided it was best to send both girls packing before she had to call a coroner to collect them. You were fuming, once they’d been sent overboard the boys let you go, you smacked all of them on the arms as you wrenched yourself from their grasp, stomping out the back exit with your middle finger in their general direction. Jake was on your heels with a promise that he’d keep you from hunting them down, catching you just as you slammed your fist into the weathered wood of the building.

He grabbed your hand before you could do anymore damage and you half wanted to rip his head off, looking every bit your callsign with the storm raging in your eyes.

“Baby, come on, look at me please? Don’t worry about those girls, you know they don’t mean shit to me…right?” He suddenly looked very worried at the thought that you might not believe him. “You do know that don’t you?”

You swiped the tears from your eyes before you could get more emotional and let him pull you into his arms, you weren’t really pissed at him and deep down he knew that. “Of course I do Jake, you’ve never lied to me, it's just still new with us, sometimes I forget just how many of these girls have been one night stands, I’d be lying if it doesn’t make me feel a little jealous. I feel like I need to keep you locked up in the house, it should be illegal for you to look this good.”

He throws his head back and laughs at that, but you’re serious. He’s yours now and you want everyone to know that the only girl Hangman is taking home is you.

You slide your hand across the back of his scalp and give a sharp tug, making his eyes fly open as he tries to stifle a moan.

“Does it look like I’m joking Seresin? You want to swagger around here in your half buttoned shirt and slutty jeans, getting me all hot and bothered? You like making me jealous? Maybe we need to go home so I can show you who you belong to since you seem to have forgotten.”

His pupils are blown and irises nearly nonexistent, you can feel him hot and hard pressed against your thigh, you know this side of you has got him right where you want him.

“You just say the word sugar and we can head home, I’ll even get on my knees and beg you to forgive me.” He says a little shakily, he’s not at all used to someone else being in control but damn he wants to see where you take this, it may be the hottest thing he’s ever seen watching you be dominant and a little mean to him. He’d fuck you right on the pool table in front of everyone right now if you asked, he’s starting to worry the two of you might not make it home without him taking you.

It didn’t take much convincing to leave the group shortly after, you were still angry and Jake was definitely too turned on by it to continue playing pool. You barely said a word on the ride home, and didn’t give him the chance to open your door as you marched into his house, disappearing down the hallway to the bedroom. He shook his head and chuckled a little, it was hard to take you seriously when he knew the end result would be the two of you fucking but he had no idea what you had in store.

——————————————————————

You’d planned on making this weekend a little adventurous anyways but now you were angry and determined, overcome with the need to be in charge. So when Jake stepped into your space seeing you stripped down to your lingerie you refused to let him touch you, swatting his hands away and pushing him towards the mattress.

“C’mon baby you aren’t still mad are you?” Jake huffed as you took both his hands and bound them with the rope you’d originally brought for him to use on you.

“You promised you’d beg for forgiveness Jakey, so that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. No touching, no cumming until I say so, by the time I’m done with you I’ll have you a ruined mess. How’s that sound?” You were eyeing him with curiosity, you’d always let him take the lead in bed but you had a feeling he would like this more than he had ever let on. You definitely weren’t disappointed as you saw his eyes darken, he was practically salivating at your words and you hadn’t even touched him yet. Grasping his chin between your fingers you hovered your lips against his, every time he leaned forward you pulled back and by the third time he was whining, you knew he’d be putty in your hands but this was better than you’d expected.

“Baby I-I’ll do whatever you want, fuck just-just kiss me please and then you can string me up six ways to Sunday, I’ll be good I promise.” He had the cutest little pout going and you couldn’t help but lean in and give him what he wanted, running your hands through his golden hair and licking into his mouth as he tried to scoot closer to you, poor thing probably didn’t even realize he was doing it until you stepped away from him completely soaking in his pink cheeks and glazed eyes.

“Alright sweet boy, you got your kisses. Sit still and be good, promise I’ll make it worth your while. I need you to tell me if it’s too much though, ok?” You lean in to press kisses to his forehead as he nodded enthusiastically and you try to stifle a laugh, he’s like a damn puppy just trying to get your attention.

“Alright baby, lay back. Think I might give you something you’ve been asking for first, gonna let me ride your pretty face? How’s that sound?”

He scoots to the headboard as fast as he possibly can with his hands tied, gazing up at you as you remove your skimpy underwear and climb up his body, pressing kisses and nips to his skin and oh you might just be hooked on all the little noises he’s making. Finally settled above his face he gives you that million dollar grin you love so much, and licks from your entrance to your clit, testing the waters as he goes through all the little tricks that have proven to have you a moaning mess, the room filling with sounds of you both and the lewd wet noises as Jake ate at you like a starved man. Once he’d sent you over the edge, white knuckling the headboard as you cried out for him you felt a little more at ease, but you wanted more. He had a bit of a kink for edging you and you’d always wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, so you climbed off of him with jelly legs and splayed your naked body on top of his, pressing his tied wrists above his head as you tasted yourself on his tongue and ground your obscenely wet pussy all over his clothed cock, he was hard as a rock bucking up into you at the delicious friction. Pulling him from his briefs caused him to hiss into your mouth, and you pulled back to nip at his jaw, seeking out the spot on his neck that was most sensitive.

“Oh fuck, baby come on now, you can’t just tease me like this forever- Jesus Christ-“

You’d found the spot evidently, that combined with you grinding yourself across his erection, letting your clit bump against the head as he flexed his hands against the rope. “Shhhh, let me have my fun baby, ohh ohhh it feels so good, shit you feel so fucking good” you were close again already and Jake was losing his mind, in reality he could get out of these knots fairly easily but he’d promised to be good, maybe he had a death wish but saying underneath you like this would be a damn good way to go. He felt himself getting close, you could tell he was nearly there when you wrenched yourself away from him and watched the look of shock cross him as the neediest whine you’d ever heard came from your big hulking boyfriend.

He was leaking like a damn faucet in your hand, tip angry red while his chest heaved, an artist couldn’t begin to try and sculpt how gorgeous he looked to you, your mouthy over the top man was quickly being reduced to a puddle and you were thrilled with the result. You proceeded to play with him and back off two more times with your hands and mouth before he was thrashing his head back and forth, a sob bubbling up from his chest.

“Please-please baby I can’t anymore you win, next girl that comes near me is gonna know I’m yours before she even gets close enough, f-fuck shit I can’t- love you so fucking much”

You laved your tongue over the head of his cock and batted your eyelashes, you definitely got the appeal now as you took in his sweaty form, poor Hangman; reduced to near tears in under an hour just from his sweet little girlfriend, if you were honest you enjoyed it a little too much. Sliding back up his body you removed the ropes, kissing at his wrists and he sighed in relief, he kept his hands to himself as he waited to see if you’d give him what he needed.

“Go ahead Jakey, take what you want baby I’m all yours.”

He flipped you both over immediately, sucking on your tongue as he slammed into you, loud moans and harsh slapping noises coming from your bodies as he sought out his release.

“Fuckin mean, toying with me like that sugar. You know you’re all I’ve wanted, think about this pretty pussy gripping me tight all fucking day, give anything to fuck you like this every night. Nobody makes me feel as good as you do- no one. Love you so goddamn much.”

Now he’s turned you into the moaning mess, playing with your clit as he fucked you hard, you were on the edge again he could feel you pulsing around him, pulling your face into his he sucked your bottom lip and came, desperately grinding up against him as you rode the aftershocks together.

You couldn’t believe what had come over you and you put your hands over your face and giggled. He laughed at how cute you looked and stole kisses, you both needed to get up and shower but these little moments were so scarce these days that he couldn’t help but stay put as long as you’d let him.

——————————————————————

Sunday morning was lazy lovemaking and breakfast in bed, before he finally had to help you pack up to head back to the airport. You’d been a bucket of tears the whole car ride, practically in his lap in the truck the second he’d parked.

“We got this baby” he’d said as he walked you to security, and your heart broke with every step you had to take to get on your plane. Once a month would never be enough, you both wanted a lifetime, it was time to make some changes.

Jake Seresin Masterlist

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @pinkdaisies9285 @djs8891 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @mygyn @angelbabyyy99 @86laura11 @shanimallina87 @floydsglasses @jostan456 @kmc1989 @dempy @its-the-pilot @mrsevans90 @purelyfiction @nouis-bum

[king-bumis-armpit]

Separation Anxiety

Written for Maiko Week 2024 - Separation

Summary: Mai takes Izumi to her family’s reunion, and Zuko stays home. It's a horrible time for both of them.

Author’s Note: I really thought I was going to stick to the prompt this time, but then the first part sort of got away from me. And I really had to hold back because my inner Kataang was about to unleash. I was about to write a whole mini-fic about them inside of this one, but I exercised restraint. I did not however exercise restraint on my thoughts about Mai’s upbringing. As a result, this is way longer than I intended. Oh well… I hope you enjoy! :)

TW: Anxiety about being parents and misogyny from Mai’s family members. I made Michi kind of awful. But there’s a happy ending, I promise!

WC: 4,276

Zuko took a deep breath and stared at his large empty bed. It had been a long while since he had to sleep alone. He sat down slowly, as if the bed might vanish at the last second before he made contact. He leaned back and tried to get comfortable, but he ended up tossing and turning until his memories overtook him.

— — 

When he and Mai were newlyweds, they agreed never to spend more than a week apart at a time. Sometimes the obligations of royalty made this vow difficult to keep, but they had managed. In fact, Zuko had been in Yu Dao when Mai found out that she was pregnant. They had been trying for some time, so Mai was ecstatic when she told him. 

Her excitement was contagious, but anxiety quickly infected him as well. He couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened to her while he was away. What if she had fallen ill? Or what if an Ozai loyalist cell re-emerged and attacked her? Thankfully, most of the organized movements had died down after Azula had willingly turned herself in. But that was another consideration, what if Azula tried to get revenge on Mai while he was gone? He knew that Mai was more than capable of protecting herself, and normally that was enough to allay his fears, but the new worry for their child fractured his restraint. 

Zuko doubled Mai’s guard and silently promised himself to stay by her side for the rest of her pregnancy. He knew that his actions would probably annoy his wife, but surprisingly she was not the first to complain.

“Zuko, she’s pregnant, not helpless,” his mother chided him. She had cornered him in one of the hallways about a week after his return from Yu Dao. “There are always going to be circumstances beyond your control, but Mai is fully competent to go about her daily life without a small army. You need to give her space to breathe. Give your baby space to grow.”

Zuko relented and recalled the extra guards he had assigned, but then he added a pair of covert guards to keep watch without being stifling. For her part, Mai found the incident somewhat amusing. 

As they ate dinner together, she commented on the change: “Yesterday, I had a whole coterie. Today all I get are a few extra shadows.”

Zuko sighed. “Mom told me I was being overbearing. But I’m worried about you. What if something happens? You’re my whole world Mai.”

Mai turned red. “I’m impressed that anything you say can still make me blush after you impregnated me, but here we are.” Zuko chuckled, and Mai continued, “Normally I wouldn’t be cool with extra guards out of nowhere. I’m your wife and your equal, so I would like to be included in the conversation the next time you think about changing up my security detail.” 

She gave him a pointed look, and Zuko took her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. We can ditch the elite guards if you want.

Mai’s eyes softened and she brought his hand to her cheek. “No, it’s okay. I’m not angry this time, I just want you to talk to me about things like this in the future.” She kissed his palm and set their hands on the table.

Zuko smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t want to upset you. I’ve never seen you so happy. And I’m happy too! I’m just…”

“Zuko, I’m scared too. I really want this baby to come out healthy. I’ve been carrying this list of foods I can’t have anymore, and I read it at least five times before I eat anything,” she admitted sheepishly. Mai produced said scroll from one of her dart holsters of all places. Zuko felt himself fall even more in love. The whole thing was just so Mai.

After that conversation, the pair discussed their concerns much more openly. In the worst moments, they both feared that they would take on the worst qualities of their parents. Zuko started to feel phantom pains in his scar that hadn’t plagued him since he was a teenager. They made pact after pact to hold each other accountable and to love the baby no matter what and to keep them safe. 

But even talking about their fears in the open helped to lift the burden. The anxiety didn’t dissipate, but it became easier to bear. Zuko loved talking to Mai’s bump when she began to show. Mai teased him for being silly, but he knew she secretly loved it. They redecorated the palace nursery to be less austere and more inviting. And Aang and Katara often visited with their son Bumi. 

When Mai went into labor, Katara helped her through the whole process until Princess Izumi had safely arrived. Aang was on babysitting duty. Not for Bumi, who Aang considered to be his full time sidekick, but for Zuko, who could only watch his wife’s agony for so long until he needed a dad to dad pep talk. 

Thankfully, Zuko managed to collect himself in time to meet his baby girl in her first moments. Mai had suggested the name Izumi, and Zuko immediately knew that it was right when he saw her tiny red face. She captivated his heart from her first breath and– after a brief embrace from Mai– Zuko was the first person to truly hold her. When the nurses took her for her health check, Zuko almost refused. Looking at her perfect little face, he realized that he could never become his father. He swore to himself on that day to always be by her side when she needed him.

— — 

Zuko gave up on trying to sleep and began to pace in his room. Without Mai, his bed was too cold and too big. Michi, his mother in-law, had insisted that she and Izumi attend her family reunion. Zuko had been invited, but his advisors had already scheduled the large annual conference of the provincial governors for the same weekend. He didn’t want to sabotage Mai’s opportunity to see her family, but he had desperately wanted her to stay.

And little Izumi was only four. Would she be sad when he wasn’t there to wake up with her at sunrise as he had been for the past four years? Since his job and his nature as fire-bender necessitated early mornings, when Izzy was a baby they decided that Mai would be in charge of bed time and night-time feedings and Zuko would take over in the wee hours of the morning. This arrangement worked surprisingly well, and continued long after Izzy started eating solid food. Zuko loved that he always had a few hours with his daughter. In the early days, he had a crib installed in his office so he could get a start on the his work after she fell back asleep. Now she was big enough to run through his forms with him. Zuko didn’t want to put any pressure on her to be bender or not, so he would alternate between Firebending forms and other martial arts. Would she practice them without him? She didn’t have any of them committed to memory but she would often try to show off to Mai with gusto. He smiled at the thought.

But he quickly frowned again, knowing he wouldn’t be there to see. “Ugh!” he grabbed his hair and berated himself: “Don’t be such a coward! You’ve slept on the road with nothing but a stolen ostrich horse. You can handle two nights with them.”

He walked over to Mai’s vanity and sat. He picked up a book that she recently finished reading and thumbed through the pages. Then, he picked up her jar of perfume and sprayed it experimentally. He inhaled her signature scent and sighed. 

Truthfully, he was worried about her well-being away from him too. He wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that she couldn’t go-on without his presence for a few measly days, but he knew how her mother and grandparents could be. Even when she was little, he recalled how Michi would nitpick at her posture or her expression or her word choice. He was ashamed that it took him so long to realize just how conditional her parental affection was. 

In retrospect, it made sense why she loved her uncle just as much as he loved his. When he first met the Warden of the Boiling Rock, he didn’t quite see the appeal. The man was terrifying and brutish and he had a nasty power-complex. But it all fit into place when he saw them together at the wedding. Michi had been chiding Mai for getting her wedding slippers dusty during their first dance, and Zuko was about to ask her to leave. He couldn’t believe that she chose that moment to undercut her daughter, but the Warden stepped in. “Oh knock it off! This is her palace, not a prison yard. How about you go get a drink while I dance with my niece.” And just like that, Mai’s super traditional and stuck-up uncle led her in the camelephant strut. They were both a bit clumsy, especially Mai since her robes were constantly in the way, but their rare and radiant smiles made the moment perfect.

Aunt Mura was another advocate for Mai, but her support was more quiet and diplomatic. A hand on the shoulder here, and words of encouragement there. Mura was so much more gentle and less acerbic than Michi, that it was easy to forget that she had been raised with the same unfair expectations. She approached her sister with more empathy than Zuko was willing to extend.

Zuko hoped that the pair of them would keep Michi in line. Unfortunately, from his limited contact he knew that Mai’s grandparents might also pose a problem. He had a sudden and unpleasant vision of Mai’s grandmother and Michi making comments about Izumi’s behavior. He gritted his teeth. He knew Mai wouldn’t stand for it, but it set him on edge. 

Mai had really come into her own as a Fire Lady. She was always very calm in a crisis, but she spoke passionately about the issues that moved her. She would let her excitement show when her projects came to fruition. She learned how to be vulnerable in order to build trust with their citizens.

His biggest fear was that she would return, and, after their separation, some of that precious progress would be undone. And that Izumi’s light would shine a little dimmer in turn.

He stood from the vanity and shook his head, as if he could dislodge the poisonous thoughts. Normally when something caused him to worry, he would talk about it with his wife. Now he was at a loss. Maybe a nice walk in the cool night air would clear his mind. He could visit Druk in the stables. He muttered to himself as he made his way, “She’s an adult. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck.” 

— — 

Mai was on the verge of tears. She needed Zuko desperately. 

They had left early that morning in an airship for the Southern region of the Fire Nation where her grandparents lived, and Mai was cautiously optimistic. Since she woke up so early, Izzy slept for the two hours of travel time to the house. It was a lovely opportunity to talk to Tom-Tom, who– at the age of 17– was often busy with school these days.

But everything changed when they landed. Her grandparents greeted her formally, but more warmly than they ever had. And she soon discovered why: this was her first visit to their hometown as the Fire Lady. When she entered their home, she was dismayed to find a throne and a receiving line! Thankfully, Tom-Tom offered to watch Izumi and get her some food, while Mai was forced to meet the Mayor and all of her grandparents' friends. After an hour of accepting well-wishes, backhanded compliments, and personal requests, he uncle arrived. He walked up to her confidently and insisted that she and Izumi take tea with him and Mura. Apparently being the Warden of the Boiling Rock gave him the authority to terminate her indentured servitude.

Tea was a brief affair. However she re-entered the gaggle of distant relatives and vaguely important people with her uncle on her arm, and Tom-Tom again stepped in to watch Izumi as she played with the other children. Mai loved her little brother to bits, but this experience made her appreciate him all the more. She was thirteen when he was born, so she felt fiercely protective of him when he was little. And he was thirteen when Izzy was born, and she could see him return all of that love and shower it on her. The thought made her emotional. 

Dinner came late, well past Izumi’s normal bedtime, but it was a blessedly private affair. Her grandparents; her mother, aunt, and uncle; and herself, Tom-Tom, and Izumi. Oh, and the Mayor, but he spent a significant portion of the night wooing Aunt Mura so he was easy enough to tune out. Uncle showed Izzy magic tricks with his napkin, and Mai smiled. She had nearly forgotten how he used to do the same for her. He would have been a good father if he hadn’t chosen such a demanding profession. She regretted that she had only seen him a handful of times since her wedding.

Mai’s grandparents kept her in conversation. To her surprise, they praised Zuko and his reforms highly. At first she was pleased, but then her mood began to sour. 

“I don’t know how you pulled a match like that. You were always so sullen as a girl,” her grandfather remarked.

Mai felt her mother’s keen stare and tried to laugh it off. “Well… he always said he liked how I hated the world.”

Her grandfather frowned and she worried she misspoke, but her grandmother interjected, “Oh happiness is overrated. True contentment comes with status. You did well to act in a manner pleasing to him.”

Mai felt her stomach turn. She never acted differently for Zuko. He challenged her preconceived notions sometimes and helped her see different points of view, but she didn’t blindly follow him like an animal. Was that how she appeared? Izumi wasn’t hearing this was she? She looked at her daughter, but, no, Uncle was telling her a story about a prison riot. Somehow, that was probably a healthier message for her impressionable child.

Michi joined the conversation, “Oh mother, it’s all thanks to you! I took your advice and got her into the palace early. Her friendship with Princess Azula was most beneficial. She was the natural choice to be Zuko’s consort.”

Mai felt suddenly nauseous. Her friendship with Azula was strained in a lot of ways, but it was built on a genuine foundation. They had both loved sparring as girls, along with Ty Lee of course. They would sneak from the stuffy functions her mother dragged her to. Michi couldn’t take credit for any of that, and she certainly couldn't take credit for her love with Zuko.

Mai gripped the edge of the table, prepared to tell her off. “Actually!” she began confidently, and all of the eyes in the room turned toward her. Apparently her Uncle had finished his story and Mura had politely rebuffed the Mayor. But it was the full and undivided attention of her grandparents that got to her. She remembered why silence and falsity were her friends. Mai quickly thought of an excuse for her outburst. “Zuko wanted me to tell you how sorry he is that he couldn’t make it. He sends his love.” 

“Darling, told us that before.” her grandmother replied. “He is the Fire Lord, you should not expect him to attend your family affairs.”

Mai wilted. “Of course, grandmother. But he asked me to tell you, so I wanted to relay his words.”

Her grandfather smiled, “Yes, a good wife echoes her husband.” 

Mai snuck another look at Izumi, praying that she was not listening. Luck seemed to be on her side, as the little princess was absorbed and– covered in– the noodles on her plate. 

Mai got them out of there as quickly as she deemed socially acceptable  and washed the noodles off of her little girl.. She cursed herself for her cowardice. She was the Fire Lady! She could have left whenever she damn well pleased, but she turned into a child the second she entered that house. 

To make matters worse, as soon as she and Izumi entered their chambers the little girl began having a meltdown.

It started innocently enough: “Where’s dada?”

Mai pursed her lips. She had tried explaining to Izumi before they left that daddy couldn’t come with them this time, but the thought was unimaginable to her. They had always traveled as a family, and she had never had to sleep without a goodnight kiss from daddy before Mai began the bedtime routine.

Mai tried again to explain, “I’m sorry turtleduck, but he’s not here right now. He had to stay at the palace and run the country. We’ll see him in two more sleeps.”

Izumi teared up. “Not here?”

Mai held her, “No. He’s not here, but he’s safe and so are we. You’ll see him soon.”

Then the wailing began in earnest and it did not stop for what felt like hours but was probably minutes. Mai tried to be soothing, but firm. For better or worse, she couldn’t capitulate to her daughter’s request this time. No airships or secure transports were running at this hour. And Zuko would probably spontaneously combust if she rented an animal and attempted the overnight journey alone. 

Mai felt the tears prick in her eyes too. Since her parents were so strict, she had no gauge for how to react to this situation. Was she being too indulgent by letting her daughter cry? How could she stop it? What could she say to make her happy again? All at once, the floodgates of self-loathing had opened. She was the co-ruler of a country, why did she let her grandparents walk all over her in front of her daughter? And how could she foist Izumi on to her baby brother all day? It was his family reunion too. 

She needed Zuko. He would calm Izzy down. Spirits, he would calm her down. 

There was a knock at the door. Shit! Their rooms were in the farthest part of the manor to give the Fire Lady privacy, but someone had obviously overheard and complained. There would be rumors all over the town about how bad of a parent she was. Or it was her guards checking in. The poor guys probably wanted to make sure she was okay. She tucked Izumi behind her, and palmed a knife– just to be safe– and opened the door.

For a second, she thought her brain was deceiving her into seeing what she wanted to see.

“DADA!” Izumi screamed happily.

She ran around Mai and jumped into his arms. “Hello turtleduck.” He laughed and kissed her head as he made his way into the room. “I hope I’m not intruding on girl time.” He smiled at Mai.

She took a deep breath to try to compose herself and smiled back at her husband. “Of course, not. Our princess was just demanding your presence.” 

“Oh!” Zuko seemed genuinely surprised. “Well then, I’m glad I arrived just in time.” He tucked Izumi into her bed, across the room from Mai’s– and now Zuko’s– larger one. She must have been exhausted from her early travels, because, as soon as she knew that both of her parents were in the room, she fell asleep. Mai marveled at her instant calm.

Zuko stroked her hair a few times and then turned his attention to his wife. He walked over to her and delicately pulled her into an embrace. “I’m such a loser,” he whispered, face buried in her neck, and it felt so out-of-the-blue that she nearly snorted.

“What on earth are you talking about? I need more information to know if I disagree,” she retorted.

“Hey!” he protested quietly, and pinched her arm, but she could feel his smile on her skin. His breath tickled as he spoke: “I couldn’t handle one night away from you both. Let alone two.”

Mai caressed his cheek, and guided his face so they were looking into each other's eyes. “Then I must be a loser too because I was about to cry before you got here. Izumi was sobbing because she missed you so much and my family–” she stopped abruptly.

Zuko took hold of her hands and she could feel the fire in his eyes. “What did they say?”

Mai slumped her shoulders and allowed herself to lean against him. “It’s not important.” That dreaded touch of apathy colored her voice, but then, but a glimmer of broke through. “It’s really not important because you’re here now.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. He finally pulled away, “At least give me a list of names.”

Mai chuckled quietly, she didn’t want to wake their daughter. “The usual suspects.”

That told Zuko all he needed to know. The pair went about their nightly routines, before climbing into bed. Zuko longed to kiss her more, and fill her with reassurance, but he was prevented by the presence of their daughter. He settled for wrapping his arms tightly around Mai and burying his face in her hair.

But suddenly she broke away and sat up. Zuko pouted up at her.

“Wait! Wait a minute! How did you get here?” she looked at him in awe. 

He smiled cheekily. “You know I’ve been practicing flying with Druk.”

Mai crossed her arms. “You did not fly him all the way here from the Caldera! His previous flights were twenty minutes at most. My poor baby is probably exhausted.”

Zuko laughed. Druk may have been bonded to him by the sacred fire, but the dragon was bonded to Mai by something else. The two were so protective of each other that it was almost comical. 

“Oh don’t worry,” Zuko reassured her, and pulled her back into his arms. “Your big old baby loved it, and your family’s servants gave him the best room in their stables.”

Mai huffed. “Okay, but if he’s sore tomorrow, then I’m using you as a pin cushion.”

“It would be my greatest honor.”

Mai rolled her eyes, but she snuggled in closer.

— — 

The next day, Mai checked on Druk first thing. To her own surprise, she was the first member of her immediate family awake. She left Zuko a note. (Her notes always began, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m leaving,” even if she was just taking the five-minute trip to her favorite fire flakes stand. It had become an inside joke between them.) 

Druk truly was in a great mood. Mai’s family ordered the finest cuts from the butcher as a special treat. If there was one thing she could count on her grandparents to do, it was suck up to royalty.

She stopped by the kitchens and put in a special request, and then she made her way to the airship service. By the time she arrived back at the house, breakfast had begun. She slowly took her seat, allowing her mother's glare to linger.

“Young lady,” he grandfather began. “It is bad form to arrive late to a meal. “Especially when royalty is present.”

Mai pretended to be chastened. “Oh, I’m so sorry grandfather. But I wanted to put on a surprise for my dearest husband.” She strongly emphasized the word. “As you and Grandmother were saying, such a visitation to my family is quite beneath him actually.” Zuko whipped his head to his in-laws. Mai could tell he was seething, but this was her moment to reclaim power. She knew he would follow her lead, and so she continued, “As such, I thought it would be a lovely surprise if we all took a trip to the nearby southern beaches.”

Mai’s grandmother scoffed. “Those aren’t nearby. You’d have to take an airship to get there.”

Mai nodded, “Yes and I chartered one. Unfortunately, it’s quite small. They only had ten open seats.”

Mai’s mother tried to cut the tension. “Oh well… That’s still enough for all of us, and we can even bring the Mayor. Perhaps the day can be salvaged, but you really should have asked your grandparents before doing this.” 

Michi didn’t want to look bad in front of her parents, and Mai almost regretted what she was about to do. She replied: “You’re not taking into account the guards. We’ll need four to be safe I would say. I’m so very sorry. I assumed that grandfather and grandmother would be too weary to travel so far, so I didn’t list them on the tickets. And Uncle and Auntie have so few opportunities to see Izumi. I hope you understand, Mother.”

Michi flushed red, but she wouldn’t dare have a dramatic and drawn out argument with Mai so publicly. The Warden chuckled to himself, “Now this is an escape plan I can get behind.”

Zuko looked at his wife with a newfound admiration. He knew there would come a time when they were separated again, but he did not want to dwell on it. In this moment, they were together. And they were stronger because of it.

[belit0]

Hii!! First of all, how are you? And how do you feel? I first wanted to thank you for doing such a beautiful blog. You truly have a talent to write and you write so well. I am always looking forward for any new posts of yours, i just love your blog so so much!!!!<333 I’m sorry i am so obsessed with your blog and how you write the Uchiha man so fine ans well. Can you maybe write about how Madara gets into an argument with his wife and it comes to the point where he hits her, (slapping or punching her because of his anger) he hits her so hard it causes a bruise on her skin. And how he will try to make it up for her and how he will react to it? Love you and your blog! 🩷

Helloooooo!! I just bought my first iPad ever, so I'm really happy about it!!! In my country, it is very difficult to get cases and accessories, so currently fighting for them🤣🙌🏻. I really appreciate your words and your presence, it genuinely makes me very happy to know people enjoy what I do and like my content.

Nothing to apologize for, I love that you obsess, and having someone to share my own Uchiha fixation with!!

With this request, I am revealing one of my biggest HCS about the Uchiha brothers: a violent authority figure, and all the traumas that come with it.

He is not proud, not at all. When his hand connects with her face it feels exactly like the first time his mother hit him.

(Y/N) falls to the ground from the force of the impact, and looks at him in disbelief. Her eyes are so wide they seem about to explode, and she holds the area where Madara struck her as a silent tear slides over her fingers. The woman seems unable to move, paralyzed, and the Uchiha feels life stop for a second.

Never in his life did he think of becoming what he hated so much, of adopting the same actions from the figure who took it upon herself to make his life a living hell as a child. Madara grew up traumatized by his mother's hands, the violence she imparted both verbally and physically, and tried to channel it all on him to protect his siblings.

When she finally passed away, he was left with lifelong scars, both bodily and psychologically, which he decided would help him to never become the horrible human being she was. For many years, he conducted his anger through war, the battlefield, and the death he carried on his hands every day.

With the new stage of peace, that ordeal was over, and so was his source of personal liberation. Sure, training with the Senju or his brother always brought significant physical relaxation, but no longer being able to attack with the intent to kill made the practice sessions seem like a joke.

Frustrated by his inability to release without killing, Madara lost that one important outlet for his anger, for venting his rage, and began to progressively accumulate it. Between dealing with a new village, his younger brother and the entire clan still reluctant to accept peace with the enemy, and leading an entire family, it didn't take long for him to explode in the worst possible way, and evoke all his childhood memories at once.

His body moved on its own, without him even analyzing what he was about to do, and (Y/N) had no time to react. 

They were arguing over genuine stupidity, the Uchiha not having washed the dishes he used for breakfast that morning because he had to rush off to a meeting, and his wife having to take care of it for him. (Y/N) had made it clear from the beginning of their relationship that she would not submit to being a housewife, to living for and by her husband, and that she would maintain her independence despite having Madara by her side.

How little tolerance she had for the one time he left something behind, only because he was in a hurry, got on his nerves, and he exploded thanks to all the accumulated problems he was carrying on his back. His open hand connected with (Y/N)'s cheek before he could figure out exactly what he was doing, and sent her straight to the ground with the force of the collision.

As he stared at his wife on the floor, he could only see himself as a child, tiny in the face of his batterer, small with no options and no way out. Circumstances managed to bring out the worst in him, what he thought he had overcome, and he had no tools to face such a scenario. He never believed he had any aspect of his mother in him, he promised himself never to be like her, and he had failed.

He felt dirty.

The Uchiha is speechless when seeing how his wife gets up and runs away, terrified by the cruel action of her man, and takes refuge in her brother-in-law's house. Madara can only listen, from the same place where he stood frozen after hitting her, as (Y/N) lunges against Izuna's front door, demanding between screams and tears to let her in.

Seconds later, and with a sepulchral silence in the air, the Uchiha senses how his younger brother walks into his home, a small and incredulous voice asking "What the fuck did you do, Madara?"

It has been years since he last cried, back when he thought he was about to lose the only immediate family he had left, that time when he held his Otouto close in his arms and prayed to the heavens and all their gods to let him live on.

Today, Madara surrenders to the ground again, falling to his knees and indulging in his anguish, reliving traumatic events in his mind like a movie he cannot pause. He has no words to explain, nor does he know what to say, and all he can do is allow the uncontrollable flow of his tears.

Izuna, perplexed, falls to the ground beside him, hugging him and knowing no questions need to be asked.

He himself was a victim of his mother, and his older brother protected him at every turn, taking all the beatings and holding back tears to look brave in front of his siblings. The younger Uchiha knows what this is all about, and he knows better than to say anything.

Engrossed in his journey into the past, he knows there is no way to help him at this point, and Izuna retreats without further ado.

Madara, on the other hand, lasts in the same position all night, completely blocked by his emotions and unable to regain control over his body. He has been subjected to all kinds of tortures, faced the greatest warriors, and dealt with unimaginable powers on the battlefield, but nothing compares to this.

The next day, he can do nothing but disappear from the face of the earth, isolate himself in the old Uchiha compound, lose track of time in his family's abandoned territory, and continue to punish himself for what he did. He returns home, to the house where he grew up amidst punishment and abuse, and walks through each room, mentally seeing the image of his mother above him, harshly beating him.

He will stay there as long as he thinks necessary, without eating, without drinking water, tormenting himself until he thinks he has purged all his ills.

[sannasruins]

letters from my love

aizawa shouta x reader

type: angst with some fluff sprinkled sporadically, part two to my letters to you but can probably be read stand-alone as well

warning: major character death, grief

a/n: regular text is present, italics are your handwriting, flash backs have tildes (~) enclosing them. reader is refered to with she/her pronous and as "wife". this turned out way more self insert-y than anything else i've written but not for lack of trying, i just couldn't have things be less specific lol, sorry to anyone who doesn't like rain, bugs, and baking

word count: 5.3k

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wake to find your side of the bed cold. He would get up in search of you and would find you bathed in yellow light at the kitchen table, scribbling away at paper. He would ask you what you were doing, when you were coming back to bed, and you would answer him, writing letters, and soon honey I’m almost done. Content with your answers and much too groggy to ask who you were writing letters to, he would make his way back upstairs and into the warmth of bed. And just as you told him, you would soon slip under the covers and cuddle into your husband’s warm and loving embrace.

Shouta gingery removed one of the sealed envelopes from the box, a small sticker keeping it closed. He turned it around to see the back of the letter and his heart started pounding faster when he saw the scrawl of your handwriting. He tried hard to focus on the words in front of him, though he found it increasingly difficult. He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, then reopening them and trying again to read what was addressed to him.

It first rains after I’m gone.

That was your handwriting, but what could that mean? Looking up, he noticed something he hadn’t in his rush to see the contents of the box. On the lid, cut out of construction paper, were the words OPEN WHEN. 

Open when it first rains after I’m gone.

What were these? He put down the first letter and reached for another. You turn 30. Another. It’s been a year. Another. It’s my birthday. You turn 26. It snows. You really miss me. You notice a beautiful sunset. You turn 45. You get sick for the first time after I’m gone. You loose a battle. You turn 28. It’s our wedding anniversary. You find this box. He paused, was this the one he was supposed to read first?

He flipped through the rest of the box, it looked like you had written letters for all of his birthdays, up until he turned 80. That was 55 letters alone. But there were other letters mixed in with them, letters for the changing seasons, letters for coffee dates and weather. And a few of the letters, it seemed, were ones for him to deliver to others, their friends, their fellow heroes. His brows furrowed and two schools of thought argued in his brain. He was mad, mad that you thought you had to do this, mad that your thoughts had been proven right, mad that you knew there was a chance you were going to leave him behind on this miserable planet without you. But he was also grateful, grateful that you loved him so much that you didn’t want to leave him behind with nothing, grateful that you had left him bits of you to have for the rest of his life, his only salvation trying to spread herself past her mortal boundaries.

Open when: you find this box.

He carefully peeled back the sticker that sealed the envelope closed, not wanting to tear the fragile paper. Inside was nice looking stationery, the design suited you, he thought, folded neatly into thirds, front and back covered in your words, the ink holding just a slight fraction of all that you were. He pulled the paper out of its bindings, and delicately unfolded it, revealing the beginning. 

Dear Shouta, my love, 

If you are reading this, that probably means that I am gone, that or you found this while cleaning the closet, and we will be having a rather embarrassing conversation soon.

He let out an amused exhale, but the breath he drew back in held somberness.

My love, I’m sorry that I was the one to leave first, I promise you I never wanted these preparations I’ve made to ever have to be used, I would much rather prefer if we got to grow old together, retire from being heroes, maybe move out to the sunny country, and live our lives long and peaceful. But we’re heroes, aren’t we? We’ve dedicated so much of our lives, from such a young age, to be able to protect and put ourselves on the line for the greater good. 

I hope I went out heroically, maybe not a blaze of glory but, not on the losing side of the battle when it was all said and done. Maybe even I won in the end? You wouldn’t wanna be married to a loser, now would you?

“You did,” he murmured to himself, having completely forgotten his friend across the table from him, “I’d rather be married to you as a looser than anyone else though, a wife who is a looser sounds a lot better than a wife who is dead.” He continued to read.

I wish you could know how much I love you, my Shouta, how much I wish for you. I would give you the world if I could, heavens know I tried. Please do not let my efforts be in vain my love, do not let my departure be the thing that crashes and burns the path that you have painstakingly forged for yourself. 

Crash and burn he thought bitterly, oh the irony. 

I will be waiting for you, dearest, wherever the soul goes where it dies, I will be waiting for you at the start, so that neither of us will be alone. But please, do not join me prematurely, I won’t greet you with joy if you did that, Shouta. Live a long, long life, make it worthwhile, if not for yourself, then for me, please. You have so much left to do. Maybe try teaching, you were always so great with children, teach them better, teach them the hard lessons we had to learn ourselves so that they won’t make the same mistakes their predecessors made.

With all my love, my whole heart, my soul, and my entire being,

Y/n.

That’s where the first letter ended. He sat back, not ready to process everything it had contained, so he moved his focus to his previously forgotten friend.

“Hizashi, there’s a letter for you, in here too,” he nodded towards the box, “there’s actually a couple not addressed to me.” He pulled the letters, which were for your mutual friends and fellow heroes, out of the box, and handed them to the blonde. There seemed to be a silent understanding that it was now Hizashi’s duty to deliver the letters to their recipients, Shouta probably wouldn’t be ready to do that for a long while, and they deserved to receive their messages in their times of grief. 

Aizawa Shouta didn’t go back to work for a while, instead staying in the house the two of you had made into a home. He wasn’t a useless mound of grief the entirety of his stay indoors though. He had decided to do what you told him, and looked into getting his teaching license, taking online courses while slowly cleaning the home. He was never going to get rid of your presence in the space, it was as much yours as it was his, even if you were no longer there. But he needed to get your clothes out of the shared closest, and your products off of the bathroom vanity, carefully being tucked away. He placed more pictures of you around the house, pictures of your wedding day, of your after-school dates, of late night patrols together, decorated all of the walls and filled many empty surfaces.

 Monsoon season had arrived, and it had been a month since your passing that the first real rain happened, it was now June, and the air was hot, balmy. The afternoon rain brought some relief from the heat of summer, and he knew it was time to read his second letter.

Open when: It first rains after I’m gone.

He sat down in the living room, into the plush arm chair that faced the windows, he reminisced on all the days just like this one, where you would sit and listen to the rain, your book of the week resting in your hands, the only other sounds breaking the patter of rain being you turning the page, and the noises you made in reaction to what new words you were taking in, a gasp, a giggle, a snort.

Hi Shouta, 

Are you sitting in my chair right now? Are you watching the rain? 

Never again will anyone know him as well as you did.

I know you have mixed feelings about rain, it seems to almost always show up in the moments that feel fitting for it, for you at least. I’m sure you know how much I love the rain though, the rhythmic pounding, the flash and crash of lightning and thunder. Do you remember that day in our third year, both of us had forgotten to bring umbrellas, you wanted to wait until the rain had let up, but there was no telling when that would be, and I wanted us to just walk out into the rain.

~ “Come on Shouta,” you called out joyfully, “it’s just water.” You stood in the courtyard of the school, most of the students gone now but those that were just leaving looking at you strangely as you spun in the rain. You walked back to where he was standing under the awning, and took both of his hands in yours, pulling gently on him, to bring him out of the shelter and into the downpour. ~

You were so worried I was going to catch a cold; I was more worried about you though. I didn’t want you to be so cautious in life, over such little things, even if we both caught colds, it would be better than waiting, watching, for something that may never come. Shouta, my dear, I don’t know if you're waiting for a sign, a sign to move on, a sign to live, a sign to die. That sign may never come. So let the rain be your sign, let the rain tell you to come out, to feel alive, to dance under it, even if your clothes will get wet, even if you get a cold. I don't want you to move on from me as much as you don't, but that doesn't mean you have to forget me, my love. I will be in every drop of rain that kisses your skin. 

He lowered the letter and looked outside to the darkened clouds. He got up, placing the letter on the coffee table, before slipping on his shoes and heading out the front door. He stood there, in the rain, for quite a while. The droplets mixing with his tears as they hit his face, trying to feel you in every single one of them. He stood there, until the rain started to let up, the color of the clouds fading to a lighter gray, and the sting of the rain turned gentler. He shook the water out of his hair, and turned around, back towards the house. It seemed to have a new air about it, something, maybe, slightly less heavy, or maybe it was just his imagination. He headed back inside, something different about him too, though he couldn’t see it, maybe the rain had washed away something heavy, maybe you had kissed away some of the pain. 

The Butsadan* he had gotten to place in your home held 2 pictures of you, one that he had taken on that very first crepe date, chocolate staining one corner of your mouth as you grinned at him, and one he had taken on your wedding day, looking so lovely in your dress, a gentle, loving smile gracing your lips as you looked at him with such adoration. He never let the flowers at your alter wither, changing out the water daily and the flowers every week, trying to pick out ones you would have liked, while keeping it mixed up so you wouldn’t become bored with the same thing every week. He would light incense twice a day, in the morning, before he left the house, and in the evenings, while he ate dinner, so you in a sense would still be there, eating with him. It was always one of your favorite scents, he knew you well enough to know, what scented lotions or shampoos you would choose, which candles and waxes you always gravitated towards. It was nice and reminded him of the times where he would get to smell the sweet scents every time you walked past him, the air carrying it faintly to his nose. He would leave your favorite buns and candies on the alter, never going too long without changing them out for something fresh, he didn’t ever want you to have something stale.

He started back at his hero work, and applied at several hero training high schools, and was surprised when his former school, UA accepted his application and hired him on for the next school year. 

It was September when he opened the next letter, it had been 4 months now since you left, and he was walking along the sidewalk of a riverbank, like the two of you often did in high school. He saw couples that looked like the two of you did back then, youthful and full of spirit and hope, he tried not to feel envious of the teenagers, though it was hard . He trained his weary eyes forward, and paused for a moment, and how beautiful the sunset was that evening. He wondered to himself if there were any sunsets as beautiful as this in the days that he walked home with you, that he never noticed because the most beautiful thing in the whole world walked right next to him, and everything else just paled in comparison. He hoped the teenage couples he saw earlier also noticed how spectacular the sunset in front of them way, and that they were grateful to see such a beautiful thing with one another. He headed home, to read his letter.

Open when:  You see a beautiful sunset

Hi Honey,

I’ve seen a lot of people say, when they pass, look for them in the sunsets, that they will paint an especially beautiful one for all that miss them. Please don’t look for me in the sunsets, Shouta, I don’t think that’s where I’ll be waiting for you. I’m not entirely sure where you may find me hidden, my love, so you better keep your eyes peeled. I wish I was there though, to see another beautiful sunset with you, so admire them twice as much, once for you, once for me. 

Maybe I’ll be one of those cool mantises, 

Your lovely wife.

Bemused, Shouta thought back to your class 1A mountain training camp.

~ You had wandered off while most of the group cleaned the used dishes, having already helped by being one of two to cook their dinner. He had just started to wonder where you had gone off to as your group was wrapping up cleaning the dishes, when you came practically prancing back into the clearing and towards your friends, something gleaming in your hands.

“Look! Look at what I caught!” you brandished off your daring find, an impressively large rhinoceros beetle. Some of the group around you screamed, the loudest of them all being Yamada Hizashi, an ear-splitting shriek escaping his lips as he jumped back from the creature and its captor. You giggled slightly but apologized to the blond, it wasn’t your intention to scare him, this was just a really cool beetle. He had a sour look on his face as he shakily nodded at you before backing away slowly, not turning to face the building he was going towards until he was 50 meters away from you, what he deemed to be safe. You looked after him with a face of mixed emotions, feeling bad for scaring him, and bummed he didn’t think your bug was cool. Shouta stepped next to you, getting your attention and distracting you from the disappearing figure of the angry Hizashi. 

“Do you know what kind of beetle it is?” he had asked you, trying his best to seem genuinely curious, he was, but he knew he wasn’t always the best at showing it. Your expression quickly changed as you smiled at the ebony haired boy, launching into maybe one too many bug facts about your interesting find. He didn’t mind though, that was one of the moments he fell for you a little more. ~

P.S. Some large species of mantis in captivity can live up to two years! It’s crazy to think how short their lives are to ours, but to them it is their entire existence. I think though, I would be okay even being a Karner Blue butterfly, which lives for only five days, if those five days I got to spend with you, flying around in a field warmed by the summer sun. 

Shouta put down the letter, and raised his eyes, just in time to see the last slivers of light disappear from the horizon, the beautiful sunset having lived its course and gone, making way for a warm summer night, the singing of cicadas fading with the light.

Time seemed to continue its endless march on into the future, in spite of anyone who begged it to slow, to pause just a moment, and let someone gather themselves, put themselves together just a bit more, just a bit better. And soon it was Aizawa Shouta’s 26th birthday, and the first birthday in over a decade that he would have to spend without you, and your warm little parties and cute cakes you would bake. 

Hizashi came and picked him up, insisting that you wouldn’t want Shouta to stay home, all alone, on his birthday. The two of them headed into the social district of town, and into a popular bar for heroes and sidekicks. Shouta nursed on two beers through the night as he watched his friend mingle with the crowd, though never straying too far away from the birthday boy sitting at the bar. At the end of the night, the dark eyed man had a slight buzz to him, his chest holding more heat than normal, but he wasn’t near drunk, he couldn’t say the same thing about his green-eyed friend though, whose face was flushed and words slurring together in jumbled nonsense. Shouta put Hizashi’s arm over his shoulders as he led them out of the bar, the arm heavy with intoxication and non-compliance.

“Nooooo,” the blond groaned as they the street the bar resided on, “comonnnnnn Shouta, te nightstill youg,” he broke away, and spun on the heel of his toe, twisting under the city lights in the nearly deserted street.

Shouta sighed, “yes, but we’re getting olddddd,” he drew out the last syllable of his last word, in lighthearted mockery of his inebriated friend, he beckoned towards where he stood safely on the sidewalk “come on I’d like to get home now.”

The blond looked at him, with what must to have been his attempt at puppy eyes, “but I don’t want you to be all alone tonight.”

“I won’t be alone tonight,” he mused, “she’ll be there too, in spirit at least, but,” he paused and looked at his heavily drunk friend, “I’ll let you crash on the couch if you promise to not throw up in or on anything.”

Hizashi grinned at Shouta, “mkayyyy,” and started his way off in the direction he thought was your home, only to have Shouta grasp him by the shoulder and turn him a sharp 90 degrees, “wrong way” he chided, Hizashi nodded and parroted his friend “wrong way.”

The second they passed the threshold into your home, Hizashi passed out, leaving his poor friend to pry off his shoes, and drag him to the couch, where he unceremoniously tossed him. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and sipped while looking at the snoring man on his couch. Pursing his lips, he begrudgingly filled another glass and set it on the coffee table, along with an aspirin, before leaving the ground floor of his home and heading up to his bedroom. He caught himself in his thinking. Was this the first time he had thought of it not as a shared yours but now only his? A wave of guilt washed over him, he didn’t want that kind of thinking to come, he didn’t ever want to stop thinking about you, about your lingering presence in his life. He swallowed, hard, he was a bit too tipsy to be thinking about those kinds of things, he could think about it later, in the morning. The pounding headache he knew he would have might be a suitable punishment for his straying thoughts he decided. It was time to open the letter.

He had saved it for the end of his day, wanting the last bits of his thoughts to be on you, maybe it was partly saving the best, and most painful, for last. The letter just being another form of him having to accept that you weren't here to wish him well. 

Open when: You turn 26.

This letter felt bulkier than the ones he had read before, and when he carefully with hands of practice, though he wished they weren't, opened the letter, he saw three 1000 yen notes, with a small sticky note attached to them. The sticky note read ‘getcha self sumthin nice ;)’. He moved on to the letter.

Happy birthday my love!

He smiled, his eyes already starting to tear. 

You’re 26 now, do you feel any different? Are your bones starting to hurt? Does the rain make your joints act up yet? You know that’s coming up, it’ll be here before you notice. I hope you’re making the best of the time you have before that, though I also hope you make the best of the time you have during and after that as well. Do you like your present? I would have gotten you something better but there’s not much that you can fit into an envelope, besides paper, though at least it’s paper with monetary value! I know! I’ve truly outdone myself! You’re probably going “ohhhh y/n, you know me so well, this colorful paper with a dude on it is just the thing I wanted!”

I’m sorry I’m not there Sho, to spend it with you, I wish I was. I hope it’s not too painful without me, I hope you have a good time on your birthday, maybe go out, have dinner with out friends. I don’t want you to be alone my love.

Sincerely, truly, one hundred percent without a doubt, 

The world’s best gift giver, aka, your y/n. 

The was a soft drip, the sound of water hitting paper, before he realized he was crying. He folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, not wanting to mess it up further, as he cried to himself. He reached out and found the small stuffed animal he had come to rely on in your absence, and pushed his face into the plush of its body, inhaling, trying to calm down. But the thing had long lost your scent, and now, to him, it smelt of nothing at all. 

He fell asleep that night, clasping onto the stuffed creature as if it were his only lifeline, the image of him sleeping reminiscent of not too far in the past, when he had just lost you. 

Time marched ever onwards.

It was 4 days before Christmas when the first snow of the season came. Everyone was joyous and hoping it would last until the romantic holiday, wishing for a white Christmas. Shouta was out on patrol, in the late evening, when it started, getting to witness it along with those going home, from an extra-long days work, from the packed bars in the city, from cram schools as they study for the upcoming finals. He was alone though, crouching on top of a midrise as his eyes scanned back alleys, searching for darting shadowy figures, considering the white flurries only a hindrance as they obscured more and more of his vision, until it became clear that he would no longer be able to stalk his prey with his vision blocked out in the sheets of icy precipitation. His breath fogged the air as he sighed angrily, not wanting to let them get away but not being able to stop the forces of nature, though how he wished he was bend them to his will just this one time.

He decided to go home, that he was ill prepared for this and could try again tomorrow, in warmer clothes and more suitable gear. 

When he arrived home, after he had unburden himself from his gear, past when he padded into the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove to boil, only when he sat down in your chair, a warm mug of fresh coffee in his callused hands, one sugar, no cream, did he look out the window, and see, really see the snow. 

Open when: It snows.

There was no dear Shouta, my love or honey to open this letter. 

Do you remember, our third year of high school, during winter break, that night we stayed out under the stars and snow? I can see it so vividly even now, I think that hast to have been the night I fell in love with you, though of course I didn’t say it then. His Purple Highness had us out patrolling by ourselves, truly by ourselves, no senior heroes notified that we were out without a supervisor on the same streets or back at headquarters, a taste of freedom that we would soon know every day. We started just as the sun had started to set, heading out, our winter costumes to keep us toasty. It wasn’t really boring, but it was mundane, as we strolled around the streets, keeping a look out for any shady behavior. 4 hours in, just before 9pm, you stopped in front of a cafe that was getting ready to close. I didn’t notice you had stopped until I was 10 meters ahead, and you hadn’t noticed that I continued on, because you were staring inwards. I walked halfway back and called out your name, you turned your head, surprised that I was so far away and not directly next to you. You pointed inside and made a drinking motion with your hand. I protested, Shouta we’re on the job right now, and you smiled at me, nose glowing red in the yellow light let out from the homey shop, its fine, you insisted, they won’t know what we don’t tell them. And you took me by the hand and pushed into the cafe. You already knew my order, which surprised me, I didn’t think you were the type to notice and remember those kinds of things, but it filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies that threatened to come up my throat. We sat at a little table by the window while we waited for our order to be ready, you wrapping both your hands around mine, rubbing and blowing hot air on my frozen fingers, wordlessly. I thought I was going to barf butterflies. Our orders were ready before I knew it, and I didn’t want them to be, I wish they had taken longer to make those little coffees. We left the warm haven of the shop and went back into the cold night. You told me to hold my drink with both hands, I blushed and asked you, did you want to get coffee just so I had something warm to hold? Your face flushed and you looked out, away from me and towards the street. A car passed by as you answered, I almost didn’t hear, but you told me yes. 

~He remembered the embarrassment of being called out, but also pride, that you had noticed, and were happy about his little gestures. He couldn’t hold your hand while the two of you patrolled, and even your winter costume had forgone gloves, so he had watched as the night grew longer, the color of your fingers redden. He watched you occasionally rubbing them together, blowing into them, or scrunching them absentmindedly, trying to keep them warm while unaware of your actions, but he was aware.~

The rest of the night wasn’t eventful, except when we stopped that guy robbing a corner store, though we took him out pretty quickly. The cashier was so thankful that she gave us those little handwarmers while we waited for the police to come pick up the attempted robber. I was so happy that she gave us those because my fingers were returning to their freezing temperature and all the cafes were long closed. After that day though, I started finding handwarmers like those in the pockets of my school bag, in my shoe locker, in my jacket. I knew it was you, by the way, I never told you that. Thank you for thinking of me always, my love. We got off at 1 am, we had ended our patrol by a park, and even though most of the city was dark, and even though I’m sure you were cold and tired and hungry, when I suggested we play in the snow, you bent down, I thought you were ignoring me and tying your shoe, and I turned around with a sigh, that was until I felt the cold splat of a snowball on the small of my back! I whipped around and you were grinning, bearing all your teeth, the look in your eye, if I wasn’t so determined to get back at you, I would have been swooning, at least I still was internally. 

~You quickly bent down and mashed snow together into a messy ball before you launched it at him, trying to wipe that grin off his face before he noticed your blush. The two of you launched into an all-out snow war. Shouta had the upper hand in the beginning, as he had made several quick balls before he launched his first attack at your unsuspecting back, but you rapidly leveled the playing field. ~

He couldn’t remember now who had won that night. That didn’t really matter though, because he could still remember the wide grin that made his heart, even to this day, do backflips.

We played in the snow like we were little again, until we gave out, and lay on our backs next to one another, and looked to the sky, watching as the flakes slowly drifted down from dark gray clouds. Your cold hand, with fingers stiff from snow, reached out and grasped my cold hand, and squeezed. Both of us were still panting hard from all the fun we had had. As we laid there, hand in hand, I thought to myself, I love him. I think that’s the same moment I decided I was never going to let you go. There’s not really a moral to this story, besides me telling you the night I realized I loved you, I think I just want to remind you of happy things, the snow can feel kind of depressing now that we’re older, if we don’t look at it through the right eyes. So, look at it through the eyes of the Shouta who threw a snowball at my back. 

The definite winner of that snowball fight, 

Your love, Y/n.

*shrines used for the deceased in homes, originally of Buddhist origin but now used non-denominationally as well.

there may be a part 3? i was planning on doing all of the letters (excluding the birthdays) that i listed, but it kept getting longer and longer. let me know if you would like a part 3, i think if even 1 person asked me, i would write it lol

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants DELETED SCENE

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Word Count: 1,292

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: none

A/N: Ok, guys. This was the original chapter 4. I wrote it, decided I hated it then went back and rewrote the version you all read. This would have significantly changed the entire story. The first half is going to read very much the same, but keep going. I promise, this is a very different outcome for the chapter and would have changed the entire story going forward.

Everyone who's read it so far has said they like this version even better. It's grown on me. One day I may write the rest of this. But for now, I thought I'd share in case anyone was interested.

My other stuff: Master List.

The black bullet proof SUV from the royal fleet pulled down the long, twisting driveway toward its destination. The driver glided the vehicle to a stop in front of the entrance to the centuries-old Nevrakis stronghold.

Liam stepped out into the brisk air. Summer in Lythikos was invigorating, the air holding just a slight chill as opposed to the impenetrable cold that took hold of the place in the deep of winter.

There was an explosion of colors in the spring and no oppressive heat to kill the blooms off through the summer. The vibrant pinks and purples of the native flowers would last until the first frost. He had always loved it here in the summer.

He strode confidently to the door, king’s guards falling out of his way as he walked. He rapped on the door sharply several times then waited, a bit impatiently.

The door was opened by the mistress of the house herself. Olivia’s lips parted in quite surprise as she found the king on her doorstep. “Liam! What are you doing here?”

His smile faltered only a little. “Liv. Is that any way to greet your oldest friend?”

The duchess composed herself and invited him in. Once they were alone in a small, private sitting room, she closed the door and turned to him with a critical eye. “I don’t suppose you’re here on official crown business.”

“No.” His shoulders slumped a little. “Come on, Liv. You know why I’m here.”

She studied his face as she composed her answer thoughtfully. “Does your wife know why you’re here?”

“Why does that matter?” He snapped. “I don’t answer to her.”

“Maybe not.” Olivia crossed the room and sat on the loveseat. “But you do see the difficult position it puts me in, right?”

“Liv…” his voice softened as he crossed the room and sat next to her. Taking her hands in his, he continued, “I do know and I’m sorry. I truly am.”

If only he had been allowed to marry who he wanted in the first place, none of them would be in this position.

He had tried to do his best by Riley. He really had. Things had been better in the beginning because she’d had a huge learning curve taking on the role of queen, and then parenthood. Their babies had bonded them to an extent.

But he had never loved her.

Eventually, she had noticed the distance between them. The more she had pushed to get closer to him, the more he had drawn away. He knew it wasn’t fair to her. But he couldn’t help how he felt.

Oliva pulled her hands out of his. “I love you, Liam, as my oldest and dearest friend, you know that, right?”

Liam’s jaw clenched. “I sense a but in there.”

“But…” she sighed inwardly. She sympathized with his predicament. She truly did. She needed to make him understand her position without hurting his feelings.

The control that the crown exerted over the lives of Cordonia’s rulers was exactly why she had never aspired to be queen. That, and she didn’t want children.

Olivia had fallen in love with a man destined for the throne. A man that came with an incredible amount of baggage, rules, and regulations. Rules that dictated what she must do with her womb, rules that dictated how she would live her life, rules that would control forever both the man and whatever woman he married.

It was the reason she had walked away from the love of her life. The reason she had declined the crown for herself. And the reason she understood only too well exactly what the monarchy had taken from Liam.

“…you being here…. No matter what you told or didn’t tell your wife, she’s going to know exactly where you went. She always does. Do you know what it’s like for me to be seen as the other woman? Riley thinks we’re sleeping together, Liam!”

“I…I’m sorry.” He rose from the seat and made his way to the drink cart as his mind spun with solutions. He poured himself a generous helping of Olivia’s finest brandy as he reviewed, and discarded, option after option. “I can’t just abdicate all my responsibilities like Leo did.”

“Liam, that’s not fair!”

“Isn’t it?” He laughed bitterly. “Leo was able to do what he did to be with the love of his life because he had me to dump everything on. I had no one to offload the responsibilities onto.”

Olivia stood, anger marring her features. “Oh, poor baby! Why don’t you just man up, talk to your wife, and add a Cordonian Arrangement to your marriage contract? Why didn’t you do that in the first goddamned place, huh?”

“Because I didn’t think Riley would marry me if I asked for one and I needed to be married, Liv! We’ve been over this before!”

“Right. But Madeleine was offering you the Cordonian Arrangement. You could have had a wife that didn’t give two shits where you were sticking your dick. But you threw that back in her face.”

Liam turned to her in astonishment. “Are you defending the woman that was behind setting Riley up to get rid of her? The woman that was behind calling Hana’s parents to have her recalled from the social season before it even ended?”

Olivia shrugged. “I’m not defending her, Liam. I’m merely pointing out that if you had married Madeleine, rather than Riley, you’d have a wife that would willingly look the other way rather than a wife whose heart you’re breaking every time you—”

“I know I fucked up, okay?” He exploded. “I just couldn’t marry Madeleine after all her cruelty was exposed!”

The fight went out of Olivia at Liam’s obvious pain. “I know. I get that, I do. But you have to stop resenting Leo for doing what you wouldn’t.”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t resent him, Liv, but I am envious of what you two have. I’m glad he abdicated rather than accept you walking out of his life, but I didn’t have that option. I am sorry for putting you in the middle of my shit. I never meant for Riley to think—”

“Well, what else would she think when you keep running off to Lythikos without her?”

“That I’m visiting my brother?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “The last two times you’ve been here, Leo wasn’t even home.”

“I know and I’m sorry to put you in the middle once again, but I know she’s here staying with you for the annual duchies budget meeting. Please, just tell her I’m here.”

He would have married her in the first place, but her parents had called her home and withdrawn her from the season. He had thought it was a rejection of him. It wasn’t until Madeleine’s role had been revealed that he’d realized the truth.

He would have proposed to her as soon as he’d broken off the engagement with Madeleine, but Hana Lee had left her parent’s home to strike out on her own, discover herself, and have adventures.

The pure joy on her face when she had told him of her plans had been enough for him to leave the ring in his pocket. He had no right to burden her with the responsibilities of the crown.

He had married Riley, produced children, and settled into a happy enough life. Until a year ago, when Hana’s grandmother had passed away, Lorelai had abdicated her role as duchess and Hana had moved to Cordonia to take her place as the Duchess of Aberdine.

The woman he had lost his heart to eight years ago was back in play, and all bets were off the table.

[vodika-vibes]

Honeatly, you are the best! I love everything you write. You put a lot of effort, and I appreciate it!

Though ima slip in this, Fordo being a loving husband to the reader while they pretend not to be together (think Anakin and Padme).

Also, feel free to ask me anything about him. He's more or less a mute.

I can't wait to see what you come up with!

Just Us

Summary: Your husband plays bodyguard for you on a normal day at work.

Pairing: ARC Captain Fordo x Senator!Reader

Word Count: 1225

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This was a little difficult to write, but like, in a good way? Either way, I love Fordo.

“Ah, I see you have a member of the Guard playing bodyguard for you today, Senator.” 

You smile politely at the older man, and very pointedly don’t correct his assumption. If he wasn’t to believe that Fordo is a member of the Guard, then you’re more than happy to let him. “We live in interesting times, Senator.” you say lightly.

Understatement of the century, that. But, well, better to understate things rather than state the truth. Especially in this matter.

The older man releases a booming laugh that makes you cringe internally, “Isn’t that the truth? Can you believe that the Jedi are digging into Palpatine’s life. Have they no respect for the dead?”

“I’m sure it’s for the best,” You demure, “They are impartial, after all.”

He sniffs, “So they claim.” And then he waves his hand, “Tell me, my dear, are you free? I would love to take you out to dinner, perhaps without your guard dog-”

“How is your wife, Senator?” You interrupt with a pointed look, “I spoke with her recently and she says that her pregnancy is going just terribly.”

“Ah…” He blinks at you, and you watch as he visibly changes tracks, “Yes, the pregnancy is very hard on her. The poor dear can’t even walk without a medical droid there to help her.”

“It’s such a shame you can’t be with her during this.” You say sympathetically. 

“Just so, just so. I’m terribly sorry, my dear, but I have a meeting I’m about to be late for.”

“Oh, don’t let me keep you!” You keep your smile on your face, until he’s out of sight and then the smile fades, “What a pig.” You grumble, and you hear Fordo chuckle behind you.

You plaster a small, polite, smile back on your face as you continue to your office, Fordo walking a respectful distance behind you.

You and Fordo have been married for close to nine months at this point in time, and you’re getting rather tired of hiding your relationship with him. You know you have to. You know it’s infinitely safer for both of you to keep it a secret, but you hate it. 

You want to be able to hold his hand in public and kiss him in public and call him your husband. And you hate that you can’t.

And you know that he’s slowly being pushed to the limits of his patience when it comes to other men flirting with you. Oh, sure, you’ve gotten pretty good at cutting off the flirtation before you have to say something rude, or before Fordo loses his damned temper and just shoots them, but it’s still annoying.

You hum a quiet tune as you key in the door code to your office, and you step into the room. Fordo shuts the door behind you and then pulls off his helmet, his gaze dark as he looks around the room, checking for any threats.

While Fordo isn’t technically your bodyguard, Commander Fox does know that he’s here, and is more than willing to leave your protection detail to Fordo, for as long as possible.

You cross the room and sink into your seat, releasing a heavy sigh when you see the stacks of paperwork that you still need to work on. “Become a senator, they said.” You say with a sigh as you grab the first sheet, “It’ll be fun, they said.”

You pause when Fordo’s hand closes around your wrist, and you turn to look at him. He has a small smile on his lips as he sinks to one knee next to you, and he pulls your hand to his lips. He kisses the pads of each of your fingers, the palm of your hand, and then your wrist. 

And you favor him with a fond smile as you place your free hand on his cheek and lovingly smooth your thumb across his cheekbone, “I’m just complaining to complain, love.” You reassure, “I’m okay.”

He shoots you a disbelieving look, which, okay, fair. He is the one who has to coax you back to bed when you’re awake at three am due to stress nightmares. Gentle touches and quiet words for your ears do wonders to ease the worst of your anxieties, at least they do in the safety of your apartment.

Here, when you're surrounded with the obvious corruption, it takes everything in your power to not order Fordo to go somewhere else, somewhere safer.

“It’ll get better with Palpatine gone,” You say, “It has to, it can’t possibly get worse.” You pause, and grimace, “Please don’t let it get worse.”

Fordo releases a quiet sigh and he raises himself slightly to pull you into a proper kiss. His warm hand sliding up your arm to rest gently on the back of your neck. 

You melt into his touch, a soft hum of pleasure escaping you as he uses his teeth and tongue to maximum effect. At this point, Fordo can play your body like a well tuned instrument, and you love it.

When he breaks the kiss, your body is buzzing with a hint of pleasure, and you immediately pull his head down to press your forehead against his. “I love you,” You whisper. 

Fordo’s response is a quiet murmur, but you don’t mind, you don’t need to hear him to know how he feels about you. He tells you in every touch and every look.

You start to pull away from him, but his grip on the back of your neck is firm enough that you’re not able to move much. “Fordo,” His name falls from your lips in a soft giggle, “Senator Amidala will be here for her meeting with me soon.” 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs.

And you laugh again, “Be nice, love.”

He shakes his head and releases you, finally getting up off the floor. He kisses you once more, and shoots you a look that promises a million different things, and then he pulls his helmet back on and takes his place standing against the wall behind you.

And just in time, as there’s a knock on your office door, and then it slides open, revealing Senator Amidala…and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. Your smile doesn’t waver, but in the private comm in your ear, you can hear Fordo’s scornful laughter.

You ignore him with the ease of long practice, “Padme, and Knight Skywalker.” You smile at them both, and feel a surge of amusement when you realize that Padme, at least, looks slightly embarrassed. “I’m always happy to see you, though I wasn’t aware that the Jedi have such a deep concern with the Medical Emergency on Naboo.”

“Oh…uh…” Knight Skywalker flounders a little, and Fordo laughs a little harder through your comm, “The Jedi are always concerned when it comes to things such as plagues.”

Padme sighs and presses her hand over her face, “It’s…it’s not…” She shakes her head, “I’m so sorry, Senator, he insisted on joining me. The whole debacle with Palpatine…” She shakes her head again, “But let’s not talk about that.”

“Quite right,” Fordo’s laughter has finally calmed down, and your fake smile becomes a little more real when you hear quiet music coming through his comm. Your Fordo always knows just what to do to help your day become a little better.