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peaktora · 2 months

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𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

#(っˆ ³(ˊ ᵕ ˋก ) ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 ࿐ྂ #i have a essay due in a couple hours and i’m over here writing fics .. 😣#gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo headcanons #gojo scenarios #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen headcanons

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plutoccult · 2 months

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HOW CAN I SNOOZE AND MISS THE MOMENT? YOU JUST TOO IMPORTANT

pairing: kei tsukishima x gender neutral reader

description: even after a long and frustrating day at work, you can’t help but fight to stay up with your favorite person on earth.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: i wrote this because i hated my job at the time (i have since quit and found a job that pays me way more), and this idea spurred after a draining day at work. i debated on who to write it for, but ironically the #1 tsukishima anti (/j) @heavenfilm suggested i write it for tsukishima. i mean, since no. 1 party anthem was so successful, it makes sense for me to write for him once more. plus, the fandom is probably bumping again thanks to the new movie. i know this is short, but don’t most people want that? anyway, i hope you enjoy!

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @mayariviolet @dragon-slayer5 @darthferbert @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @intheewrld @localgaytrainwreck @rasisarchive

taglist form here

the second you walked through the door and slammed it shut behind you, you wanted to fall to the floor and rot there. it was incredibly overdramatic, you were well aware of that, but you felt such theatrics were more than valid after the hellish day you had at work.

your job was easy for the most part. while you knew you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life working there, you at least wanted it to be somewhat tolerable. sometimes you dealt with annoying customers, treating you as if you were an idiot despite knowing the policies like the back of your hand. but today wasn’t one of those days where you put up with some snotty karen, funnily enough. the villain of your work day happened to be your manager.

when things are going their way, they’re the coolest person in the world. but whenever there was the most minuscule inconvenience, it turned into everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t stand it. it was like playing survival mode on the hardest level. many a time were you tempted to put your foot down and quit, but you were too afraid of being jobless for too long and leaving your boyfriend to pay all the bills. it didn’t help that applying for jobs was such a pain in the ass either.

after a long day at work, you scrunch your face in frustration then let out a long sigh, sliding your back against the door as you found comfort sitting on the carpet. too lazy to do anything else, even kick off your shoes, you sit there for a few moments with your eyes closed. it was the most relaxing moment you’ve had all day, but that title would soon be taken over once your boyfriend tsukishima emerged from your shared bedroom, having heard you come through the door just moments ago.

“y/n?” he pattered down the hall, finding you in your current position. “why are you on the floor?”

you open your eyes and see tsukishima’s face. it was hard to read him most times when you first met, but you had learned him inside and out, down to the way he let out a sigh once agreeing to something he didn’t really want to do. the sight of him just standing there, looking down at you with his head slightly tilted brought you utter joy. his face was the one thing you always looked forward to see after days like these.

“hi, my love.” you say. “it’s been a long day…”

“your manager again?” tsukishima asked. he knew you all too well.

“a pain as always.” you groan. it didn’t require any more detail than that for him to understand your struggle. days like these had been going on for a while, and it pained him to see you like this.

“well,” tsukishima offered his hand, you taking it immediately as he pulled you to your feet, bringing you close to him by wrapping an arm around your shoulder, all in such slick movements. “you should probably have some food then get to bed.”

you quickly shake your head in protest. you didn’t want to go to bed yet. you just got home. you wanted to spend time with him.

“go to bed? but i wanna stay up with you…” you pout.

while your puppy face was one of tsukishima’s weaknesses, he valued your wellbeing far too much than to be selfish and let you sacrifice time that could be spent resting.

“you need to rest.” he insisted.

“but—”

“you’ll fall over if you stand a second longer.” tsukishima interrupted you, gently running a hand through your hair, which almost lulled you to sleep on the spot despite your resistance. “i’ll bring you something to eat as long as you get to bed, okay?”

“okay…” you let out a sigh, looking down to the floor as you dragged your feet to your bedroom. you stop for a moment, your feet aching too much for you to bother taking another step.

“tsukki?” you turn around, tsukishima saying “hm?” as he anticipated your next words. “carry me?”

ah, of course. he couldn’t ever say no to that. “alright…”

tsukishima lifted you up with ease, a given considering he always stayed in tip-top shape throughout the years thanks to playing volleyball. as relaxing as it was to be in his arms, you fought like hell to stay awake, wanting to keep your eyes on that gorgeous face as long as humanly possible.

he placed you down on the bed, going as far as to take your shoes off your feet and set them aside. the constraint of your shoes were killing you all day, so you felt immediate relief upon their removal. you were thankful for tsukishima doing such things for you without you even having to ask. he truly understood you through and through, his love shown in his acts of service rather than words spoken.

“get comfy while i bring you a plate.” tsukishima placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled your hair before leaving the room. you were tempted to get under those cozy blankets, but you knew it would only make you sleepy, and you couldn’t have that. you didn’t work all day just to fall asleep before you could spent more than just a moment with the one you love.

tsukishima found you yawning as you tried sitting up as straight as possible. he came in with a bowl of fettuccine alfredo, having made it earlier with you in mind, just freshly reheated for your enjoyment. but tsukishima couldn’t help but sigh at the display in front of him.

“didn’t i tell you to get comfy?” he rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed next to you. “here. i’m sure you’re starving after a long day.”

“i’d start gnawing on your arm soon enough.” you joke and take the bowl from his hands. “but thank you.”

“i’d rather you didn’t.” tsukishima cringed at the thought. funnily enough, he thought that such a thing would affect his performance at games. he wasn’t the same as he was as a teenager, that’s for sure.

you’re too busy to even respond, inhaling your food like it was going out of style. sometimes you’re just too caught up at work to even think about taking a snack break. even if you did relax for once, someone was always bound to ask for your help because they either didn’t 1. have a clue on what to do or 2. feel like doing their job. you were truly stuck to a ball and chain because of these people.

once you finished the last bite, you didn’t have to say a thing as tsukishima took the bowl out of your hands, already thinking to wash the dishes for you later so you didn’t have to lift a finger. he placed the bowl down on the nightstand for a moment, grabbing the edge of your shared comforter, which you immediately took notice to.

“woah, woah, woah!” you exclaim and grab tsukishima’s wrist. “i’m not lying down!”

“you think just grabbing my wrist can stop me?” he snickered, harshly tugging the blanket like a magician pulling a tablecloth off the table while leaving the dishes unscathed. you plop over face first onto the bed as you try to scramble for the blanket, but fail miserably. tsukishima couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

you roll onto your back and pout over his laughter. “what’s so funny?”

“i just don’t understand why you want to stay awake so bad. you’re clearly exhausted.” tsukishima said as he gently stroked your hair, almost trying to lull you to sleep. had he scratched a certain part of your head, you would’ve been a goner and he knew it.

“because i…” you sit up, continuing to resist your inevitable slumber. “i wanna spend more time just with you. you’re too important to me.”

“you’re important to me too.” he replied. “and if you weren’t, i wouldn’t care about your health.”

you can’t help but smile at his words. curse him for caring so much, you almost want to say, but how could you? it’s not like you’d rather he didn’t give a damn at all, you would never. but still, you can’t resist wanting to lay your eyes on him as long as you humanly could.

“ass.” you say, a giggle escaping your mouth with ease.

“butt.” tsukishima grinned, leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. his kiss felt like a spell to you, and you’d be pulled in each and every time.

as you lay down now, the only source of light being the lamp on the bedside table, you find yourself starting to succumb to the sleep you fought so hard to resist. tsukishima took notice, pulling the blanket over your body and reaching his hands to scratch your head. you fell asleep within seconds, just as he predicted.

tsukishima couldn’t be mad seeing you in this state. sure, he missed you like hell all day, but watching you now, looking so peaceful, tsukishima knew this was one of his favorite sights in the world. if he could sit here and just stare at you like this all day, he would do it instantly.

“i love you, y/n.” he said, gently caressing your cheek, hoping he wouldn’t wake you up. “i know i should say it out loud more often, but i hope you know that i do. there aren’t enough words to describe the feeling, but i love you.“

even if you didn’t hear tsukishima, you could still feel his love just from him sitting beside you. you feel it when you look at his face down to when you yap your mouth off while he just listens. you would never feel this with anyone else, and you would forever try to savor it.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #pluto writes 📝

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moshpitgamma · 5 months

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My Sunflower|| John Dory x Fiancé!Reader

Warnings:Angst+Fluff

(This is my first real fanfic so Plss don’t be TOO harsh)

YALL ITS LONG OK😭

——————————————————————

“John! I’m home!” Said the exhausted troll walking through the door of their shared apartment. “Huh? Damn it’s 9pm.” Y/n said checking the time. “Hun, You here?” They screamed again wondering why their fiancé wasn’t answering. When they didn’t get a response they started to get anxious, but convinced themselves he went to either the studio or to hang out with his brothers.

The clock finally hits 11:03pm and still there isn’t a sign of JD. “Why isn’t he answering his phone?” You said with worry laced in your voice. His brothers also didn’t answer their phones for god knows what. Now you’re in full panic mode pacing back and forth in the dining room blowing UP his phone with messages and calls. After your many failed attempts of contacting him you finally decided to call the only person you KNEW that was gonna pick up. So you called his grandma.

Once she answered you tried to hide your anxiousness and your panicked voice, but she caught on to it quickly. “Hi Mrs. Rosie, do you know where John is? I haven’t spoke to him since this morning before I went to work.” You asked frantically hoping that she would cure the pulsating adrenaline going through your body. When you finished your nauseating questions the silence you both held was fueling it like you were going to burst. When the never ending silence finally came to an end a sigh was heard. "Hun Bun….JD left hours ago after their embarrassing show fail." she told you with reassurance and empathy. She then continued to tell you how and what happened between the brothers. The last thing you ever heard from her was “Sweetie just give it time.” So you waited…

And waited….

Until 20 years have passed and still no sign of John. You were invited to the royal wedding of King Grisel and Bridget and was currently trying to find a dress. While rampaging you closet like a mad woman you come across and unfamiliar bagged dress. When you took it out you stared at it with tears welling up in your eyes. It was your dress he proposed to you in. It was admired in jewels and yellow sunflower like petals and soft like satin and silk. It was one of a kind. Your debating stopped instantly and you proceeded to put on the dress.

FAST FORWARD TO WEDDING :>

“We are gathered here today t-.” “STOP THE WEDDING!” A random voice yelled…

You felt like your heart was going to jump out your chest from all the adrenaline rushing. Trying to force your tears down you finally built enough courage to turn around and look to where everyone else was looking. When you finally saw who it was your tears finally escaped their haunted and sorrowful chamber. He was there……

Standing in front of Branch?

Trying to pick him up?

You didn’t wanna get noticed in this state so you turned to leave but you felt a hand grab your flushed smaller ones. It was Branch..”Are you ok?”he asked knowing you weren’t. “I’m ok.” You said quickly dismissing his attempts of comfort. Before you could leave you heard a nickname you never knew you would hear again. “My sunflower?” He must’ve felt the tension he created so he hurried to you and begged you too listen to his explanations and excuses. You couldn’t do nothing, BUT listen so you gave him 3 minutes. “The reason I left was because Brozone was turning into a disaster and I needed to just space myself away for a while!”

You didn’t know whether to be mad or sad or HELL even glad but you knew he was trying to get you to understand. “But did you have to go?” Tears welling up..

Silence…….

“Did you have to leave me alone without telling me ANYTHING?!!?”

“I-“ you didn’t let him finish before you started walking off letting the emotions and realization sink in. He knew he fucked up… He couldn’t let you leave…. He needed his flower…He ran up to you and hugged you as hard as he could to prevent you from leaving and cried like hell was dragging him away from the heaven he created with you. “Sunflower PLEASE, I promise I’ll never leave you again!!” He repeated like his life depended on it. You slowly started to give in and soothed him. “Please Hun, I promise I’ll pro-“ He couldn’t even get done with his sentence before feeling the feeling he oh so missed….

Your lips…

“Please Don’t leave me again.” You said barely above a whisper and your teary E/C eyes looked at him.

He smiled warmly and responded with nothing but sincerity..”Of course not my sunflower.”

THE ENDDDDDDD☺️🫶🏿

#trolls #brozone #brozone x reader #trolls branch #john dory #John dory x reader #trolls john dory #trolls band together

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confused-wanderer · 3 months

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Incorrect batfam quotes as things I’ve heard as a college student that definitely fit them:

—

Dick: Stop copying me!

Jason: StOp CoPyInG mE!

Dick: Oh my god you’re so annoying

Jason: oh my god you’re so annoying

Dick: I love you

Jason:

Dick: Say it bro

Jason: *booking it to the door*

Dick : SAY IT BACK MOTHERFUCK-

—

Barbara: .. wait I’m lost now

Stephanie: Girl I’ve been lost a long time ago

—

*while the batboys are doing laundry*

Dick: .. hey Jason?

Jason: yeah?

Dick: I put money and my clothes in the washing machine but it won’t start. Could you try?

Jason *stares at it and gently pries the door open before slamming it shut with such force that it swings open again*

Dick: DONT BREAK IT I PAID FOR THIS MAN

Jason: Hold on lemme try some- *swings harder*

Tim: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IDIOT ??

Washer *beeps and starts washing*

—

Duke: ah.. such a peaceful day and gorgeous vie-

*hears screaming in the distance*

Duke: Aaand we’re walking-

—

Tim: I’m sorry but could you tell me how to spell your name? I’m trying to save your contact.

Damian: It doesn’t matter.

Tim: Of course it does! I just want to make sure I spell it right.

Damian: No, seriously. It doesn’t matter how you spell it. That’s not even my real name.

—

Jason and Damian having breakfast in silence at a restaurant

Damian: so I have a knife in my room.

—

Bruce: And there’s this girl in the bathroom who’s been crying there for hours! And I don’t even know who it is, I can just see her shoes

Selina : Wait let’s check it out

Bruce: .. isn’t that an invasion of her privacy?

Selina: you’re no fun… I wonder what’s going on

Bruce: well she was talking to her friend about *insert very oddly specific rant about every microscopic detail*

Selina:

Bruce: ? What?

Selina: ..and youre trashing me for tryna find out who it is.

Bruce: Hey I was debating if I should call out and ask her if she was okay

Selina: Mhmm. Nosy. Imma go check-

Bruce: I have to fill my bottle anyways so I guess I’ll join..

— later —

Harley: and then what happened?

Selina: This mf was waiting for me outside while I found out and then I shooed him away to fill his bottle. And then we both watched as he placed it under the tap only for it to immediately start overflowing

Harley *howling with laughter*

Bruce: IT WAS HALF- EMPTY

Selina: It was FULL

Bruce: ..you’re exaggerating

Selina: Girl be for real you’re just as nosy as I am, that’s why we get along so well~

———————————————————————-

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aris-lil-library · 10 months

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VARIOUS RE CHARACTERS REACTING TO FRIENDLY ZOMBIE READER (G/N)

Brought to you by your local zombiekin <3 (Fun fact, was originally planning on adding Wesker- but I wanted to get this out sometime within the month lolol)

Also please note, I have not seen a full playthrough of Re1R or Re1- Chris might be OOC.

Characters Included:

Leon Kennedy (Re2R)

Claire Redfield (Re2R)

Jill Valentine (Re3R)

Carlos Oliveira (Re3R)

Chris Redfield (Re1R)

Content Warnings Included:

Mentions of body horror (brief, but still applies to reader themselves.)

Mentions of gore/death (nothing explicit.)

The Sewers. (They deserve their own trigger warning /hj)

Mention of eye touching/prodding

Leon Kennedy:

After having cleared the hallways of the Racoon City Police Department and coming face to face with some disgusting freaks of nature named Lickers, Leon thought he had seen it all. Honestly, he didn’t imagine there was anything new that could surprise him in this goddamn place until he made eye contact with you.

Well.. if you can call staring at the dangling eye hanging out of your socket “eye contact”.

He instinctively raised his gun, expecting to see you rise to your feet, stumble over to him and try to nom his neck like all the other undead he’d seen so far- but to his (pleasant) surprise, that didn’t happen. In some odd groan you spit out, which he assumed was your attempt at speech, you backed away from him. Arms raised as if to show you didn’t mean to cause him harm.

It was odd to say at the very least. He kept his aim marked at the dead center of your head, though he hesitated pulling the trigger now. Your right hand (which Leon noted had a nasty looking chunk taken out of it) drifted down to a bloodied ID badge hanging from your breast pocket.

Though it was hard to read, Leon squinted out the words “Assistant Secretary” in bolded letters at the top of your ID.

He looked back up at you, slowly lowering his gun as he noticed the almost.. human-like quality of fear in your eyes. He could’ve sworn he even saw your shoulders sag slightly with relief as he tucked his gun into his holster.

“Hey.. can you.. understand me?” Leon’s words paused at times as he debated internally if he was really trying to communicate with a dead person. He could feel his stomach sink slightly as you slowly nodded back, cautious that he’d still shoot.

“What the hell.. How are you even- no wait- you’re infected and you can still?- What??”

You watched as Leon’s brows furrowed and his expressions cycled through confusion, disbelief, intrigue and right back to absolute bewilderment. It was almost funny and you almost tried to smile at him- before remembering the fact that your jaw had gotten unhinged a while ago and it’d likely confuse the poor guy more.

After a very long and arduous time of trying to explain to the baby-faced police officer how exactly you got bit and how you locked yourself in this room and how even you didn’t know how you kept your humanity- it just ended up in Leon sitting on the floor, scratching his head.

“I really don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. I’m sorry.” You grumbled out a brief noise of annoyance before just accepting it and sitting on the ground across from him.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you for a while before Leon spoke up.

“Hey look. I know you’re already bit and all but maybe we can find you some help? There’s a hospital in the city- there has to be someone who can fix.. uh.. whatever you’ve got going on here, right?” He even sounded unsure of the words he was saying, yet the caring smile etched onto his nervous features was enough to convince you that you should come with him.

Not particularly like you believed you could be cured, but more as in “This poor kind boy will get killed if someone’s not looking out for him.”

So you gave a polite nod, rummaging through what little supplies you saved in here before heading out of your sanctuary with Leon- glad you’d met someone so nice in this mess.

Claire Redfield:

Despite having been caught in the middle of a zombie outbreak and getting turned yourself, undead life was surprisingly calm. You had shuffled your way down into the sewers after getting bit, accepting your fate as you felt your consciousness slowly slip away as blood drained out of the bite on your leg- only to wake up a few hours later a lot paler and surprisingly awake.

Part of you was frustrated you had somehow miraculously lived through transforming into a zombie because of course you would be the unlucky schmuck who would stay sentient throughout something like that. Only your level of sheer bad luck would allow that.

It turned out being down here wasn’t too bad if you ignored the weird mutated masses of flesh in the water, the massive hulking figure of a presumably mutated man that would scream in agony every hour or so and the other rotting corpses surrounding you. Otherwise, it was nice.

You had honestly thought that you were going to live the rest of your undead life here. It’s not like being on the surface is any better at the moment- though you had to admit, it got boring really quickly.

That’s why when you heard a small repetitive bang of a pistol fire off- you couldn’t help but let your curiosity win. You peaked around a corner, just dark enough so whoever was firing couldn’t see you, to take a glance at whatever unlucky person slipped down here.

She couldn’t have been past her early twenties, you thought, her younger features and nervous look spoke volumes. Her eyes had a certain steely resolve to them though, which would’ve impressed you if she didn’t stare directly at you. Previously fascinating eyes now had your stomach drop as she raised her gun at you preparing to fire.

You scrambled away down the hall you came from, legs slightly slipping from the slimy layer on the floor that you really didn’t want to think about at the moment.

Claire had started giving chase after you, worried you were possibly another survivor that she had scared off with her reckless gun waving.

“H-Hey! Wait up!” She yelled out, following your shadow throughout the gross sewers.

You had run yourself into a dead end- panicking and turning around to see her approaching rapidly. Without a way to defend yourself, you simply put your arms in front of your face to shield it as you shut your eyes tightly- preparing to get shot.

Clacking sounds of boots hitting the wet floor filled your ears as Claire stopped just a few feet away from you. She huffed out in exhaustion, leaned over to catch her breath.

“I’m.. I’m sorry- jeez hold on. About.. About scaring you. I didn’t know there were other survivors down here. You alright?” She looked up at you, briefly scanning over your body.

She noted how you looked worse for wear (but then again, so did she) and the large, infected looking wound on your leg. Her face shifted into one of pity as she looked back up at your face.

“Oh.. Is.. Is that why you ran from me?” You nodded, slowly lowering your arms to gauge her expression. It’s funny, she looked a lot more sweet up close. Your eyes met hers and you almost felt better. She looked at you with such.. compassion, even though you were infected.

Claire felt an immense sense of pity overwhelm her. She must’ve scared the living daylights out of you upon chasing you down like a rabid animal. As her gaze met yours though, she realized how glossy your eyes looked- how pale your skin was. You were probably already dead considering how familiar you looked compared to other zombies she had seen.

“I don’t want to hurt you, okay? You seem like a nice.. person? Zombie? I’m not fully sure what to call you.” Her tone was very soft, almost like a gentle elder sister, it was soothing to hear after all the harsh groans and grumbles you’d been hearing from the other undead around you.

“I think that it’ll be beneficial for us to work together. I have a friend who’s a police officer who I’m trying to meet up with. Maybe we can all find a way to escape together and you could get some help at a hospital out of this town. Is that okay?”

It wasn’t like you really had a reason to say no and the way she kept her voice so polite and calm definitely swayed your choice. With a nervous step forward, you precariously nodded.

“Perfect. My name’s Claire. Claire Redfield. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jill Valentine:

Jill was getting pretty damned tired of this zombie shit. First at Arklay, now in Racoon City the day before she was supposed to move out of this hellhole. It was just starting to get ridiculous and if she still believed in a God, she would’ve thought they had it out for her.

As she turned a hard left, narrowly avoiding a zombie grasping and hobbling towards her- Jill entered the subway company’s office. Thankfully it was empty, Jill thought to herself as she pushed the door leading into the traffic control system’s room only to have the door get pushed right back into her face.

…

What the fuck??

Jill grabbed her knife from the sheath on her side and rammed the door open- fully expecting to have to fight hand to hand, only to meet your terrified gaze as you fell onto the floor.

She honestly couldn’t tell if you were infected or not- you looked like you’d been drained dry of all your blood, yet your expressions were so human. Hands raised, slightly shaking (Jill wasn’t sure if that was due to fear or the fact your right hand was hanging on by a few tendons of muscle.)

You mumbled out a shrill and raspy yelp, trying to communicate as best you could that somehow you were still conscious, even in this form.

Jill wasn’t exactly sure what to do with you, knuckles tensing and untensing around the handle of her knife. She almost felt guilt thinking about stabbing you now. Her body went taut as she saw you stumble up and head to the subway panel. You waved your hands, pointing back and forth at the subway map and its controls.

“You.. know how to work that?” Jill hesitated with her words, almost embarrassed that she was trying to communicate with.. a zombie as far as she could tell.

Well that was until you nodded very rapidly, as if trying to prove you had some worth.

So with a frustrated sigh, Jill said “Okay, I need to go to Fox Park. Figure it out.”

Jill watched you with interest as you flipped through the switches expertly, going through the path so quickly she had to assume you worked here before.. whatever happened to you. You figured it out so quickly and turned back to her, as if expecting her to allow you to follow her to wherever she was headed.

Part of her really didn’t want to bring back an infected to the subway but you had the biggest eyes and were practically pleading.

“No- you can’t. God just..” Bigger puppy dog eyes.

“NO. You’ll cause too much commotion! I can’t-”

“Hey Jill- you got that subway route finished?”

Your eyes instantly went to the radio buzzing from her shoulder and she made a mental note to punch Carlos when she got back.

“Yes.. Thanks to the help of a.. oddly friendly zombie.”

You could hear him cackle over the other side of the radio. “You’re joking- right?”

“I wish I was.” Jill sighed out and explained to Carlos that she actually met a nice zombie and spent about 10 minutes convincing him and the other U.B.C.S members to let you follow and that she swears she’ll keep an eye on you and please please please please let her keep you-

Mikhail begrudgingly agrees after her arguing that she should be able to keep you around and that you’ve proven yourself to be helpful- but is told that you’ll be staying with Carlos when you both return to not endanger the civilians and to truly prove yourself.

Jill didn’t know why, but she felt the need to protect you. Maybe it was some lingering savior complex or survivor's guilt but she ignored that for now and walked alongside you back to the subway station.

Carlos Oliveira

As Jill arrived with you in tow, Carlos did notice how surprisingly calm and patient you were with everyone. You clung onto Jill for a little while- being careful to not go too far into the train- in the off chance someone would see you and freak out.

While Carlos trusted Jill’s choice in trusting you, most of the other U.B.C.S members were.. not as happy with the platoon leader’s choice in allowing you to stay. Tyrell was very obvious about his lack of faith in your unwillingness to cannibalize them and informally ordered you to stick near Carlos.

Carlos didn’t mind to be honest. Though, it was a little perturbing to see the way your flesh loosely hung on in some places. He tried his best to be polite and not stare as it’d be “ungentlemanly” of him.

You served to be pretty helpful in the RPD, keeping an eye out for anything he might’ve missed (zombies or items.) You even took a few solid hits for him which may have left you a little more gory in some places over before- but Carlos just appreciated the gesture.

“So, tell me, how’d you end up like that?”

“…”

“Oh right. Can’t talk. Sorry.”

A simple nod or shake of your head was enough to satisfy any base questions he had for you– plus his quips about certain events like the locked doors kept the mood light and cheery.

It was honestly a lot of easy communication between you two- Carlos read you very well and normally a simple tug on his arm or small grunt would do the trick if he truly missed something.

Carlos did ask some weird things though-

“Can you like.. see outta the hanging eyeball?”

You didn’t really think about it before but now that you focused on it- you really couldn’t. With an experimental prod, Carlos watched in horror as you pushed it back into its socket to see that’d change anything. It didn’t but it was worth a shot.

He (somewhat disturbed, somewhat politely) asked you never do anything like that in front of him again.

Fair enough.

Chris Redfield

This entire mansion situation was completely overwhelming for Chris- everything was so out of place and nothing made sense. Grappling with the concept of zombies being a real thing, Umbrella Corp actually being tied to this goddamn place somehow and the Bravo Team being completely wiped out along with his other colleagues being God knows where was just getting too much to handle.

Maybe that's why he didn't even take a second glance at you when you rolled a flashlight next to him as he sat on the ground of the grimy hallway.

It took him a second to fully process what just happened- his eyes running over the slimy flesh of your body that looked rotten and gross. You just simply stared back at him, hollow eyes in hollow sockets waiting for a response.

“.. Hello?”

You waved back in response, watching as Chris’ face cringed as your bones cracked and popped from the movement.

“That's new. Most of your friends seem to not be interested in conversation, eh?”

Chris was pretty sure he was losing it- he knew he should be grabbing his gun and getting rid of this thing in front of him before it attacked instead of making conversation. Yet something felt different about this one.

You nodded your head slowly and made trepidatious steps towards Chris. Testing his willingness to let you near- he did move his hand near his knife, which you took as a warning and stepped back.

He looked down at the flashlight you rolled towards his side and palmed it. It was essentially a gift- and you didn't seem to want to harm him.

“Listen. I need help finding my friends. They're somewhere in this mansion. This place is just so confusing to get through- will you help me out?”

You seemed to hesitate for a second, feet lingering in place as if trying to see if it was a trap. Chris almost found it funny, the both of you unsure of the other and still needing help to get out of here in one piece.

You gave a weary nod to him before stepping closer and offering your hand to help him up.

Chris shuddered a little as he felt the bone through your frail, decaying flesh and pulled himself up with your help.

An odd duo you two made, but certainly two is better than one in this situation.

#ari's writing #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil headcanons #resident evil hcs #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #claire redfield #claire redfield x reader #jill valentine #jill valentine x reader #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveria x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader

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heavenlyraindrops · 23 days

Text

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Ten ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Ten Warnings: profanity Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Ten]

You pressed the stone on your bracelet feverishly in a string of long and short beeps, hoping Lucifer would receive it.

They know. Me and you. They know.

The stone lit up, indicating he had heard you. You pulled your sleeve down over the accessory, and smiled brightly at Avery, one of the exorcists, who was approaching you down the street. She smiled back, but it was shadowed with the disappearance and probable death of her friend who hadn’t come back from the extermination a week ago.

You’d met in the street and she had stopped you to talk- something that happened to you quite frequently whenever you went out. But now you were itching to get away, now that Adam knew- anyone could have known.

“Well well well. Look who it is.”

You turned your head to see Adam and Lute. Avery perked up.

“Adam, Lute! How was the meeting?”

Adam yawned animatedly. “Boring. Lucifer’s-“ his eyes shifted towards you “-brat showed up. Has some stupid hotel for redemption or something.” His snickers turned into a flurry of raucous laughter, and even Lute next to him looked smug, yet contemptful.

“Er, what?”

Both their eyes turned to you in unison.

“What meeting?”

“We had a meeting in the Heaven Embassy. Charlie Morningstar was there,” she explained slowly, as if you were stupid, and also because Adam had just stared at you for a good six seconds without any response. “She wanted to redeem sinners,” Lute spat.“Stupid idea.”

Your mind swirled at Charlie’s name, and you bit back your objection- if angels could fall, why couldn’t sinners rise?- but you decided it was best to not disagree with Adam for the time being.

“Agreed,” you said rigidly. Adam nodded, as if he was pleased with what he heard, then turned to Lute.

“C’mon danger tits,” he said. “Let’s get outta here.”

You watched them disappear down the street.

“Well he’s quite a character,” Avery piped up. You turned to her. You had forgotten she was there, you realized, taking in a deep breath and sighing it out.

“Right. Well. There’s not much one can do.”

Avery laughed. “He’s the first man. Do you ever think it got to his head?” She fell silent, flushing. “Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”

You gave her a wan smile. “Don’t worry. I can keep a secret.”

♱♱♱

Your hand gripped the edge of the sink, before your eyes met your own haggard reflection in the glass in front of you. You winced at your eyebags, which boasted your lack of sleep proudly, and your dull complexion.

One month left. You still hadn’t decided.

You debated between going to the living room and tidying up a bit, or going back to your bedroom and falling asleep for what could hopefully be at least a year. You could wake up and realize this was all just a dream. The past seven years, since the day you had met Lucifer, had been just a dream. You slunk back into your bedroom, shutting the door and climbing into bed. Something drifted out of the sheets and landed soundlessly on the floor, and you bent down to pick it up.

A single red feather. From his wing.

Something swelled in your throat, tears threatening to spill out from your eyes. You sniffled, then bent over, shoulders racked with silent sobs. You ran a hand through your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging it involuntarily.

A couple of quick, polite knocks on the front door snapped you out of your state. You sniffled again, wiping your eyes hastily. They sounded nothing like Adam or Lute, who usually knocked as if the door was unbreakable, or simply barged in. You picked your way across the messy living room and opened the door.

“Sera,” you said, trying to make your voice sound bright and welcoming but it just rasped out instead. Sera’s smile began to fade once she saw you, her eyes looking up and down, taking you in, in all your exhausted glory.

“[name],” she said, and her voice betrayed no emotion. You tilted your head to the side.

Fuck. She knows.

“Yes?” You said dryly, trying to hide the fact that your heart was going a million kilometers per second.

Sera cleared her throat, straightening up. “I’ll cut straight to the point.” You stiffened, waiting for the blow. “Heaven has visitors. From Hell, arriving this week, to plead their case in court- that redemption may be possible for sinners.”

You nodded slowly, the dread melting away as you relaxed.

“We need a place for them to stay, only for a little while, and seeing that you are- supposed to-“ she frowned as your stare darkened, “-be one of the most powerful souls here, due to your purity-“

“You want me to take them in while they’re here,” you said flatly. She nodded and smiled, continuing, trying to convince you, confident she would.

“It’s safer to put them with you than some random hotel, and your house is quite big, you’ve got plenty of guest rooms, and you’re quite- supposed to be-“ she waved her hands around, as if she was trying to bat your sharpening glare away from her, “-proper, collected… neat and tidy…” Her gaze drifted behind you into your living room and she winced.

You twisted your head round to look over your shoulder, then snapped your eyes back to her. “I’ll get myself presentable for them,” you said gruffly. Sera smiled again, and you wondered if she actually believed you. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, even though it came out as a grimace.

“So. Who exactly are these lovely… wayward souls?”

Sera’s expression hardened. “Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell,” she said stiffly, and then relaxed. “And some other… sinner who she’s going to bring along with her.”

The word ‘Morningstar’ knocked the breath right out of you.

“Oh,” you managed to utter. Sera smiled tightly. You cleared your throat.

“Well.” You squared your shoulders. “I look forward to meeting her. Sera nodded shortly.

“I’m sure you do.” Her voice dropped as she leaned forward suddenly, and you took a step back. “[name], are you sure you’re alright?” You forced a smile.

“I’m just fine, Sera.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Hey guys! Rain here. Multiple things I’d like for it to be known:

-Exams are coming up, and I have a fuck ton of stuff to study. It’s meant to be one of the most important exams in my course so… it’s a pretty big deal.

-Meaning, this might be the last chapter I’ll be able to get out for a while. Either that, or updates will be slower. Luckily, once exams end I have three months of freedom and will be able to update as much as possible!

-until then, I am going to write oneshots now and then, and am also opening my requests! More details are on the pinned post on my blog. (Pls send me a request it makes me feel cool… :’) no like please PLEASE SEND REQUESTS I literally have nothing to write otherwise)

-all I’m saying is, I just won’t be able to write as much cause I’ll be super busy. Don’t worry haha I am NOT going on Hiatus. The taglist is still open.

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09, @angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts, @rebecca-hvnstn, @l0v3lyx, @ravenswritingroom, @rattyrattyratty, @lovayle, @relatedsoda, @cimadreamer, @valckenaux, @lauruoriii, @deardaffy, @randompersonnotoneaeth, @bloody-delusion-expert, @vampirefilmlover, @lillianastuff, @tsukiko26

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liyawritesss · 10 months

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ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Sometimes Miles just wants to sway with you in the middle of his bedroom while R&B music plays in the background.

Warnings: Cursing, 15+ Miles here, keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: My first (and possibly only) attempt at 42!Miles Morales. Idk, thought it would be something cute…might make a 1610!Miles Morales counterpart lol.

Song Suggestions: “Close” by Ella Mai, “Lotus Flower Bomb” by Wale ft. Miguel, “Love Don’t Change” by Jeremih

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed

“Do you think this fits okay?”

His lights are set to the lavender color setting on his LED lights that line the top ceiling corners of his room, though the lamp on his desk also provides warm white light to contrast against it. Miles looks up from his phone conversation with his uncle to glance at your figure standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of his door as your gaze analyzes the new pair of leggings adorning your legs.

“They look perfect, bella.” Miles responds, the amused lilt in his voice nearly blowing over your head when you hear him speak. Though, to Miles, anything you wear is perfect in his eyes. Your lips jut out in a pout as you continue to examine your bottom half dressed in the black leggings, debating on if you’d gotten the right size to accentuate your curves the way you want them to.

The leggings were just one of many items that laid in various shopping bags that littered Miles’ floor, currently. From LuLuLemon to Victoria’s Secret to Fashion Nova, Miles can certainly say that he’s made up for his impromptu disappearance before your date night the night prior.

He didn’t mean for last night to happen, truly. He knew you really wanted to see that movie. It was the last night it was playing in theaters, too, and you were so excited when you managed to find tickets to the last showing, and proposed the date idea to him. Miles admits that he was interested in the proposition, not just because you had proposed it, but because the mere mention of it got you so worked up that he truly believed it to be worth it.

So, to make up for not only bailing on the date, but also going ghost for much the prior night as well, he picked you up for an impromptu day at the mall. It wasn’t an easy feat, Miles admits, convincing you to allow him to make it up to you in this way. He felt guilty for inadvertently crushing your hopes, and you’d felt even more guilty about taking the new date offer that required him to spend his money.

“I’m tryna make it up to you.” He’d said

“Miles, I said it was fine-” you’d said.

“-but it’s not, though.” He’d interjected.

“You had…stuff to do,” you’d whispered to him, “I can’t expect you to drop everything at my beck and call, and I know what I signed up for when we started dating.”

If someone told Miles that four months ago he’d start dating the pretty girl who always slept through their shared mathematics class, he’d surely look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. He still doesn’t know what attracted him to you in the first place - how pretty you looked asleep at your desk, or the fact that even though you’d be knocked out the second you took your seat, if the teacher happened to call on you for a question, you managed to answer it correctly every time.

You’d quickly became his first and, as it stands, only friend at Visions Academy. Soon enough, you’d also became aware of his double persona, though if Miles had it his way, he would have kept you in the dark for as long as possible. It wasn’t easy, juggling the duality of the life he lived. The less people close to him, the easier the job was. Well, unless the person was you.

You were like a piece of gum stuck under a desk - an ever looming presence, never disappearing; but like the candy before being discarded, you were also sweet, refreshing, comforting. Miles wanted to make this work for the both of you. He’d grown too fond of you to let you slip out of his life like sand from the beach.

“So that mean you just accept whatever you get?” Miles asks, eyebrows raised again. “Nah, we don’t do that around here.”

Unfortunately, there was no fighting against Miles when he had his mind made up.

So you entertained his proposition, though not without a fight. You made sure that the boy bought some things for himself as well, and even managed to sneak in a few items for his mother (which, in all honesty, he didn’t need much convincing for - it was his mother, after all). So, granted, not all of the bags on the floor were yours, so it made you feel a bit better about Miles splurging on you as an apology.

He watches as you shift through a tiny black and pink bag with the V.S. initials printed in cursive on the side, fishing out a bottle of soft purple body mist that Miles would recognize anywhere. He’d recognize it because it was his favorite scent that you frequently bought from the clothing chain. He could never tire of the lavender and jasmine that calmed his mind and relaxed his body whenever you were around, or put him to sleep whenever the two of you cuddled together.

The familiar spritz spritz sound echoes throughout his room, fading into the old school R&B that currently plays in the living room area where his mom is having company over. The mist settles into the cloth of your sweatshirt - his sweatshirt, actually - and into your skin, before he watches your feet carry you closer to him.

“Don’t tell me you sprayed that just to come and hug me?” He says, though his body straightens at the edge of the bed, phone becoming a distant memory as he tucks it into his hoodie pocket.

You shrug, a playful smile spreads to your lips as you step between his legs, hands coming to cup his cheeks, “shut up, you know you like it.”

He didn’t have to admit that he loved it - a lazy hand coming to rest at the back of your knee was enough proof of it.

“Why you tryna be like me,” the brown skin boy hums, sucking his teeth and deflecting the conversation from the truthful statement, “always stealin’ my clothes ‘nd shit.”

“Same reason why half of my scrunchie jar is gone,” you tease back, “I gave you one, Miles, and now I’m missing, like, ten of ‘em.”

“I’on know what you talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Of course you don’t.”

At some point, the same hand that rested behind your knee crept up to your waist as his head pressed into your stomach, the smell of your perfume drawing him closer. It lulled him into a state of security; however, it was swiftly ruined when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s sure that it’s Aaron.

He takes the phone out and it opens up to his text messages almost immediately when his face comes into view. The ominous intent behind the words ‘hold on’ in blue bubbles makes his stomach tighten.

You feel it, too. The shift in his demeanor can be felt when you stand this close to him. “Was it Aaron?”

His phone becomes discarded on the bed while his other arm raises up, and both wrap around your frame while he buries his head into your stomach inhaling the perfume etched into the fabric there. “Yeah.”

One hand goes to rub soothing circles on his clothed back, the other caresses the nape of his neck, holding him close, for the reality of it all was that he could have to leave at any moment.

The slightly muffled music from the living room shifts to another song and it sparks a lightbulb in your head.

Your hands go to gently pry Miles’ hands from your body. He raises his head in question, before being tugged to his feet by you as well. You reposition his arms around your waist, and yours find their place around his neck, and after a few seconds, it clicks for him.

“You’re so corny.” He voices, muffled by the position his face takes in the crevice of your neck, nose tickled by the goddess braids that rested against your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you lightly scold, “just sway with me, idiot.”

The richness of the singer’s voice gives Miles’ body more than enough incentive to lean from side to side in a slow motion, taking you in his arms with him as he does so. You fully expect for him to pull away or grumble at the proposition, yet, you’re not completely surprised when he simply gives in to your direction. Perhaps he desires the same closeness you do in this moment, you think.

Miles feels himself smiling when the touch of your hand graces his cheek, thumb swiping comforting strokes along his skin. He hums at the touch, his grip tightening in the slightest around your waist. Is he too young to wish for this all the time?

His phone buzzes in his pocket again, his brown hand fishes for the device and glances down at the text message once more. The pit in his stomach fades away when he reads the words ‘no need. good 4 2nite’ from his uncle in blue. Miles lets out a short breath, pockets his phone, and sinks back into your touch.

He’s thankful that there seems to be no need for the Prowler on the streets tonight. Perhaps he can rest in peace.

Miles’ taken from his thoughts when he feels your lips graze across his cheek. “Everything good?”

He feels a smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we good,” he hums, returning the affection.

Neither of you even notice that another person has entered the room, until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoes throughout the walls. Miles looks up from your shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway, a content yet melancholic look on her face.

“If you kids want something to eat, there’s leftovers from me and the girls, bien?”

The hand that was once on his cheek now hides your face from his mother’s prying, knowing eyes, and it emits a chuckle from the older woman.

“Bueno, mami, we’ll get some later.” Miles replies before Rio leaves, making sure to leave the door ajar just the slightest.

Though, neither of you are ready to part, even at the prospect of food. So Miles returns to the warmth of your neck, your hand returning to caress the side of his face as he molds himself back into you, and the two of you continue to sway to the music, content in your own little world.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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inkedroplets · 1 year

Text

You Owe me a New Desk

“I know I sprang this on you—” “Because you knew if you didn’t I would say no,” Kara said hotly, wondering if she had also purposefully chosen to tell her at the DEO to stop her from making too big a scene. She glared at Alex, hoping to see a hint of guilt on her implacable face, annoyed when she found none.

“It's dinner, Kara. you act like I’m trying to marry you off,” Alex said, arms already crossed over her chest, having expected resistance and prepared accordingly.

“Not yet, anyway,” Kara replied, shaking her head again, her hands still on her hips, fingers digging in to stop her from mimicking Alex’s pose, knowing she would cut a far more intimidating figure. “But at the rate, you’re going …” “It is one date,” Alex said. She snaked her right arm free and held up her index finger, although Kara suspected she would have much rather held up the middle one. “You don’t even need to think of it as a date. Think of it as a night out.” “A night out,” Kara repeated. “Yeah. Do you remember those?” “I missed a few game nights,” Kara said, her already fraying patience dissolving to nothing as they slipped back into the same quagmire they had been stuck in for months now. It seemed no matter what topic, whether it be something as banal as the weather or a metahuman attacking downtown like all roads lead to Rome. Every conversation with Alex always led back to Lena and how (in Alex's words) she needed to move on. As if it could ever be that simple. Although to everyone else it certainly seemed that way. Life for everyone else had simply seemed to have gone on. As if Lena's sudden absence was something that had happened a long time ago.

There had been a few desultory outings where the conversation often lagged and some of the takeout that normally disappeared so quickly remained untouched. She remembered a game night that had fizzled out after a brief game of Exploding Kittens and turned into an impromptu movie night that had been something Kara had needed to get through rather than enjoy.

But the group (minus Kara) had found their footing soon after that. Karaoke where lyrics were belted out (oftentimes offkey) and at the appropriate eardrum-shattering decibel. Game nights filled with laughter interspersed with the occasional howl of indignation when someone invariably pulled too far ahead in points or when a house rule had been broken whether on accident or on purpose.

Kara had watched it happen in a state of incredulity, bearing witness to the speed at which things had returned to normal for everyone else, at how fast their fractured circle had closed in reaction to Lena's absence. Life had simply gone on for them. But not for her. And seeing her friends joke and laugh, and have spirited debates over who out of the group would have the best chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse and what were the superior pizza toppings, turned her incredulity to white-hot anger. Anger that had all the forethought of a bull in a china shop. It rampaged around in her chest, seeing red everywhere, looking for something to smash, to gore. It was why she had eventually stopped going to game night, (even if all she had done since Lena’s absence had been to act as a scorekeeper).

“You’ve missed six,” Alex countered “Six then.” “And every time someone tries to make plans with you, you always find an excuse not to—” “Me being busy is not an excuse,” Kara fired back and gave her cape a hasty flutter, drawing attention to it the same way a magician might before attempting some sleight of hand. In truth, it was an excuse, but with how busy she had kept herself, it would have been hard to accuse her of lying. She had practically begged Andrea for more work, happily snapping up whatever puff piece or blogpost that she threw her way. Andrea had been far too happy that her Pulitzer-winning reporter had suddenly come around on soft news after being so vehemently against it to question why she was now more than happy to pen an article about ‘What your favorite kind of tea says about you’. She had also redoubled her efforts as Supergirl, spending more of her time patrolling the city. Anything to keep busy, to keep herself distracted. Not that it was ever enough. “You can take one night off, Kara…” Alex let out a sigh that sounded like it had been kept under pressure for a very long time, almost a hiss as her gaze that had been so steely just moments ago softened. “I know this has been hard…” No, you don’t.

“I know you miss her.” “I don’t miss her!” Kara shouted. The ensuing silence and the feeling of suddenly being watched as everyone in the room turned to look in her direction made her cheeks burn. Doing her best to ignore the fact that to the others in the room, she and Alex had become the only two players on the stage of a sold-out show she stalked forward so that she could lean close enough to whisper to her. “Kara…” “I do not miss her,” Kara murmured. She pressed a hand flat against her forehead and let it slip over her eyes briefly like a shroud. In the transient darkness, she saw herself. Not a perfect reflection but her as she had looked trapped in the Fortress’ defenses that Lena had reprogrammed on the fly. Defenses that had been put in place originally as a Luthor failsafe… “Okay,” Alex said placatingly. “You don’t miss her. After what she did to you—” And what did we do to her? Kara thought, the image of herself fading from her mind’s eye as she let her hand fall back to her side. “Can we not, Alex? Please?”

“Why don’t you head home for the night?” Alex suggested as if she wasn’t the reason that Kara had stopped by the DEO in the first place instead of heading straight home after her patrol. “Just think about it, okay? The date… or not date.” “Yeah,” Kara said, already beating a hasty retreat towards the door. She could hear the indistinct whispers of some of the agents in the room as clearly as if they were whispering into her ear instead of someone else’s, ignoring the looks of concern on many of the faces she passed.

I’m fine, she told herself. She repeated that to herself with each step like a prayer. And when she had put the DEO behind her, had flown up high enough so that the city below had become a bed of glittering jewels, she repeated it aloud with the same quiet desperation one might have when earnestly wishing on a star. “I’m fine.”

Kara wasn’t fine. How could she be when there didn’t seem to be a single potsticker in all of National City? She had tried all of her usual places and been turned away for one reason or another at all of them. Catching them as they were closing for the night, being swamped with orders, and just being plain out of food (although Kara could have sworn she smelled something cooking in the back).

She had however been offered an apology each time she had been turned away. Five apologies of varying sincerity did little to blunt her disappointment at being denied one of the few things that might bring her a tiny bit of comfort. It wasn’t until she had returned home defeated that she realized how strange it had been that every place had known her by name. Not that she didn’t frequent any of them enough for them to know her name, but she knew for a fact that none of them did. She had been a regular customer by virtue only, always having to give her name (sometimes several times) whenever she picked up an order. Not that she minded. But it had been odd to suddenly become a known entity at all five restaurants. Even stranger that a few of them had done a very noticeable double-take when she had walked in as if they had been expecting her.

The words: Could this day get any worse? trembled on her lips when she collapsed onto her couch, still in her Supergirl suit. She didn’t dare speak them aloud, though. She knew better than to tempt fate. Knew from experience that life could turn on a dime and be unimaginably cruel. Krypton’s destruction. Having to watch her home be destroyed before her eyes and at that moment (and for a long time after) a selfish part of her had wished she had been destroyed along with it.

Compared to that, how could a squabble with Alex and being denied her favorite food ever measure up? Only, she knew it wasn’t just that. It was being faced with the fact that her passion for journalism, something that had fulfilled her in a way that Supergirl never could, had seemingly vanished and her attempts (that had become more and more desperate) to recapture it had only made her more sure that it might be gone for good. It was the distance growing between her and all her loved ones and how little she seemed to care as she watched it happen. It was the unimaginable bitterness that ate away at her like acid from how she had hurt Lena and how Lena had hurt her. It was how at times there seemed to be no bottom to her pain. It was the recurring nightmare she had frequently of being back in the Fortress. Watching Lena disappear into the portal with Myriad. Trapped once more in that glittering cage. Even the most vivid of nightmares couldn’t replicate the pain of kryptonite, but what it could do was convince her sleeping mind that she was trapped there. Trapped with no way of escape. And when she woke up drenched in a cold sweat, she wasn’t sure whether she was in her bed, in the Fortress, or back in the Phantom Zone…

“It’s the potstickers,” she muttered. Her stomach gave a very loud rumble a few moments later, making it that much easier to pretend that’s all it was. She had plenty to work with in her fridge. At a quick glance with her X-Ray vision, she saw leftover pizza, Thai food, and half of a burrito that looked about the same size and general shape as a small anaconda. But no potstickers. “Maybe if Alex didn’t invite me to the DEO under false pretenses to set me up on a blind date,” she muttered, finding it easy to imagine a scenario where if she had arrived only ten minutes earlier her favorite place wouldn’t have run out of food. That very likely outcome annoyed her almost more than Alex trying to dictate her love life. Lena would understand. The thought was like a bolt from the blue, too quick for her to stop herself from thinking it and too ingrained in her to be surprised that she had. Lena had been the one she had always gone to when she wanted to vent, especially if it was about Alex. She had always seemed to know when Kara simply wanted her to listen to her vent and when she wanted advice. Something that Alex still hadn’t mastered. While she meant well, Kara thought she approached helping her with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball at times. Her hamfisted attempt at getting her out of her funk by setting her up with a stranger was evidence of that.

Alex is being so annoying today! You wouldn’t believe what she did. She actually tried to set me up on a date!! Sometimes she just needs to mind her own business!! And every Chinese place in the city is out of potstickers. And when I say ‘every’ Chinese place I mean every single place. I checked them all.Writing the text was cathartic, the modern-day version of writing a letter that you had no intention of sending. The relief would be fleeting, of course, although Kara had no idea just how fleeting.

She had tossed her phone aside and begun taking mental stock of what she had in her cupboards and fridge, trying to figure out what to do for dinner when her phone chirped weakly from underneath one of her throw pillows.

She swiped her finger lazily over the screen and felt her stomach enter freefall.

“Oh, no no no no…” Kara squeezed her phone hard enough to produce an ominous cracking noise that made her drop it directly onto her face. Flinching, she let it slide down into the crook of her neck before scooping it up, careful not to crush it (regardless of how tempting that sounded at the moment).

She dragged her index finger over the screen and stared open-mouthed at the message she had never meant to send, but had done so anyway. She let her eyes unfocus and slowly zero in again as if that might make the message disappear.

When her vision sharpened again and she saw the message was still there, Kara let out a low moan, wishing she could have willed it out of existence through sheer desperation, certain that if such a thing were possible she would have no trouble at all pulling it off.

But it was the message just below it that made her do a double-take.

I couldn't care less about the potstickers, but please, do go on about how awful Alex is…

The message was so unabashedly Lena that Kara had no trouble imagining her speaking the words aloud, the imagery so vivid that she could have sworn she heard Lena's voice echoing in her head.

She stared at it a moment longer before she typed out a very hasty, I'm sorry, not sure what else she could say. Her thumb hovered over the send button, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That wouldn't get a response. She was certain of that. Not when the other apologies she had sent had never once elicited a response from Lena. The apologies she had agonized over sending in the first place and regretted on the days when her anger at Lena outweighed the pain of missing her, of hurting her.

#most definitely a work in progress #I don't know how to share private posts so everybody gets to bear witness #supercorp #can something be angsty and smutty at the same time?

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blasphemecel · 26 days

Text

Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader

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4riadne · 1 month

Text

MEET-CUTE nanami kento x fem!reader

summary: you meet nanami at a cafe - thankfully for you, your friend isn't going to let him pass you by. word count: 815

a/n: wrote this six months ago, forgot it existed <3

You’re in a cafe when it happens; sitting by the window, close to the counter, listening idly as your friend chatters away. You’ve got your favourite drink in front of you, half-finished as you idly swirl circles in the drink. The door chimes, and in walks a customer who, in your humble opinion, just so happens to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He’s perfect; you’re talking tall, chiselled cheekbones, intense expression, and a vaguely exhausted look about him. His blonde hair is meticulously styled. “I think I just saw my soulmate.”

“What?” Your friend's head swerves. You can see the second she notices the man you just saw, because the next words out of their mouth are, “oh, wow. Smash.”

You both giggle, embarrassing juvenile. For a moment, you feel like you’re twelve years old again, giggling over crushes and shushing your friend’s so as to not wake up your parents. You sink in your seat, attempting to hold onto some of your dignity as both of you try to subtly catch another glimpse of the man.

“You have to say something,” your friend whisper-shouts. You respond most maturely with a violent shake of your head, catching another glimpse of him–lucky enough, he hasn’t caught onto the fact you were both ogling him.

“Are you crazy?” The man turns your way, and you resist the urge to duck in your seat. Instead, you take a long sip of your drink. Your friend, the absolute traitor, waves at him. Before you can sink into embarrassment, his eyes flick up, and he offers a nod. A soft incline to his head.

“Damn, he’s hot.”

You hiss your friend’s name. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you clearly weren’t going to.” Previous conversation completely forgotten, your friend kicks your leg under the table. “Go talk to him.”

“What if he thinks I’m weird? I don’t know.”

“Like he ever could. Just smile and he’s yours.” They push your chair back slightly, making you grip at the table in surprise. “Besides, if things get weird I’ll come over.”

“And how would you know if things got weird?”

“Uh, we’re girls. It’s obvious.” They kick your chair again, brows furrowing into a glare. “Go get him, girl. And get me another slice while you’re at it, please.”

“I hate you.” You rise out of her seat, brushing down your pants. “What do I even say?”

“It’ll come to you!” I hope you die, you think, legs feeling like jelly as you force your way towards the counter.

You tap his shoulder, finger trembling against the fabric. He turns towards you the second your finger brushes him, and your hand is left there awkwardly hovering as you stare up at him. You’d thought, upon noticing him, that he was a few years older; upon closer inspection, he’s just plagued by the daily struggle of corporate life. It’s doing horrors to his skin.

“Can I help you?”

For a moment all the air feels like it’s being sucked out of the room, and you debate just making a break for it. “Um, hi.”

“Hello.”

“Sorry, I was just, uh–” You wince, “do you come here often? I haven’t really seen you around here before.”

“No.” He says, and he turns so he’s facing you, attention fully on you. You do your best to keep your hands still. When you don't make a move to say something else, he continues. “The cafe I used to go to raised their prices too high.”

“Oh, that sucks.” You offer him a sympathetic smile. “Coffee prices here are insane, huh? It was so startling when I moved here.”

“When did you move here?”

You tell him the date, a hopeless smile crossing your lips. Okay, okay, this is going well–small talk is always a good place to start, right? “What about you? Have you lived here long?”

“I have. I haven’t had the chance to go elsewhere.”

“Oh, do you not travel much?”

“I do, when work allows it.”

“I get that.” You do not, in fact, get that. “Well, hopefully you get the chance soon. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a stockbroker.” Just about the most boring job known to man, but that’s okay. You can work with that. At least he’s been willing to talk with you this far–baby steps? “What about you?” You answer him. This is going startlingly close to a game of 20 questions, and you really don't feel like you’re getting anywhere. You take a deep breath. “So, uh–” your mind blanks, “--right! I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. It’s nice to meet you.” You give him your name. Now, you might be over analysing things, but you think his expression gets the slightest bit friendlier, so you must be doing something right.

“I’m Nanami Kento. It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #kento x reader #by luca

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lightlycareless · 4 months

Note

I was on Twitter/X and saw someone mention why Naoya is popular among Japanese fans and a big reason apparently is that he speaks in a cutesy dialect that’s only used by girls. And that it’s the kind of way of speaking where girls can insult you and it’s hard to be offended. And now I can only imagine Y/N reacting to this grown man insulting her in this cute dialect 🤭

Heya anon!!!

Yessssss! I quite recently saw a Tiktok talking about that and thought it was really unexpected, but cute at the same time? Ironic for sure too… guess it explains how he got so popular since even the author has called him a total jerk 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Kansai dialect, nor think there’s an equivalent to it in English, so I’m guiding myself with how it was translated in the manga, and perhaps my delusions too 😏 in order to write the following.

warnings: none.

The first time you notice his peculiar way of speaking would be when you met him many, many years ago, in jujutsu high. Everything about him was highly enthralling, from his appearance to his background, but when he opened his mouth…

Your curiosity ramped up to even higher levels, longing to know everything about him, as well as see the extent of his “cutesy” talk.

And boy, does it not disappoint.

It would happen unexpectedly one day. Let’s say that after a bunch boring classes you eventually grew very hungry and tired. So, after deciding you were long overdue for a break (and because you hadn’t prepared anything beforehand) you head over to the cafeteria to get something to eat and rest.

… a big mistake, because soon after you finish eating, you begin to feel sick, stomach twisting and churning, to the point you don’t think yourself capable of continuing with the rest of your classes.

Naoya is amongst the few that (vividly) notices your extended absence, and while he will never admit it out loud, he was worried that something bad happened to you, thus, he roamed across the school grounds in hopes of finding you.

When he does, you’re sitting by one of the benches, tightly holding onto your stomach as you debate whether to die there or die on the way to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naoya bluntly asks.

“I…. I think I ate something spoiled.” You whimper, barely able to look him in the eye.

“Does your tummy hurt or something?”

“Yes, it’s awful, it’s like I’m being—my what?” you blink—did you hear that right?

“Your tummy.” He repeats, oblivious to your reaction, far more preoccupied with your health. “Does it hurt?”

“My… tummy…?” A smile begins to part your lips, and suddenly, your pain is all but forgotten. “Did you say tummy??”

“I… I did….?” Naoya says, flustered and unsure whether this is something good or not to admit.

He soon finds the answer.

“How adorable!!” you gush, and by now, Naoya is red as a tomato—because he clearly doesn’t want to be seen as adorable by his crush!

“I said stomach!! I meant to say stomach!!” He rushes to defend himself, but it’s too late now, he’s already admitted to the crime.

“Noooo, you said tummy!!” you continue to jest. “My thummy wurts vewy, vewy, bad Naoya-kun…”

“Ugh, you can die out here for all I care…”

“No, wait Naoya!” you gasp, quickly standing up and reaching for me. “Can you at least accompany me to the infirmary? I’ll forget about this, I swear!”

Of course, you don’t let this go so easily, in fact, when the two start dating you continue teasing him about it—but you just couldn’t help it!! It just comes to him so naturally, you had to bring it up anytime you could, you know?

“Why are you upset? Did daddy get mad at you again?” you ask.

“Yes! That old man can’t keep himself out of my—wait, no—don’t call him daddy!” Naoya stammers, you giggle. He’s not ignorant to the times he’s condescendingly referred to Naobito with a that “nickname”, yet it didn’t mean he’d like to hear you calling him that as well!

“Why? Do you prefer I’d call you daddy?”

His breath hitches, something igniting inside him.

“…Not here.”

“Ok” you smile. “I won’t call you daddy, then, daddy. Wouldn’t want you to get angry at me.”

“… keep instigating me, princess, and I won’t reward you later tonight.”

I think the more you delve into this aspect of his, the more you find it adorable, to the point where you find his words a bit less serious; however, you’d eventually grow accustomed to it, and maybe even adopted some mannerisms of your own 🤭

I know you were referring to Naoya insulting Y/N but honestly I have no idea how it would be... I'm as dry as dry can get when it comes to it :'( but I still hope you were able to enjoy this small scenario! Gotta say, watching him say daddy in the manga was unexpected, but got me thinking what other things he'd say in that way, you know?

ironically, I think he might be the best when talking to children because of that—when he's not being his tsundere/rude self.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I can't wait to hear how his voice sounds when it's finally animated, I hope they're able to keep his dialect and see what the fuss is all about 🤭😂

Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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izvmimi · 1 month

Text

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter III

cw: alcohol mention. quirk use. medical scenes. bad fashion. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

Izuku stares at your number on his phone and his stomach turns as his thumb hovers over the call button.

Then he looks up. Shoto hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, content with finishing up the last of a sandwich and scrolling through his phone. Shoto has a bad habit of responding to every thirsty comment he gets and Izuku doesn’t bother telling him not to at this point. That’s PR’s problem and they get paid handsomely for it.

“How bad is it if I call a girl who might have a boyfriend?” Izuku says it wincingly, as if the very idea pains him.

Shoto doesn’t look up. “I mean if you’re just saying hi, it’s not illegal. Otherwise it’s harassment.”

Izuku should know better than to expect tact from him. Izuku pushes his phone away from him and replaces the emptiness of his right hand with a handful of fries to stuff into his mouth. Shoto looks up and raises his eyebrow at him, then shakes his head.

“I thought you and Ochaco broke up.”

“We DID.” Izuku insists, annoyed. “Over half a year ago?”

Shoto shrugs. “I mean it’s not like it’s obvious, the three of you still hang out all the time.”

Izuku frowns. This is true, but it’s been less so in recent times, and the media storm related to it is brewing, he feels, when the distance, now more obvious, gets spun into netizen debate but he’s hoping to shield himself from it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t bother you just for that reason alone. Especially if you have someone. You won’t have him. Not in this life, not in the next.

“It’s about ___,” he finally admits. Shoto looks slightly confused for a moment and Izuku practically growls at him before he recalls.

“Oh.”

Sighing, Izuku leans back into his chair and lets his shoulders slump. Perhaps he’s creepy to still feel this way about you, but there’s not much he can do about it. He was doing so well too until he saw you yesterday, and…

That fucking guy.

Izuku runs his hands through his hair. Life is too cyclical for him right now.

“How are you and Mo-?” he asks instead but Shoto shrugs, interrupting him before he can ask any other questions.

“Fine.”

Sometimes talking to Shoto is like pressing oil from a stone, but Shoto suddenly asks Izuku a follow-up question.

“You know, if you’re still pining for that long, does it really matter at this point if she has a boyfriend?”

Izuku looks shocked, but Shoto is dead serious. He blinks.

“Just tell her how you feel anyway. That way she can tell you no to your face and you’ll get over it.”

Izuku feels something in his heart rend, but Shoto’s insane advice has a shocking amount of weight to it.

As usual. He just has to work up the nerve to listen to it.

—

A couple of weeks pass. You’ve found yourself staring at Izuku’s number in your phone far more than you have in years, wondering if you should tell him what happened and knowing that it would make you sound crazy. How do you even start such a conversation?

Hey I know I haven’t spoken to you for real in years, but some kid with a quirk made clones of me that suggest you’re my soulmate? Oh by the way, I loved you back then but just never told you? Anyway, break up with your girlfriend, a literal angel, because I’m bored.

You call one of your friends, not the ones who went to UA with you and told you not to suppress your feelings, but another one who will tell you you’re ridiculous and to focus on the very available man in front of you, if you must insist on rekindling old flames.

And she tells you exactly what you want to hear.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

You sigh, absorbing the hit, but you’re thankful. “I know.”

“If he fumbled you then, he fumbles forever,” she says, unabashedly. You can see her now, painting her toenails with one hand, and petting her cat with another. It doesn’t matter to her that fate says otherwise, just the lack of effort on either part.

Don’t let us convince you how to feel, you remember an alternate version of you say.

It’s the wake-up call you need.

That evening, you meet up with Akira impromptu and he fulfills his promise of your favorite sushi and wine. Drinking more than usual to forget whatever your clones have to say, you find that Akira’s lips are somehow more comforting now that you’re older, and his hugs are tighter, and while you don’t end up sleeping together by the end of the night, the thought of laying under him in the near future brings a warmth to your chest that feels like the beginning of newly rekindled love.

—

“Are you this embarrassed to be seen with me?” Inko snickers, walking just a couple paces behind her son, whose broad shoulders are hunched over as he shrouds himself in a hoodie, a hat and sunglasses. He looks somewhat ridiculous like this, with the effect of making his already very noticeable frame stick out more, and the fact that he’s dressed head to toe in merch that doesn’t exactly match color scheme-wise (Froppy socks and Red Riot shoes, and Pinky’s iconic tie-dye pattern are not exactly easy on the eyes) doesn’t help.

“I just want to get in and out without incident,” Izuku murmurs quietly. Inko laughs and pats his back as he continues to push a shopping cart past the crowded hallways. He wishes his mother would have chosen a better day for grocery shopping because he woke up grumpier than usual today, which is really saying something, but these runs are important for her. She misses him and this is just one of the ways he can remind her that above all else, she’s still his son.

“That’s not like you.” She rubs his back gently and Izuku’s mouth twists to the side.

It isn’t, but it is him at the very moment. All he can think about is the fact that he feels like he should call you and he has no idea what to say, and the idea of you desperately finding ways to hang up on him makes him sick to his stomach. He’s tired and overworked. He’s seen at least one article speculating on his romantic life since this morning, now that Iida and Ochaco were found cavorting on a beach, and he’s starving.

The last one is a problem he can fix. Realistically, the first one is too but all he can think of is rejection and the label of creep.

Izuku Midoriya, current #1 Hero and absolute creep.

“I just need a break.” Polite enough to grab two cans of vegetables from the highest shelf, a couple for him and his mom, and one for the lady that seems to be reaching but too embarrassed to ask for help. She thanks him and he says not to mention it, then lets the cart speed off before she can think too hard about who he looks or sounds like.

Deku is very popular with older middle-aged ladies.

A little further down, he stops so that Inko can catch up with him. She’s still in high spirits and he resists the urge to shudder when thinking about how well her and Toshinori’s date last night went. He’d picked her up from his apartment and that may have been a little too much for him but he’s accepted this arrangement for now.

If his mom is happy, then he is.

They chat more about everything then nothing, while Izuku keeps the conversation away from how good his mentor is as a lover, then earning a moment for himself to scroll through the news on his phone while his mother chats up the workers at the fish market. He’s too engrossed, analyzing the scathing review of property damage with Dynamight and Red Riot’s combined recent save, until he looks up and sees Inko walk in a sudden opposite direction. Curious as to where she’s going but not moving yet, his eyes follow her, but when he realizes where she’s waving to, he almost shits his pants.

This can’t be serious.

It’s you again. You look just as surprised as he is, your mouth slightly agape, a pomelo in your right hand over at the produce section. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of exactly what kind of fashion disaster he is, and looks around, calculating the chances he can hide without being noticed by anyone or being called out by his mother. It’s not like you are particularly dressed to the nines either - you’re in an oversized hoodie too (Izuku wonders if it’s yours or Akira’s for a moment), the hood drawn close around your unmade but clean face, and yoga pants, sneakers that at least match unlike his clashing shoes. Although you look slightly uncomfortable the longer Inko talks to you, he can tell it’s less about not being kind and more shyness.

He spends more time observing you than making an escape route, and Inko finally betrays him by pointing over to him. You look like you’ve gone ashen when you see him, and it smarts; he offers you the smallest of awkward waves but Inko takes your wrist gently and pulls you over to him jovially.

And now you’re face to face again. He swallows hard, feeling the palms of his hands get sweaty as he grips the shopping cart handles. He has no idea how it’s gotten like this, and neither do you. You’re stiff as a board, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Just why do you dislike him so much? He wonders, but he has no time to lament, lest he make this worse than it already is.

“You know, I still have a picture of you two in my house!” Inko says, cheerfully. “I’m surprised you guys don’t still hang out often.”

Your stomach turns, and both of you don’t realize that you’re thinking the same thing -

Because they didn’t like me back, back then.

Desperate to make small talk, you say, “Oh, do you come here often?”

Izuku blinks, trying to comprehend your own ridiculous question you regret asking, but only makes it worse.

“To the grocery store? Oh yeah, haha, need to eat too!”

He laughs a little too loud, and in attempting to convince himself and you that he’s funny, slaps the handle of the shopping cart, which subsequently tips backwards which he scrambles to resettle. You and Inko both look shocked, and by the time he’s guided things back into carts, Inko is laughing nervously too. By now, Izuku has garnered more than a couple of stares from nearby customers, and quickly bumping him out of the way, she picks up on his odd behavior and rescues him.

“Ha, well it was nice to see you again, hun, I hope things have been well! Say hi to the family for me,” she waves, and quickly pulls Izuku along with her.

You remain planted watching him, wondering what trick the universe is playing on you.

Of all the grocery stores in Japan, your search for one specific food item brought you to Izuku, no matter how badly you try to avoid him.

—

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

Camilla looks up from where she’s perusing through a rack of work blouses then looks back to you.

“None of your questions are stupid. Shoot.”

You let your hands leaf through a stack of folded jeans, then pace a little as her eyes follow you, mulling over the words to use under your breath. After all, you haven’t explained the multiverse thing yet although you’re usually open about most things, for fear that she will hit you with an ‘I told you so’, even if she’s generally very kind about it. But you do still need to know.

“Do you still have people from way-back-when that you’ve liked?” you ask. Camilla gives you a look, then walks over and takes your face dramatically in her hands.

“Once again, I am begging you to stop going on dates with that weirdo,” she says. You find yourself laughing. She wasn’t too keen on the second date, and not the third, and while she didn’t explain in detail, she’s observed Akira enough over time (since they were both in the Support class) to not be particularly fond of him at all.

“I mean he really isn’t that bad.”

“He’s boastful and a womanizer,” she says again, now turned back to laying shirts onto her chest. “How does this look?”

“Oh, it’s cute,” you approve, noting how nicely the turquoise in semi-sheer material appears against her complexion.

“Great,” she takes it and pushes it into your arms. “This is for you. Glad you like it!”

Camilla’s tricked you again. You came out here intending not to leave with more clothing and yet…

“Let me be fair. Akira gives the energy of an unserious person, but perhaps he’s changed over time. I could be wrong.” She softens her stance, putting her hand on her hips. You snort for a moment, but you can easily see why she thinks this way - he is a bit airheaded for your liking, and the sudden declaration of re-interest in you does seem brusque. But the truth is you’re not tied up with anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter if you allow yourself to have some fun.

On top of that, you’re not really thinking about Akira in this particular case.

Sucking in a deep breath, and considering that you might immediately regret it, you decide to tell her what happened just weeks ago. By the time you’re done explaining, her hand is over her mouth, but then she smiles practically to the back of her teeth, and you realize you’re in trouble.

“Now that’s what romance novels are made of.”

“Camilla…” you start. She giggles and twirls a bit.

“Why are you questioning it? We saw the way he looked at you-”

You grimace. “He did not.”

She rolls her eyes. “Listen, if a man looked at me like that, I’d truly not sit here and argue with my friend about it.” She’s wandering between racks of clothing again, and you find yourself following her naturally just as you have for the past hour.

Your lips press into a thin line. “It sounds like a good story, but truly if he wanted me back then, he would have had me by now.”

As it comes out, you immediately regret it. Lead forms in your stomach as you think of what you just admitted, and Camilla is now digging through skirts that you’re not sure are for you or for herself.

“So clearly the problem is him. .That’s something we can sort out soon enough, now can’t we?”

In seconds, she’s zapped your phone right out of your pocket, flying directly into her open right hand.

“I’ll call him,” she sings.

If the panic that overcame you at that moment could revitalize a human being, you’d have resurrected an entire cemetery at once.

“… You wouldn’t,” is the phrase that comes out of you weakly, in a hush. Camilla grins, unlocking your phone (you consider that you probably shouldn’t have given out your passcode as recently as last week’s sleepover), and scrolls through your contacts briefly before settling on his name. She considers it for a moment, truly, but the deep frown on your face and your approach to her make it sufficiently clear that you’re not above wrestling your phone out of her very hands in the middle of a department store. Twisting her mouth to the side, she decides to throw the phone back to you.

”Coward,” she murmurs.

You slip your phone in your pocket, considering changing your passcode that very second, glaring at her.

“Stay out of my business,” you snap, but then you break out into giggles, partially out of relief. She laughs too, and pulls out another dress, glimmering in the overhead light, a soft purple chiffon number.

”You’re coming with me to the next gala and you’re wearing this.”

”I don’t think Mirio will appreciate losing his date,” you muse. She’s already off looking at the rows of pumps and stilettos, giving you a throwaway glance, but not without a sparkle in her eye.

”I think sunshine boy has enough admirers, and you’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows.” She beams as you take it from her hands, adding to the pile of things you already have to try on.

You huff in pretend annoyance but you can never fault your friend.

“I’ll consider it.”

—

3 months since your first meeting passing faster than you know it, your most involved pediatric patient returns, and right on time.

“How’s little Kazuo doing?”

You’re excited to see him, and he looks better than you expected, the young boy kicking his feet comfortably, his blue eyes shaded this time by a toy replica of Can’t Stop Twinkling’s iconic red shades offered to him by Junko. He takes the time to remove a lollipop from his mouth and looks at you with a big grin, and it warms you inside out.

“Good!” he says. Mrs. Minamoto smiles at him as you ruffle his hair gently then look at her to confirm that this is true, and she does.

The quirk stabilizers have been working wonders, she says, and you decline testing his quirk currently, not because you really don’t want to see another legion of Deku wives/girlfriends tell you that you’re making a wrong decision with your life, but because the child looks like he’ll do best undisturbed today.

“Any breakthroughs?” you ask.

“No incidents,” she affirms. “No strangers, doppelgangers or weird unexplained objects, thank goodness,” she adds, and she appears genuinely relieved which makes you glad for her.

“Good!” You take a few notes down on your legal pad then clasp your hands together.. “Do you think you’d be comfortable with a spacing regimen?”

She looks resistant immediately, which is understandable, and you quickly recant your suggestion. Rolling back in your wheeled stool to your computer where you’re documenting, you click a few buttons to renew the child’s prescription for another 3 months.

“We can give it time. So far we haven’t found anyone in the database reports with a quirk remotely similar to this, as you already know from our written communication, but if you’d like we can take some time to let him experiment with his abilities at small intervals, or we can continue the stabilizers until we can set you up with the appropriate coaching program.”

She picks the latter, as you expect.

“I… I just think he’s too young to be twisting and turning the universe like this,” she says. With this, she pulls her son closer to her, who looks comfortable yet concerned with his mother’s reaction.

“Absolutely.”

You mean to be compassionate. After all, her son has already messed with your life as you know it, so perhaps a bit more time for things to normalize is warranted.

Mrs. Minamoto lets out a sigh, then taps her heels on the ground. You look back at her after signing a few electronic documents to approve medications and next time visits.

“Is it wrong for me to stop him from using his ability?” she asks. “I don’t want to stunt him… I just…” she trails off and you shake your head.

“All you’re doing is giving him time to adjust safely. We’ll work on this together, okay? It’s a huge amount of power for such a tiny person, so let’s give him a little bit more time to grow into it.”

Mrs. Minamoto looks teary-eyed and you offer her a reassuring handhold.

“It doesn’t hurt to give a little more time to reflect and plan. After all, what’s destined to happen will happen regardless.”

Kazuo’s sea-green eyes focus right on you at this moment, and for a moment you wonder if he’s challenging how much you believe in the words you so easily say.

—

“Oi, we’re heading out.”

Katsuki’s speech is partially slurred, and Ochaco giggles politely as she waves him and his date out, her own naturally pink cheeks red herself, just as quite a few others in this private room. She nudges Iida who is staring off very slightly into space, his own look somewhat dazed even though he looks like he’d be much less of a lightweight, and Izuku notices how quickly Iida returns to reality from her touch, then waves in turn.

“Make sure to text when you get home!” Iida and Ochaco both practically say in unison.

Perhaps they are made for each other, he thinks for a moment. By now, the two are official with the group of Heroes they frequent in and no one bothers to ask him any more questions, and he’s thankful for it, but it’s still awkward to be invited to these group outings that feel more like dates these days, particularly since the girl who’s seated next to him has long since given up on conversation and is now blatantly swiping right on a dating app, hoping to get lucky somewhere else before the night is over. He’s not bothering paying her any mind more than is polite; after all his mind is elsewhere. Izuku watches Katsuki whisper something into Runa’s ear as he adjusts her jacket onto her shoulders, and she laughs and taps his shoulder back.

Izuku wishes he could broach the subject of you, one of her best friends, but Runa has been preoccupied for most of the night with talking to Katsuki, and he knows better than to interfere with Katsuki getting the attention he craves. A smaller part of him wonders if he could just ask her to bring you with her next time, but that’s an insane request, and while Runa once was partial to teasing both him and you more than a little often in high school, she does her best not to bring you up whenever he has the chance to speak to her.

Almost as if you’ve told her explicitly not to.

It’s nearing midnight, and Izuku calls over their waiter to foot the bill this time, having made arrangements early on with the group to manage the table. His ‘date’ orders another drink without looking up which Izuku doesn’t even bother to be annoyed about, while Shoto and his girlfriend, nicknamed Mochi, also look to be getting ready to leave, him sticking so close he’s practically wrapping her in his peacoat. It dawns on him that he might actually be stuck as the last person in the room with the most uninterested person in the world but thankfully Ochaco and Iida seem to remain steadfast in keeping him company.

“Thanks for paying, Izuku,” Ochaco says a little bit later, rubbing gentle circles on Iida’s back. Iida is now practically facedown, but still gesturing something with his hands in agreement.

He smiles.

“Of course.”

“Thank you for coming out too,” she says again later, when Texter has found a match and makes her way out and Izuku is once again the third wheel to his two best friends. Iida has stepped out to use the bathroom before leaving, and he and Ochaco stand outside in the frigid night under the moonlight. It’s the first time they’ve stood like this together in months, but the silence between them was less uncomfortable than it was pensive then.

Izuku again continues to pretend that he hasn’t had a terrible night, but he knows Ochaco can tell. After all, Ochaco is one of the few people that knows him better than anyone, when his mind is preoccupied with something else, when he’s uncomfortable, when things are wrong. Just because she chose to ignore that feeling of being in the wrong place when the right person was standing next to her the whole time, does not mean she doesn’t know his heart intimately.

“Has everything been okay?” she asks.

Izuku offers a nervous laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’m not sad or heartbroken or anything,” he replies. He’s assumed incorrectly that he knows what she means, and when he turns to look at her, she’s frowning.

“I didn’t mean it in that way,” she murmurs.

Izuku knows she’s being honest.

“I know whatever is making you feel less you has nothing to do with me, or rather…-” she looks away for a moment, back towards the entrance of the restaurant - “us, but I just want you to be happy, okay?”

Izuku nods, his throat suddenly dry.

Iida arrives soon and with hugs, the two set off, and Izuku walks home alone, checking his phone the entire way, looking twice at the text he considered sending you just to say hello, liquid courage in his veins still not enough to press send.

…

“What are you looking at?” Akira asks. He’s grinning, gold eyes as bright as the candles flickering on your dining table, and you turn off your phone, flipping it over and pushing it out of sight as you reach for the breadbasket.

“Runa’s out with friends and wanted to show me a pic.” The pic in question shows the group of your classmates at UA, including a couple of unidentified characters, and it looks like a group date. You take in the features of the girl who sits next to Izuku, beach-blonde and bright-eyed, staring a little too long, then focus back on Runa who is taking the selfie, Katsuki taking up far more of the picture than you wish he would but expect him to.

“Ah, your friend that hangs out with all the top Heroes, right?” he asks. You twist your mouth to the side, as you look up at him then click your screen off.

“Yeah. I mean, she too is a top hero…”

He shrugs, then returns to his cut of steak. Without looking up, he adds, “I’m surprised you distanced yourself from them after all this time, but can’t say I’m not thankful for it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. Akira looks up at you, as though surprised that you’re even challenging him on that notion. You’ve had many a discussion on how detrimental heroes are to society, even after the meta war had almost ended Japan as you knew it, but you couldn’t imagine he still held those views all this time. Hero Society has settled, although it has morphed and changed. Heroes remain celebrities but they’re no longer gods among men in the way All Might was.

Well, at least most aren’t.

“I just think for regular people like us, it’s better not to stay so entangled with that archetype, you know,” Akira adds. You’ve been through this train of conversation before, and your lips press into a thin line but you hold your tongue for now. Regular people like us. Like you and him.

“I mean, think of that asshole Deku,” he starts.

There it is.

“Akira, can you pass me the butter, actually?” You won’t let another night be ruined by the mere mention of his name. He passes it, but you can tell he’s annoyed by your interjection.

“As usual, you immediately defend Midoriya,” he presumes. You try to remain polite enough not to roll your eyes, but you’re really being tested, and are suddenly no longer able to hold it in.

“It’s been over a decade,” you remind him. “Will you get over whatever your preoccupation with him is? He hasn’t mattered to me in so long, but if you want to speak to him and talk through whatever feelings you have harbored all this time, hopefully I can find a way to hook the two of you up.”

As the words come out, you start to regret your overreaction, but it’s just a couple months into this budding relationship and the thought of a repeat of Akira’s high school insecurity while you’re on your way to your 30s is unbearable.

Especially knowing that perhaps this time, there’s a good reason to.

Akira gives you a meaningful look, then takes a bite of his steak, chews and swallows, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You take a sip of your sparkling water, keeping eye contact as well. It’s not meant to be a challenge but you want to convey that this particular conflict is over and not to be revisited. The message is clear.

“As long as it stays that way.”

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: arltl #mimi's notes

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thatone-brightstar · 11 months

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it.

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.”

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood. Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef.

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear.

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine.

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-”

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically.

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page.

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons.

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here.

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left.

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth.

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon.

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon.

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?”

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side.

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you.

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?”

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist.

“It’s fine- I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you.

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again.

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…”

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner.

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

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sokovianheadtilt · 11 months

Text

Chase Of My Adoration

Wanda Maximoff x female!avenger!reader

Summary: You and Wanda broke up 6 months ago, and you fall into each other’s orbit once again, what will happen this time?

A/N: i haven’t written for Wanda in so long and i want to again. It gets a lil spicy (it’s smut why am i lying) which is something i’ve never done before, if it’s terrible, my bad i have a lot to learn, enjoy!!!

Warnings: slight angst, smut, fingering, oral

Word Count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST

When you and Wanda decided to end your two-year-long relationship, you weren’t sure you would survive it. She was the love of your life you were sure of it, but when things got rocky, you didn’t know how to fix it. You felt her getting distant. You did everything, showed her more affection, tried to get her to go on dates she would always turn down, buy her flowers, but nothing worked. She kept pulling away until you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew what you deserved and would not let her treat you as disposable.

It was hard to ignore her fully when you both lived in the Avengers Tower. When your friends caught wind of what had happened between you two, you both did your best to reassure them that they shouldn’t choose sides. You both knew if that happened, it would be Germany all over again. 0n missions, if you had to work together due to your powers being so similar, then you would, but that was it. Everything changed the night the Avengers were throwing a small party after another successful attempt at saving the world.

You put on your best dress, a red silk dress with a slit cut out on the side of your leg, your hair perfectly curled, and your makeup perfectly done. You felt gorgeous like everyone’s eyes would be on you, yet you were only concerned about one set of eyes, and she was sitting over by the bar. You avoided her for now and decided to strike up a conversation between Steve and Natasha.

As the party went on, you decided to go to the bathroom to calm your nerves a bit. You kept looking over at Wanda, debating if you should go over to her or not. You refrained from looking into her mind to see what she was thinking out of respect for you, also she would know and you couldn’t handle that embarrassment right now. You stood in front of the mirror and took a few deep breaths. You touched up your makeup when you heard the bathroom door open. You glanced over and saw Wanda walk inside. You stopped what you were doing and stared at her.

“You could’ve talked to me you know” she said in that sexy Sokovian accent

“Well, I wanted to give you your space” You put your makeup away, not turning to face her.

Wanda moved to stand beside you, leaning against the sink, raking her eyes over your body. “I miss you, Y/N” You froze a bit before clearing your throat before speaking “You should’ve thought of that before treating me like shit” You turned to face her “I gave you everything! And you threw it away like it was nothing! You never even told me why. Was it something I did? Was I too needy? Did I smother you?” you could feel your throat closing up as you felt the tears threatening to fall.

“I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. I don’t know what happened to me. I felt like….I felt like I didn’t deserve you. I felt like I didn’t deserve happiness and because you were so amazing I decided to push you away to punish myself” Wanda explained

You wanted to rush to hug her, to tell her how she deserved happiness and everything good in the world, but you couldn’t help but feel angry as you shoved her a bit.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t trust me with that then?” you huffed “I would’ve been there for you, we could’ve gotten you help” You crossed your arms

“I wasn’t thinking and I messed up the greatest relationship I’ve ever had” She reached out to uncross your arms, holding on to your wrist “And I know you still want me. I know you’ve been looking at me all night my love” Wanda moved to step closer to you as you muttered “Don’t call me that”

“You used to love when I called you that. I never got over you Y/N, I spend day and night thinking about you, the way you loved me” She put your hands on your waist “The way I used to hold you” She kissed your cheek “The way I used to fuck you” she whispered as your eyes went wide “W-Wanda-” you started but she cut you off “You think I don’t know you don’t miss me?” she moved to set you on the top of the sink, using her powers to lock the door “I do…” you whispered to her.

Your faces are so close. You can feel her breath on your face as you looked into her green eyes. You wanted to resist her, make her work for it, but you couldn’t resist, you were only human. You were a weak woman but you need the reassurance first.

“I can’t let this happen if you’re going to hurt me again” you told her softly “My heart can’t take it”

Wanda nodded a little “I will spend the rest of my life making up for the pain I’ve caused you”

You wanted to believe her but you took a glimpse into her mind to see if she was being truthful and you got your answer. You leaned in to kiss her roughly, moving a hand into the back of her head, gripping her hair. You felt Wanda bunch your dress around your waist exposing the red lace panties you were wearing underneath. When Wanda pulled away and glanced down to look at them, she let out a soft laugh.

“These are the panties you wear when you want this pretty pussy played with. Is that what you wanted Y/N?” she moved to kiss your neck

“Um- I- I don’t know” you answered sheepishly

“You know, you just don’t want to admit it” Wanda moved a hand down between your legs, running a finger over your slit over the cloth covering it, and smiled at the small gasp you let out

“Wanda, please” you pleaded “I need you so bad” you moaned out

“Don’t worry my love, you’ll get what you want” She moved to pull your panties off, stuffing them in her pocket “You’ll get these back eventually” she smirked as you rolled your eyes.

Wanda pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, pulling down the straps of your dress. She ran her fingers over the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss to the curve of it before pulling down your dress a bit more to expose your breasts. Wanda moved to attach her lips to one of your nipples, her other hand groping the other. You let out a loud gasp, leaning your head back against the mirror.

“Fuck Wanda” you moaned out as she gently bit at your nipple and moved to do the same to the other before standing back up. “Be mindful there are people outside that door my love. Don’t want them to hear how much you want me, you have to be quiet detka” She pressed a kiss to your lips and moved her hand down to your pussy, feeling the wetness pooling within it.

“Oh you’re so wet for me, my love” She moved to slide two fingers inside you, resulting in a loud moan from you before you quieted yourself by biting your lip. You felt her starting to gently pump her fingers, wrapping your legs around her, and looked down at her “Wanda I need more, please, I need it so bad I want you to wreck me” you begged. You felt so submissive, willing to let her do whatever she wanted to you at this moment. Wanda seemed pleased with your request as she sped up her fingers, scissoring inside you as she hit your sweet spot each time.

“Yes that’s it, fuck keep gong baby, I love it” you moaned out loudly, not caring who could hear you. In this moment, all you cared about was you and Wanda. She moved to kneel between your legs, moving to attach her mouth to your clit, sucking on it wildly.

You grabbed onto her hair, hearing your moans echo around the bathroom walls as you gyrated your hips as if you were riding her face. “That’s it baby” you moaned “You love how I taste don’t you?” you smirked and pulled her head away to make her look at you “Answer me” you demanded

“You taste like heaven detka. I want nothing more than to have you come on my tongue and fingers” She smiled as you guided her head back to your folds. You balanced yourself on the edge of the sink, relishing in the intense pleasure you were receiving after 6 months of no sex.

“Fuck I’m almost there” you warned the Sokovian woman “Come for me then detka” she said before burying your head back between your legs and soon you came all over her face with a shout.

As you caught your breath, you leaned back against the mirror, watching as Wanda stood up and wiped her mouth off with her hand, running her tongue over her fingers that were just inside you “Just as I suspected, delicious as ever” she moved to give you a soft kiss “Clean yourself up and meet me upstairs in my room. Don’t keep me waiting my love” she ordered as she fixed her hair before leaving the bathroom.

You jumped down from the counter and fixed your dress, hair, and makeup slightly before rushing out of the room. And if anyone knew what just occurred, they kept it to themselves. After all, you didn’t care, you got the love of your life back and that’s all that matters.

#sokovianheadtilt #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff smut #female!reader

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