#like that but for this one i'm just not comfortable enough with blending gifs that have color rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

racinggirl · 1 year

Text

it's called love <3 || charles leclerc 16

type: one shot pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 3.2k summary: going to a gp with your boyfriend who's really protective when a creepy dude comes a little too close for comfort. requested: yes! '' Ok maybe something you are waiting for charles leclerc (you’re bf of 5yrs) and like a creep starts talking to you but you are polite and are just like no please go away. Then he starts like touching you(if you’re uncomfortable with that you can just write that the creep is like in your face) and charles is like losing his shit when he sees it. Have a lovely day 💗'' Requests are CLOSED!!! warnings: angst!charles, harassment? (not detailed, only mentioned), overprotective!charles, anxiety. notes: OH MY GODNESS I'M BACK BABY! Have you missed me? It's been SOOOOO long, I've missed you so much! It's been over 4 months!!! 4 MONTHS! I'm so glad many of you stayed, remember I was at 700 followers and I was doing the 700 drabbles celebration? well, I'm now at 970 followers. I will do a BIG thing for 1K followers, I'm just not sure what. If you have any ideas, let me now in my inbox :) Also, credits to creator of the GIF! Not proofread!

My masterlist

Your hands rubbed themselves together, your cold fingers getting warmer every second, slowly, but surely. The wind moved your hair slightly, the small locks that framed your face getting stuck on lips which was coated with a nice layer of lip balm which was preventing them from being dry.

5 years, that’s how long you and your boyfriend had been together for. It was long, but not long enough. You knew he was the one, you just felt it. The way he treated you in front of your families was like you and him had been together forever. He was so polite to your parents, got along great with your siblings and always made sure to grab your mothers’ favourite chocolates and your fathers’ favourite beer before going to visit them with you. He was the definition of a perfect boyfriend.

You always tried your hardest to return the favour. Supporting him whenever you could, wherever you could. A red jacket was one of those ways to support him. The red sneakers, paired with the black jeans and red blazer was a way to blend in with the tifosi, but also to support Charles whenever he was driving the shit out of that car. You were supportive, and he knew.

You had promised him to meet him at the hotel in Australia, since you had arrived there a few hours before he would, his plane being delayed due to weather circumstances. The reason you weren’t flying together could get blamed on your work, as you had set meetings in a few minutes, you were either going on a plane which would arrive a few hours earlier, or a day later. You obviously chose the first option.

‘Almost there, bella, just a few more minutes <3’

He was never one to use emoji’s, he was more of an old school guy in that way. Smileys consisting of a colon and a bracket was his way of communicating whenever he was happy, and a left angle bracket followed by the number three made the perfect heart for you.

You rubbed your hands together once more as you were waiting near the entrance of the hotel. You were able to get inside and go to his room – at least you thought – so after a few more minutes of waiting you decided to do so.

‘’Hi, could I check in please?’’ You politely asked the brown-haired lady that was seated behind the desk. She was young, probably around 20 years old. She seemed a little nervous, as she was accompanied by a lady on her left. That lady was older, around her mid 40’s, and had long, blonde hair.

‘’Yeah, of course, what’s the name of the reservation?’’ It was probably the young lady’s first day, as she was following a tight script of questions to ask.

‘’I think it’s on Charles Leclerc, or Ferrari F1 team.’’ You smiled at the younger lady, before looking over as you felt the eyes of the older woman on you.

It never happened that you were checking in before him or any of his team, but you really had to get that meeting started.

‘’Sorry lady, but you’re not the first one to try come in this hotel.’’ The older woman said, and you furrowed your eyebrows a little at her comment.

‘’Excuse me?’’ You replied, your eyes moving from the younger lady to the older one. ‘’I know it might seem weird, but my boyfriend will arrive in a few minutes, and I have a meeting to get to, I’m sure the team doesn’t mind if I enter first.’’ You kindly responded, a soft and gentle smile on your face. ‘’He told me you were aware of this.’’ You continued, knowing Charles had told the team about the situation, and they must have told the hotel.

‘’Look, darling, we understand your problem, but there is a nice café next to the restaurant of the hotel where you can have the meeting. Those drivers want their privacy as well, and with all due respect, you’re the fourth girl trying to get into the hotel with a story like this. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet them, but you’ll have to do that around the track.’’ She replied, which made your mind spin. You were speechless, mostly because she thought you were a fan, but also because apparently the team hadn’t let the hotel know you were arriving earlier.

‘’I think there must have been some kind of mistake here.’’ You told the lady, but remaining to stay polite, they were doing their job, which you could only appreciate. ‘’But it’s alright, I’ll just wait here in the lobby till they arrive.’’ You said, grabbing your passport which was laying on the desk, along with your phone.

‘’Oh no, the lobby is only for hotel guests, dear, you’ll have to wait outside with the rest of them.’’ You turned around, slowly, leaning over a little to have a look at the outside of the hotel, the entrance, the gate which was closed. The gate where dozens of fans were waiting to catch a glimpse of their favourite driver.

You couldn’t be there, you’d get mobbed, knowing all too well those fans knew who you were. You didn’t want to be rude, or show off that you were Charles’ girlfriend, so you simply swallowed thickly and looked back at the lady.

‘’With all respect, miss, I’m going to get swarmed if I exit this hotel.’’ You said, reaching for your phone. ‘’I can promise you I’m not a fan, I know it might look like it, but I believe something went wrong with the message. I am Charles’ girlfriend; you can look up my name on Google if you’d like.’’ You said, showing the lady your passport with your name.

‘’I know her.’’ The younger lady spoke and looked over at you, nervously. The older lady looked at the pictures online, and her face immediately appeared to be full of guilt, shame. The younger girl looked at the woman and bit her bottom lip, a clear sign of nervosity. ‘’I do recall Rebecca mentioning something like this, there was a note on her desk this morning.’’

After both employees apologized more than once, they offered you the key for the room. However, you knew Charles would be arriving soon, so you asked them if it was okay for you to stay seated in the lobby till the team would arrive. They immediately agreed and offered you some fresh drinks on the house.

You had just finished your meeting, which took around 30 minutes, before you could hear the fans screaming their lungs out. You got up, placed your laptop in your bag and zipped it up, making your way towards the hallway of the entrance.

‘’Babe!’’ Charles immediately had a big smile on his face when he saw you standing in the hotel.

‘’Hey, baby.’’ You giggled, feeling how his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You could never get enough of his hugs, his embraces, it felt like heaven.

‘’How did your meeting go?’’ He asked, stepping to the side with you still in his arms to let the rest of the Ferrari team enter the hotel.

‘’You ready, amour?’’ You heard Charles’ low voice against your ear, his arms were tightly wrapped around your waist as he was pressing his chest against your back. You had just gotten ready to go to the track with him. Your love language was touch, and it made the both of you fall for one another even harder.

Once you had arrived at the track, the two of you passed the entrance of the paddock, many fans asking the Monegasque driver for an autograph or a selfie. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to, and you had learned to get used to it those years you were with him. People loved him, adored him, and you could only feel proud of that same man that was loved by many.

You both decided to take a break and take a seat in the hospitality area, talking about work, your upcoming holiday and much more. Your eyes moved over his face, listening to how he was passionately talking about all the things they did at the factory a few days ago. The way his eyes were shining brightly, that small sparkle in them that could light up your day. He’d had a few rough seasons here at Ferrari, but this year went better than ever, with him leading the championship, Carlos being second in the rankings as well. Ferrari was doing much better.

‘’Come on, let’s say hi to the engineers.’’ He reached for your hand, his soft and warm one perfectly fitting into yours, like if you were made for one another. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze the moment he felt your fingers intertwining with his, and it felt reassuring. You were in love, and he made sure everybody knew.

As you walked towards the pit area, into the pitlane, you noticed a man staring at you. It made you uncomfortable, but you quickly brushed it off, assuming that it was just a fan who recognized Charles and was trying to get a closer look at the two of you.

You kept walking, holding Charles’ hand and smiled at his engineers as he greeted them.

‘’Y/n, hey, long time no see.’’ Some of the guys walked over to give you a hug, which you gladly returned.

‘’Hey guys, how are you doing?’’ You started talking to them, and Charles occasionally looked over into your direction. He felt so lucky to have you, he really was on cloud nine.

After catching up with the guys from the team, as well as talking to some of the girls on the team, you decided to walk towards the fence, moving your head from left to right to see all the teams nicely positioned in their garage boxes, working on their cars.

When you first started dating Charles, you were nervous when you’d come here, knowing people would look at you, perhaps even judge you for being Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. But the gentleman he was, he found a way to reassure you, make you feel comfortable and keep you safe from all the paparazzi and fans that tried to get close to you.

As you were waiting, you noticed that same man from earlier step closer to you, causing you to look at him. Maybe he just wanted to have a talk, maybe he was an interviewer, or a fan?

The more he spoke, the more you got the idea he was the latter, a fan, but not particularly of Charles. You felt uncomfortable, nervous, but did not want to be rude and simply walk away. But Charles noticed. He was looking for you, since you were no longer in the garage, and the moment he saw the look on your face, and that man standing not even half a meter away from you, he sensed something was wrong.

He saw that man talking to you, and immediately made his way over towards them. As he approached, he heard the man ask if you wanted to go have a drink with him after the race.

Charles felt his blood boil. He was furious that someone was trying to hit on you, his girlfriend, right here in front of his eyes. He stepped in between the two of you, causing the man to step away to create some sort of space between him and Charles, who was glaring at him with piercing eyes.

‘’Excuse me, do you mind stepping away from my girlfriend?’’ He said, his voice dangerously low. You had never heard him talk like this, but it gave you some reassurance, once again.

The man, who had not expected Charles to react in such a manner, backed away immediately. Your boyfriend then placed a protective arm around you, walking away from that man.

‘’Do you know him?’’ He asked, clearly still somewhat angry at what just happened. You could see the anger still prominent on his face. Although you appreciated his concern, and you were glad he stepped in at that time, you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you.

You reached out for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before looking into his eyes the moment you were back in the garage. You shook your head at his question, but immediately tried to calm him down as you saw it made him even more mad.

‘’It’s okay, Charles. Thank you for protecting me, but please don’t get yourself into any trouble.’’ You said, your voice soft and calming. It helped, because you noticed Charles calming down at your words, something you always seemed to do.

He took a deep breath and looked at you, your eyes filled with love and understanding. He knew that he was lucky to have you by his side, and he didn’t want anything to come in between you two. It felt like his duty was to keep you safe, to keep you his.

‘’I’m sorry, y/n. I just can’t stand the thought of anyone trying to hurt you. You mean the world to me.’’ Charles said, his voice sincere. You knew he was meaning every single word he just said.

You simply smiled as a reply and leaned in closer to him, your lips brushing his gently before you placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, causing those corners to curl upward into a smile.

You watched the race along with his team, standing the entire time as you were nervous. You always were, because you were aware of the fact one single mistake could have big consequences, such as the car diving into the wall, with a driver still inside of it.

As the race came to an end, Charles ended up on the podium, something that had become a habit lately. The trophies at your place were starting to become more and more, and the pole position tyres were almost filling up an entire room already. But you didn’t mind, you were proud of him, and you were hoping he’d get even more trophies, and even more tyres.

As Charles was climbing out of the car, he immediately searched for you, and the moment he saw you standing in the crowd, he smiled, everybody could see it in his eyes. He went for a dive into his team, receiving pats on the back and on his helmet. He took off his helmet, along with his balaclava, and he made his way over towards you. You were already feeling the cameras and phones being in your face, but you didn’t care. He won, and that’s the most important thing here.

He pressed his lips on yours, cupping your cheek and pulling away after a second or three as he had more duties to fulfil. You watched him get to the back, into the cooldown room before he was ready to take on the big trophy.

You were watching behind the cameras as Charles talked to the interviewer, occasionally looking into your direction to check if you were listening, and you were, to every little thing he said. You supported him, no matter what.

However, once he walked towards Sky Sports, you got accompanied by someone else. It was that man again, the one that asked you out for a drink.

‘’So, you up for that drink now?’’ He asked, a smirk plastered on his face. Charles was doing his interviews, so at the moment, he was focussed on the interviewer, his back facing you as it was on the other side of the media pen.

‘’Sorry but no, I’m not interested.’’ You politely rejected the man, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It was at this moment you got scared, as he kept getting closer and closer to you.

‘’Come on, dear, I’m sure you’d love to spend some time with me.’’ The man said, his hand slowly reaching up to brush your cheek. You immediately took a step backwards, looking around to see Charles still facing the interviewer, his back facing you.

‘’I don’t, really, please leave me alone.’’ You were starting to get nervous, anxious, because it was so crowded here, all the drivers were here, so that’s where everybody’s attention went to. And he knew, the man knew nobody was here to protect you at this moment. Nobody to tell that man to back off but yourself.

‘’Why would you say no? Come on, let me buy you a drink, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’’ He smirked, tucking some hair behind your ear. He was getting too close, and you were looking around for help.

It was like he was aware you were nervous, but Charles looked around in the middle of his interview to try and find you. He looked behind the camera, but didn’t see you, so he simply looked back at the position you were during his other interview. And then he saw it, and the anger that was gone first came back immediately.

Without any apology to the interviewer, Charles jumped over the fence, stepping towards you and that man with heavy feet. The anger in his face was present, and it made all the camera’s, all the interviewers face him, record him.

‘’Mate, I think you didn’t get the first warning earlier today.’’ He said, stepping in between the two of you again, his arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. You were shaking ever so slightly, feeling all cameras on the three of you.

‘’Back off, seriously, leave my girlfriend alone.’’ Charles stated, his voice low, on the edge of mad, angry, furious. You immediately reached for his left hand, the arm that was around your shoulder, and you gave him a gentle squeeze.

‘’Love, don’t get yourself in any trouble.’’ You whispered, which seemed to calm him just a tiny bit, but not enough. The man in front of you kept looking at you, and not at Charles, which only built the anger up inside of your boyfriend even more.

‘’Stop looking at her, leave her alone, step away from her.’’ He said, his eyes clearly showing he was furious. The security soon arrived, multiple people asking them to go to the media pen, so they did.

‘’This man, he’s harassing my girl, please get him away from here.’’ Charles spoke, and you felt how his grip around your shoulders tightened a little, pulling you closer to his body in order to keep you safe. The security soon took the man away, telling Charles they would handle it.

After the interviews, in which Charles made sure you were directly behind the interviewer so he wouldn’t lose you out his sight anymore, the both of you safely made your way back to the hotel. Your phones were already blowing up, you were trending on almost every social media platform out there. Pictures and videos of Charles jumping over the fence, him talking to that man, protecting you, people calling Charles an absolute hero, because he was.

He knew that he would always do whatever it takes to protect her, no matter what challenges lay ahead. Together, they knew that their love would always keep them strong and safe, because they always protected each other, and reassured each other. That’s what they had, and that’s called love.

2K notes · View notes

impishjesters · 7 months

Text

Jax-in-a-box

warning(s): mentioned spicy jokes/comments note(s): (In response to the request) We don't have Jack in the box around here so I actually had to google it, thought it sounded familiar lol A/N: This idea was so cute and I had so much fun writing it. It is sort of implied the reader is attached to said box, but not how. But now I am imagining them hopping around like the Pixar lamp so that’s hilarious. If you want more hc's of the reader detached from the box feel free to send in another request~ request: I'm requesting a Jax x reader (crushing and actual relationship stage if possible) where they are kinda Jack in the box theme (no not like the restaurant mascot, I was telling my friend about this idea/request and she thought I was talking about him 😭) So the reader is the tallest of the group and has long hair, similar to the rope-likeness to Ragatha’s hair and they also have very stretchy arms and can do a bunch of things with them (wrap one of them completely around a person, can reach the top of the tent etc.) The reader also likes to stay in their box most of the time since it's dark and peaceful but isn't like antisocial, likes to hang out with the others and does light hearted pranks on them (Jax included, no one is safe).

Crushing Stage

You aren’t on the same level of jackassery or prankage that Jax is, but you do have a knack for more light-hearted pranks and that’s admirable because he always gets a good laugh out of whoever you prank.

Though that’s not saying much, all of them have been subjected to a jumpscare or two by you, trying to approach you when you are in your box really is unpredictable.

Like did you not hear them or are you intentionally trying to jumpscare someone? (It’s usually the first one, the walls aren’t thick but they can muffle when someone is trying to directly talk to you.)

Actually, the first time you scared Jax it was completely unintentional. Sometimes you sort of just, blend into the scenery when your box is tucked alongside other stuff. You didn’t even know he was there when you popped out and just, scared him.

Fortunately for him, nobody else was around because the sound that left him was priceless. He hates it (affectionately) that you use that to tease him every now and then.

Another time that you startled (read: scared) him was when you were hanging off the ground, he hadn’t been aware you were quite literally hanging around until you dropped down, the box making a comically loud noise in the process. (Which is funny because that time others were around, luckily Jax didn’t scream.)

The more he gets comfortable with you the more he finds himself leaning against your box during group socializing time or even letting you wrap one of your arms around him and yoink him around (usually out of harm’s way, Caine’s games are too much sometimes)

In the fashion that “a boy tugs on a girl’s hair because he likes her”, Jax has very much tugged your hair—it’s long and there’s a lot of it so it doesn’t always get in the box when you close the top. So parts stick out and he’s definitely let that part of his brain act on the “what if I just..yank it?”

Afterward, he just does it because he likes that your attention turns directly on him. It’s never a violent tug or anything, just enough to get your eyes on him.

Dating Stage

Not too much changes when the two of you start dating. There are still pranks but the two of you are closer and whatnot.

However, there is the new addition of more risque jokes/comments, such as the comment about whether cranking the handle on your box does something. (The first joke happens whether those kinds of comments discomfort you or not, though he’ll stop if they do. But if they don’t? Oh boy, expect so many awful jokes.)

At first, he had no opinion, but he kinda likes that you’re taller than him. The only other person is Kinger and he’s usually hunched over.

He finds your stretchy arms to be both useful and entertaining, though seeing them stretch to extreme lengths kinda bugs him out. (which is ironic because he’s a stretchy toy himself)

Along with leaning against your box, now he’s more comfortable actually sitting on it, or rather the ledge of it when it’s open.

He’s definitely sat on it while it was closed before though, you may or may not have accidentally thrown him off. (he’s irritated, but honestly, he should’ve seen that coming)

On occasion when the gang is stuck playing some dumb game that he’s not really paying attention to, he’ll sit on the ledge of your box and mess with your hair. It’s similar to Ragatha’s but longer and it’s a nice time-waster just seeing what he can do with it.

Since you tend to stay in your box more than your actual room, it makes finding you at times a pain. Sometimes Jax gives up, sometimes he asks where someone saw you last, and sometimes he just yells out. The first few times it’s all fun and games but afterward, he just gets irritated, it’s like you move around just to piss him off.

For whatever reason in the beginning he never questioned how exactly you worked, you know, being in a box, or part of a box? Expect plenty of questions and the occasional attempted peek into your box to see if you have legs (maybe a spring?) or not. (he’s not trying to be dirty he’s just intrigued.)

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

459 notes · View notes

ivestas · 1 year

Note

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant.

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group.

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you.

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.”

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!”

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally.

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease.

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?”

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that.

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission.

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc.

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm.

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds.

So you just did that: focus on them.

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough.

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms.

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”

You did just that—retreat.

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more.

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding.

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn.

You lifted the arm, examining the wound.

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise.

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications.

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together.

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view.

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?”

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face.

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak!

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly.

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.”

You expected—wanted—him to berate you.

But he didn’t. He was kind.

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.”

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood.

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost.

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?”

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly.

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.”

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!”

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.”

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.”

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed.

“Gimme your arm, kid.”

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.”

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly.

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar.

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand.

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly.

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded.

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy.

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...”

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?”

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.”

You laughed.

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you.

They really care.

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.”

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon!#john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

2K notes · View notes

vanishingcherry · 11 months

Text

GOT A SENSE I'D BEEN BETRAYED

pairings: lando norris x reader

warnings: swearing, mclaren being shitty, lando being shitty for agreeing with mclarens plans, break ups, general angst

authors note: based on this request hii! thanks for requesting! the start is just a bit of a backstory, so its not that great. prompt 9 is "'you promised' 'i know'", prompt 10 is "none of it was real... was it?" and prompt 11 is "don't touch me". check out my prompt list

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

When introduced to the world of F1, you immediately became a fan.

After a couple years of watching the sport on TV, you managed to get tickets to a Grand Prix not too far from your city. You were overjoyed as you walked through the entrance on Friday, having managed to snag tickets for all three days of the race weekend as well as a paddock pass for free practice.

Decked out in all the merch you owned, you were a sight to see. Lucky for you, the clashing shades of red, orange, black, green and blue were an all too common sight at a race, allowing you to comfortably blend in wherever you were.

Your day at the paddock was amazing, to say the least. Watching pitstop practices, meeting other fans and even taking pictures of and with a few of the drivers. It was, arguably, one of the best days of your life.

You were just about to leave the paddock when a McLaren employee walked towards you, blocking your path.

"Hello! I'm Julie, what's your name?"

After replying with slight confusion, she explained why she was talking to you.

"Lando saw you earlier in the day when you were outside his garage and wanted to talk to you! I'm glad I caught you, he wanted me to give you these paddock passes for tomorrow on behalf of McLaren."

She went on about everything the passes included, but you were still stuck on the fact that Lando was the one who had invited you.

"Wait- I uh- Lando? As in Norris? The driver?"

"Yeah." she laughed at your reaction. "Just come and show these passes to anyone at the McLaren hospitality tomorrow and they'll tell you where to go."

When you showed up the following day, weirdly enough, they directed you straight to Lando. You got to talking, and before you knew it you had spent hours with him. The two of you were interrupted a while before qualifying was meant to begin, and shockingly, he asked to take you on a date the next week.

You were slightly skeptical, it seemed like something straight out of a movie and you knew that going on a date with Lando could have repercussions on your entire life. Nonetheless, even you knew that turning down this invitation would be stupid. Even if it didn't lead to anything, it would be an experience for sure.

To your surprise, it was one of the best dates you had ever been on. A year later, the two of you were still together. Despite the unordinary circumstances that had brought you together, you were glad to have caught his eye that day.

Since then, you had accompanied him to many races, and today was no different. Heading towards his driver room, you lift your hand to knock, before stopping centimeters from the door. Someone else was in the room, you could hear hushed voices. You turn around, taking a few steps away, giving them their privacy.

"Y/N deserves to know!"

It was the voice of one of his friends, and the sound of your name had caught your attention.

"I can't tell her right now, okay? I- I'll tell her soon." That was Lando. You frowned at his statement, now wondering what he was keeping from you.

"Lando the longer you keep this from her, the worse it's going to get. In fact, you're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave."

"Don't you think I know that? Why do you think I'm not telling her?" Lando's sudden outburst was too much. He was hiding something that potentially changed the entire course of your relationship, you deserved to know what.

You slowly open the door, walking in just in time to hear what Lando's friend says.

"If you're not going to tell her, I am. She deserves to know that this started as a publicity stunt, even if that may have changed now."

"What?" you say in disbelief. Even though you barely heard the word yourself, both Lando and his friend turned to you at the sound. It would have been comical, how fast their eyes widened and expressions changed. But in the moment, all you could focus on was the fact that Lando didn't deny it.

Started as a publicity stunt.

Why do you think I'm not telling her!

You're probably lucky if she finds out now and doesn't leave.

Lando's friend murmurs an excuse, brushing shoulders with you as he walks out and softly closes the door behind him. Leaving you and Lando alone. If it was any other day, you would have been overjoyed to be alone with Lando, with his schedules and races you were rarely left alone. But right now, all you wanted to do was leave. Still, you ask.

"None of it was real... was it?"

Lando didn't answer. At a loss for words, his mouth opened and closed. He was wracking his brain, trying to think of something to say that would make you believe him, trust him. He had fucked up, he knew it. He just had to figure out how to fix it, make things right so that you wouldn't leave him.

You didn't notice the look of anguish on his face, instead you continued speaking, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You just thought that it would be okay to lead me on. That when I found out I was just for publicity, I would be okay with it. Or actually, you probably weren't going to tell me at all, based on your conversation" you all but shouted, referring to what you had overheard.

"I can't believe you!" The room, although large, seemed to be closing in on you. You felt like you were suffocating. "Say something Lando."

He stayed silent.

"God!" you turned around, resting your forehead in your hands, going through every moment of your relationship. The bright and happy memories were now darkened with the knowledge of Lando's initial intentions.

Waking up from whatever trance he had been placed in at the sight of you, Lando silently walks over. He carefully wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I wanted to tell you I swear, I just chickened out every time. I love you, okay? I love you so much and I swear I'm not lying." He starts off, trying to explain before you cut him off.

"You promised." you whisper.

"I know." he mutters, knowing exactly what you meant.

"You promised, Lando. You promised you would never hurt me." Your voice cracked as you shrugged off his arms. He takes a few steps back and instead picks up your hands and plants a small kiss to your knuckles.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry. Darling, please just-"

"Don't touch me!"

He flinches at your tone, moving his hands from your own and taking a step back. Taking a couple deep breathes, he tries again.

"My love, I am so sorry." He bends down slightly, trying to make eye contact. "It started as a publicity stunt, yes, but I fell in love- I am in love with you."

He pauses for a moment, but remains undeterred when you don't respond. "I swear, all of it was real. My feelings are real, I never lied about those."

"Yeah, just lied about everything else" you scoff.

He almost reaches out to you before remembering that you didn't want to be touched by him. He flexes his hand before balling it into a fist near his thighs.

"I'm so sorry. Please just let me explain and I swear I'll fix this, okay? I- i'll figure something out and I'll fix this and we're going to be okay." At this point, he was convincing himself more than he was you.

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on his door, signalling that he had to get in the car.

"Lando, its time."

"I know, I- just give me a minute" he begs.

"Lando we have to go right now, the race starts in 10 minutes". His engineer is adamant, slamming the door behind him, leaving no room for argument.

"Fuck!" he turns to you. "Darling, just stay here, yeah? Just for a while. I- we can talk after the race, I'm so sorry, just please stay here."

He waits for you to nod, eyes frantically scanning every inch of your face for a sign that you would stay. When you don't provide one, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Please. Please, I am begging you just don't lea-"

"Lando! Now." A voice calls through the door.

"Coming." He shouts back. Turning to you again he speaks, walking backwards out the door as he picks up his baclava and helmet. "Please, just stay. I'm so sorry, we'll talk right after the race I promise. I love you."

With that, he leaves you alone in his driver room. You take a deep breath before sitting on the chair. You couldn't find it in you to stay, and so the moment the race started, you were up and finding a taxi back to the hotel.

Lando couldn't focus. From the moment he sat in the car till the moment he got out, all he could think about was you and the pained look on your face when you found out.

He regretted everything. The fact that he had kept this a secret for so long, and the fact that he didn't let you find out this way. But most of all, he regretted the day he agreed to the publicity stunt.

No one was supposed to find out about it. It was simple. He would date you for a couple months, and then make an excuse to break up. You wouldn't find out, the media wouldn't find out and he would have the publicity the team wanted. It would serve as the perfect distraction too, any poor performances would be overshadowed by the news of his new girlfriend. The team thought it was great, it would mean more fans interested in him because it wasn't everyday a driver dated someone that wasn't a model or famous.

Till he fell in love with you. He fell hard too, it wasn't slow and gradual but all at once. He was just sitting at his apartment, watching you read a book on the sofa when the realisation crashed down on him. That he would give up anything for you, that you were it for him. You were the only one he wanted to spend time with, only one he wanted to see when he came home after a race.

Lando knew that he should have stopped it then, broken up or at least told you. But he was selfish, he wanted to stay in the bliss you had created together. And so what was supposed to be a few months turned into 6 and then a year.

The race was shit for Lando. He had half a mind to crash on purpose, just because it would mean getting back to you faster. Nonetheless, he stayed on track, praying that there would be no red flags to delay the end. He had qualified well, at P8, but slipped back to P15 by the time the checkered flag came out.

The second he entered the garage, he walked straight to his drivers room, completely ignoring all the mechanics and engineers trying to console him after the bad result.

Opening the door in a hurry, he swears at the sight of no one in the room. "Fuck fuck fuck!"

He spins around a couple times, making sure you weren't there before opening his phone and walking out of the room in a hurry. At the back of his mind, Lando knew that there were a million things he had to do before leaving, but he forgot about all of them, running to the spot where his car was parked.

He tries calling you, repeatedly pressing on your contact as he speeds past the red light. He'd pay all the fines they wanted, getting to you was more important. He sighs when you don't pick up, face scrunching as he tries to keep the tears back.

Reaching the hotel, he hands the car to the valet, running through the lobby, just managing to slide into a closing elevator. Once at the right floor, he unlocks your hotel room.

He is close to crying when he realises that this room too is empty. You had taken your belongings, and all that was left was Lando's half-open suitcase in the corner.

But what really got him crumbling down is the note you'd written and left on his pillow. He read it over and over, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

I'm sorry, I just can't. Don't message me. Please.

#vanishingcherry #leah writes ──⋆˚₊⋆ ๑ #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris drabble #lando norris fluff #lando norris f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader

680 notes · View notes

winterrrnight · 10 months

Text

make up

PAIRING: drew starkey x best friend!gn!reader

SUMMARY: you are skilled at make up, and when you're doing Drew's make up while sitting in his lap, you both feel emotions you aren't sure you have felt before.

WARNINGS: fluff, nothing else :)

EDITH SPEAKS: UGH I WISH I COULD DO MAKE UP! but I really cannot ahahahahaha, but in the fanfiction world all is possible ;)

I think the ending kind of sucks, but I really just wanted to write about that make up scene so that's done! Ignore any little grammatical/spelling errors.

Please like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading! Feedback is always appreciated 🌦️

UPDATE: part two is out now! read here

navigation || join my taglist || requests

You and your best friend Drew have been invited to one of your friend's birthday party. The theme of the birthday party is 'Euphoria', so everyone's outfits and make up looks have to be inspired by the show. You are super excited about it, because the aesthetics of the show are mesmerising and the idea of using glitter, and purple-blue eyeshadows makes you enthusiastic.

You are quite good at make up, having picked up at it at quite a younger age. Make up to you seems like painting, but this time a person is your canvas. On the other hand, Drew doesn't know anything about make up. At all. So naturally, you both decided that he will come over at your place atleast 2 hours before the party, so you both can get ready and leave together.

The party starts at 8 pm, and right at 6 pm, you hear your door bell ring. You open the door and let Drew in, who has come with a garment bag in his hand.

"We should get started on the make up, because we don't have enough time." You say, after you both have greeted each other and shared a hug. You take his hand and lead him to your room, ushering him to sit down on your bed as you gather your make up bags.

You pull out all the make up you will need and keep it on the bed for easy reach. "You okay with all of this?" You ask Drew, and he gives you a nod.

"I dont even know where all these go on my face," he says, laughing, "so yes, I think I'm okay. I trust you with this." You smile at his words. He tells you he's done his basic skincare routine: cleanser, moisturizer and sunscreen, so now you know you can start with the make up.

You take the primer and as you start layering it on his face, you realise how much you are having to bend, because you're standing in front of him and he's sitting on your bed, meaning you're completely towering over him.

When you are done applying the primer, you straighten your back up and let out a groan. Drew opens his eyes and looks at you with concern.

"You okay?" He asks, your hand now on your back.

"Yes, I'm fine," you say, looking around your room to look for a chair for you to sit down, but internally groaning again when you can't spot one.

"You know, you can, sit on my lap if you want to," Drew says, and you look at him with wide eyes.

"Oh no, its okay, I must have a chair somewhere in my living room, I'll get it, or I can just sit next to you on the bed-" You know there isn't much space on the bed; with your outfit, make up, Drew's outfit, your jewellery, and other little accessories spread around on it.

"No it's okay, I promise," he looks at you with reassuring eyes. You give him a slow nod, and sit down on his lap, your legs on either side. You don't put much weight on him, worrying he might find it a little heavy.

"You can sit down comfortably, i promise you aren't heavy." It's like he can hear your thoughts. You let your complete weight on him, and you see he's still smiling at you. You feel your heart rate quicken when his hands land on your waist and help you sit comfortably. You let out a deep inhale, and try to divert your complete focus to the make up which you need to be done within less than an hour.

You put on some foundation and concealer on his face, and start to blend it out with a beauty blender. At moments, you find yourself holding onto his shoulders for balance, and you take your hand off in just a second.

"Why are you so stiff? Relax," Drew laughs at you, his eyes closed with the unblended concealer still on his face.

He's right. Why are you so stiff? Why are you not able to relax and do what you're so experienced in? This kind of make up look never takes you this long, but your position on top of him, is making you feel emotions you didn't know you had for him.

You've been best friends with Drew as long as you can remember. He's been there for you through primary school, middle school, high school, and even when you both separated paths because you went to separate universities. He never failed to call you up almost everyday to check up on you and update you with everything that's been happening with him. Especially after he made acting his job and started getting attention, he has always taken you to film shoots in different places you never thought you'd get to explore before.

After spending so much time together, you never thought of him something more than a best friend. Why? You don't know. But you've also never ignored the fluttering in your heart each time your hand brushed his when you both reach out for the same thing at the same moment, or when he's doing a photo shoot and he looks at you and shoots you the most adorable smile. But you can never think of being something more. If you did try, you both will most probably fail, and all these years of curating a beautiful friendship so carefully will go down the gutter in a matter of seconds.

So you've always dug all these little feelings in you. No one needs to know about them. You both are perfectly fine as best friends. That's it.

Once you're done with the concealer, you start on the actual make up look. You choose a blush which will match Drew's skin tone really well, and start to layer it on a brush. Drew watches you carefully as you brush the make up brush on the palette.

You move a little closer to his face, the distance between you two being reduced to small magnitudes of inches, and start to brush the blush on his cheeks. His eyes instantly fall shut on the feeling of the soft bristles against his cheeks, an instant calm rushing in his veins. You, with your eyebrows furrowed, keep on brushing his cheeks as carefully as you can.

His cheeks are now subtly suffused with a champagne pink, and you decide to start with the eye shadow.

"Close your eyes for me," you mumble, but he doesn't need that notice. His eyes, already closed from feeling you so close to him, your heart so close to his, your skin occasionally touching his. He just hums to your words, and you start to apply the eyeshadow on his eyelids. You've never been this close to him. You notice every freckle, every scar, every beauty mark on him you've never seen before. He just became a whole lot more beautiful to you.

You want to stay this close forever. His body heat has warmed you up, and you're extremely comfortable in his lap. You slow down your movement with the eyeshadow, never wanting this moment to end.

When the eye make is done, you grab onto the silver glitter and apply it on his cheekbones, which accentuates them even more, and some on his eyelids which matches really well with the purple tints of the eyeshadow.

You get some last needed items: mascara and a lipgloss. You gently apply the mascara to his eyelashes, making sure not to poke him in the eye. You open the lipgloss and move impossibly close to him to apply it on his lips.

You gently drag the end of the applicator of the lip gloss across his lips, the gloss leaving a shine as you move it across. His lips, separated apart slightly, heave of little exhales as you are so close to him.

You just want to press your lips against his.

What? No you don't! Hes your best friend, nothing more. You cannot risk it all simply because you want to know if they taste just as sweet as they look.

You clear your throat as you're done with the lip gloss and move your face away from his. "It's done," you say with a contented smile as you look at your finished result.

Drew looks at you with a grin on his face. "How do I look?" He asks you. He knows he looks absolutely stunning. You did his make up, so yes, theres no way he doesn't look beautiful right now.

"I think you look great," you say with a cheeky smile, as you start to get off his lap, but his arms fixate around your waist and stop you from getting up.

"Don't get up, I loved having you sit on my lap," Drew says with a pout. You feel your cheeks heat up, but just giggle at his reply.

"But then we will get late for the party, and I still have to do my make up look," you say. No doubt you don't want to get off either, but you have to, you have no choice.

"Forget the party, lets just stay here and do something else," he pleads. His blue eyes pierce yours, which want nothing more than to just look at you forever.

"But then my make up look will go to waste! I did it for the party, you know," you humph. Forcing yourself against your will, you get off Drew's lap. You take your time to wear your outfit and finish with your makeup, and just five minutes before your decided leaving time, you both are completely ready.

You now stand in front each other, your faces gleaming each time light reflects on them. You did your own look quite matching to Drew's, the same purple hues and glitter splattered across your face.

"Wow," Drew whispers looking at you, as his arms find your waist again. You're beginning to get used to them being wrapped so firmly around you and softly pulling you closer to him.

You give Drew a smile and intertwine your hand with his, and you both go out of your house to go to the party.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag

(if you want to be added, check out the 'join my taglist' post on top! + send some requests if you have any, but read the 'requests' post first!)

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #fluff #written by edith! 🪄

383 notes · View notes

short-honey-badger · 5 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 3

Another part already! Enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings! Some kissing! Dracule isn't shy about what he wants.

You don't remember falling asleep, but wherever you are, you're warm and cozy, just a little confused as to why your bed is moving. Up and down you go, and it's enough to pull your sluggish brain to wakefulness and crack your eyes open. The sight that greets you is one that you could definitely get used to.

Ringed yellow eyes stare down at you, a fond, but exasperated look adorning Dracule's handsome features. He shifts under you, and you realize that he's probably uncomfortable with you draped all over him like this, “How long was I asleep for?”

“Only a couple of hours,” Mihawk murmurs and taps the side of your leg, “Move for me, Dear.”

He watches as you carefully remove yourself from his lap, not touching him more than you need to. Mihawk stands and sighs in relief when his back pops. He steps by you, stopping for half a second to press a sleepy kiss to your forehead before he slips off to the bathroom.

You make yourself useful and go to the storage room to dig up a shirt that would most likely fit Dracule and that pair of socks you'd forgotten about. He has emerged from the bathroom by the time you come out of the back room, and you hand over the things you had gathered.

“I checked your jacket. It's still pretty damp,” you inform him and turn away from the well-groomed man as he slips the white shirt over his shoulder. Mihawk only bothers to button the bottom four buttons, leaving his chest exposed.

“Nothing to worry about, Darling. I have others on my ship,” he rumbles and then steps towards the kitchen, “I'll put the kettle on, if you don't mind?”

It makes your heart flutter to see him so comfortable in your home, so you nod quickly, “Absolutely. Like I said, Darcule. Make yourself at home,” you assure him, and he slips you a tiny smirk before disappearing around the corner.

Hank flops down beside you, giving you big pitiful eyes, and you crouch to pet his shaggy head, “I know, Buddy. I don't really know what I'm doing, either.”

Which is terribly true. You've never had a man treat you like this before, as if you were his equal, and it made you feel comfortable and safe in his presence.

“Darling, how do you like yours?” Mihawk's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you stand to meander to the kitchen.

“I'll show you,” You step close and pull your sugar tin close and proceed to dump an obscene amount of sugar into the mug. When you glance at him, Mihawk is giving you a look as if you've suddenly grown a second head, “What?”

The warlord huffs, “No wonder you're so sweet,” he quips with a twist of his lips, and you gasp in mock outrage. You watch as he proceeds to put nothing in his tea and simply sips the blend itself.

“Well, no wonder you're so bitter,” you tease back and sputter when Mihawk flicks you in the forehead. It doesn't hurt, but it's enough to have you glaring up at him, lips curling in a mischievous smile.

“Don't call me bitter. I like plenty of sweet things,” Dracule rumbles, and you flush as you recall his words from the first time the two of you met.

Mihawk enjoys the red that tints your cheeks. Likes the way your eyes go all half lidded when he whispers honeyed words to you. A cruel smirk plays across his lips and he steps close, one hand curling around your hip, and you can feel his breath against your skin, “Things like deserts, and candies,” his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “Things like you.”

The room grows cold, but Mihawk does not move despite the rising chill. That same tension is back from earlier, and it makes you tremble and not from your devil fruit. His hand flexes against your hip, tugging you a tiny bit closer to his furnace of a body, and you gasp when you stumble forward.

Your hands are freezing against his chest, and Dracule lifts his free hand to gently grasp both of your, squeezing softly.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” you admit quietly and stare at the way this beautiful man holds your hands like you are something precious.

Mihawk stares down at the top of this young woman's head. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't know when, maybe when she had offered him tea the first time, but a connection had formed between the two of you. One that he didn't want to shy away from. You were something special in this world, hidden away from the drama and evil that tainted the Grand Line. Dracule has always gotten the things that he wants. This would be no different.

“I won't lead you astray, Little One,” Mihawk murmurs, voice rough, and he smooths his hand up from your hip to cradle your jaw. He lifts your face up, and you can't help but stare into his ringed eyes. His lips curl into a soft smile so small that you wouldn't have caught it if you hadn't been paying attention. His thumb smooths over your cheek, “Do you trust me?”

You search his gaze and see nothing but fondness for you in the yellow depths, and you find that you do trust this man.

“Yes.”

The smile widens on Dracule's face, “Good,” he whispers, and then he is leaning down to close the distance. He tightens his grip on your hand when you whimper against his lips, eyes falling shut so that he can focus on the way you feel against him.

Your lips slot against his perfectly, but it's your first kiss, so it's enough to take your breath away and have you flushed to the roots of your hair when Dracule breaks the kiss. You breathe deeply through your nose, and he lets go of your hands to wrap his arm around your waist and press you close to his chest. His lips find your brow and rest there before he speaks up.

“Was that okay, Darling?” He asks softly, and you are quick to nod your head. You feel him leave one last kiss to your forehead, and then he is letting you go to stare down at you, “Verbally, please.”

You grin up at him, “That was my first kiss,” you say and giggle when you watch Mihawk's eyes darken a shade at the information. He knew that you were sheltered, innocent even, but knowing this about you only makes Mihawk want to keep you hidden away even more. Dracule knows that he is selfish.

“I'm honored to be the one to take it,” He quips, and you roll your eyes at him and carefully step away.

“My books didn't do it justice,” You mention off handedly and gesture to a stack of said books, “I don't have a lot of romantic ones though, only the ones that have washed up on shore.”

Mihawk huffs, “I can assure you that your books will not hold a candle to me,” pride in himself drips from his voice and you can't decide if what he says worries you or not.

The rest of the day is spent in one another company. You show him your garden this time and explain which plant is which. Mihawk learns that you have become an excellent fisherman since that was your main source of protein and agrees to stay for dinner when the sun begins to set.

It's disgustingly domestic watching you dither around the kitchen of your small home, but Dracule is more content than he has been in a very long time. The smell of baking bread and grilled fish fills the cottage, and he can't help the small smile that plays along his lips. This was the start of a new chapter in his life, one that he would gladly share with you.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @djbumblebee

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #opla mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #opla dracule mihawk #fluff #kissing #peppermint tea

244 notes · View notes

anundyingfidelity · 2 months

Text

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part IV)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.8k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Reader's parents are fucking irresponsible and disgusting people, mentions of a dead parent, Homelander!!!! (he's a fucking warning), sexual assault (touching, kissing, etc.) and some after thoughts, you know the usual questionable stuff on TB universe, Ben's point of view and presence=red flag.

Notes: more about reader's past in here! And just want to add that this is how i imagine her suit on this chapter. I'm also using a lot of inspo from Sue Storm of the Fantastic Four because I love her, so yeah. And thanks so much for reading it means a lot to me! ^^

this fic tags: @k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @blacknoirr @deans-spinster-witch

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part IV: Countdown

2009

"Spectrum, turn around, please," the lady on the other side of the camera ordered.

You did as she told, turning slowly and showing a complete view of your suit. Made of unstable molecules, the suit was your best creation at the time. It was all white with black details, and finally you had something covering your whole body that'd turn invisible when you commanded. Your boots were the same, specially built to disappear and blend with your powers when needed.

"Great, show us what you can do," the woman said.

You nodded, your heart beating so hard on your chest. You didn't want to fuck it up. Not for your mother. She was the main reason why you were there in the first place. You took a deep breath, with eyes closed you raised your palms at your chest level and created a force field around your figure. The force fields you learnt to make over the years of self training were like gigantic bubbles that allowed you to float around if you said so, and they protected you or anyone or anything they were covering.

The camera, the couch, the table, and any single thing you found in the room were now surrounded by the fields, lifting them up a couple of feet from the surface. And once you thought it was enough, they landed slowly on their place, the fields vanished just like the one around yourself. Though the lady on the other side didn't seem amused or surprised.

"I also turn invisible," you said for the first time after your personal presentation was over.

"Go on," she plainly answered.

And within seconds, you slowly disappeared from her sight. The fabric of the suit faded away.

"I created this special costume to turn invisible without, you know, being naked," you commented.

Still, there was no clear answer on the face of the woman. She was just busy taking notes and filming your audition with the steady camera on the table. She said nothing, her eyes glued to her writing. Disappointed, you made yourself visible again.

"That's impressive!"

You gasped. It was that voice you heard so many times on TV. His steps came closer and he stopped by your side with a smile on his face.

"Homelander," the woman called with a wide, fake grin. "You weren't supposed to be in here."

"Just passing by, wanted to say hi. I'm really amazed by you, darling."

You tried to smile the best you could. But you were so tense and flustered now that he was in front of you. Your childhood hero, coming to see you at your audition. Even before you got a clear response from Vought. It felt like a dream. Any child had dreamt of it at some point.

You grew up with him and the Seven. He was one of the reasons you forgot every single problem and responsibility your dysfunctional, selfish family put you through from a young age. To them, you were just a doll to play with and show off. The perfect daughter. But seeing the Seven was totally different. You wanted to be like them. Too sad this part was also linked to your mother and her self-centered shit. If only...

"Thank you," you barely answered with a soft voice, looking down on your boots.

"I've been out there, hesitating if I should come in, since you created those force fields. Wow!" he praised, making you chuckle. "You left the door open on purpose, didn't you two?"

All you could do was chuckle again, you felt your cheeks burning at his banter. He smiled along with you before turning his eyes to the lady.

"Hey, Greta. Can you leave us alone for a moment?"

"But I have to-"

Homelander chuckled, cutting her words. "Absolutely no, I can continue for you. Remember?"

Greta, as he called her, swallowed thickly and her eyes switched between you and the supe. "Sure, sir."

She lifted herself up from the chair, took her things and went out. You noticed the camera was still in place, that meant it was still rolling.

Once the door closed. "So..." he began, walking a circle around you. "How'd you create this... costume of yours?"

"Well, I like science," you nervously smiled, playing with your glove-covered hands. He passed by your face this time and paced around one more time. "It took me a while to figure out how but I did something with the molecules, created my own patent of the matter and did this complete costume."

Homelander stopped at your back. He hummed. "Smart. Tell me..."

His pause made you answer what he was looking for. "Spectrum."

"Spectrum, why do you want to be part of the Seven so bad?"

Homelander dragged your alias with a dark voice, one that replaced the long warm and welcoming tone he had with you at first. You licked your lips, anxious and out of words. Once behind your figure, he angled himself so close to one of your ears that you felt his hot breath on your skin.

"So? I know you have something to say, dear."

"I- I just want to help others... Do what you guys do..."

The next thing you felt was the supe's strong body pressing on your ass. You gasped loudly as his hands grabbed the sides of your hips forcing you to fall back against his chest.

"Go on," Homelander whispered.

One of his hands roamed over your stomach slowly, right under your breasts, and you were absolutely caged on his grip. You took deep breaths, closing your eyes as he touched you over the suit.

"I- I know science, I told you. Also I can help the team w-with new inventions of my own... Create technology t-to fight very bad threats," you stuttered.

"Mmmh, yeah, I like the sound of that," Homelander chuckled against your neck, his lips tracing soft and unwanted kisses on your skin.

"Please- ah!"

He harshly pushed you against his groin. Your breath caught in your throat at the feel of his crotch. This wasn't what you thought it was. This was not what your mother signed you up for.

"Tell me, did your father know how much of a fucking slut you are?" Homelander hissed, his hand cupping your covered breast.

Something inside you emerged at his question. His touch was disgusting and it was making you sick and the mention of your father, your dead father, made it even worse.

"What do you know about him?" you asked in a dark whisper, still planning your next move.

Deep inside, you were scared of Homelander, it was a new face he had yet to show to the world.

"Just the basics, honey," he said plainly, forcing you to walk with a grip on your arm. The supe sat on the couch and pushed you to his lap. "He was quite the rich man, Edgar knew you'd be a great deal to the company, well, your money of course."

You let out a gasp. "What?"

"Honey, he was one of our most valuable shareholders," he playfully answered, his hands cupping your cheeks.

And it clicked. Your mother supported your dream just because she'd still be getting profits from Vought. The firm was now under her name, and she needed something more to strengthen the relationship between Vought and your father's inheritance. The fucking witch. And then, your father. He was the one financing this piece of shit sitting between your legs. Were all supes like this behind their masks? If so, fucking crap. Everything you believed in was bullshit. A circus. And they clowned you so well. And above all, the sickening man that had been touching you without your permission the past endless minutes...

"Oh, poor thing, you didn't know," Homelander's intense blue eyes widened when he immediately noticed your confused, blank face.

Your eyes filled with tears and still, you refused to cry in front of the asshole you once admired.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you here with us," he smirked. His fingers on your neck, feeling your pulse. You closed your eyes so hard, your nose wrinkled and you held back a sob when his hand added pressure around your collar. He leaned closer, his lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss as you tried to resist his touch. "So fucking useful," Homelander whispered against your lips. He gave you that mischievous grin of his. You shivered. "I can't wait to ruin you. Every single inch of you."

The same past memory of Homelander haunted you the next day. The way you found out about your father's business with Vought and how the supes showed their real faces was the main reason you were here now.

You remembered you had to hit Homelander as hard as you could to escape from him and use your force field to protect yourself before running away and leaving the tower, fully invisible. Not that it was a great help since Homelander had a lot of abilities with his vision, and he could hear the beating of your heart miles away, but for you, it was worth the try. It was a surprise he didn't follow you that day. Instead, Vought got a new deal with your mother for the budget and you hated that. You cut all communication with what was left of your family after that day, knowing it could've been so much worse.

Homelander and Vought, however, were after you now. And he was a difficult face to forget. Not only because he was faking everything from the public but because Vought was after your father's money. And deciding to step away from all the illegal stuff they did, you left for college. Science was always a part of you and it's what got you here, under Grace Mallory and the CIA, doing different jobs you were not so proud of, but now, you were looking for a cure. It was all that mattered those days, until you found out that your mother had been experimented on during her pregnancy. A fucking lie. That's what your life was. That's why she cheered you to go to that stupid audition and fell into the hands of that monster at twenty-three years old.

The thought of your father supporting the horrid things Vought and the Seven did for decades was unbearable, and since Homelander's visit the night before caused those memories and nightmares to be back. It took a great effort to get out of bed and come to work that day. You'd make sure to compensate yourself for it later. But now, you were in a hurry to your daily session with Soldier Boy. You saved your phone in the pocket of your trousers after checking the time as you walked down the aisle, grabbing tightly the report of your patient with your other hand. Well, thirty minutes late wasn't nothing.

"Doctor!" you heard a female voice running towards you in the halls that made you turn on your heels. It was your young assistant.

"Hey, Bianca. What's wrong?" you asked as you noticed she was a little out of breath.

"We ran another test. The supe survived," she blurted, handing you a tablet that you didn't take. Sometimes the change in the results was minimal.

"That's great. Any significant improvements?"

"Well, just minimal effects. Right now some fever, fatigue, dehydration, and uhm, low pulse."

You sighed after another illusion. "Right. I don't think those are minimal effects, Bianca. Please check our patient and see how the powers are working. Run blood tests, all tests you can and then you can provide me the results. I'm a little busy right now."

She nodded with a shy smile, looking around subtly. "Sure."

You smiled back as best as you could. "Anything else?"

"No, it's just- I see you go this way a lot," Bianca pointed to the direction you were heading with her gaze. "That's Soldier Boy, isn't he?"

Your brows furrowed. "Why you ask?"

"Nothing, well, my grandpa used to talk about him all the time," she giggled. "I was just curious, sorry."

"No problem. I get it. But I really have to go, please make sure those results are on my desk by the end of the day," you ordered kindly.

"I will."

"Thanks, Bianca."

With that, you gave a last smile and began your walk again away from her, slower than before. For some reason something was off since you entered the building. It felt different. Totally weird. For the record, since Homelander threatened to have your head off, you paid twice the attention to your surroundings and the people around. You didn't know if there was something big planning right now in front of your nose. You just walked a couple of feet when you felt someone following behind, that was probably watching over you. In a swift movement, you turned on your heels but no one was there. The aisle was empty.

Bianca was already gone and almost no one would wander on this wing of the building, for obvious reasons. With caution you resumed your steps, telling yourself that you were not going insane.

"Robert Singer and I have been hard at work bridging the divide between the human and Superhuman communities. I've seen that divide firsthand in my three years running the FBSA—"

Ben scoffed, taking the TV controller to turn the screen off. "Bullshit."

He stood in the middle of the room with nothing but a towel hanging down his hips after taking a shower, taking the last smoke of his blunt. He grew tired of waiting for you, so he just took a shower and now, everything on the fucking channels was the stupid campaign by Victoria Neuman being supported by Vought and the fucking brat he was supposed to call his son.

With a deep breath, he finished the weed and threw the remains on the ashtray over the new coffee table. His mind started to wander away, realizing he had been a little calm the last couple of days after he almost blew up the fucking place to the ground. Inside, Ben knew your words and actions were a lot of help for the small sense of serenity that started to grow within his chest after that moment. Absolutely that was something he wouldn't admit, ever. But if he was to say, he was actually relieved.

Taking a look around, his place was not that big of a mess. You were certainly used to his clothes around the floor and the sofas, so it wasn't really important. What he found annoying though was you pushing him to read the stupid books and write down his feelings. He wasn't going to do that. If you were there to medicate him, so be it. He wondered why you took so long to do it. Probably he should be stoned enough to not feel anything. That was fucking better.

Just as he started to go over his mental plan to get the hell out of your prison, the door opened. He smirked at your sight. As always, an useless armed man standing behind your figure. You dispatched the guard and stepped inside Soldier Boy's place, the door closing with a loud sound.

You stopped your tracks just a few steps away from him. He noticed your eyes tracing his half bare body in a quick motion, before turning to his face with an arrogant smirk on your lips.

"See something you like, sweetheart?" Ben teased.

With a light chuckle, you held your head high. "Don't be delusional, it's just basic instinct."

"Believe me, I fucking know that," he snarked, taking over your figure with his green eyes the same way you did before. "Basic instinct."

You rolled your eyes. "So," you sat down in your usual place to start the session, making a pile of three of his shirts in the empty space. "Make yourself decent and then we can continue."

Ben took some sweatpants and a shirt from the floor and started to dress himself in front of you, without much care. He smirked as you turned away your gaze to focus on the report lying on your lap.

"You're late," he remarked, taking his own seat once he was done with his clothes.

"Yeah, I had some things to do," you mumbled going through the pages. "But I see we can start now."

He took a deep breath, staring into the distance. "Don't make it boring."

You grimaced, looking back at him. "Can't promise that."

Ben sensed a playfulness coming from you. Could it be that, after recieving your comforting words, he was seeing another side of you? Like the side that would actually trust him, because you still arrived. You were sitting in front of him. You were with him, in the same fucking room where the sun was far from getting. Yeah, you were there but he was too full of ego to bring his walls down again. He wanted to convince himself he wasn't vulnerable. He knew he was more than that. He was Soldier Boy, the man who had to stop Homelander and his fucking kid.

He smirked. "Well, sugar, I can ask you to try."

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #jensen ackles fanfiction #soldier boy/ben

104 notes · View notes

honey-sweet-hiraeth · 1 year

Text

The Hallway

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

A/n: Whaaaat the fuck people. I started writing this based on Lizzie's Oscars look. It was gonna be a cute little not quiet enemies to lovers fic. Right? Right??? No! I just started writing having no clue what was gonna happen and now there's human trafficking??? And mentions of R going through human trafficking?? And trauma?? And Wanda being fucking adorable. I'm so confused. I don't know how we got here. But yeah the dress Wanda wears on the mission is the one from the Oscars look. Send help. Have fun. What did I even write?

P. S. I was writing this all night what is sleep. My noggin is tired.

Warnings: Human Trafficking (Wanda and Yn are saving people), Talks about Yn going through Human trafficking, Author doesn't know what they're doing and it shows, nightmares (mentioned), Wanda is cute as fuck, Wanda is a tease. (A cute tease)

Fluff?? Hurt Comfort??? I dunno.

Not proofread.

"I don't hate you, you know." Your voice must've startled her, because Wanda turned a bit too quickly with her hand over her heart.

You were preparing to go on a mission together. The first time you'd ever gone on a mission alone with Wanda. She tended to avoid being teamed up with you if she could.

You figured she just didn't like you. It never really bothered you too much. Maybe a little.

Until you heard her fighting so hard against a mission with you, and only you. She pleaded with Steve in front of all of the other Avengers. Natasha snickered in her corner seat and you wondered what was so funny?

You were frankly a bit offended that Wanda would rather pretend to date 'anyone else', for the mission. You could be a great fake partner! The best even. Nonetheless Wanda wanted nothing more than to avoid being around you. Going so far as to offer to go with Sam or, god forbid, Vision.

You were the best undercover agent they had aside from Natasha. Who would've been coming with you if she weren't so busy.

Wanda stared at you blankly for a moment. Tilting her head.

"Good to know." She nodded, going back to adjusting her dress. It didn't sound like she believed you.

"I spoke with Nat." You continued. "I asked why she would suggest that you came with me for this. When she knew you hated my guts."

Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows raised. You stepped forward and fixed the tangled tassels around her neck as you spoke.

"She laughed at me." You smoothed the front of her hair, spraying a bit of extra hairspray in it. "She told me you thought I hated you. That you thought I hadn't forgiven you for the Ultron situation."

Wanda winced, and sighed sharply. "We don't need to talk about this."

"We- we can though." You frowned and Wanda shook her head.

"Not right now. We have a job to do." She walked past you and you caught a breath of her perfume, it was floral and spicy. You liked it.

You shook yourself free from your thoughts and followed behind her, out the door of the safe house where your clothing and accessories were set out for the two of you, and to the car waiting out front.

The ride was quiet. You stole glances at Wanda as she stared out the window, her jawline fully on display with her hair pulled into a sleek updo. Wanda was pretty, in that unassuming way most people didn't notice until she was fully dressed up.

You noticed during battle. From the way she locked her jaw and sent enemies flying, to the way she would meet your eyes with fire in hers and you just knew the adrenaline pumping through her veins was similar to yours.

You'd never actually seen her on a mission outside of something confrontational. You knew nothing of her undercover skills or her ability to blend in and go with the flow while also keeping her mind on the objective.

So you were pleasantly surprised when you entered the target's party and she easily slipped her hand in yours. You glanced at her and she smiled fondly at you, leaning closer and setting her chin on your shoulder.

She was close enough to kiss.

"We'll make our way around the room and mingle for a bit, then we can sneak off, but not before we speak to Damien." Her accent was soft and alluring. If it weren't for her actively speaking about the mission, her breath against your cheek would've made you forget you were even on one.

Maybe this was the real reason you never worked jobs with Wanda. She was very, very distracting.

You smiled, chuckling a little as two elderly men walked by, eying you with judgment. They were just jealous, you decided. You did happen to have the most beautiful woman at the event right on your arm.

"Okay darling. Whatever you say." You led her further into the group of socialites and powerful figures of the underground. "You just let me know when you're ready to run off."

Wanda held her head high as you walked through the crowd. You really did look like a powerful couple. People you didn't know in the slightest sent you nods and smiles as you passed. They regarded you with respect, even though they knew nothing about you.

After all you were mysterious guests, dressed in expensive designer clothing and walking as if you owned the place. As far as they knew you did own the place.

It took only a few minutes before Damien Gavroche, the true owner of the establishment and one of the men you needed to take down, approached you.

"My my you're a stunning couple aren't you?" He smiled impishly at you. Nausea nearly overtook you just looking at him. You were there because he was trafficking young girls. You hated people like him with all you had.

Wanda's grip tightened on your hand. She was the only Avenger who knew why people like Gavroche truly disgusted you. You had experience with them, and they genuinely made you afraid.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and smiled brightly at the short, greasy looking man.

"Thank you," you shook his hand. "It's truly all my darling though. If I had been on my own for this I'd have no clue what to wear."

You kissed Wanda's head and she hummed, leaning into you.

"The thing is. I don't remember adding your names to the list?" It was stated as a question but you knew what he meant. 'How did you get in?'

"That's odd," you furrowed your brows. "We only had to present these invitations at the door."

That was the truth, you mused as you handed the slips of paper to him. You really hated lying. It just worked better when you didn't have to do it very much.

Damien looked at the invites for a moment then smiled, handing them back to you.

"My mistake" He apologized, slipping his arm around Wanda's waist to lead you both across the room. You felt Wanda tense beside you. His hand was nearly on her ass. You grabbed his wrist and moved it so his hand rested higher on her back.

Damien scowled at you as you did so. You sent him a warning glare back. You hoped he caught the meaning of your actions. 'Don't touch what isn't yours'

Not that you were actually possessive over Wanda. You were just playing your part, and maybe feeling a bit protective of your teammate.

Wanda leaned further into you now that your arm was draped across her shoulders. You let your thumb graze along her exposed skin. An attempt at comforting her and looking like you were truly a couple, you told yourself. Not at all because Wanda's skin was soft and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

Before you knew it, you and Wanda were in a secluded VIP section. You recognized some of New York's most wanted lounging in the room. It made you nervous. If people like that were casually hanging out around here. What kind of party were you really at?

You shivered and looked to Wanda, her face told you she was thinking the same thing. This could mean trouble.

You tried to relax, falling into a seat with a small sigh. It worked until Wanda perched herself right on your knee, picking a flute of champagne off a nearby tray and taking a slow sip as she surveyed the room.

"I don't think I recognize you twos." A strong Brooklyn accent caught spoke up above the murmuring of the others.

"We're new in town." Wanda spoke up, her voice exuded power and confidence. It wasn't a tone she'd ever used since you'd met her.

You sat up, placing a hand on her hip and leaning your cheek against her shoulder. She draped an arm around you and ran her fingers through your hair.

Again. You almost forgot you were on a mission. Wishful thinking you guessed as you met the gaze of a woman with long white hair. Her pale blue eyes held something unsettling in them. Was is recognition?

She smirked at you and raised her glass. Did she know you?

You looked up at Wanda, she was already looking in the direction of the woman. She didn't look at you, instead displaying her jaw to you as she absently handed you her champagne and crossed the room to grab another one.

The white haired women shifted from the armchair she was sitting in and into the cushion next to you.

"What is she your keeper?" Her lips quirked up into a playful, if not a bit mischievous smirk. You laughed nervously.

"No, not really." You matched her expression, "Why, do you think I need kept?"

"No not at all. Quite the opposite." She chuckled "Beasts like you aren't meant to be tamed."

"Beasts?" You raised an eyebrow. "You find me to be beastly?"

"Only in the most interesting of ways. I can see it in your eyes." Her gaze pierced yours. "You're uncomfortable here. You'd much rather be somewhere much less," Her eyes wandered the room with a look not dissimilar to contempt, "sophisticated."

You laughed. "Something like that."

You sighed, glancing at Wanda who seemed to be struggling to escape a conversation with Damien and one of his associates.

"The social aspects of this line of work aren't really my strong suit. I'm not nearly as polite as my partner." You nodded toward her. "For example. I would've knocked our hosts head of his shoulders by now."

The woman laughed, brushing her fingers along your arm. Was she flirting with you?

You bristled, looking back at her before turning back to see Wanda stalking back toward you with a scowl.

"Uh oh" The white haired woman looked between the approaching Wanda and you. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Before you could respond slender fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you upward. Now, only inches from your face, Wanda looked much more intimidating.

"I think we need a break." Her voice was venomous as she glared back at the woman. She began to drag you away and you looked behind you to see the woman sending you an apologetic look.

Once you were out of view from the guards outside the VIP room, Wanda pushed you down another Hall and separated herself from you.

"You gave us a good excuse to get out of there." She spoke lowly, "not that I think you should be flirting with criminals while on a job."

"What was I supposed to do make a scene?" You were genuinely asking. Would she be happier if you'd just shut down the conversation right at the start?

"Of course not." She huffed walking faster down the hallway. "The girls are somewhere on the sub level."

"You mean the basement?" You chuckled.

"Sure" she led you toward where the staircase down should be, but before you could reach it she was ducking into a doorway and dragging you with her.

"Oof" Your back hit the wall and within moments you were trapped against it with Wanda leaning heavily on to you.

You suddenly felt out of breath. Then Wanda kissed you and stole what little oxygen you still had in your lungs.

It was a hot kiss, full of energy and passion that had been missing in every relationship you'd ever had. Before long you were gasping between kisses and Wanda was slipping her tongue into your mouth and you groaned, tightening your grip on her sides and pulling her closer to you.

It was all happening very fast. You hadn't quite caught on to the situation until you noticed footsteps passing by, you barely pried your eyes open enough to see two armed men walking by. They stopped, watching you for what seemed a bit longer than necessary.

Wanda's hands slipped under your your dress shirt and her nails traced your stomach. Within seconds you were much more focused on her than the men not so subtly enjoying your little show.

Wanda pulled away and pressed her forehead to yours to catch her breath. She giggled softly, not opening her eyes. You took the moment to study her. You always though Wanda was pretty, but up close and intimate like this, she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"I love you." She said it just above a whisper, so it reached your ears and likely the men behind her.

Wait what?

Her lips moved to your neck and your eyes fell shut again as you melted against her. What we're you thinking about again?

Her teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on your neck and you groaned. What was going on? You were meant to be doing something right? Where were you again?

Wanda laughed again, pressing a couple quick kisses to your neck before she pulled away to look at you. She looked amused.

"They're gone now." What? Who was gone?

You looked behind her at the hallway. It was empty. Oh.

Wanda pulled away and you found yourself missing her closeness.

"Let's go." She nodded toward the stairway and you cleared your throat, catching up to her. Right. Important mission. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

Getting to the girls was easy, seeing them was a different story. Your heart caught in your throat. They were so young. Younger than you were.

You grit your teeth. You were going to killed them, Gavroche and everyone else involved. You nearly turned around to confront Damien right away, but Wanda's hand on your arm stopped you.

"Let's get them out of here. We can take care of the rest once they're safe." Her eyes were compassionate. You held her gaze for a moment before closing your eyes. You couldn't think as quickly now, and it wasn't because Wanda was distracting you.

You nodded, "how?"

"The same way we planned. Sneak them out the back." She hesitated. "I'll used my powers to ensure no guards see us leaving. We'll have to take them in groups." Her hand lingered on your arm, rubbing your bicep soothingly.

You nodded, opening yours eyes with new resolve. You could do this.

You got to work freeing the girls of their binds. They were afraid, but you assured them you would get them to safety.

Things went smoothly. You were glad they did. You weren't sure if you could handle failing a mission like this. Soon enough the girls were free and being transported to a safe facility where they could get medical care and be returned to their families.

You were relieved. They were mostly untouched. You found them in time to save the majority of them from the horrors you'd experienced.

With the last girls quietly taken away, it was time to face Gavroche. You shuddered at the thought. You wanted him to pay, but you didn't want to look at his weasily little face again.

When you came into the room you were surprised to see the party was over. There was no one in the VIP room or out in the main area. You frowned, on your guard as you scanned your surroundings.

Then the white haired woman emerged from a previously unseen space, with Damien in cuffs.

"Thanks for the help." She smirked, looking you up and down.

That's why she seemed to recognize you. She must be S.H.I.E.L.D.

"So. Gavroche.." You caught his attention. "That's a French name meaning “street urchin” or “mischievous child”"

Wanda, the agent and Damien all looked at you quizzically.

"What of it?" He glowered at you.

"Nothing, nothing." You shrugged. "It just fits." You looked him over. "You're tiny and you look like you live in a gutter."

He grumbled something obscene in response. Wanda chuckled next to you. Then the agent spoke again.

"His employer is still out there. He narrowly escaped." You bristled at her words. "From what I understand you have a history with him. Preston Alexis."

You calcified. Freezing at the mention of his name.

"Y/n." Wanda touched your face, bringing your attention to her. "Do you know him?"

She knew the answer, but you nodded anyway. "Yeah"

"We're going to have you stay in a safe house. Both of you." The agent looked between you and Wanda. "Until we catch him. He's notoriously bad at hiding without help and his contacts are limited. We'll get him."

You only nodded.

The ride to the new safe house was a blur. In contrast to the ride to the party, you stared out the window, and it was Wanda who stole glances at you.

She didn't ask if you were okay, and you were grateful for her for not trying to have a conversation with you. You didn't think you could handle it. You were glad you had this mission with Wanda. With anyone else you would've had to explain your reaction to Preston's name. You'd have to relive your experience out loud.

You were curled up on the couch in the safe house. It was the first place you went after you got there. You hadn't moved at all in the time it took Wanda to take a shower and change into some clothes left in one of the rooms for agents to use.

The outfit was comically large on her. Large sweat pants much too long for her legs, with the waist cinched as far as Wanda could get them, and what had to be a quadruple x sweater that fell past her knees.

You would've commented on it if you weren't freaking out.

She tugged your arm until you were sitting up, and began unbuttoning your shirt. It felt far too intimate for the state of your relationship, or lack thereof, but you didn't complain.

After tonight, you wanted to be closer to Wanda.

Wanda pushed your dress shirt off your shoulders and you helped her get it the rest of the way off. Then she handed you a hoodie that was equally as oversized as hers. You put it on and chuckled. You were drowning in fabric. It was perfect though. Cozy and oversized in a way that felt safe. Like when you were a kid and you wore your uncle's jacket at the fair. It was a similar fit.

Once you were snuggled up in the hoodie, and sitting on the couch, Wanda turned on the TV and left the room. The screen was playing reruns of M.A.S.H. You smiled faintly. It was a comfort show, oddly enough.

You eventually took off your dress pants, opting to just wear the hoodie as a nightgown. You pulled the fabric over your legs as you settled back in just in time for Wanda to come back with two cups of tea. Eyeing the dress pants you left unceremoniously crumpled at the bottom of the sofa.

She didn't look at you, yes she glanced in your direction but she wouldn't hold your gaze. She'd watch you and look away the moment you looked back. You couldn't tell what she was thinking.

She handed you the tea and hummed quietly in response when you thanked her. You watched her pretending to pay attention to the show, and you were overwhelmed with the need to comfort her. Or did you want her to comfort you?

You thought back to what Natasha said. 'She thinks you're not over her invading your mind. She wouldn't explain why, but she said you're still haunted by it and I think she still blames herself for it.'

"I don't blame you."

Wanda looked up from her tea, still avoiding your eyes.

"I actually think I needed to see it again." You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "You can't heal what hurt you if you black it out."

"You can't be serious." Her eyes were on you. You could feel them. You didn't look at her, because you knew she'd turn away the second you did. "You've had nightmares about it ever since we met. You project them a lot in your sleep."

You shrugged, "And I'll keep having them. Especially now."

Wanda didn't respond, out of the corner of your eye she looked mortified.

"That's not your fault."

"I read the mission file. Before you." She didn't avoid your gaze when you turned to her this time. "That's why I was so determined to go with someone else."

"What?"

"I- I was-"

"You were trying to protect me."

"In a way." She turned away, twisting imaginary rings around her fingers.

Within a moment you had crossed the couch to pull her into a hug. She hugged you back tighter than you'd expected, and she didn't let go for a while. You chose to enjoy the embrace, taking in her warmth.

It was strange to think only that morning you two would barely talk, and now she was quickly becoming a source of comfort.

Her arms dropped from around you, and you pulled away. "I think I want you on missions with me more often."

She looked surprised.

"I'm serious." You chuckled. "You were a genius. Even if I was undercover as a couple with someone, I wouldn't think to push them against a wall and kiss them when the guards came by."

You thought you might've caught a blush blooming on her cheeks, but Wanda turned away too fast for you to know for sure.

"I was just acting on impulse." She mumbled, sounding almost shy.

"Your impulse was great." You laughed. "In fact I don't think anyone has ever kissed me like that."

Wanda laughed out loud at that. "What?"

"Seriously."

"Not even Carol?" Was that a hint of jealousy you heard?

You and Carol broke up a while ago. She was off-world all the time. It just wasn't working out.

"Please." You scoffed "We never even made it past little kisses. We tried but there was never.. Passion. In the end we didn't really want each other anyway."

"What did you want?"

"Other people I guess." You shook your head. "I dunno"

Wanda looked at you again and you realized just how much closer you were than before. Wanda's eyes lowered and it looked like she was leaning toward you. Then she pulled away.

You imagined it. That's all. You imagined it.

You wished you hadn't.

What was happening? Were there feelings there? You thought there might be on your end.

She said she loved you in the hallway, but that was just for the distraction right? To make the guards feel uncomfortable enough to leave you alone.

But what if it was the truth? Slipped into a moment meant to deceive the guards. It was safe to say it then when you couldn't possibly think she'd meant it.

Wanda was looking at you with an unreadable expression. You were overthinking. Not too loudly you hoped. Could she hear you?

You wondered what Wanda falling in love with you would look like. She'd feel protective of you. She lost a lot of the people she loved. She wouldn't want that again. You imagined soft touches and gentle offerings of things meant to comfort you or lift your spirits.

You looked down at your tea, then back at the TV.

No. That just meant she cared. You'd just confronted something scary. She wanted you to feel better.

You were still overthinking.

Wanda was still watching you.

Your mind was running a mile a minute.

She sighed.

You found your thoughts pushing in a new direction. What would you falling in love with Wanda look like?

Would it be jumping the gun to think you already were? You had a crush on her before sure. Seeing her from afar. She was beautiful and thoughtful despite everything she'd been through. You could fall down that rabbit hole easily. You kind of wanted to. Even if you hit the ground hard and found yourself hurting.

"Do you want to go get dinner?" You asked, before you could even think about it.

Wanda laughed.

"We can't leave the safe house Silly." She spoke between giggles.

"Right." You nodded. "Wanna make dinner?"

There was a pause.

"With me I mean." You clarified.

"Sure" She chuckled. You both knew you wouldn't be much help.

You took her hand, pulling her off the couch, and you didn't let go as you walked to the kitchen together. It felt right. So you linked your fingers through hers as you made your way to the pantry.

Wanda laughed as you both took in the nearly empty shelves, save for a few cans.

"It won't be much of a dinner." She giggled.

You grabbed a can of stew and handed it to her, refusing to let go of her hand as you searched for something you could pair it with. Sighing after you found nothing with your first look over the cans.

"We'll make it work." You chuckled "Canned stew, and good company. Sounds great to me."

Wanda hid her face in your shoulder and your heart skipped a beat. She sighed out a giggle against your arm.

You just grinned and pulled her out into the kitchen again to find a pot to warm up your stew in. You searched through the cupboards with your free hand.

"Uh" Wanda tugged your hand to get your attention. "We could find it easier if you let go of my hand."

"So?"

"So are you going to let me go anytime soon?"

"Do you want me to?"

Wanda didn't respond. So you squeezed her hand and continued your one-handed search.

"Aha!" You grinned as you pulled out a small pot. Wanda laughed and took the pan from you mumbling something about you being a goofball.

You only smiled at her. She was entertaining your obvious silly flirting. That was a good thing.

Wanda set the pot on the stove and turned it on. She found a can opener and tried to move her other hand to open the can. When your hand moved with it she paused.

"Can I have my hand?" You looked just a little bit helpless, maybe conflicted. You pouted. "I promise you can have it back when I don't need it anymore."

You reluctantly let her go, and she thanked you as she opened the can. You sat yourself down on the counter and she smiled over at you as dumped the can into the pot.

"Do you just sit on every counter out of impulse?"

"What?" You looked around at yourself. "What do you mean?"

"Anywhere there's a kitchen. Where you can spend time. You-" Wanda interrupted herself with a laugh "You always end up on the counter."

"I don't know. I just. I wanna sit but I don't wanna leave the area." You rubbed at your wrist.

"There's-" more laughter as she pointed into the dining room. "There's a chair, several of them, right there."

"Nah I'm good here." You watched her crack up again.

You liked her laugh. It was cute. The cutest.

Wanda walked up to you, walking between your legs and resting her hands on your lower thighs.

"Now I'm really good here." You grinned goofily down at her and Wanda's nose scrunched up as she giggled st you. You booped her nose. You had to. You just had to.

She paused, rubbing at her nose for a moment before she smiled up at you. There was a beat or two of silence before you noticed the red wisps on the air.

"Magic huh?" You chuckled, glancing at where she was loading bowls she somehow found with stew. She wasn't even looking at it. The talent she held amazed you. How long had she been going through the kitchen while you were distracted?

"A while" she smirked and frowned in confusion.

"Did I say that out loud or just think it very loudly?"

"You've been thinking very loud since we got here."

Oh.

Oh!

"Shit. Okay then." You wanted to kiss her.

Damn it, intrusive thoughts!

A cute little laugh burst from Wanda's lips. She leaned forward just a little..

Then put a warm bowl in your hands and put a spoon in it.

You couldn't help but giggle with her in response. "You're a total tease!"

"You're not supposed to kiss a girl until after dinner on the first date."

"This is a date?"

"Well you did ask me to dinner." She shrugged. "Now we're having dinner."

So you ate dinner. Then you watched a movie from the stash of old westerns under the TV. Seriously, who stocked this place? Steve?

Then you walked her to the bedroom door.

"Goodnight" You smiled and turned around, she tugged you backwards by the hood of your shirt/dress.

"There's one bedroom. Where are you going?"

"To the couch?" You pointed back toward the living room with your thumb. "If we're still following first date rules, I'm supposed to drop you off at the door and go to my place."

Wanda giggled, then put on a soft pout.

"You forgot your kiss." She put her arms around your neck, leaning in close enough you feel her breath on your lips. "And I'm not above inviting you in on the first date. You're not sleeping on the couch."

With that, she pulled you inside and closed the door behind you. She let you go and turned to walk away.

"Ah!" You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her giggling form back into you. "My kiss!"

You planted a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled away, walking to the bed. You could play the teasing game too.

Wanda laughed behind you. "That's all you wanted?"

You omitted your response, choosing to instead pull back the sheets. She knew that you definitely wanted a proper kiss, but you were determined to tease her back. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Y/n" She tugged on your sleeve, and you turned with an attempt at a neutral expression, but just looking at her made you smile again.

She pushed you down to sit on the mattress and you genuinely squeaked as she settled herself on your lap, hands on your shoulders. She chuckled and you almost felt embarrassed, but then her lips were on yours and you forgot everything but the tingling of your skin as her lips moved against yours and her fingers slipped into your hair.

You balled your fists in her sweater and groaned as she bit your lip and pulled away for air. Your foreheads were pressed together again and you flashed back to the moment in the hallway. You would be thinking about that hallway for a long time, oddly enough in a good way despite everything that was going on there.

How could she take such a horrible, scary day and make it feel so good? You weren't even afraid anymore.

Because Wanda was there, and she was safe, and she was amazing.

"You're magical." You breathed out and Wanda grinned.

"I've been told that."

"You have?"

Wanda spun her magic between her fingers and waited for you to catch on. It took a moment. Or five.

"Oh"

Wanda started giggling. "Oh!"

"Hey! I'm in a post-kiss haze right now. Don't be mean." You pouted for about two seconds.

Wanda kissed you again. Softly, gently, and way too shortly. Then you were smiling.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Today could have been horrible. I mean yeah we completed our mission but.." You trailed off. "I was content to be terrified and you made me feel better."

"What are friends for?" She grinned and you pulled back, frowning.

Wanda only laughed as you lifted her up and dropped her on the bed. You started to walk away but turned around and brought the covers over her shaking body as she kept laughing.

You tucked her in, then kissed her head and moved away.

"Goodnight" you said flatly and started to leave.

"No wait!" Wanda was still giggling as she scrambled out of the bed and pulled on you. "Where are you going?"

"To the couch." It tried to keep a straight face but you were struggling to keep from laughing.

"You can't leave me alone in here." She pouted. "Please stay?"

Damn she was good at this.

"Okay" you turned around and started getting into bed. Wanda slid in next to you with a cheeky little smile.

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" You grumbled and couldn't help the small smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. "Friendly friends."

"Shut up." She chuckled and pulled you over into another kiss. "You're so fucking cute."

"Fuck you." You laughed a little and she grinned.

"Maybe some other time." She settled herself with her head on your chest and flipped the lights off with a flick of her fingers.

"Goodnight Wanda." You whispered into her hair.

"Good night moya lyubov" she mumbled into your chest.

You smiled as you fell asleep. For the first time, you wanted to sleep. The nightmares could come, but Wanda would be there in the morning, and that was where you wanted to be.

Tag list: @chelleztjs18 @i-do-it-for-the-gays @stonemags That's all I got

585 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (21/23)

Chapter summary: Christmas Eve; A person from Wanda's past prompts another bout of jealousy in you; Wanda surprises you with a Christmas present; You and Pietro talk it out after the festivities

Chapter word count: 7.5k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Healing, Comfort | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: The second part of Christmas in LA. We continue wrapping up some relationships. Enjoy! :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-two

Twenty-One

Christmas Eve

The ride with Shannon begins in an uneasy silence. With the only sound being the hum of the car and the occasional directions from the GPS, the quietness feels heavy, making your palms sweat against the leather steering wheel.

“We need to pick up groceries first, then dry cleaning, and oh, there's a new shop selling artisanal cheese I've been dying to try,” she reels off her list of errands, her tone light and almost jovial, easing some of the tension in the car.

However, as the silence descends once again, there's a question that's been burning on your tongue since you stepped into her house, and it seems like the perfect opportunity to ask it.

“Shannon,” you start, your voice sounding unusually loud in the quiet car, “This might be a strange question, but...did you recognize me when I walked into your office for that interview at Stark Industries?”

There's a momentary pause, and you worry you've crossed some invisible line. But then Shannon chuckles, a light, easy sound, that oddly enough, puts you at ease.

“Well, I was wondering when you would ask,” she admits with a smirk. “Yes, I recognized you. But I didn't want to make things awkward by bringing it up.”

As you reach the grocery store and park the car, Shannon turns to you, offering a grateful smile. “Thanks for helping out, Y/N. It's been quite hectic with the preparations and all.”

On the way back, you spot a small coffee shop nestled between a bookstore and a flower shop. The sign in the window catches your eye–'Single Origin Beans' it reads, and you remember your conversation with Wanda on the plane.

“Shannon," you blurt out without taking your eyes off the signage. “Would you mind if we stop by that coffee store over there? I'd love to check out some of their beans."

She looks over to where you're pointing, and her face lights up in approval. “Oh, I've heard fantastic things about this place. Let's go.”

As you pull over, you can't help but think about Wanda and her upcoming competition, hoping that this little detour might just be the secret ingredient she needs to make her mark at the Cup-off.

As you and Shannon step into the shop, you are immediately enveloped by a blend of heady aromas–nutty, smoky, and unmistakably coffee. The smell is intoxicating, and you can't help but breathe it in deeply.

A world map on one wall is dotted with markers showing where their beans are sourced–Ethiopia, Colombia, Kenya, Indonesia, Guatemala, and more.

Shannon seems equally impressed, her eyes taking in the array of beans displayed in glass jars behind the counter, each labeled with its country of origin and tasting notes. She glances back at you, her gaze curious.

“You're into coffee as well?” she asks, opening a particular jar to sniff at its contents.

“Well, I love it. I’m the original coffee drinker between the two of us,” you clarify. “But I’m looking mainly for Wanda. She's the enthusiast. I'm... more of the support crew.”

“So Wanda only started drinking coffee because of you?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you say, your mind drifting back to an amusing memory of one of your early dates with Wanda. She had attempted to impress you by ordering your favorite drink, not realizing it was a bold concoction of three shots of espresso and nothing else. “Although I don’t think she enjoys drinking it as much as I do. It's more of a part of her daily routine now.”

A smile spreads across Shannon's face as she shakes her head. You give her a funny look and ask, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Shannon shrugs off your question. “That girl is so head over heels for you.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Why would you say that?”

“She's taken something she's passionate about and turned it into something impactful. Something enjoyed by everyday people,” Shannon explains.

“I wouldn't exactly say coffee is her passion, though–”

“It's you, Y/N,” Shannon interjects, rolling her eyes playfully. “You are her passion. She excelled in coffee-making because it's something you love. And it's a beautiful thing, to shape a passion around someone you care about so deeply.”

“But it's rather strange, isn't it?” Shannon adds a while later. She digs her hand inside a bag of beans and takes a handful, then leans in to inhale its scent.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well,” Shannon continues, “Considering how much she adores you, must be one of the universe’ greatest mysteries as to why she would ever cheat on you.”

You find yourself taken aback, unsure if you should feel insulted or if you should just brush it off. Her remark is quite out of the blue, and she doesn't seem to grasp how inappropriate it is. It seems that Shannon may be the sort of person who speaks without considering the impact of her words.

But, in her candid, albeit tactless, comment, you get a glimpse of another side of her–one that's less reserved and more carefree than you had initially perceived.

Before you can think of something to reply, a voice cuts in, causing you and Shannon to jerk your heads towards the source.

“Welcome! Can I help you find something particular?”

The voice belongs to the shopkeeper, an elderly gentleman sporting a smile as warming as a hot cup of chocolate. You return his smile with a slightly sheepish one, confessing, “I actually have no idea. My wif–my, uh, partner joined this annual coffee competition in NYC. I thought I might surprise her with some unique beans to experiment with.”

“Sounds like a wonderful gift!” he exclaims, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. He hobbles over to a nearby shelf filled with an array of coffee bags. “Well, if she's in a competition, I'd suggest trying a couple of different single-origin beans to get a variety of flavors.”

He reaches up to a shelf and pulls down a bag of coffee. “This here is a single-origin bean from Ethiopia. Known for its bright and fruity flavors, it's a favorite among many coffee connoisseurs.”

Setting that bag down, he moves over to another shelf. “And over here we have a single-origin bean from Colombia. This one has a richer, more full-bodied profile with notes of dark chocolate and a nutty finish.”

He hands both bags to you, his aged yet firm hands transferring the beans with a sense of reverence. “I think these two could provide some interesting flavors for her to experiment with. What do you think?”

A thoughtful hum escapes you as you consider the shopkeeper's recommendations. The Ethiopian and Colombian beans definitely sound like a good place to start, but you want to give Wanda something a little more... unexpected.

“Do you have anything else?” you ask. “Maybe something more unconventional? A wildcard, if you will.”

The shopkeeper looks at you for a moment, as if sizing up your level of coffee knowledge and daring. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Well, I do have something rather special,” he admits, leading you to the far corner of the shop.

He reaches behind a stack of bags, pulling out a smaller, unassuming bag. “This here is a single-origin bean from a tiny town in the northernmost region of Japan. It's not widely known for its coffee cultivation, but I have a friend there who has been growing these beans using a unique method. He's a former whiskey brewer and has applied some of the techniques from brewing to coffee cultivation.”

He hands over the bag and you take it, intrigued by the origin and backstory. The beans look slightly lighter than the other two bags, and you can almost smell the promise of a unique flavor profile.

“This is a real wildcard,” the shopkeeper adds with a wink. “It's unlike anything else you'll find. But tell your partner to be careful. These beans require a bit more finesse to fully bring out their complex flavors.”

You can't help but smile. This is exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find. Something different and exciting for Wanda to work with, that would also show your support and faith in her skills. A perfect blend, in more ways than one.

“Seeing you so lovesick over your ex makes me want to gag,” Shannon comments, once you've finished your transaction with the shopkeeper.

You turn to her, eyebrow arched, “Are you always this tactless?”

She just laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet of the shop, and then completely ignores your question. “You know what? Now I see why you and Wanda are so perfect for each other.”

“And why is that?” you blink at her, intrigued despite yourself.

She shrugs, her smile knowing. “Because despite everything, you still do this shit like she’s the best thing that's ever happened to you. And I bet she’s the same.”

With those words, she heads out of the shop, leaving you standing there awkwardly, still processing her words. Her straightforwardness was unexpected but kind of refreshing. You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you follow her out.

“...Wh-Where was I?” Your words hitch as Wanda tenderly grazes her teeth over your jugular.

“You were saying that Shannon is kind of a bitch,” Wanda whispers, continuing her assault.

You chuckle lightly but it quickly transforms into a low moan. “Well, she is, but I think that's just her way of dealing with things.”

Wanda hums against your skin, a small laugh escaping her lips. “She certainly seems to have a unique perspective,” she concedes, withdrawing slightly to look you in the eyes. “But she's right about one thing.”

“And what would that be?” you ask breathlessly as you feel Wanda’s fingers trail their way up your stomach, under your shirt.

She gives you a teasing grin, the irises of her eyes pitch black as she playfully declares, “That you're smitten with me.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, what? She said that?”

You feel Wanda’s smile against your skin before her tongue slips out to lick the sweat that has gathered under your ear. “Yes, she did. Told me right when you two got back home earlier.”

“Well, can't argue with that,” you concede, pulling her closer. The conversation drifts, forgotten, drowned in Wanda’s lips against yours and her hand squeezing your tit as she finally pushes her tongue inside your mouth.

“W-Wands,” you whine as your ex-wife’s other hand moves to cup you over your leggings. Wanda ignores you, rubbing your clit achingly slow as her tongue flickers in and out of your mouth, teasing you relentlessly.

“Wands,” you try again.

“What?” she husks out, her tone dripping with impatience and arousal.

“Is this a good idea? I mean… We… oh god,” you groan against her cheek when she slips her hand inside your underwear and zeroes in on your opening, collecting the wetness there before spreading them upwards towards your clit.

“Try saying that again, love?” Wanda murmurs with a smirk.

“Uh, w-we scheduled an appointment with–”

Your words fail you at this point when Wanda inserts a finger into your pussy, burying it two knuckles deep at once.

“Fuck–”

Wanda swallows your scream with a kiss, and she smiles as she feels the vibrations of your moans as she starts thrusting her finger in and out of your hole.

“I love it when you’re so loud, baby,” Wanda whispers into your ear before biting your lobe. “But we need to keep quiet. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

She senses your nod, but just as she's about to introduce another finger, your laptop interrupts with its ringing sound.

It’s a video call request from none other than your therapist.

You immediately extricate yourself from Wanda's grasp, causing her to groan in frustration at the untimely interruption. Your skin bears a heated flush and you hurriedly straighten your disheveled hair, trying to ignore how wet your inner thighs have gotten as you hit the accept button on the incoming video call.

There’s a satisfying grin on Wanda’s face as she observes the way you press your legs together, trying to relieve some of the tension she caused there.

“Y/N? Wanda? Can you hear me?” Calliope’s voice breaks through the speakers. The video is still loading and you can’t see her on the screen yet.

Understanding that the call includes her as well, Wanda quickly composes herself, matching your effort to regain decency. Both of you adjust your clothing, smooth down your hair, and take a deep breath.

“Am I disturbing anything?” Calliope inquires, an undercurrent of amusement lacing her tone. Your face turns a deeper shade of red at the hint of her insinuation, and you quickly shake your head in denial.

“With Christmas looming so near, I'd totally understand if you two prefer to reschedule–”

“No, it's okay,” you interject hastily. “Wanda and I are ready for this.”

The sound of Wanda's soft chuckle resonates beside you, and in a playful retort, you nudge her rib with your elbow. She responds with a firm, “Yes, we certainly are.”

Simultaneously, she reaches for your hand, weaving your fingers together in a comforting interlock, resting them gently on her lap. You smile inwardly, feeling more giddy about the intimate nature of this small action than the sex that almost happened.

Without further ado, Calliope delves directly into the agenda of this, your third session. She invites you and Wanda to share what your married life was like prior to the indiscretion, and you find yourself taking the lead.

“Honestly, it felt like we had a perfect marriage,” you start off. “Not just the marriage, but our entire life seemed idyllic. My career was progressing as planned. Wanda... She was my pillar, always there, always supportive.” You look at Wanda adoringly and in return, she offers a shy, hesitant smile, her eyes momentarily flickering away before meeting yours again. You don’t notice, but there’s something else there. Her demeanor has shifted ever since Calliope brought up the session’s main topic.

Her fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours as you continue, recounting the times when you both laughed together, celebrated successes, and held each other through tougher days.

“And it wasn't just that she was supportive,” you add, your voice catching slightly. “She was, and still is, my best friend. We shared everything.”

Wanda's quiet during your monologue. The room is silent except for the low hum of the laptop and the occasional soft exhale from Wanda. After a moment, Calliope's calm voice pierces the quiet.

“Thank you for sharing that,” she says. “Wanda, would you like to share your perspective now?”

Wanda nods and lets go of your hand, her eyes filled with a somber resolve, her voice quieter when she finally speaks.

“Over the course of our five-year marriage, I was mostly content–happy. However, I often found myself feeling like a shadow, rather than an…equal partner.”

You whip your head towards Wanda, but her eyes stay stuck on the laptop screen. It takes a few seconds longer before she finally turns her gaze towards you and says, “For the last few months before I–before what happened–it felt like I was just trailing behind you, almost constantly. But it's not your fault.

“I was grappling with feelings of inadequacy when I... made that mistake,” she continues, her voice faltering slightly as she alludes to her infidelity. “I was in a state of confusion, and despite your joy and accomplishments, I was unable to share in that same level of happiness,” Wanda finishes.

Just when you believe you're set for an easygoing session, life throws you a curveball. It seems each encounter with Calliope pops the cozy bubble you've created with Wanda. Each time you're certain you've navigated the thickest of storms, another one brews on the horizon, causing your heart to question–yet again–the durability of this second shot at a relationship with your ex-wife.

Wanda swallows hard, before adding, “And then there was the struggle to start a family. You were the one who wanted children, but when it got tough... I felt like I was in it far deeper than you were. You were supportive, yes, but it felt like I was alone in the intensity of wanting it, needing it.”

“What made you feel like I wasn't with you through this?" you ask, a tinge of frustration seeping in your tone.

She takes a moment before responding, “When I couldn't get pregnant, you seemed so quick to dismiss our failure... it made me feel even more isolated.”

You shake your head. She couldn’t be further from how it really was for you, but you can’t blame her if that was how she felt during those times.

“I'm sorry if it seemed like I was dismissive,” you whisper as memories play back in your mind, each one revealing nuances you hadn't recognized at the time. “It wasn't my intention to belittle our struggle. I guess... I just didn't want to see you in more pain than you were already in. I thought being optimistic and pushing forward would help us cope, but I see now how that might have come across as indifference.”

“Weren't you upset with me?” Wanda asks, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We invested so much for me to conceive and... and I failed. Do you... do you resent me for that?”

“Wanda,” you say, your voice choked with emotion, “I never cared about the money. And you didn't fail. It's a process, and sometimes it's a tough one. But I don't resent you, not for a moment. My disappointment was never with you, but with the situation. I felt...helpless.”

“Helpless,” you reiterate, your eyes steadfastly meeting Wanda's. “Because I was at a loss on how to support you... how to alleviate your pain.”

Your voice, once steady, falters slightly as you confess, “Each doctor's appointment, every unsuccessful attempt... It felt like I was failing you, like I couldn't provide the comfort or solution you needed.”

You draw a shaky breath before adding, “And in my helplessness, I pushed for us to move forward right away. But now I realize...it might have felt to you like I was dismissing your pain, dismissing our shared struggle. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Wanda murmurs, her voice heavy with regret. There's a softness in her gaze as she looks at you. “I’m sorry for not telling you what I was feeling.”

Just as you're about to respond, Calliope cuts in. “The reason I asked you both to share your perspectives on your marriage before is to gauge the level of openness and communication between you two. Communication is one of the key bridges to trust. If we understand where we each stood before, we can better see clearly where we want to go.”

With this new revelation, you can't help but wonder about other instances where your and Wanda's perspectives may have diverged significantly.

It makes you wonder, what other moments had been experienced so differently by the two of you? How many times have you found yourselves adrift on separate pages of the same story?

A cold shiver of uncertainty sweeps through you. You're not sure you're ready to dive deep into the past, to unpack five years of the life you had shared with Wanda.

The thought of your dissolved marriage possibly being built on illusion rather than truth feels scary, like realizing a favorite story might not be as real as you once thought.

The topic left untouched so far is how this disconnect relates to Wanda's act of infidelity. Despite your discomfort, the question lingers in your mind: If you were to misunderstand her feelings once more, would it drive Wanda away again?

You hold your tongue for the time being. Maybe there'll be a moment later to wrestle with this thought... or perhaps, you find yourself wishing, it might simply fade away with time.

A couple of hours later, you and Wanda find yourselves working together in the kitchen. The session with Calliope has ended on a less intense note (thankfully) with an anecdote about her cat after Wanda made a request for Calliope to share something about herself for a change.

Afterwards, Calliope, not one to shy away from uncomfortable questions, had boldly asked about your and Wanda's physical intimacy. In response to your surprised silence, she suggested a temporary pause on sexual activities. Her reasoning was that sex, while a key component in a relationship, could sometimes blur the perception of the emotional state of the partnership and hinder the process of rebuilding trust.

In place of physical intimacy, Calliope suggested an exercise known as “Eye Gazing”. The idea was simple: sit across from each other in a quiet room, looking into each other's eyes without speaking. It's an exercise designed to foster emotional connection and understanding, without the distraction of words.

As you stir the simmering soup and Wanda deftly slices the vegetables, the appetizing smell of your evening meal fills the room. The intensity of the session's discussions seems to recede, replaced by the cheer that Christmas Eve unfailingly brings as it approaches.

“Mom's home!” Pietro yells from outside, his voice bubbling with excitement over the Taylor Swift songs that Shannon has playing in the kitchen. Shannon's taken charge of directing the preparation of the prime rib and turkey, even though she's doing little more than calling the shots. It's almost as if she's forgotten that there's a seasoned cook in the house–someone who actually runs their own food and beverage business.

Wanda freezes at Pietro’s announcement and you put a hand on the small of her back and lean in to ask, “Are you okay?”

She nods and assures you further with a smile.

A few seconds later, the arrival of the twins’ mother is heralded by her appreciative comment about the tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen. You've only seen Iryna twice. The first time was when you drove Wanda to her hometown for a visit, and the last time was at a hospital, following a drug overdose just before you and Wanda tied the knot–an incident that was the final push for Wanda to sever all ties with her.

She appears significantly healthier compared to the grim memory etched in your mind. Her skin has a renewed vitality to it, and she's gained enough weight to fill out the hollow cheeks that you recall. Without the traces of addiction evident on her physique, she’s a dead ringer for Wanda.

You stop what you're doing, curious to see the reunion that would unfold.

Pietro’s arm is slung over Iryna’s shoulders as she laughs at something her son said. Wanda appears small and uneasy in the corner, waiting for her mother's recognition, uncertain whether she should be the one to make the first move.

“Wanda, dear!” Iryna calls out to Wanda with a wide smile, but as she makes her way to her daughter, she is intercepted by Shannon who greets her with a kiss on the cheek and engages her briefly in small talk. Wanda looks on, the corners of her lips downturned, and you can almost see the conflict of emotions in her wide, green eyes.

Finally, Pietro pulls his pregnant wife aside so that Iryna can have her moment with Wanda.

“Iryna,” Wanda murmurs, her voice choked with emotion. As her mother comes to a stop in front of her, Wanda can't help but notice how the years have softened her features.

“Hello, Dove,” Iryna's voice is tender, brimming with an affection Wanda had almost forgotten. Without another word, Iryna wraps her arms around Wanda, pulling her into a hug that feels like home.

Wanda stiffens momentarily, the walls she's built over the years making her hesitate. But as her mother's familiar scent fills her senses, she can't help but let go, letting the warmth of the hug thaw her frozen heart. Her hands tentatively rise, resting on her mother's back.

Tears prick at her eyes, tears she stubbornly fights back. She'd told herself countless times she never wanted to see her mother again, that she could live without her. But standing here, enveloped in her, she realizes just how much she had missed Iryna. At the same time, this woman feels like a new person, and she realizes she’s more than willing to embrace this opportunity to get to know her.

“Hey, where should I put this?”

All heads swivel toward the door where a man stands, holding a case of beer and sporting a friendly smile. With his chiseled features and confident posture, he could easily be mistaken for a model straight out of a Men's Health magazine. Around your age and undeniably attractive, your eyes quickly dart to Wanda, trying to read her reaction.

Wanda looks genuinely surprised, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the newcomer.

And there it is again, that constricting feeling in your chest, the sudden, inexplicable need to claim Wanda as yours and yours alone. You're unable to shake off the feeling, even as you remind yourself that Wanda's reaction is likely just a response to an unexpected guest.

You should trust her, after all.

Pietro is the first to recover from the surprise, a grin breaking across his face. “Tom!” he exclaims, laughing as he moves to take the beer from him. “Kitchen counter's fine.”

You wrack your brain to place this “Tom,” mentally sifting through the countless Maximoff family photos you've seen, but come up empty.

But then, as he strides towards Wanda with a familiarity that tugs at a memory, it suddenly clicks.

Yes, Tom. Wanda and Pietro's childhood friend, and also Wanda's ex-boyfriend.

“I forgot to mention,” Pietro starts, turning to the rest of the room with an apologetic grin, “Tom, our friend from back home, recently moved to town. He's new here and doesn't really know anyone yet, so I thought he could join us for tonight's dinner.”

A casual round of handshakes and friendly smiles makes its way to Tom, each person sharing a word or two of welcome.

When the introductions circle back to you, you accept his handshake, offering your name and a casual, “Merry Christmas,” before excusing yourself to grab a beer from the fridge.

A second later, Wanda is at your side, her fingers finding yours. She leans close to your ear and murmurs, “I've told you about Tom, right?”

“Your ex-boyfriend?” You keep your tone neutral. “Yeah, you did.”

“Yup, that's him,” she confirms, nodding in his direction, her eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

Finding your gaze locked onto Tom, you can't help but analyze him in every way. It's not your nature to be the jealous type, but after Wanda's affair, insecurity has a way of creeping into your thoughts every now and then. Perhaps Calliope hit the nail on the head; having sex with Wanda frequently might have lulled you into a false sense of security.

Meanwhile, Wanda's eyes are trained on you, her attention riveted to your reactions. Her indifference to Tom's presence is obvious, but you miss this entirely, too occupied with quelling the unexpected stir of jealousy within you.

She squeezes your fingers to get you to look at her, and when you do, you see nothing but total devotion in those green orbs.

“Why don't we get back to our cooking, huh?” she suggests with a small, warm smile.

It’s a reprieve from being helpless to your not entirely baseless worries. That’s Wanda for you–always able to draw you back, grounding you in moments like this.

Dinner is a massive success. Shannon revels in the praise, beaming with satisfaction. You and Wanda let her take all the credit, just happy to see everyone enjoy themselves.

Iryna keeps everyone entertained with funny stories from when Wanda and Pietro were kids, and the whole table is laughing. Tom joins in, too, sharing some memories and even shooting friendly smiles at you and Wanda. It still bothers you a little, but seeing Wanda enjoy herself helps you push it aside.

You can't help but watch Wanda throughout the evening. She's completely caught up in the Christmas cheer, her eyes lighting up like the twinkling lights around the room. Every once in a while, she looks your way, and when your eyes meet, you feel a warmth that's hard to describe.

After eleven years together, you'd think the initial thrill would fade, the love might settle into something comfortable and familiar. But with Wanda, it's different. It's almost frightening how you keep falling for her harder as the years go by.

Fortunately, no one bothers to reminisce about Tom and Wanda’s dating history, and you’re grateful for everybody’s consideration and respect for you and Wanda’s attempts at a reconciliation.

Still, a knot tightens in your stomach each time you notice Wanda and Tom sharing a knowing smile over Pietro's tales from their hometown. Your grip on your cutlery hardens as Tom attempts to engage Wanda in a casual chat or praises her culinary skills.

You find yourself imagining quite a few things, your mind drifting to their shared past and what they might have once been to each other. The more you think about it, the more you spiral into an unpleasant series of what-ifs and maybes.

Silently, you push your chair back and stand, excusing yourself. Except for Wanda, they don’t find anything amiss at your departure, their cheerful chatter resuming unimpeded.

A minute or so later, Wanda takes her leave as well, seeking you out. She discovers you in the guest room, the one both of you have been sharing, standing on the balcony, staring off into the distance.

She joins you at the balcony, her hand instinctively finding yours. “Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice soft, threading with concern.

In front of you, the landscape of Los Angeles stretches out, utterly unlike the steel jungle of New York you're used to. There are hills undulating in the distance, a patchwork of houses and greenery, the quiet echo of the ocean's waves caressing the shore, and an abundance of space that makes you feel both small and infinite at once.

Her thumb gently rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“Talk to me,” she gently urges.

You've always prided yourself on your level-headedness, your rational thinking. But jealousy... It is a powerful emotion, tearing at the edges of your pride.

“I don't know how to say this without sounding pathetic,” you sigh, your eyes dropping to where your fingers are entwined. “But watching you and Tom, laughing and sharing stories, it stirred up feelings I didn't expect. I felt... jealous. And I know it's ridiculous and irrational. I know you're not... you're not going to just... But I can't help how I feel.”

The confession leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You don't know what you're expecting Wanda to say. An apology, reassurance, a confession of her own perhaps. The silence stretches, heavy and awkward, but you can't find the courage to look at her.

“I get why you're feeling this way. It's because of me. Because of what I did… and I’m sorry for that,” Wanda’s voice comes out hoarse from laughing so many times at the dinner table.

It’s becoming a pattern: you being upset and Wanda apologizing over and over again. And it’s not even her fault this time.

“I can't control how you feel, and I don't want to pretend that I know what you're going through. But what I can do is keep showing up for you, keep proving that I'm all yours. That's all I can do, and that's what I promise,” she says. She moves closer, hugging you from behind, her arms encircling your waist. You feel her chin resting on your shoulder, and her warmth begins to envelop you. You let out a soft sigh.

Her honesty strikes a chord within you. You look at her, her eyes reflecting the moonlight, and in that moment, you want to believe her.

You want and want and want. But when does the wanting transform into reality?

Still keeping her hold, she murmurs in your ear, “You know, I think now might be a good time for your Christmas gift.”

You turn to face her in surprise, the earlier heavy conversation momentarily forgotten. “A Christmas gift?” you echo, and she simply nods, her smile widening a touch.

“Yep, and I've been holding onto it for the right moment,” she explains, releasing you from her embrace to reach into her pocket. She retrieves a small box, its exterior adorned with intricate details and a shiny ribbon.

Her eyes find yours, alive with anticipation and a flicker of nervousness that is so uncharacteristic of her. She hands the box over to you, maintaining eye contact all the while.

"Go on, open it," she urges.

You look at her once more before directing your attention to the small package in your hands. Unraveling the ribbon and lifting the lid, you're met with a glint of silver catching the ambient light.

Inside the box lies a delicate silver chain, a pendant attached at its center. The pendant is a small compass, intricately detailed and with a vintage aura. What surprises you more is the small photo inside the compass. It's a picture of you and Wanda, the first one you took together as friends inside a photobooth.

Your breath catches in your throat as you carefully lift the necklace from its cushioned home. You can't take your eyes off the image. It's a snapshot of a time when you both were deeply in love but unaware of it, where everything was fresh and new and brimming with hope and ambition.

A memory of pure, undiluted happiness.

“Wanda…” you start, feeling an inexplicable lump in your throat.

“I know we can't go back in time,” she interrupts softly. “But this...this is my promise to you. I want to go forward, create more moments like these, and give you a reason to trust me again.”

You glance at the necklace in your hand, then at the one adorning Wanda's neck–the necklace that carries her wedding ring. An overwhelming desire washes over you to remove it from its chain and place it back where it truly belongs: on Wanda's finger. But you swiftly check yourself. You're moving too fast, allowing your hopes to get ahead of reality. You resolve to not act impulsively, to not assume anything.

You turn in Wanda’s arms to face her, a sheepish grin on your lips. “You know, I also got you a Christmas gift,” you confess, a bit hesitant. “Though it's nothing compared to this, and now I feel... a little embarrassed.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with anticipation and a hint of amusement. She releases you and steps back, crossing her arms in front of her. “Oh, really? And here I thought you were going to outdo me,” she teases, chuckling at the red hue now spreading across your cheeks.

You let out a resigned sigh, knowing there's no way you can compete with the sentimentality of her gift. “Just... don't laugh, okay?” you warn her, but she's already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Nervously, you reach into your suitcase, pulling out a box about the size of a shoebox, wrapped carefully in nondescript brown paper. As you hand it over to Wanda, your heartbeat escalates, thumping loudly in your ears.

“I just... I mean, it's nothing grand like yours,” you stutter, your cheeks flushing. “It feels a bit silly now, to be honest.”

Wanda merely smiles at you. “Stop it, I'm sure it's wonderful.”

Gently, she tears into the paper wrapping, unveiling a box. Inside it, three distinct bags of single-origin coffee beans sit.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she takes in the contents of the box. “You got me coffee?” she echoes, an undertone of laughter coloring her voice.

Nodding bashfully, you say, “Yeah, I figured it could come in handy for the Cup-off.”

A chuckle escapes Wanda, and she lifts one of the bags to her nose, inhaling deeply. “These smell incredible,” she says, grinning at you. “This is such a thoughtful gift. Thank you. It’s just perfect.”

Your chest warms as you watch Wanda cradle the bags of coffee, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

“I’m sure this will help me make the best cup,” Wanda says.

You pull her in for a short but sweet kiss and say, “You already do.”

Much later, when everyone’s dozing off (Shannon) and catching up in small groups (Wanda and Iryna), Tom bids his goodbye to everyone, much to your relief. Your discomfort around him lingered in the background, even as you and Wanda returned to the living room to continue the celebrations and watch everyone else exchange Christmas presents.

Just as you're beginning to feel a bit more relaxed, Pietro approaches you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey, mind if I steal you for a second?” he asks, nodding towards the garden visible through the glass doors.

Puzzled, you glance at Wanda, but she’s in a deep and serious conversation with her mother.

You shrug your shoulders and say, “Sure, Pietro, lead the way.”

He walks you out into the cool night; it’s completely quiet except for the serenade of crickets hiding in the backyard.

Pietro settles onto a stone bench, and then gestures for you to join him.

As you take a seat, he fishes out a rolled blunt from his pocket. You merely raise an eyebrow and shake your head, waving away his offer.

His smirk broadens at your reaction. “Well, maybe it's worth a try. Might help you chill out a bit,” he suggests with a teasing note in his voice.

“No, thanks. I’m chill as it is,” you say.

“Really? Because I couldn't help but notice you weren't so 'chill' when Tom was around earlier.”

You hesitate, not expecting Pietro to call you out like this. “Was it that obvious?”

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. He then takes a generous puff of his blunt before exhaling slowly.

Suddenly, Pietro looks you in the eyes and asks, “Do you love Wanda?”

The directness of the question catches you off guard, more so than his earlier suggestion to try a blunt. You’re slightly offended that he feels the need to ask you this.

When you remain quiet and withdrawn for a long time, Pietro speaks again. “It’s not a rhetorical question by the way. I do want to know if you love Wanda.”

Finally, you turn towards him, brow furrowed, a hint of indignation in your eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one. Do you love my sister?”

Yes.

Always.

Nevertheless.

The answer has always been clear to you, but instead, you return the volley. “Why are you asking? What's this about?” You challenge, more skeptical now about his motives behind such a question than providing him with an answer.

He meets your gaze, an uncharacteristic intensity in his eyes. “Because if you really loved her, why did you let it come to this?” he asks pointedly. “Why did you let things fall apart? Why didn't you fight for your marriage? You hurt her, Y/N. You hurt my sister.”

He continues, “And I know the extent of how much you hurt her. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“Wait, what?” You choke out, disbelieving.

Pietro simply shrugs. “It was me,” he repeats, his voice steady, unrepentant. “I was the one who sent you that photo of Wanda in the hospital. I wanted you to see. To know.”

The shock is enough to rob you of words. Shame wells up inside you.

He smirks in satisfaction and mumbles to himself, “Yeah, that kinda felt good.”

The words seem to get stuck in your throat; they press in on you, making it hard to breathe.

Finally, you find your voice, though it comes out as more of a whisper, your eyes fixed on a nondescript point on the floor. “At that time... I was so deeply hurt. I believed, truly believed, that Wanda didn't love me anymore.” You swallow hard, your throat feeling painfully dry.

“And I didn't want to fight for our marriage because... I was scared. Scared to fail if I tried, scared to prolong the agony only to find out in the end that there’s nothing to save.” Your voice cracks slightly, as if the wound is still fresh despite the passage of time.

Even now, you can't say that you're a hundred percent confident that Wanda's love for you is certain. Perhaps nothing she does will ever completely assure you. Maybe this time, it's really up to you to have faith.

“I just wanted the pain to stop. So, I did the only thing I thought would help. I... I walked away,” you finish, staring into nothingness as the memory of your decision reverberates painfully within you.

Pietro falls silent, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, taking in what you've said. Then, with a penetrating look, he says, “Sounds more like you wanted to be the one to walk away first.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes are sharp. “You just didn't want to be the one left behind.”

A part of you can't deny it–perhaps you did preemptively end things out of fear of being the one left behind. A self-preservation measure that's caused more harm than good. But admitting that to yourself is another thing entirely, let alone to Pietro.

“Maybe,” you concede after a moment. “But can you blame me for it? You’ve never been in my shoes. Have you ever paused to consider what it was like for your ex-wives? What it was like for Shannon?” Your voice rises with each question, frustration finally breaking free from its confines.

Pietro looks at you, his expression inscrutable for a moment, before he gives you a curt nod.

“Touché,” he admits grudgingly, and then attempts a chuckle. “We suck at celebrating this Christmas thing together, aren’t we?”

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitches up in a small, matching smile. But then it’s gone almost instantly because the topic of loving Wanda is something you’ve always taken seriously.

“I think things would’ve been worse if I didn’t walk away. I was in a really dark place. I only realized it when several months later, seeing the bastard she slept with sent me off the rails.

“If I hadn't stepped away, things would've gotten even worse,” you explain. “It felt like I was stuck in never-ending darkness, with no hope of seeing the dawn. It was really bad. I didn't know how much until I ran into that guy she cheated with, months later. I just completely lost it.”

“That... actually makes a lot of sense,” Pietro says, his tone softer than before. “It might not have been the best approach, but I get it. It's tough to see things clearly when you're caught in a storm, isn't it?”

You nod, grateful for his understanding. This empathy from Pietro, who usually comes across as nonchalant, helps ease some of the tightness in your chest.

“But then,” Pietro continues, locking eyes with you. “That still leaves my question unanswered. Despite everything that's happened... Do you love Wanda?” His tone is serious, almost challenging, making it clear that he expects an honest answer this time.

You give him your answer this time.

***

You and Wanda arrive back in Manhattan around noon the next day.

The plane touches down smoothly on the John F. Kennedy runway, marking the end of an unforgettable weekend. As you collect your belongings, you turn to Wanda, gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you say, sincerity lacing your voice. “This weekend... It was something special. Really.”

Her lips curl into a soft smile as she meets your eyes. “I'm glad you had a good time,” she says. “But now, it's back to work. The coffee showdown won't prep itself.”

“Need any help with that?” you ask, eager to stay close, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

She looks at you, her eyes wide with surprise, then her face softens into a grateful smile. “You're probably worn out from the trip,” she says, “and honestly, it might take me all night to get it right.”

Undeterred, you reply, “Well, you need a test subject, right?”

She thinks about it some more.

“I promise I won't be biased. I won’t just say everything tastes delicious,” you add, trying to win her over.

Her laughter rings through the air as she finally nods, accepting your offer. “Alright, you're on.”

What follows is an all-night coffee marathon, filled with experimentation, flirty banter, and more cups of coffee than you can count.

Despite the late hour and the caffeine jitters, you wouldn't have it any other way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #pietro maximoff

231 notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 6 months

Text

Help! My Girlfriend just Fell Down The Alt - Right Supe Supremist Pipeline pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a cate hurt/comfort where unlike andre's coward ass u actually fix her 🫶 pls and tyy”

Pairing: Cate Dunlap x fem!reader

Words: 1.3k+

A/N - turned this request into part 2 of my other cate story because i'm obsessed with the idea of cate dating an empath. you don’t have to read the first part

WARNINGS - mention of murder, death and blood

PREV //

it's a bright sunny day but the air is polluted with the rich taste of fear; a chaotic blend of fear and anger. you don't know what to do. where to go. you thought you left this behind when you ran. your head aches. heart hammering in your chest. all around you students and faculty scramble in search of safety. Bodies litter the ground. blood drowns the lush green grass. and you are powerless to stop it. useless. this school housed so many heroes but your powers were far from useful. you're almost frozen in time. this very spot on the godu campus, your newfound home. waiting. waiting for the inevitable moment someone notices and you end up just another casualty.

it's so hard to focus with the swirling emotions that invade your head. every inch of your body burned with other people's pain. everyone was feeling so much; too much. it hurt. it felt like your brain might explode. you kinda wish it would. but despite it all your eyes settle on familiar blonde hair. beautiful blue eyes stained deep red. Cate. you had left so abruptly. perhaps you should be more apprehensive right now. but you feel no ill intentions.

"h-hey," it's a pathetic murmur restrained by the pounding in your head. She was your girlfriend and you could hardly say a word. You're not even sure what you could say to rectify this. murdering dean Shetty was one thing. a sad attempt at vengeance. it was hard enough to ignore but this? this came across as insane. this was too much. you had told the others you would deal with Cate not because you actually thought you could help but because you were scared of what they would do. Cate was public enemy one on the campus today.

"I've been looking for you," there's a tenderness to her voice. a softness she reserved for you; especially right now. her emotions are hard to shift through when mixed with so many others. too many others. but a deep anger settles over you. you know it's not directed at you. it's fighting with a desire to have you understand her point of view.

"you have to stop this cate," if only it was that straightforward. if words were enough this wouldn't have happened. you wouldn't have to beg your girlfriend to stop her lethal rampage. even if she physically was not the one killing. it's a weird position to be in. one that fills your stomach with a bottomless darkness pit... or maybe that was just the scene before you. either way, you felt nauseated.

"we're actually getting somewhere," there was an overwhelming weariness to her voice. She was clearly exhausted; struggling to stand straight as she clarified her frustration. you knew well the toll her powers took. that pang of fear every time you've watched her overdo it. you wonder how many people she has pushed into doing her bidding. how much her brain must hurt. how much she needs to rest. even how many people are dying under her authority. "people need to know what was going on here. We aren't just lab rats for Vought- we deserve respect."

"I agree," a flicker of surprise almost sends the blonde tumbling to the ground. "we deserve respect but this isn't how to get it. just stop and we can- we can figure this out." it takes everything in you to risk a step closer. pinpointing her feelings amongst the rest. it was a hazy feeling; tingly almost. you couldn't quite decipher what belonged to who still.

"Why can't you see that this is the only way," she implores. "it's the only way they'll listen."

"it's not worth it Cate," you express. "you're hurting innocent people-"

"they're not innocent." she snarls. Red-hot anger bursts through your veins. your jaw tenses. fist clenched. "you heard what Shetty said. they think we're freaks. they hate us-" You don't want to think about Shetty; you couldn't. it was too much. too taxing. the blood. so much blood. so much bitterness. an unsteady breath pushes its way past your lips.

"you're hurting me, Cate," you bark; fuelled by Cate's fear. her emotions were taking over. driving you forward. "all these emotions- all this fear. my head is on fire. it's too much. I can't- I can't handle it."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, dragging her eyes away. almost like she was unable to bear looking at the suffering she was causing. "I know this is hard for you, I wish it didn't have to be but this is the only way. I'm protecting us. I'm protecting you." you didn't need to be a mind reader to know Cate's intentions. her misguided desire for retribution. more fuelled by revenge for how she has been treated than a will to help people. she's explained it all already.

"Cate..." her name slips tenderly from your lips; biting back her fire that's burning inside. "I don't need protecting. I just- I need you." your desperate now. desperate for the pain to stop. for Cate to give up this crazy crusade. you wanted to go back to how things were. you wanted to hold her hand as you walked across campus to class each morning. wanted to surprise her with a cupcake after a hard day. cuddle up in bed while you watch the cheesiest movie known to man just because she enjoyed it. you wanted normal. you deserved that. you all did. "we can figure this out. I promise we can- just give me a chance." you continue. "I don't wanna lose you." you know she's hesitant by the way her eyes flicker to you and then away again. searching for a reason to deny you. to push you away further. her anger was no longer a raging fire but a muted flame as your words settled over her. "please," expressed softly. "we can get through this together." she could read your mind. She must know you are being genuine.

"Okay," the blonde mumbles, finally meeting your gaze. such pretty eyes even stained with abuse of power. "yeah," she nods a little; holding out her hand. you pause. it would mark a sign of trust. She didn't have her glove which meant that there was a possibility this was just a trick. if you take her hand she could make you do whatever she wanted. she could push you into believing her philosophy. She could kill you if she wanted. surely she wouldn't though? your girlfriend had never used her powers on you. She used to be all about consent. but you also thought she wasn't capable of murder and look at how that turned out. she was probably in your head listening. could hear your doubt. you watch a sadness wash over her face as she retracts her peace offering and in a panic, you roughly grab her hand. it's unexpected even by you. but you couldn't give up on her. you loved Cate, you wanted to trust her. you needed to trust that she was still good.

"I trust you" blurted out loudly. drowning in her anger. in her pain and fear. it's all so much. your legs buckle and it takes significant effort to stay upright. there is a glimpse of something unexplained in her eyes. Cate was the most important person to you. you struggle to watch your paths diverge before you have a chance to tell her your feelings. She probably knew. there was no hiding with Cate. not anymore. but she couldn't hide from you either. you can feel everything. our emotions expose true intentions. and even amongst all the dread, there was a warmth radiating through now like the sun breaking through dark clouds. She held bright feelings for you. you could feel her passion radiating.

"you... trust me?" Cate asks. her voice quiet. unsure.

"I trust you," you give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just wanna help you- let me help you."

her eyes search yours for a moment before arms are wrapped around your shoulders and Cate falls against you. you stumble back under the weight of her body; the weight of her emotions. but you still hold on tight. chasing that beautifully warm feeling. "just me and you."

"Always," whispered softly.

#cate dunlap #gen v #the boys #cate dunlap x reader #jordan li

106 notes · View notes

drewharrisonwriter · 9 months

Text

Donor | Drabble | Dirty Dancing

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, this is a drabble for my Henry Cavill fic Donor. English is not my first language. Darling bestie found Hank's dancer doppleganger.

Also, guys, I made a GIF. LMAO 🤣

One lazy Saturday evening, you were once again lounging on the couch, your legs stretched out comfortably and a tablet in your hand.

You had been absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, a guilty pleasure of yours recently, when suddenly, a video caught your eye.

The Grand Theatre had uploaded a sneak peek of the upcoming production of Dirty Dancing. The camera panned to the cast, and there was Michael O'Reilly, leading the cast in a rehearsal of an iconic dance scene. You snorted, trying to stifle a laugh.

The catchy music and impressive choreography were enough to entertain you, but what had you trying to hold yourself back from laughing hysterically was the comments section. People were flooding the comments, pointing out the uncanny resemblance between Michael O’Reilly and a certain someone.

You finally burst into laughter, catching Henry's attention from the carpeted floor next to you on the couch. He looked up from his book, a quizzical expression on his face. "What's so funny?"

Still giggling, you turned the tablet toward him, showing him the video. "Look at this! It's the cast of the new Dirty Dancing rehearsing, and Michael O'Reilly is literally doing the lift!"

Henry's eyes widened as he watched the video. "First of all, that's impressive," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what's got you laughing so hard?"

You couldn't contain your mirth as you scrolled down to the comments section. "Read these comments!" you exclaimed, handing the tablet to Henry.

As he read the comments, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Is it just me, or is Michael O’Reilly literally Henry Cavill?"

"Wait a minute, are we sure Henry Cavill isn't moonlighting as a dancer?"

"I see Henry Cavill wearing a disguise! No way that's not him!"

You couldn't contain your laughter as Henry read aloud some of the comments out loud. Henry watched the video again with a raised eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement.

"Are they serious?" he chuckled, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "I mean, I get it. Michael and I might share a resemblance, but I promise you, I'm not secretly moonlighting as a dancer."

Kal let out a playful woof, seemingly agreeing with Henry's sentiment.

"But…" He said, pausing the video, and pointing at it. "I can definitely lift you like that." He winked at you, his voice carrying a playful undertone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You wiped away a tear from laughing so hard, your voice still laced with amusement. "Oh, really now? Are you suggesting we audition for a remake?"

Henry's eyes glinted with a suggestive gleam, his grin growing devilish. "Well, I can't speak for my dance skills in that level, but I'm quite confident in my lifting abilities."

Your laughter blended with a mixture of delight and flirtatiousness. "Is that so? Maybe we should practice then, just to be sure you've got it down."

Henry's laughter joined yours, the atmosphere between you growing charged with playful energy. "Practice makes perfect, after all."

"I still can't believe people are convinced it's you! Maybe you do have it in you to make it in the theatre world."

Henry shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "Well, I guess it's always good to have options if this acting thing doesn't work out."

You laughed again, your sides practically hurting from the sheer hilarity of it all. It was moments like these that made your life with Henry so special – the ability to find joy and humor in the simplest of things.

Henry's laughter joined yours as he handed the tablet back to you. "Well, I must say, I've always had a hidden talent for dance."

You playfully rolled your eyes, finally coming down from the high of the situation. "Yeah, just keep it hidden, Hank." He responded with a playful swat to your arm.

"And don't let your newfound dance skills overshadow your other talents," you teased, a gleam of humor in your eye.

He got on his knees and leaned over the couch, his chin resting on your shoulder. "And what talents might those be, my love?"

His voice dipped into a slightly husky tone, his gaze smoldering with a suggestive spark, nuzzling his nose against your ear.

A playful grin curved your lips as you turned your head to meet his gaze. "Oh, you know... the kind of talents that require a bit more privacy and a lot less clothing."

His deep chuckle reverberated through the room, his lips brushing against your neck. "Well, in that case, perhaps we should put this tablet away and focus on exploring those talents." he murmured, gently taking the tablet from your hands and drawing you into a passionate kiss that left no room for further words.

Tag list:

@jyessaminereads @summersong69 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetandgentlecreature @kingliam2019 @leaveitbythewave @mrsevans90 @evansabove1981 @bascmve01 @shellyshellshell @iamsana @foxyjwls007 @one-sweet-gubler @henryownsme @angelcavill66

169 notes · View notes

frostycatblr-fandom-files · 8 months

Text

A (Hair)Cut Above The Rest [Hunter x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: Trying to brute force my motivation to write by writing this in the course of an hour or so, so blame any spelling/grammar/plot mistakes I didn't catch in the editing on the caffeine. Undescribed fem!reader. Hunter is not described completely accurately to how he's depicted in The Bad Batch show (meaning not whitewashed) and is having a little hair trouble. Reader helps him out. Mando'a pet names are used. Order 66? Don't know her. [I got a haircut recently and I'm gonna have Hunter thoughts about it apparently.]

Word-count: 1,688

Through a turn of events that would take too long to recap, it has been you and the sergeant of Clone Force 99 aboard the Havoc Marauder for the past four days, and only you and the sergeant. You haven't minded traversing the stars, just the two of you, but you suspect he's beginning to become antsy for one reason or another the longer you and Hunter have been away on a supply run.

Several times now you've caught grumbling and grimacing every occasion he has to adjust the crimson bandana for any reason.

He's being as discreet as he can be, but you just get this feeling that Hunter is growing so uncomfortable the longer you're away from his brothers. "How much longer until we get back to the rest of the squad on Saleucami?" When he asks you this question, it's through gritted teeth and measured breathing, like he's trying to reign in his temper or something. Stave off panic, perhaps.

You look at the astronav and perform a quick mental estimate with a shrug. "Probably a day, or less. Why?"

"I don't think I can wait that long…" Hunter swears bitterly under his breath as he rips the knot of his bandana apart, and lifts the thick, curled brown hair off the back of his neck. "It's my hair," he explains with a flushing face, "normally one of my brothers helps me with this when it gets too long, but it's just you and me right now, mesh'la. I really need your help. I don't think I can wait another day before I can get this extra weight off my head and neck. Please, Ka'ra…"

He's near-desperately asking you for help in wrangling his hair, even buttering you up with pet names in Mando'a. Beautiful. Star.

Before he can beg again, you agree to help. Maker help you for having such a tender heart; never one to turn away a friend in need. "I'm not exactly a cosmetology school graduate, but I'll see what I can do." You just have to grab some items like a few hair clips and something to cut his hair with from your shower kit that's stashed in your bunk first, and then you can meet him in the refresher that's just barely big enough for Wrecker to comfortably fit in to get a handle on Hunter's hair situation.

"I don't need pretty, I just need it gone." Hunter insists, his breathing a little hitched. "There's just too much weight on my head, ka'ra." He's looking for a place to sit in the fresher, finally opting for the floor. It'll have to do. You have to kneel behind him as you make a quick assessment, and you promise you'll be gentle.

"If I'm pulling too much, you let me know, okay?"

You start to make the first cut, hoping to whatever higher powers that be in the galaxy that you'll have feeling in your knees by the time you're done. It's not exactly pleasant to put all your weight on your knees for a long time in such a cramped space.

Hunter comes just short of moaning in his relief as the weight eases off his tender scalp with every careful cut, and every slow pass of the comb through his hair to keep things tidy and mostly blended as you do your best to cut his hair in the tiny on-board 'fresher. You're going slow to start out with, doing your best to avoid sending him over the edge. You're no stranger to the rare instance that touch and taste and sound and smell becomes much too much for the Clone with half of a skull forever painted into the bronzed skin of his face. And you prove your attentiveness by how tenderly you hold the hair off the back of his neck, sensing he needs a break from all the tugging and brushing of his thick head of hair after ten minutes.

"Thank you… thank you, ka'ra…" Hunter utters, grateful that you offer reprieve without being explicitly asked. He can allow his eyes to flutter closed for a moment and likely lose himself in the constant thrum of noise inside the attack shuttle. "Feeling a bit better already."

"Oh, good. If you want me to let go, or you're ready to start again, just say the word."

"I appreciate you doing this…" he says again in a fervent utterance of thanks after some time passes by in silence, nodding decidedly when he's ready again. "...I just couldn't wait any longer. It was getting to be too much."

You pick up the pair of scissors you had set down in order to hold his hair up, and get back into position behind him. "You're welcome, Hunter. Don't want you to be too uncomfortable, now do we?" You've heard his brothers say those words a hundred times over. (But his brothers aren't here with you now. You'll be back to them soon. Hopefully they've kept out of trouble while visiting the Lawquanes.)

Sometimes Crosshair, Echo, Wrecker and Tech say it in teasing, when Hunter's hesitant to go perusing a quaint summer market on Naboo because of the pressing crowds. Sometimes they say it while trying to force him into his bunk, knowing that the careful cocktail of muscle relaxers and pain relievers will knock him flat on his ass once they've kicked in after particularly long missions, and Hunter stubbornly believes he'll lay down in his bunk before they do.

You've laughed yourself silly listening to Crosshair or Echo scolding him with a stern, mostly concerned "Get back in bed, Hunter!" like a child caught out of bed on more than one occasion as he's tried to stumble his way through the shuttle. "You don't need to take care of that right now, let one of us do it. You're. Drugged. Lay down so the medicine can do its job."

As more and more hair is snipped free, you see the relief washing over him, the discomfort ebbing away at last. "Feeling better?" you ask, brushing through his ends one last time to make sure it looks mostly lined up.

"Much. Thank you, mesh'la…"

You could theoretically have all his hair cut at once, and you offer while you've still got the scissors and comb in your hands, but Hunter thinks he can wait on thinning out the rest when you get back to the Lawquanes with things they needed for the farm. It was just the weight of his hair on his neck that he was struggling with the most today.

"Well, I'm glad I could help. Hopefully I didn't do too bad a job." you say with a gentle chuckle, brushing the loose hair from his shoulders and sweeping up the mess with the small dustpan set Hunter found somewhere else on the Marauder. He runs his hands through his hair experimentally, and then carefully ties it back with the red slip of fabric he tucked in his pocket.

"Not too bad I'd say, mesh'la…" Hunter's warm, appreciative grin sends your stomach fluttering at the sincerity, the way his eyes crease ever so gently with the gesture is equally precious. "Certainly a cut above what I could've done on my own."

"Who usually helps you cut your hair?" you wonder, fixing a curling lock of hair back into place previously trapped under the bandana.

"Cross does, typically."

"That's nice of him," you reply with a bright smile, "hopefully I didn't steal all his fun when we get back to Saleucami and he finishes the rest of the haircut."

Nothing gets past the sharp-sighted sniper: when you disembark the Omicron-class shuttle, Hunter just a little behind you as you carefully tromp down the ramp, Cross stops mid-turn in a game of Sabacc up against Cut, Echo and Tech to voice himself.

"I told you you should have let me cut your hair before you left, Hunter."

"You did, yes."

"And you didn't listen," Crosshair continues, shaking his head almost disapprovingly. Almost. He's slightly more worried than it would appear. "Had sensory troubles and had to cut it, didn't you?" Hunter bobs his head once, and sheds the bandana to allow Crosshair to perform an inspection, Sabacc now abandoned momentarily. "Hmm. Doesn't look half bad this time, Hunter."

"Afraid I can't take the credit. I asked her to help me." Hunter explains, nodding once in your direction. Crosshair's tone of scrutiny changes, now that he understands it's not his brother's handiwork.

To his memory, this is the first time you've offered to help Hunter deal with his hair like this. His brother takes good enough care of his hair on his own, save for cutting what he can't see or comfortably reach behind his head, and that's where Hunter usually turns to his brothers for help.

Wrecker, who's just gotten back from exploring with Omega, Jek and Shaeeah since they saw the Marauder coming in for a landing near the farm not too long ago, sees that Crosshair is still passively fussing through Hunter's recently-cut hair and assumes he's missed the trimming.

"Hey not bad, Cross! That was quick!"

"Can't take the credit," Cross chuckles softly, nodding in your direction, "but she can."

And there's a little cleaning up that he notices he'll need to do, but otherwise, you pretty much nailed it. "Not bad, doll." Crosshair offers at long last. "Not bad at all. Think you're gonna replace me if I'm not careful." After dinner, time and circumstances allowing, he'll coach you through on how he usually takes care of Hunter's hair when it reaches a certain length since Hunter trusted you enough to ask for help out of the blue, after Hunter recounts the ordeal to his brothers and sister.

"Always happy to help, Hunter." you promise him.

Hunter returns your friendly smile as he ties his hair back for the time being, saying he'll help Cut gather everything from the shuttle and put it in the shed for the time being before everyone helps with getting things ready for dinner.

"I'm certainly lucky that you are, mesh'la."

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

122 notes · View notes

rewrittenreality · 10 months

Text

Meant To Be

Pairing: Emmett x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mention of a gun, mention of death, Emmett and Reader being in love

Summary: In your time with Emmett, you've realized just how much you like him

A/n: This is part 2 of A Sense of Safety! I'm in my Cillian Murphy phase as you can clearly tell.

You had been with Emmett for about a month now, his home in the old steel mill now becoming your home. It wasn’t much, but it worked for the both of you and that was all you needed.

When your shoulder was feeling better, you tried to leave so you wouldn’t become an issue in Emmett’s small space. However, he insisted that you stayed, telling you he didn’t want you out in the hell ridden world by yourself. He needed the sense of comfort you brought him and you needed the safety you felt with him around.

So, you agreed to stay with him, having your own little corner to put your belongings you did have left. Over time, the two of you started sharing the makeshift bed against the wall. You had slept better in the past few weeks than you had since the end of the world started.

There was one little problem. Your growing attraction to Emmett was not making it easier to sleep in such close quarters. You often woke up to his arm over your side, an unintentional act on his part but flustering nonetheless.

There was something about Emmett that you loved. His looks were part of that, but you couldn’t help but fall for his personality. He was quiet and shy, but at the same time kind and caring. He always ensured your safety above his own, trying his best to keep you out of harms way.

Emmett thought much the same about you. He started falling for you, something he never thought he would ever do again after the death of his family. It wasn’t a topic many people in the world thought about anymore after the creatures arrived.

You were perched atop one of the ledges in the steel mill, keeping watch while Emmett went on a supply run. There wasn’t much to keep watch for as long as there was no noise to alert anything around you of your presence. But, it ensured that nothing was able to get into the mill undetected.

You and Emmett normally took turns doing runs, but this was Emmett’s 2nd time in a row. You had a close call on your last run, almost getting yourself killed. Emmett couldn’t risk losing another person he cared for, so he insisted on going for the time being.

It did get kind of boring sitting on your ledge for hours on end. You found ways to keep yourself entertained though, often taking books that Emmett had found on his previous runs to read. Before all of this, reading in complete silence would have been hard for you to do. These days it was very normal for you.

As you read your book, a screech rang through the air. You immediately dropped your book and picked up your rifle to look through the scope. You scanned the area, your scope landing on Emmett who was sprinting towards the concrete opening in the building.

Right behind him was one of those things, its large body almost blending in with the area around it. You aimed your rifle at its head, your finger on the trigger as you waited for the right time to shoot. As soon as the protective armor on its head opened, you pulled the trigger. You were thankful for the silencer you had made as you watched the creature fall to the ground.

A couple weeks back, you had figured out that there was a way to kill these things. It was by pure accident, but it was beyond helpful. You could now kill the creatures if there was enough time to wait for the right moment.

Emmett looked up to your ledge, smiling at you as he disappeared into the mill. You made your way down, meeting him at the entrance to your hiding place. You jumped down the entrance, Emmett following close behind you.

He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath as he pulled his mask down. You took the supplies from him, storing everything away as Emmett rested for a minute. You turned back to him, finding him smiling at you. You raised your eyebrow at him, smiling back at him.

“Thanks for saving my ass.” Emmett whispered, his smile only growing.

“You save my ass all the time, Emmett. We’re a team now, we have to watch each other's backs.” You retorted in a playful manner.

Emmett took off his jacket and hat, placing them on the chair behind him. As he turned back to you, you used your finger to wipe off the dirt on his nose. He tensed at the touch, but didn’t stop you as you continued wiping the dirt off his face. Neither of you were used to touch these days, finding yourselves tensing at any small touch the two of you shared.

Emmett found himself leaning into your touch, feeling so gentle and soft on his rouged and worn face. His hand came up to hold your wrist, his grip almost ghost like in fear of hurting you. You ran your thumb over his cheek, wiping the last bit of dirt from his face.

You stared into his eyes, letting your fingers linger on his cheek. There was a sparkle in Emmett’s eyes that you had only noticed a couple times before, that of wonder and awe. His normally steel blue eyes appearing brighter, as if the gray was slowly fading.

It was completely silent as you stood there, staring at each other. Emmett was hesitant as he slowly leaned forward, afraid of how you would react. To his relief, you began leaning forward as well, meeting him in the middle.

Closing the gap between the two of you, Emmett captured your lips in a gentle kiss. Your hand on his cheek made its way to the back of his head, your fingers running through his silver streaked brown locks. You could feel the tickle of his beard against your lips and chin, making you smile into the kiss.

Emmett ran one hand down your back, the other finding its place on your hip. He pulled you closer to him, resting your foreheads together as you broke apart. Your hand was still entangled in his hair, your other hand splayed across his chest. You could feel his heart racing, somewhat relieved that yours wasn’t the only one.

“I can’t lose you, Y/n.” Emmett whispered, his hand on your hip moving up to rest on your cheek.

“Never gonna lose me, Emmett. I promise.” You smiled softly, using your fingers to comb through his hair in a soothing manner.

You stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, never letting go of each other. It was as if somehow, in some way, the 2 of you were made for each other. Even in the darkest of times, times like these, you were meant to find each other. You were meant to feel safe in each other’s arms. It was just meant to be.

#emmett a quiet place #emmett x reader #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #a quiet place

162 notes · View notes

mccnstruck · 4 months

Text

for forever, never yours.

characters: kazuha x gn!reader

tags: hurt no comfort, angst, mutual pining but you never get together, kazuha has commitment issues LMFAO, short fic, kissing

a/n: if you saw this before....no you didnt. HAHA but i reposted it because this wouldnt show up on any tags whatsoever and i need validation but anyways ENJOY

Your body shook rapidly, and had it not been for the individual in front of you, you would have thought of the house to be cold. Yet, the cold winds outside couldn't bear to strike your heart, as his quiet, unsweetened words did.

Your hands encaptured his, and you lowered your head to avoid his pitiful gaze.

“Please, Kazuha. I know you like me. I've seen the letters. I'm not blind to the way you look at me. Please.”

Refusing to let him see your tears, you failed to notice the accompanied shine in his eyes.

“You know I cannot fulfill your wish, my star.”

You shot your head up.

“Why…just why?! If you have the ability to write about my presence with words so sweet it hurts, then why can't you say it to me right now? Why can't you confess to me right now?”

You paused your outburst and lowered your head in desperation. Tears pricked your vision.

“Why call me ‘my star’ when I can't even be yours…?”

For the first time in your acquaintance with Kazuha, you had finally got him to become undoubtedly, utterly speechless. Yet, no sense of acknowledgement or reward eased the burning pain in your heart.

A silence of sadness drowned your heart in longing, yet the very person you longed for was so close…

And yet…so, so far.

“I… I cannot make you mine. I've dreamt of your eyes sharing the very yearning I've held in my heart. Your hands have held my own in a way that no one else would be able to. Yet, you know of my position. I cannot stay here.”

“I'm not trying to stop you, Kazuha, I was never going to stop you. I just want you. Have you thought of that?”

“I have thought of it–time and time again. That is entirely the issue, star.”

His hands left yours and gently cradled your jaw, enough for you to look back at his glimmering eyes and the aching sorrow filling his words.

“I cannot burden you with that unknowing of my presence. You deserve to belong in the arms of someone who can kiss you goodnight and stay to kiss you good morning.”

Your voice cracked, and you wondered how long he had rehearsed these words, this dialogue, in his head. For as much as you gazed your eyes over the letters you found, you never found the sad goodbye of what could have been lovers.

“I don't care about how long I will have to wait until I can see you again. Hell, I don't care if I don't see you for years! I just… I just want to be yours. I just want to know that I was yours. That you would think of me as yours.”

Kazuha’s eyes widened, and he struggled to find words to ease your heart.

“I…You have to understand, Kazuha. My heart will ache, regardless. Yet, do not leave me with the possibilities of what could have been. What we could've been.”

Kazuha paused to let your words etch itself onto his skin.

“I cannot burden you with me. However, I will be here in your arms for one night more. I will be yours tonight.”

You stayed silent, staring into his crimson eyes.

Oh, how love, burning with a passionate red, could leave such an aching pain in your heart. Love blends in with the blood pulsing through your veins; it becomes one with your blood. It creeps into the heart, and the heart bursts with desire; it is fueled with a purpose. But love could be very much fatal. Love will be stripped from your being; and when your heart deems it as necessary, it will burst out of your ribs, begging for it back.

Love is found in Kazuha’s crimson, knowing eyes.

“Kiss me.”

And love is found when he hadn’t hesitated to oblige to your request.

He kissed you so feverently, desperately holding on to your presence. His hands traced your cheeks, noted every mole, every single detail, until he could vividly recall your face behind his eyelids.

He felt your hands bring him closer, and felt your tears become heavier. Yet he knew he had no right to wipe them away when they were the reflection of his choices.

You tried to pull away, but he only pulled you back in. He kissed your cheeks, your nose, your temples. When his lips hovered over yours, he spoke.

“Find me once more, take me by the hands, and I promise to you I will kiss you with every single vow of staying.”

He leaned in even closer, and felt your breath on his.

“Will I be able to find you in every universe, Kazuha?”

“Absolutely. For if there is a universe without you, what is there for me to live for?”

He leaned to kiss you once more, and you let him. For you both know that he would leave without his heart in the morning; and that you would stay in your empty abode; your heart will burst to see a glimpse of a shadow that would never be yours.

mccnstruck

#recovered_literature_!#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kazuha x y/n

58 notes · View notes

short-honey-badger · 2 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 30 - All Blends

Alright. We're jumping around quite a bit here. Also, I'm doing my own thing with the OP timeline. I tried to keep it as close to Canon as I could in the beginning, but we're gonna go a little off course now. Hope ya don't mind!

Warnings! Mihawk and Shanks have a pity party, and some smut happens. Out reader gets some company she really doesn't want.

Masterlist

Mihawk cradles brow in one hand, his head pounding in a hangover. After his Angel had ended the call, he and Shanks had cracked open the “good stuff” as the redhead called it. He must have passed out still sitting in his chair, and the young man had curled up on the loveseat tucked in the back corner of his study. He wipes his eyes, grimacing at the state of himself. The warlord had definitely let himself go in these two weeks.

How could he not when you had sent him away? Told him to leave with such a cold look that he had no idea how you felt about all of this other than utter betrayal? Mihawk couldn't get his mind off of his angel. Were you okay? Were you getting enough to eat?

He and Shanks had taken up a lot of duties around the cottage as the weeks passed. Doting on you and making sure that you and their baby wanted for nothing. Shanks liked to cuddle you close on the couch, making sure that you couldn't move while Dracule uttered around the house, cleaning up after a lazy week and taking care of the early morning chores.

“I bet she'll have red hair and big golden eyes just like her daddies,” Shanks murmurs into your ear, his single arm curled around your waist and holding you to his chest. You blush at his words, eyes closed as you imagine a little girl like your lover describes, laughing and playing in the shallow waters.

Mihawk leans against the wall that separates the kitchen and living room, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches his two dearest ones laid up on the couch together.

He pushes himself back, wobbling to his feet and groaning when his stomach sloshes dangerously. His head feels full, mouth dry, and cottony. Every step makes the pain in his head spike, and Mihawk shoves at Shanks’ shoulder when he makes it to the loveseat.

The redhead makes a sound closer to a wounded elephant than a human, cracking his dark eyes open to glare at Mihawk. The warlord shoves at him again. He sighs heavily before shifting to lay on his back. Satisfied, Dracule draps himself over the broader man, tucking his face in the crook of Shanks’ neck and sighing when he feels an arm sling across his back.

The two of them lay there for a while, dozing off at some point and waking back up to find a more comfortable position before dozing back off.

Dracule wakes to the feel of nails scratching his scalp. He hums low in his throat, pushing his face into his tan skin and pressing his lips along the sensitive skin. He leaves a smattering of kisses there, lips quirking up when Shanks tightens his arm around his waist. A soft groan leaves the younger man when Mihawk shifts up to run his lips along his scruffy jawline, and his eyes crack open when Dracule kisses him.

The kiss is slow and steady, a sweet push and pull that stays innocent. Mihawk pulls away and rests his head on his lover's chest, pillowed on the strong pecs there, eyes sliding shut until he breathes deep and gets a whiff of them both.

Mihawk jerks his head up, lips curling in a sneer. Neither of them have taken very good care of themselves and had continued their self-destruction after you had called, wallowing in self-pity and lamenting about their shitty choices.

“I never should have told her, Shanks,” Mihawk bemoans into the glass of hard liquor. The redhead stares down at his lover and shakes his head at the wreck slumped over his desk, “Perona has not stopped her incessant whining. I know I'm in the wrong.”

“I know, baby. She'll call again, though. I'm sure she will,” Shanks murmurs and then pours them both drinks. He leans his weight into Mihawk. “She just needs some time.”

After you called last night and more or less sober and hungover, Mihawk wasn't very inclined to continue his beder. Hawkeye wonders where the ghost girl had run off to. He vaguely remembers shouting at her a couple of days into his self-destruction. His head hurt too much to think about that right now.

Mihawk shoves himself up from Shanks, making the redhead huff and trying to pull him back down.

“Let me go, Shanks. We need to get up,” Dracule grumbles at the younger man. He has to wrestle his shirt out of the redhead's grip and quietly curses him when it causes Mihawk to tilt dangerously to the stone floor.

“Noooo. Stay here. It's cold, and you're warm,” Shanks whines and makes a grabby hand at his hawk.

“Red, we stink worse than a dive bar. I'm getting up to bathe,” Mihawk hisses right back and finally stands from the loveseat.

“_, would kill us if she saw us like this. Come on. We need to clean up.”

It takes a bit more coaxing for Shanks to get up, and he's all but useless in trying to direct to the bathroom. The redhead is still drunk as hell, and Mihawk has to sling the Emperor’s arm over his shoulders to get him going. Dracule grumbles all the way to the bathroom and drops Shanks on the nearest stool. He sways to the side, only to jerk back up when Mihawk smacks the side of his face just hard enough to sting.

“Wake up, Red. I am not washing you.”

Shanks pouts, hand holding his sore cheek as he gives Mihawk the best stink eye he can muster up right now. His hurt feelings dissipate the moment his woozy mind catches up to where they are, and his eyes zero in on Mihawk when the older man begins to undress.

He watches his hawk peel away his shirt, exposing his muscled back and tapered waist. Shanks feels his mouth run dry, and he wants more than anything to explore that smooth expansion of flesh with his teeth and tongue. To leave behind his own marks. He keeps watching, cock hardening in his pants when Dracule shucks off his pants, giving Shanks an excellent view of his backside and creamy thighs that he wants wrapped around his waist. He can't help the groan of want that leaves him when his treasure bends over to turn in the faucet.

Dracule glares at Shanks from over his shoulder, cheeks coloring when he notices those stormcloud eyes eating him up. He whips back around and gets into the hot spray of the shower, ignoring how his thighs tremble and his dick twitches in interest. He begins to wash, body relaxing at finally being clean, and a weight he didn't realize was there lifted from his shoulders.

It doesn't take long for Shanks to join him, and though he said he wasn't going to help the younger man, he did. Taking the loofah from the redhead and motioning for him to turn around so that Mihawk could scrub his back. He scrubs that shaggy red mane until Shanks looks more like a poodle than human. He huffs at the image, feeling forlorn when he thinks of you and how you would have snickered at the two men being silly.

Mihawk washes his own hair while Shanks stands under the hot spray of water, watching the way the water ran down that perfect body and feeling hungry. He waits until Mihawk and he swap places, watching the warlord rinse his hair before Shanks drops to his knees, hand coming up to curl around one muscular thigh.

Dracule jumps at the sudden touch, opening his eyes and glancing down to see Shanks kneeling before him. His cock floods with blood, and he almost feels light headed with how quickly it happens.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” Shanks murmurs into the thigh he isn't holding. He kisses the inside, teeth nipping at the delicate flesh and making Mihawk jerk in his hold. He looks up, smirking when he notices the flush on his lover's face and the barely there nod he received.

Shanks releases the leg he holds, smoothing his hand over the older man's hip and digging his thumb into the dip of his waist. He relents and keeps going, fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin of his tests before wrapping around the base of Dracule's dick.

He pumps the other man, eyes landing on the bead of precum that wells up, and he leans in and licks it away before the shower could claim it. Mihawk hisses at the kitten licks, one hand finding the wall while the other slips into Shanks’ hair to hold tight. He leans in, lips wrapping around the head of his cock and suckling lightly, tongue rubbing teasing circles on the bottom of his length.

Mihawk curses quietly, hips jumping forward to find more of that welcoming heat. Shanks eagerly takes more of him down, jaw dropping and throat relaxing until his nose bumped against Dracule's pelvis. He swallows around the cock in his mouth, humming low in his throat and loving the way that Mihawk clenched his eyes shut and ruts into his mouth without abandon.

Dracule loves it when you suck him off, but Shanks has always been the best at giving head. The man had zero gag reflex and had had no problem when Mihawk became rough, fingers tangled in those red locks and moving Shanks the way he wanted. He fucks that sinful mouth, teeth bared as his orgasam crests closer and closer to he edge.

It's a surprise to both of them when cum floods Shanks’ mouth, and the redhead’s eyes flutter as he swallows It all down, lips and tongue massaging the length In his mouth until it grows soft and Dracule it pushing him away, grumbling about how sensitive it is. Shanks presses his face to a pale thigh and looks up through his lashes at Mihawk.

The hand in his hair loosens and gently strokes the wet hair out of Shanks’ face, and he aims a tiny smile at the younger man. The two of them stay in the shower until their fingers prune and the water runs cool. They dry and dress in clean clothes, leaving the bathroom for the kitchens where Shanks tries to help Mihawk cook breakfast.

The two men hover around one another for the rest of the day, hardly leaving the other's side. Mihawk puts away the alcohol and wonders outside, breaking in the gloomy air of his island. Shanks stops beside him, arm hooking around his waist and pressing his cheek to the other man's.

“I hope she calls soon,” he murmurs quietly.

Mihawk nods, pressing back into the redhead's scratchy cheek, chest tight and full of worry for his angel so far away from them.

“Me too, Dear.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

One month ago

In the New World on Whole Cake Island, Wiseman ran through the palace halls, dodging servants and children alike to get to his captain. He is stopped outside of the courtroom by her guards, but they let him pass after confirming who he is. Inside, Big Mom and Katakuri are speaking, and Wiseman waits patiently for his Captain to acknowledge his presence.

“Well, if it isn't one of my oldest crew, what brings you back here? Hmmm?” Big Mom demands of him from a top her sentient cloud.

Wiseman bows low and then straightens back up, giving his Captain a lopsided smile.

“I overheard something that may be of importance to you. Red Haired Shanks has apparently found himself a woman. One that happens to be the lost princess to the Nammi Isles. I tracked his ship, and her island was back in Paradise, close to Little Garden, safe and tucked away beside the Calm Belt.”

Big Mom grins, plans already forming in her mind about which of her sons she could marry the little brat off to. This was the perfect leverage she needed to get to his brother, too.

“Well done, Wiseman. Take whoever you need and go retrieve our lost pet, would you?”

Wiseman grins, and dips his head, “The pleasure would be mine.”

~~~~~~Line Break~~~~~~

Tomura was glad that his crew was full of marines who could be called competent most of the time. The other half of the time, the devil fruit user wondered why he kept them around. However, his crew must be able to tell that he wasn't in the mood for any kind of nonsense they could stir up. He'd left the backwater island as swiftly as he could after Smoker had informed him of the rumor about his sister. However, the Grand Line was unpredictable, and the weather had turned to shit not a week into their journey back to the safe house on his sister's island.

If the rumor had already made its rounds, there was little doubt that Big Mom knew about his sister. The thought of the Emperor getting her fat, grubby hands on you made Tomura's blood boil, red eating at the corners of his eyes and he's broken more than one railing on the ship in his rage.

The same private from earlier hadn't left his side, always ready and eager to help his Vice Admiral with anything Delemur may need. Nitchell was also incredibly curious about what had sent his superior into such a tizzy.

He shoved his brown hair back under his cap and went to the Vice Admiral's side, standing at attention until Tomura rolled his eyes and told him to stand at rest.

“What do you want?”

Nitchell licked his lips. He wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to be tossed overboard.

“Orders were to head to Dressrosa and help mitigate the damages that the Straw Hats left behind, Sir. But we're going back to Paradise.”

Tomura glared at the horizon. They were finally making good headway and would make it to the navy sanctioned area of the Calm Belt in the next day or so. He cuts his eyes at the private, turning to give Nitchell his full attention.

“You want to know why?”

The private nods, and Tomura sighs heavily, leveling the younger man with a narrowed eyed look.

“Not a lot of people know I've got a sister out there, and I think she might be in trouble.”

~~~~Line Break~~~~

Present Day.

Perona had left three days ago, and you felt even more lonely than you had before she'd shown up. It had been nice to catch up with the other girl, however, and assured her that you would call her if you needed anything.

You sat on the couch, curled up on your side with Mihawk's coat draped over you like a blanket, wearing one of the redhead's shirts like usual. As the weeks passed and your belly grew, you found that none of your clothes fit you anymore. It's been a slap in the face that had made you break down for the third time that day.

Sukuna and Hank lay with you. The fluffball curled across your swollen belly, and your shaggy dog lay over your legs. The record player belted out a slow tune that made you think about Mihawk and had mist gathering in your eyes. Fuck. You missed your boys so freaking much.

Hank wishes that his human would start feeling better. She'd been down and sad for so long that the scent of her angst was stuck in his nose. He knew that Sukuna fared no better than him.

His ears twitched when the crashing of the ocean waves broke, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of loud human voices jeering and yelling. Hank raises his head, curious if it were the same humans that the redhead led, but he didn't hear anything familiar about any of the loud sounds. He looks Sukuna's way and sees that the cat's ears are flat against his skull and knows that whoever is on their island aren't nice people.

You jerk up when a low growl erupts in the room. You have never heard Hank make that sound before, and before you know it, Sukuna is joining him.

Outside, Neal bleats loudly, his sensitive nose picking up the scent of humans who don't belong here. He circles back and forth in his pen and bleats again, louder this time to get Hank and Sukuna's attention.

Snow sprouts out around you, fear curdling in your stomach as the animals continue to show such aggressive behavior. Hank and Sukuna jump off the couch, the cat's tail lashing, and he hisses at you when you go to follow them, making you jerk back in hurt.

“What the hell is going on?” You demand, and that's when you hear the sound of yelling, men and women stomping up your path from the beach. Your eyes go wide, and you are quick to run to your bedroom, finding your snail phone and booking it out the back entrance, Hank and Sukuna on your heels.

You have no idea who is on your island, but you have a horrible feeling about it, and you do not want to be found.

From here you can see the silhouette of a group of about fifteen people, you can't make out any faces, but one of them has a shirt that sports a familiar jolly roger, and you know who is on your island at that moment.

Somehow, Big Mom had found you.

You circle around them, heart in your throat as Hank and Sukuna keep close to you. You run the length of the thick forest and curse your island for being so damn small. The only place you could hide would be the caves up in the mountains, but even then, there were hardly any big enough for you to fit inside any of them.

You aren't sure how much time has passed by the time you make it up the short mountain, but you are exhausted, and your feet are killing you. You would have used your devil fruit, but after a long talk with Mihawk and Shanks, the three of you agreed that using the fruit would put you and the baby in far too much risk. Who knew what could happen if you turned to snow while still pregnant.

Thankfully, Hank had led you to a cave that the three of you could fit inside. Your heart ached for your chickens and Neal, and you could only hope that the pirates had left them alone.

With trembling hands, you dial Mihawk's transponder snail, but it rings and rings without an answer. You curse as tears fill your eyes, terror eating away at you when the sound of yelling could be heard getting closer.

You could hear them calling out your name, assuring you that you were safe and everything would be alright. Lies. All of it.

You dial Perona next, and thankfully, the ghost girl picks up after a couple of rings.

Ca-lick

“Hello? _, is that you?”

You sniff loudly and clear your throat, “Perona. I- I need help. I think Big Mom's crew is here.”

You hear Perona curse loudly and yell for one of her stuffies to hold the wheel of the ship she'd taken from Gloom Island.

“Are you safe? Have you called Mihawk?”

“He didn't answer. Please, get a hold of him. I'll keep trying on my end.”

Perona quickly promises the same and then hangs up after demanding that you be careful. You promise to try and then end the call, quickly ringing for Mihawk again. You try Shanks next and could have cried when the transponder connects.

Ca-lick

“This is Beckmann.”

“Ben!” You cry and clutch the snail to your chest, sobs coming in hard at hearing his voice. If Ben had answered, then Shanks had to be near, “I need help! The Big Mom pirates are here.”

You hear him curse even more colorfully than Perona, and then he assures you that he would get Shanks back on the ship as soon as possible. You thank him and then hand up, fingers shaking as you try Mihawk's number again and again.

The sound of hissing and Hank snarling grab your attention, and you jerk your head up to see a gaggle of lights coming up the mountain. You press yourself into the cave, dragging Hank and Sukuna close to keep them hidden, but it is all for nothing. Your heart jack hammers when the lights crest the rocky pathway, and you are greeted by the sight of two men looming over you. One is older with well kept Grey hair pulled into a half bun. He wears a three piece suit and has a vile grin on his face.

The other is short and stout, arms jointed in two separate areas and dressed similarly to the older man. He looks just as gleeful to see you as the other one.

“Looks like Red Hair was right, Wiseman,” the short one says and leans in close, sneering down at you.

“Big Mom will be pleased.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27

#one piece #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #shanks x reader #mihawk x you #opla mihawk #opla shanks #mihawk x shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader x mihawk #shanks x you #dracule mihawk x reader #mishanks x reader #mishanks #Peppermint Tea

88 notes · View notes