#this is pretty much all i worked on last week

[killerlookz]

She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty | Joost Klein

description: joost klein x f! reader You and Joost manage to find a moment of intimacy over the phone amidst a time of hardship in your relationship. (very much based on of this song <33 so lyrics are scattered throughout!)

content 18+ NSFW, MDNI- phone sex, mutual masturbation, relationship issues, angst/comfort, lots of comfort (if you catch my drift),

word count: 2425

I'm only trying to work this out / So if you call me at all don't tell me that I'm ordinary / because I won't be passing you, please don't leave

Your stomach churns at the sound of your phone buzzing, over the last week you had associated the sound of your phone buzzing with nothing but tears and heartache.

You roll over, letting the thick comforter that covers you slip down your shoulders as you reach for your phone from the nightstand. Just as you expected. An anxious hand hesitates to pick up the phone, not in the mood to engage in conversation with who you were sure within the coming days would be your ex-boyfriend.

A sharp pang vibrates throughout your chest looking at the screen that shines at you.

Joost <3

Rather hurtfully paired with a picture of the two of you together, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressed against your cheek in a soft kiss.

You roll your eyes, he was going to keep calling if you didn't pick up. You huff, giving in, ripping your phone from where it sat next to your bed. Reluctantly you answer, your chest tightening waiting to hear the voice on the other end.

"Y/n?" The trepidation in Joost's voice was apparent, "Are you there, schatje?" The inclusion of the pet name made you wince, sounding all too sweet for your displeasure with him at the moment. Usually, you'd revel in his compliments and sweet nothings- but not now, you couldn't.

Things had been unusually hard lately, only exacerbated by the fact that Joost had been away on tour. It seemed like all the two of you had done in the last few weeks was fight. Usually about petty, little things- things that didn't even really matter but in the moment they seemed like everything. Half the time you couldn't even remember what the arguments were about, all that remained were bitter feelings and tear stains that lingered on your cheeks.

It had all culminated last night- a screaming match unparalleled to any other petty argument the two of you shared in recent weeks. You knew deep down that neither of you had meant any of the horrible, venom-dripped words you had spit at each other. But right now it felt impossible to ever forgive, much less forget.

"I'm here." You respond, short, monotone- trying not to give too much away about how you were feeling.

"Oh, y/n," He breathes, "I've been worried, I've been trying to talk to you since last night."

"I saw." You answer, just as short and uninterested as your last statement. Joost had been blowing up your phone for the last 24 hours- so terribly you had considered blocking his number at least for a little while.

"I know you're mad at me, y/n, but I still worry about you, you can't just ignore me like that." His voice is firm like he's scolding you- but you can sense a pain behind your voice, and if you hadn't been so fed up at the moment, you'd almost feel sorry for ignoring him.

"Oh," You snap, "So you're going to tell me what I can and cannot do now?"

"Why are you looking for a fight, y/n?" He sighs, "I'm just saying I was worried about you, how was I supposed to know what happened?"

"I'm not looking for a fight."

"You're always looking for a fight," Frustration is heavy in Joost's words.

"Is that really what you think of me?" You scoff, covering the ache you feel in your heart with anger.

You hear Joost let out a breath on the other end, "No," You note how tired he sounds as he continues, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that."

"I don't know that. It sounds like you did." You're having none of his apology, weeks of growing resentment were not going to be fixed by one simple apology.

"Mijn lieve meisje" (My sweet girl) He coos, "I don't mean to make you so angry." His voice has softened, a stark contrast to the harsh tone of your own voice, "You know I hate to hear you sound like this- even worse to know I did it."

Something about the gentleness of his voice, and the way he seems so aware of his own role in all of this makes your heart thump- and you almost want to forgive him altogether. But you can't, not right now- not yet.

I hear you breathing on the line... / I leave you hurting every night

"Het spijt me (I am sorry), I want to make things better between us."

"I don't know," You mumble, unsure of if there is even anything that could make things better.

"You don't know how badly I wish I was with you," His voice rich with longing, "I need to make these last few weeks up to you. I miss you liefje, I miss us."

You can't lie, you want that too, wishing so badly just for everything to go back to normal, to no longer have this hole in your chest, for your body to no longer ache with this profound sadness.

"It's just going to be so hard to forget last ni-"

"I know, schatje." He cuts you off, "You have every reason in the world to be angry with me."

"Are you angry with me?" You ask, wondering if he mirrored your own upset feelings towards

"Angry isn't the right word, no." And suddenly your stomach churns with guilt, "I'm just tired of how things have been."

You're tired too, tired of dreading his calls, tired of the tears, tired of the sleepless nights regretting every awful word you've said.

"Me too," You murmur

"I won't force you to forgive me," Joost sighs, "Not until you're ready. But I know you're upset, and I want you to feel better."

His words are so soft, so gentle, melting away your anger with each. careful syllable.

"Can you talk to me, please?" He's practically pleading.

"What do you want to talk about?" You're unsure of what conversation could fill this dead air, how you could possibly talk and things feel okay.

"Tell me what you're doing now," He requests, his words quick.

"I'm just in bed," You shrug nothing special.

"Breaks my heart to think about you all alone in that big bed." You can't tell if the pity in his voice is mocking or genuine.

"I guess it's okay," You had gotten used to the loneliness, it was worse in the first few days he had been gone.

"Mh-mh," he mumbles in disagreement, "Hate thinking about how my pretty girl has to sleep alone every night."

There's a sensuality in his tone that makes you clench your jaw, and your breathing deepen. His pretty girl. His.

"In my bed, at that." He adds.

You supposed he was technically right- you had been the one to move into his apartment.

You hum softly into the phone, not able to come up with many words to say, he seemed more like was simply just thinking out loud than having a conversation.

"I miss you," He says again, "Tell me you miss me too, schatje, I know you do."

There's something about the way he speaks that makes you oblige so easily,

"Miss you too," You mumble, head falling to the side as your eyes close.

"Mmm good," He's practically purring to you, "You're so good."

The praise was simple, you hadn't done much past admitting something the two both knew was true, but it felt like it had been so long since the two of you had spoken so gently to one another, and so you absolutely drank it up.

"You're saying so little, what is on your mind?" He pries like he's looking for something specific.

"Nothing, really." You're entirely self-aware of how boring you must sound to him, but it's the truth- sort of.

He hums in response, "Can I tell you what I'm thinking about?" He asks, his voice oozing with anticipation

"I won't stop you,"

"I'm thinking about you, thinking about how beautiful you must look right now, about holding you, how your body feels against mine, about-" He stops short,

"About..?" You trail off, wanting him to continue his pretty praises. A delightful tingle was beginning to spread through your body, his kind words making you weak.

"More of the same," He says quickly, "Just thinking about being with you now."

A soft smile sweeps over your face at the thought, though you assumed your thoughts now had to be a lot less innocent than his. You couldn't help yourself, you'd been so pent up since he left that the smallest words of adoration were setting you off.

Your hands trail down under the covers, rubbing at your inner thigh, before softly grazing over your panties. You let out a sigh, rubbing soft circles over your clit through the thin lacey fabric.

Your breathing quickens as you deepen your movements, rubbing with more intention now. You arch your back, thinking about how this would be going down if Joost was here, the two of you had never needed to have makeup sex before- but you supposed now was as good of a time as ever to imagine it.

You think about how Joost said he needed to make it up to you, about how the last few weeks had been- at this moment you couldn't have thought of a better way for him to make things up to you than with his tongue, or his fingers, or his cock.

Your pussy ached at the thought of him- the thought of you stretching around him as he mumbles sweet words in your ears about how sorry he is.

You slip your panties to the side, a finger sliding down your now-soaked folds, the contact making you gasp, "Fuck,"

You can hear Joost clicking his tongue on the other end of the line- and suddenly you realize what you had just done, your body growing with an uncomfortable and shameful heat.

"So dirty," He chastizes

"W-what?" You sputter, attempting to feign innocence about what you had been doing.

Who wouldn't let you scream 'oh' into a soft pillow / I'm such an animal, and baby honestly these teeth won't let you go

"It's okay, schatje, you don't have to act stupid," His smirk is audible through the phone, "Don't be embarrassed, keep going, let me talk you through it."

Your body relaxes and your embarrassment subsides.

"Now, will you tell me what you're thinking about?" He asks sweetly

"Thinking," A soft sigh falls from your lips, "About you," Your hand slowly crossing your thighs to return to your throbbing cunt, "About how bad I want you." The words are a struggle to get out as you resume drawing circles around your swollen clit.

"Yeah?" He encourages, and you hear some shifting on the phone, "What do you want?"

"I want," You breathe out, "You," Another breath, "Inside of me."

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing becoming louder, "Want this cock, pretty?"

"Y-yes- ah!" You can't suppress your high-pitched yelp as you slip a finger into your leaking entrance.

"Say it, tell me how much you want me to fuck you." He begs, his voice low and gritty.

"So bad, Joost, need to be fucked so bad" Your words are breathless as you pump your fingers in and out, making your eyes screw shut tight. "Fuck, I haven't had you inside of me in so long, I need it." You feel your lower stomach tightening, pleasure taking hold of you.

"How about my tongue, hm? I'd love to taste you right now, always so sweet for me," Joost sounds just about as breathless as you do right now, and the thought of him on the other end only makes you want to work your fingers harder.

"Uh-huh," You whine, thinking about his tongue lapping at your arousal, his tongue trailing from your swollen clit to your quiver entrance, teasing, before taking a dip inside. "Anything- just need you."

"Oh, you have me, you'll always have me." His words are hungry, and you can tell he's speaking through a clenched jaw, "Fuck, liefje, you have me so worked up like this and you're not even here, love hearing that pretty voice of yours."

You're almost positive you're certainly in an even more worked-up state than he is.

"Mmmneed you to fuck me until I can't walk," You sigh, unable to help but think about him absolutely ruining you, his hands groping your flesh as he pounds into you, unrelenting. "My fingers can't reach as good as you do," You can't help but stroke his ego a little, he deserved it after the hell you had been putting him through.

"Oh," He whines, "arme schatje, (poor baby) I know, I know, just keep working those fingers for me though, okay?"

Despite your fingers not being able to hit all the same places Joost can, the pressure in your body is still building, and you can tell you're losing control, especially as a long string of groaned expletives falls from Joost's mouth, his obvious pleasure only working further to push you to the edge.

"I'm c-close," You stutter, your legs starting to shake.

"Speak up, baby- want to hear how you cum for me."

The pace at which your fingers pulse in and out of you increases, working to bring yourself over the edge. You imagine Joost inside you, imagine him bringing you to an orgasm and cumming all over the length of his cock.

You can't talk now, your words are simply replaced by loud moans and gasps as you hope to god you don't wake up the neighbors.

In the throughs of your orgasm now, your back arched- near screaming, "I-I'm cumming, fuck, Joost," You can't finish the rest of your sentence, all you can focus on is the wave of pleasure that overtakes you, the way the tightness in your body is shattering.

"Hold on," Joost grunts, "I'm almost there- hold on,"

You lay on your back, legs shaking, out of breath, listening to Joost on the other end.

He finishes with one final strained "Fuck"

Neither of you speak for a few minutes,- your mind is racing, your thoughts absolutely dizzying as the silence is only filled by the two of you attempting to catch your breaths.

"Still angry now?" Joost asks, finally breaking the tension.

"I don't think so," You're not, you were way too blissed out to feel anything but complete, overwhelming love.

"So you love me again?" He jokes, chuckling to himself.

"I never stopped."

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #joost klein x f!reafer #rpf

[44st4rs]

STILL GOIN' TIL SIX IN THE MORN' !

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — synopsis ! when nanami’s tired from all the stress at work, he’s willing to put in a few extra hours to catch a break with you!

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — pairings! wife!fem!reader x nanami kento

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — cw! 1.5k+, drabble+headcannon format, oral(f.receiving), no protection, p in v, oversimulation, multiple cremépies

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ — xoxo, chris! for you @s0dium happy milestone my sweet!

Time has always been the only thing Nanami can’t help, no matter how much he tries. 

From dawn to dusk, his mind’s plagued with thoughts of work—deadlines, team meetings, trying to maintain his composure.  

But truth is—he’s just teasing past his own limits, something he’s been staring at for the last few weeks. Work takes up his entire life and leaves what matters most to him on the back burner, including his precious wife. 

Only the heavens know you take it, but it’s the one prayer of Nanami’s that seems to hold true. He has to wonder—how do you deal with him?

You’re always there with a warm home, a hot meal, kind words, and a smile that does nothing but milk the guilt from Nanami’s soul. He knows his work life is taking a toll on you, but you hide it so well for him. 

It’s rare when Nanami chooses himself, but when he does, he’s acting in your favor too. When he dismisses all There’s only one place Nanami’s willing to go into overtime for…

In hindsight, Nanami should’ve kept track of his affairs—from the time he got home, eating dinner with you, showering, and turning in for the night. That’s his usual routine—or was.

All that…god is he tired of it? Why shouldn’t he get to enjoy his evening the way he wants? Why shouldn’t he get to cradle you in his arms until you doze off? Why is he stuck in this cycle of hell that drains him of his livelihood?

Order is what Nanami surrounds his life, it’s what he’s trained for. But it’s not what you signed up for when those vows fell from your lips on your wedding day.

That’s why he has to make up to you the best way he knows how—with his time. 

You wanted to hear about his day and here he is, taking his time to spell out every. single. word with deft strokes of his tongue. He’s moving up and down your folds, nipping the tip of his stiff tongue at your cute slit in hopes you let him sip from the source. And when you do finally let him in, it’s nothing but languid strokes he’s laying on you.

When he takes to your clit, it’s just filthy. It’s nasty the way his tongue coils at your clit, enlisting help from the thick pad of his thumb to pull back the puffy hold. He’s teasing your nerves taut, pushing your poor bud to the limit until you’re dripping that hot essence down his chin. His effort is all for good measure, he’s just taking extra care to emphasize that ‘S’. 

And because of his carefulness, you're already creaming on his tongue before he’s done explaining with his morning. How did he allow himself to forget about how sweet you are? That sweet ambrosia drowning his senses in your high, it’s nothing short of the heaven he’s been so desperately searching for. 

But Nanami simply couldn’t stop there…and he knows you couldn’t either. 

So he turns to explain his afternoon, this time he’s slotting himself between your trembling thighs, feeding your greedy cunt with a nice, slow tide of his hips. He knew his fate the moment that fat crown of his cock found its home against your sweet spot—he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

“Oooh, Angel…fuck, I missed this pretty pussy,” he called out from what’s left of his senses. 

His chocolate eyes trail up to your own glassy eyes, the whites of your rolling eyes sending a chill down his spine. He’s just gotten a taste of you and he’s lost you even quicker.

His hands race to pull you back down, pinning you to the bed with a taunting grip. Just for extra care, he’s smothering his thick chest against your own, granting his candied words to fill your unfiltered ear.

“ Aht-ah-a,” he coos, “Come back to me, baby. I need you…so fucking bad.”

From that moment, Nanami knew he had to chase you—and thus, he embarked on his never-ending journey.

He never stopped his hips and the bruising crash landing against your own. He never stopped delivering wet pecks to your cervix. He never stopped looking away from your pretty face, taking in your eyes buried into the back of your skull and hearing the cute babbles ripping off your spit-ridden lips. 

He’s numb to his own conditions—lathered in sweat, his cock raw and begging for a break, and caught beneath fatigue’s cloak. And maybe it’s the fatigue talking, but Nanami just can’t bring himself to part from you.

Were you always this tight? Did your walls always flutter around his flushed, pudgy veins like this? Just you clenching around him was enough to send Nanami spiraling down his own fever dream.

How many times has he even spilled into you now? Three times? Six? No, it has to at least seven.

But for the three of those rounds, he’s been shooting nothing but blanks–blanks that aren’t satisfying his need for you. You can’t hold any more of his cum, but fuck, he can feel himself getting heavy again…

He could only blame himself for his crazed sense of self, he’s just missed nights like this.

You probably can’t handle another load, but he can’t help it when he has this view of you. You and those rolling tears that decorate your puffy cheek, your hands clawing merciful crimson streaks along his tummy, and your pretty pussy studdering dumb with slick and split around the pudgy girth of his cock, your trembling voice calling out his name.

“Mmm. K-Ken…”

“Hm? T-Talk to me, Angel,” His clipped hand pulses at your waist. “You got it, wanna hear these pretty songs, ‘kay?”

And the words are sitting right at the tip of your tongue, but your lulling eyes fall on a sight that breaks the spell of lust over your body. 

That damned alarm clock. 

“Kento! Hold on, it’s… 6 o’clock! You’ve gotta—

“Shhh, don’t…hah…don’t worry, Baby,” he’s huffing out, caging you beneath his hungry gaze. 

Oh, it’s so cute how much you care about him, staring back up at him with those big, glossy eyes and that quivering lip. You’re a sputtering mess on his cock, but his work still finds room inside that hazy brain of yours. 

He’s thinking about what a horrible life he’s conditioned upon you. Not a hair on your pretty head should even think about that wretched place and here you are paying it a thought during a time that’s sacred between man and wife. 

He has to communicate his goal to you–his goal of finally focusing on you. 

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jjk fic #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #cw sex mention #cw smut #//✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀—𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈!//

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch6

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5

Warning: MINORS DNI, sexual thoughts, eventual smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff

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"Slow and steady wins the race,"

You whispered repeatedly to yourself as you carried Miguel's coffee, snack and your smoothie. You knew well enough that if you rushed then something was going to spill. This was your first official week as Miguel's secretary without Lyla.

You had to be perfect!

It was nerve wracking. Especially with that small incident you had last week. Sure, Lyla reassured you that everything was fine, but it wasn't. You had started to dream about Miguel-your boss! You've heard of workplace crushes...

But Miguel was the CEO?

If your feelings were to ever come out, Miguel might see you as a gold digger. It frighten you. Miguel was kind, handsome and worked hard for his company. You would hate to see him give you a disgusted look if he found out you liked him.

"That's the new secretary. We might actually be able to get away with shit now that Lyla's gone."

"Shh, she might hear you."

"It's fine. She bumped into the CEO on day one and almost cried during the interview I heard. She's a pushover."

Biting your lower lip, you hurried into the elevator. You had just started and there were already rumors. You always were the easiest one to bully. Was this place really going to be any different than your last job?

Once you reached your floor, you couldn't stop thinking about the rumors. Everyone already thought of you as a crybaby and pushover. You knew they were going to intimidate you for favors now.

Taking deep breathes, you knocked before entering Miguel's office. You forced a smile as you placed his coffee and snack on his desk.

"Good morning, sir. You have your first meeting at 9am. Until then, you have received multiple proposals from new business partners who want to collaborate with Alchemax."

"Perfect score," Miguel smiled as he grabbed his coffee, "(Y/N), you don't have to be so tense. Relax."

"S-Sorry."

"Don't apologize. When we're alone, you can just be yourself." Miguel reassured you.

And just like that, all of your worries went away.

"Thank you. Um, I know I won't be of much help, but is there anything I can help you with?" You offered.

"Your company is more than enough,"

---------

Miguel had noticed the grim look on your face when you entered his office. He wanted to ask you what was wrong, but it might have been strange. He wasn't to that level with you yet. Miguel wanted to be more forward, but you still needed to adjust to the job.

Just having you by his side was enough for now.

The day went pretty well, Miguel had to make sure you knew that. Since it was your first day solo, Miguel wanted to keep reminding you of how well of a job you were doing.

"Hehe," You hid your smile behind your tablet.

Miguel was in awe. You were so cute. With all the bullshit in his life, Miguel had to wonder how someone like you just landed on his lap.

"Our last stop is just the labs, correct?" Miguel questioned. You pressed the elevator button, nodding,

"Yep. Just a usual check up on some of the projects. Some of our partners want an update by the end of the month so this would be a good start on reviews."

"Perfect."

Unable to resist, Miguel reached forward and patted your head. He loved the dazed look you gave him. Quickly moving his hand away as those dirty thoughts returned, Miguel cleared his throat. He had to behave himself.

Watching you enter the elevator first, Miguel had ever thought to press the emergency stop and fuck you then and there. How sweet would those moans of yours be? How good would your feel squeezing against his dick?

"Um, it was floor 18, first, right?" You asked, double checking.

"Hm?" Miguel followed you inside, glancing down at your tablet, "I forget how many floors are dedicated to labs. Yes, we can start there."

He HAD to stop thinking like this. Standing beside you, Miguel just inhaled deeply. There were many things he did as a CEO that he wasn't proud of. Treating you like a fuck doll was not going to be one of those things.

KABOOM

"Ah!"

Miguel flinched as the elevator shook. He quickly grabbed you as the two of you fell on the floor, the lights shutting off and the elevator freezing in place.

Holding your head against his chest, Miguel groaned as he slowly looked around. The power was off and it seemed like the two of you were stuck. Rubbing your back, Miguel resisted a groan as he got a good whiff of your perfume,

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

---------

Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you sobbed quietly. The explosion had spooked you to your core. The only thing that was comforting you was Miguel's embrace as he kept you safe. Honestly, you could stay like this forever.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" Miguel asked softly. You raised your head, sniffing softly,

"Y-Yea...What...What happened?"

"Not sure, let me make a quick call," Miguel said.

Right as you were about to leave his embrace, Miguel pulled you back in. You squeaked, glancing at him, but Miguel kept you firmly in place, his hand rubbing your back as you trembled.

"You're shaking," Miguel whispered as he was on the phone, "Yes, what happened?"

You could faintly hear the other person on the line. Apparently there was an explosion in one of the labs and it shut off the power.

"Tch, get it back on. I'm stuck in the elevator." Miguel hissed before hanging up, "Just relax for me, (Y/N), it's going to be okay."

"I-I know...I-I know....but...A-Are you sure it's okay....for me to be like this?" You stuttered against his chest.

You felt Miguel's chest rise as he scoffed.

"I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise." He said softly, "You're still so nervous around me..."

Miguel's tone was so gentle. His hand stroked your cheek, wiping away any tears you had. Did Miguel not know how he was making you feel? This just made you want him more.

"Sorry," You whispered, "It's...It's just weird...you know....You're the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world...I'm just a clumsy worker."

"You're more than just a clumsy worker," Miguel said with a chuckle, his grip tightening around your waist, "You don't give yourself enough credit, (Y/N)."

"Y-You know...it's embarrassing" You whispered, smiling softly, "To be complimented by someone as great as you. It makes me feel better,"

"I'm not that great," Miguel hummed lowly, focusing on your lips, "I'm still one of those greedy and scummy CEOs."

"Not to me,"

"Hn," Miguel tilted his head as he made eye contact with you, "You know, (Y/N). You're different than the other girls. I like that about you, but it also makes me want to make selfish demands."

"Like what?"

You weren't sure what came over you. The atmosphere this elevator was giving off was throwing your sense of judgement out the window. You and Miguel were so close to each other, enjoying each other's embrace.

Both of you unsure of when this elevator was going to turn back on. Honestly, you felt the tension. You only thought this moment happened in movies.

"If I say...you might hate me," Miguel sighed, his lips inches away from yours before pulling away, "I enjoy what we have."

"So do I," You rolled your lips inward as you thought, "I won't hate you, Miguel...I just...I just want to do the best I can...So make whatever selfish request you have."

"Hm, don't regret it then."

You gasped softly as Miguel swapped places and pinned you against the elevator wall. His body hovering over yours. You could feel your heart racing as his hands stroked your cheeks, drawing you closer to him.

The look in his eyes were lustful. As if he was already swallowing you whole before even doing anything. Your body was starting to grow hot from just the eye contact.

Right as you thought he was about to kiss you, the elevator turned on. Miguel cussed lowly, helping you up,

"Guess this is fate telling me to wait," He said with a hurt chuckle. You furrowed your brows and squeezed his hand,

"J-Just....let me know...when...." You whispered shyly.

You knew damn well what was going to happen. Miguel was going to kiss you and you were totally ready for it.

Feeling Miguel squeeze your hand back in response, you glanced towards your boss. He gave you a smile before letting go of your hand as the doors open to the floor you needed to be on.

"Until then, business as usual." Miguel hummed. You followed behind him, smiling softly,

"Mhm,"

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@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla @byjessicalotufo @pigeonmama @k3ythesapphic @acesangels @stealingyourturts @angel-xx-1 @amberbalcom14 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @oscarissac2099 @keepghostly @zeyzeys-stuff @k3ythesapphic @nightingale1011 @uncle-eggy @safixiovi @flaps200 @dahehow @weirdothatwritess @gerblinradio @electronicchaoschaos @mafiaanomaly @keyisloved @unwrittenletter @reader4life @leenasgirl200 @oscarissac2099 @mari0-o @cinnamoro1l @leryg0 @hizzielover

#spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 31/May/2024

A busy one this week! But it always feels good when it’s been busy but you can check so many things off your list. Especially seeing as it was a bank holiday I forgot about last Monday, so a shorter week! :D

After some amazingly encouraging comments on Patreon, I did decide to go back and put in the Unit Bravo POV for Chapter Two. Not only that, but I decided to make it individual love interest POVs, because I can’t help myself, hehe! But it was actually kind of perfect, because it gives a nice small glimpse into what the vampires get up to when the MC isn’t around and they aren’t working…well, unless it’s A, and then they’re pretty much always working anyway, lol!

After that, I started on the end scenes for Chapter Two, and let me tell you…they are some doozy scenes! Bringing out some angsty punch right from the start, hehe! But also finished with some rather lovely soft romantic moments which help to soothe that intensity… ;D

They were scenes I have been waiting agggges to write. It certainly sets up how things that are happening might come between the building romances!

I was a bit worried that adding in the extra POV scenes would push me back, but I really went for it this week, and I’m going to be finishing Chapter Two today as planned!!!

So next week that means I can start on the editing and rewriting. Next week will also be social media days, which I will be heading elsewhere to do because internet here is still intermittent at best, and I really want the asks to be more consistent again! 

Got some really fun stuff coming up on Patreon this month too, including the initial sketch idea for Mason/Morgan’s masquerade ball mask! Looking forward to working on all of that :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend and enjoy the demo—as well as get excited for what's to come after checking it out, hehe! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #unit bravo #twc detective #romance #vampires #update #twc book 4 #the wayhaven chronicles book 4 #choice of games #hosted games #choicescript #creative writing

[munariplans]

routine | wanda maximoff

synopsis: a routine to follow; to secretly navigate the delicate balance of your double lives, you and wanda risk it all for just a clandestine affair teetering on the edge of discovery.

wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 2.1k words

warnings: infidelity, angst

a/n: it's only time, and fair, to write for wanda too :)

it all falls into routine pretty quickly; the late-night creaks of her front door, your feet tapping against the solid hardwood of her living room, her arms wrapping themselves around your body, lips finding your own. 

to build a unique relationship that defied categorisation, and to then allow the relationship to morph until it just about justified itself – you weren’t sure who started it first. perhaps it could have been wanda’s lingering glances, could have been your own sharp tongue. either way, you were seeing a colleague that shouldn’t have been your solace, and she hadn’t stopped it either.

it had been a long day at the office. or two days, you weren’t too sure. with a new product launch in the next week, everyone had been working overtime, you didn’t remember the last time you had seen your own wife, and you certainly didn’t remember her reminder to pick up the dry cleaning if you were on your way home. maybe she had even said it last week instead of this one. 

but you did remember the familiar steps to wanda’s house, the ding of her doorbell, the smell of vanilla and wood behind the door. it was already all beckoning to you, the comfort of a place that wasn’t even your own. 

as usual, she opened the door, already dressed in her satin nightgown, hair half-dry from her shower. and you collapsed right into her. wanda stumbled holding you up for a moment, but hearing your satisfied sighs and whimpers from her fingers threading themselves into your hair, followed with your arms melding your two bodies together, she too, couldn’t control the relief she exhaled. 

“you’re late.”

“i know, tom held me back today.”

wanda clicked her tongue. “i saw you asleep in your office last night. wanted to bring you home, but your assistant was working late too.”

she felt you nuzzle your face into her neck, breathing in the lavender and honey from her bath. “mmh. i did.”

“don’t overwork yourself.” her words, and replies, had always been curt. straight to the point, but never malicious. she cared about you, but she couldn’t show so much that she would give you the wrong idea. she knew what this was, after all. a relationship of convenience; a companionship made from two lonely, desperate people. 

she brings you to bed after allowing you to use her shower, your eyes drooping as you lay yourself over her, while she switches on the sitcoms on her television. fingers glide over the splay of your back, absentmindedly tracing the taut muscles there while you relish in her touch. the weight on her own body wasn’t uncomfortable, but more of a reassurance, a reminder, that she was grounded, and so were you, in the present moment. wanda pulls you in even further when the show cuts to a commercial.

there was a notification from your phone, in the bedside table next to wanda. glancing over at it, she feels a certain sting in her chest. she’s not sure why. it wasn’t like it was anything new; she had always known about it, she had full access to your phone anytime she wanted to check on it. 

still, the i love you that you had gotten from someone other than her, while not unfamiliar, irked her. she didn’t know what was up with herself, to only be irritated by something she knew from the start was her reality only now. must be the hormones, it was that time of the month after all. she had already rejected your advances to join you in her shower, and you understood. thankfully. 

you missed the quick swipe of her fingers across your phone, clicking on the message and deleting it. it wasn’t something she wanted you to see tonight. she inspected a few earlier messages, saw that they were causing even more pain to simmer in her chest, and hurriedly shoves it back to where it came from. 

you whined for her fingers to return to where they were, and thankfully, she came back. you mumbled sleepily, “how was your day?”

“we work in the same office, don’t we?” wanda replied, amused. 

“well, different departments.”

“fine,” she quickly said, but at your woeful gaze, she softened, “it was fine. kate invited me for yoga after work. then i got home, tried out a new recipe from the cookbook he got me, and waited for you.”

your fingers interlaced with hers, looking up at her like she put the stars in the sky. wanda found it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat. “you made dinner?”

she nodded. “it’s in the microwave, i can heat it up for you if you want.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you reassured her, pushing her back down when she tried getting up, “i’m too tired to eat it now. and besides, it’s for him. i shouldn’t…be eating his food.”

“you know–”

“–i know. but i have my boundaries.”

wanda pinches the skin at the nape of your neck for cutting her off. you wince, and she leans down to kiss it, tongue lapping at it quickly after as a way of saying sorry. “it’s that paprikash you like. the one you keep going on and on about. i made it for you.”

a smile crept to your cheeks. “the one jane from legal made for me once.”

the pinch came again, and wanda felt almost guilty at the angry red welt it formed in the wake of her anger. “right. you still fucking her, or…?”

wanda didn’t find the chuckle from your lips even the slightest bit funny. you propped yourself on your elbows, kissing wanda’s neck slowly. “wands…it’s not like that. come on.”

“she wants you. i just know it. everybody knows it.”

“she did invite me out for drinks today,” you quipped, to which wanda sighed irritatedly, but you were quick to recover with, “but i said no. was too tired.”

“because you’re coming home to me.”

“because i’m coming  home to you,” you affirmed. it was only then that wanda let go of the frown on her face, allowing you to come close enough to kiss her, chest rising and falling beneath yours. you held her face as you let her take control, and she brought you down even further to her, as if never letting you go. it was comfortable, and safe, and leaving you lightheaded and giddy, when it really shouldn’t be. 

you really shouldn’t be doing this. but wanda was enjoying this so much, and it would be futile to deny that you weren’t. her skin so soft, her hair silky smooth, there was something just so irresistible about the woman underneath you. she’s got you right in the palm of her hand.

your phone rang this time, and while wanda instinctively shot out her hand to silence it, you were quicker, and took it from her right as her fingers clasped around the device. she groaned in annoyance when you sat up and checked who had been calling you.

“it’s my sister,” you announced, to alleviate some of the jealousy and tension evident in her face. 

wanda listened as you spoke, forcing you to put her on loudspeaker, while her hands ran up and down your thighs, impatient for you to end the call and carry on with what you had been doing to her. she sighed irritatedly each time her name was said, each time your lips even formed the shape of pronouncing it.

“yeah, of course, i know,” you assured your nagging sister, “flight’s at six-thirty. we can’t be late. you’ve booked us business class seats. i got it. natasha and i will be there, sis. we wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.” 

you felt wanda’s hands lift up your t-shirt, to which you tried pulling her away, but she swatted your hands off first. you reluctantly obliged, as she found your breasts, and began her ministrations on them as you stayed on the phone. she heard her name again, and sat up, lips latching on to your skin, and biting hard. you sucked in a harsh breath, feeling the skin tear before wanda was licking it up again, marking you and then apologising for it. 

“i know,” you continued, wanda kissing up your neck now, purposely as loud as she could. she wanted you to get caught, “look, it’s supposed to be nerve-wrecking. it’s your wedding, for heaven’s sake. i remember when i was getting married to natasha, i couldn’t sleep for weeks! i was just so excited, and–fuck!”

“what was that?” came the voice from the other end. wanda smiled. success.

“n-nothing,” you regained your composure, glaring daggers at her this time, “look, i have to go, but we’ll be there. first thing tomorrow. no, natasha’s not with me right now, i’m sleeping in my office because i have to tie up the loose ends at work before we spend the next two weeks with you for your wedding. i’ll see you soon, alright?’

two weeks. two weeks is far too long. wanda doesn’t want to wait two weeks to see you again. it was her turn to have her glare turn murderous when you ended the call, snatching your phone away from you and shoving it under the drawer. you sighed, indulging her. “six-thirty?”

“i have to go by four, alright? i have to pick up natasha,” a bite to your shoulder, “and get a ride to the airport,” another angry teeth mark. 

it was nearly midnight already. wanda couldn’t believe you failed to tell her you barely had four hours together. “fuck you.”

“wands…”

“seriously, fuck you,” she emphasised, tears already beginning to form at the ends of her eyes. the bitter, choking feeling in her throat too raw to voice out her anger and jealousy. 

“come on, don’t be like this,” you begged, holding her thrashing hands as she tried to buck you off the bed. she refused to let you see her cry angry tears, but you had done so anyway. you held her hands against your chest, kissing them all over until she gave up fighting altogether, until she could only shut her eyes, and face away from you in shame. “you’re always like this.”

“is–it–so–wrong–” she was hiccuping, voice broken, “–to want you around? to have you with me?”

she knows it is. you know it is as well. but neither of you tell the truth around it. you both were too attached to each other to face the reality. “i’ll be back soon, alright? just two weeks. then you’ll have me, for as long as you want. as long as he’s not around.”

wanda let out a cry, heartbreaking and raw; and you bite your own lip in guilt. you hated to see her like this. she never had a problem letting her guard down with you, and you didn’t want her to think it would be a mistake doing so. she cried then, frustrated and angry, “i want to break up! i hate you, i never want to see you again!”

“come on wands…”

“i hate y–” your lips were on hers then, soothing her, placating her, like one would an insolent child. you had released her hands, and they had clawed at your arms, scratching down red, angry lines down your skin. she was doing to you what she couldn’t say out loud. how betrayed she felt, how wrong it was that you were taking her to your sister’s wedding, and not wanda. never wanda.

“just two weeks. i promise. i’ll text you everyday.”

“i want to break up.”

sighing, you challenged her. “...do you really?” 

but then wanda’s lips trembled, her eyes fully glossy now. there were tears streaming down her face, and her nose was turning red. her nails dug into your skin, feeling almost like claws. and after a minute, she shook her head, slowly, sadly. 

you knew it. she could never end it; and neither could you. you always come back. or she does. neither of you want to acknowledge the dirty situation you were in, the games you were playing with each other, and your spouses. how attached wanda was to you, how soft you were for her. it had gained traction, spiralled, and crashed and burned long ago. there was no going back now.

she would threaten ending things with you, you asking her if she really would, and her pulling back just seconds later. the two of you would make up after, never acknowledging how much you actually meant to each other, never saying a word about the other’s feelings. then you would go back home to your wife, and she would wait for her husband to return, and pretend like you were never anything more than colleagues. not even friends, barely acquaintances.

“she’s just someone from work,” you both would say to your spouses, a lie cooked up and chewed and spat out like a routine. and it works, everytime.

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe #elizabeth olsen #specifically in this scene!

[cherrychilli]

18+ Living painting! Steve x F! reader, supernatural AU, monsterfucking (kind of), lil bit of angst, mentions of blood, mentions of bodily injury, oral sex (f), allusions to unprotected PIV sex

WC: 2.9K

A/N: So, I found the painting in the middle on Pinterest and couldn't help thinking that he looked pretty similar to Steve and this happened to be during the time I became interested in writing a monsterfucking fic of my own. It all kind of fell into place that night and I pretty much fell in love with the idea of a Steve who's a literal work of art that comes to life at night and becomes your secret supernatural boyfriend💛 I'm still figuring these two out but this is what I've come up with so far. Enjoy!

One week had passed and the remains of the old picture frame still sat in the waste basket in your kitchen, the ends of splintered poplar jutting up and out of the rim like jagged teeth.

It taunted you like a sneer but you made no move to empty it. Not until you knew for certain if he'd come back or not.

The new frame you'd selected was made of polished, treated pinewood. Sturdy and reliable, you were assured. You only hoped your glassy eyes had nothing to do with how strongly the sales lady had urged you of the frame's durability. Anything to clear you out before the other customers noticed the beginnings of tears wetting your lashes, a part of you suspected.

But the brand-new frame felt firm in your trembling hands. Solid. Sleek. Unbreakable, you hoped. Now all you had to do was wait while doing your best to disregard the many whispers of your neighbors as you passed by them in your apartment building.

"He must have found someone better", Mrs. Owens had muttered haughtily to her husband as you departed the elevator after exchanging forced smiles with the older couple, never knowing how close she'd come to having one of her gaudy gold earrings ripped right out of her lobe had you not managed to contain yourself at the last second.

"I think they might have broken up", you caught Tiffany from 20F's whisper directed at her boyfriend when you walked by them in the hallway, their tight, sympathetic smiles making your stomach churn as you hauled in your grocery bags containing only beer, instant noodles and a pack of cigarettes. The first pack you'd touched in a long time.

"Seriously? I never even got a look at the guy", he'd whispered back to her in a whine.

Sometimes you wondered what kind of image they'd conjured up of Steve. After all, there's only so much you can imagine when all you have to go by is what you can sometimes hear through the walls of your apartment.

~

That night, you stared at his painting while you sat at the foot of your bed like you had every night for the past week, waiting.

The rip in the canvas that ran up the length of his forearm stared back at you. Looking at it made your own arm sting, like fishing hooks in your skin.

Around you, your apartment had fallen into clutter but you didn't dare try to dust or clean again until you knew for certain if what you'd done had ruined everything for good or not.

"Please come back", you chanted under your breath as the minutes passed, waiting as patiently as you could for 12.00am to arrive. You hoped he'd come out of his frame like he had all those nights before. You hoped those brushstrokes would warp into flesh and blood once again despite the unintended gash marring the painting's canvas. You hoped to feel his warmth under your fingertips tonight.

You craved it.

You needed it.

But he doesn't come.

The clock ticks past 12.10am and you let your eyes slip shut before the tears start again.

~

When you wake, you see that the time’s 12.56am once you'd managed to blink the sleep fog away from your eyes, finding a sheet draped over your body and your cheek resting on a pillow you hadn't placed there yourself.

Springing up, your throat grows tight, like rope around your windpipe and you very nearly choke at the sight of the empty framed canvas hanging on your bedroom wall, nothing but swathes of buttery yellows, whites and greys pictured where there once was a pale brunette in the foreground too.

The five inch long cut that'd been made when the painting had scraped against the edge of your dresser was absent from the canvas as well, you notice, frantically kicking off your sheets to begin searching your apartment.

He's peacefully clearing up in the kitchen when you find him, a fresh kitchen towel wrapped securely around his forearm but you can see the blood stains seeping through the pale blue cotton from where you stand.

"You're out of bandages", he smiles when he sees you and it nearly makes your knees buckle, the doorframe holding you up as you lean against it for support.

"Does it hurt?", you manage to ask, eyeing the bloodied towel sadly, guilt scraping at you from the inside out like a saw grinding against your bones. It was all your fault.

"Barely", he answers and you almost believe him. Almost.

It's Steve who crosses the distance first because your legs have grown too weak to do so, reaching out with his injured arm to cup your cheek lovingly.

He notices too late that the blood from his wound has managed to trail down to his thumb. A crimson thumbprint stains your cheek and he attempts to wipe it away from your skin but you stop him before he has the chance.

"Don't", you plead. You didn't want to wipe that trace of him away, not after thinking you'd lost him. Not when you want to wear it on you like rubies.

"I could see you the whole time", he tells you, looking all kinds of apologetic for the worry he’d caused you. "Wanted to tear through that damn frame and be with you. I needed to hold you and tell you that I was okay – that you didn't need to cry anymore but this–" he clutches his injured arm. "I don't know why I couldn't come out sooner– I don't understand this– I still don't understand this", he gestures to himself and it's with a deep pang of sympathy that you understand his frustration.

His entire existence was an anomaly. For all the months you had spent together since you'd first discovered him, the both of you were yet to know how it was that Steve came to be. What had brought him to life? what other kinds of limitations were there? what did this all mean for your relationship? The thing is, none of these questions would be answered tonight because none them mattered to you right now. He was here again and that's all that really mattered.

"We don't have to. Not right away at least", you tell him, fisting the front of his white shirt with your hands, clutching him. "Just promise me you'll always come back", you plead softly, voice cracking as you sniff back a sob.

Smiling again, Steve cradles your face with both hands then, returning your adoring gaze with his mossy, cinnamon eyes. "I promise."

You're quick to lean into him after that, your arms winding tight around his waist as his drop lower to wrap around your back, pulling you in closer as you hold each other for a while.

It's no ordinary embrace. You spend those few blissful minutes memorizing every detail; his scent, his warmth, the gentle beat of his heart as you press your cheek to his chest, relishing all the little things about him that you thought you'd lost forever.

And then you're reminded of his injury, the thin, still bleeding slash running down his arm that the two of you are yet to attend to.

"Let me patch you up", you pull back to look up into his eyes, thinking of the spare first aid kit you had tucked away somewhere deep in your closet.

He only smiles back at you in that way that makes it impossible not to feel so cherished, like you’re the only thing he’ll ever treasure in this strange life he’s been granted.

"Later."

Gently, Steve interlaces his fingers with yours, pulling you into the kitchen and guiding you towards the kitchen dining table.

You watch closely as he pushes the clutter that'd gathered there off the table with his free hand, letting the empty grocery bags and more fall to the floor. You don't even have it in you to feel ashamed of the mess, too relieved to have him back, too pleased to give yourself to Steve as he wraps his large hands around the back of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you down on your table with your legs dangling off the edge.

Neither of you are surprised when things begin to take on a feverish, needy haze as your legs spread further for him to step between. His hands find the hem of your old, oversized t-shirt so he can pull it up over your bare breasts and over your head, stripping you of it and tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties.

Five and a half hours remain until the sun is due to come up and he'll have to climb back into frame again.

It just doesn't feel like enough.

With how badly you've missed him this past week you feel like you'll need an hour just to kiss him, another to let him explore you, one more for you to return the favor and the rest to wrap yourselves around each other – both of you connected, exchanging the same shaky breath back and forth, fanning the flames of each other’s' fire as you take him so deep inside that you'll carry the forthcoming soreness between your legs with a smile.

For now, though, Steve's kisses start off slow and lazy. Soft licks swipe along your bottom lip before you grant him entry into your mouth and his tongue finds yours, wrapping around it all languid and sloppy. It doesn't take long for him to begin sucking on it gently, eagerly swallowing down the many moans that rise up from your throat when his fingers start to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.

It's impossible to keep from squirming when he touches you like this, knowing exactly where you're most sensitive and how best to stimulate you. It almost feels like he's weaponized all the knowledge he’s accrued during your time together, circling your nipples with his thumbs, bringing you right up to the cusp of just enough but purposefully withholding more – dangling your pleasure out of arm's reach

Unable to tame your greed because, how could you? how could anyone after what you’ve been through? you try to seek out more. You arch your back and push your chest out to meet Steve’s hands but all that does is make him pull away from your lips, a gentle chuckle working its way up his throat.

"Not yet, baby, not yet. Be a good girl and I'll treat you right."

You’re just about ready to pout and give him your most imploring, desperate Bambi eyes but he attaches himself to your neck next, teeth grazing your pulse point, lips forming a tight seal on your skin as he sucks fresh hickeys on to the surface.

Head lolling back, you can already imagine the sour scowl sure to twist Mrs. Owens' face when she sees the result of Steve’s work tomorrow, a grin emerging on your face as you plan to display the hickeys proudly instead of make any kind of effort to conceal them later.

But just as quickly as the thought had emerged, it falls to the wayside as Steve begins to grow less gentle, his lips leaving your neck as he urges you to lay your back flat against the table. Your own touches are growing more insistent as you help him rid himself of his shirt too, running your hands up the plane of his soft stomach, fingers trailing through his thick chest hair, loving the way it tickles your palms when you do so.

Leaning over you, he begins his descent down your body by pressing one last hot kiss at your neck and then two more between your breasts and on your stomach, gently pushing your knees further apart as he brings his mouth closer to your clothed cunt. You yield to him easily, soft and pliant under his touch like a bud unfurling its petals, ready to bloom. Your breath catches as his lips kiss up your inner thigh, his tongue seeking out your core, dragging over the damp cotton of your panties when he finds it.

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips twitching and whining for him just how he likes when he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, pulling it up so that it sinks firmly between your folds. The bump of your swollen clit is so obvious and easy to find underneath the stretched-out fabric and the curls between your legs peek out around the now tight, narrow strip of material. It feels so vulgar when he plays with you like this – so right because you’ve come to love it so much, even to the point you can’t imagine being touched any other way.

“Steve”, you can’t help the high-pitched rasp your voice has taken on, hips twitching again when he smirks and pulls on your panties hard enough for the material to drag over your clit and make you yelp.

And even now, when you're both so desperate for each other, he takes the time to tease you – loving the way you try to urge him on by wiggling your hips and the near pitiful way you whimper out "please".

"I promise. I'm going to treat you so good, sweetheart. Can you hold on a little longer for me, please? I know baby, I know – I just need to play with her a little bit first, okay? Gonna have my tongue on you soon", he coos sweetly in an attempt to placate you as he reaches for the waistband of your panties next.

You lift up your hips to help him get them off, a fresh flare of heat surging through your cheeks when you notice how he has to peel the sticky cotton from your cunt, catching sight of the glistening webs of slick that stretch from your pussy lips to your ruined underwear.

That self-conscious burn doesn’t remain for very long though because during your time together you've learned that Steve likes it messy. So, you're not surprised when you look up to find his face bright with delight, spreading your legs again once he's got your panties off from around your ankles, placing his thumbs on either side of your puffy lips and pulling you open.

"That's my girl", he mutters, his face so close you can feel his breath fan over your naked cunt. “So beautiful.”

He watches your wet hole clench and flex with an unquenchable fascination while you prop yourself up on your elbows and bite down on your lip, both of you unblinking when he gently pulls up your hood to get a good look at your throbbing clit.

“Aw baby. You’ve needed me badly, haven’t you?”, he looks up from between your legs, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it against your swelling clit to rub slow circles into the sensitive bead.

You sigh out blissfully at the much-needed stimulation, thankful for it as your toes curl and you begin to nod your head. “Missed you so much”, you tell him through a whimper, nails dragging across varnished walnut.

At your admission, you see him reach between his legs to rub at the tent in his pants, lightly grinding his crotch into his palm for some relief. "I missed you too”, he tells you earnestly, letting loose a deep groan that makes your belly twist and somersault with want.

Watching him only makes the ache between your own legs worse and as if sensing that, Steve gathers your thighs in each hand, placing them over his shoulders.

"I'll never make you wait again", he promises, leaning down low, his tongue slipping inside where you needed him most and just like that, after a week of feeling utterly fractured, like you were nothing more than a collection of shattered pieces in shambles, you’re suddenly made whole once again.

~

You hated that he couldn't stay with you in bed, both of you naked, sweaty and sticky, legs tangled together. Steve’s chest is practically pasted to your back as you both lay on your side, his arms around your waist, his soft cock against your bare ass, his cum leaking from between your legs and his lips busy at your neck.

His cut has stopped bleeding too, you were relieved to notice, a layer of scar tissue already forming in its place. Add that to the list of peculiar things you were yet to understand about Steve.

With a quick glance at the clock that shifts into a glare, you realize how quickly Steve must leave you with only ten minutes left until sun up. You wanted those minutes to stretch on as slowly as molasses, anything to keep him here beside you just a little longer.

"Let me help you clean up in here tomorrow", he kisses your cheek, pulling you away from the previous bitter thought.

You can still smell yourself on his lips the same way you're sure he can probably smell himself on yours, your tongue heavy with the taste of his spend as you keep swirling the muscle up against the roof of your mouth, sucking the remnants from it.

"Okay", you sigh contently, nuzzling your cheek against your pillow, pressing yourself against his naked form a little more.

"Don't drop me again, okay?", he chuckles against your skin like he can’t help it, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re quick to pinch him on one of the arms he’s got wrapped around your waist. "Don't even joke about that. I thought I lost you", you turn to face him with a pout, one he's quick and plenty eager to kiss away with a smile.

"You didn't. You won't. I'm yours, always."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader

[superblysubpar]

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier. 

They match the mood -  the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry. 

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.  

Not that you had even wanted any today. 

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you. 

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember. 

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming. 

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose. 

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it. 

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back. 

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.  

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally. 

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer. 

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips. 

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length. 

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug. 

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down. 

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper. 

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him. 

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper. 

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more. 

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now. 

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place. 

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words. 

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on. 

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself. 

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh. 

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer. 

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more. 

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks. 

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster. 

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago. 

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts. 

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan. 

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say. 

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up. 

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises. 

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood. 

Softer. 

Sweeter. 

Just like the words leaving your lips. 

“I’m pregnant.”

#superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar's writing #How Sweet It Is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Happily Never After

Part 2 of Holiday Compromise

Summary: With your company expanding and dealing with your parents trying to get a hold of you, your plan to purpose to Wanda has been put on hold.

Note: Their will be MAJOR spoilers in the warnings.

Warnings: implied sex, nudity and non sexual nudity, drinking, stalking, threatening message, kidnapping, reader is a simp for Wanda and the boys, Vision is a decent man, talk of past trauma.

Word Count: 9.7k

"Have you asked her yet?" You looked up from your computer to see Natasha enter the conference room. Her arms were filled with her travel mug, breakfast, and laptop. She sighed when everything was out of her hands. She opened the brown paper bag, pulled out a breakfast sandwich, and handed it to you. You thanked her with a smile, but her question caught up with you.

"If I asked her to marry me, wouldn't you be the first to know?" You opened your food and took a bit, moaning at the taste. "That was stupid," it was a little muffled from the bagel in your mouth. Your comment received a quick slap to the back of your head. "Ouch," you whine, mouth full of food. You slapped her back, and she was quick to attack.

"Children," Yelena warned as she entered the room, followed by Shuri and Bucky. "Enough," Natasha mumbled something you missed in Russian and angrily sipped on her coffee. You laughed at her dramatic behavior and felt a little bad for Yelena. The blonde had to deal with you and Natasha as kids. Nine times out of ten, it ended up in a fight. "Can I see the ring?"

You smiled, took it out of your pocket, and slipped it across the table for the blonde to see. You bought it two days after the vacation with the family of three while Wanda was at work and the twins were at Vision's. It was a three-diamond ring from Tiffany's. The stones were pear-shaped. The ring was simple but flashy. You wanted to woo her. That was three months ago, and it was almost May.

Once Yelena was done, she handed it to Shuri. "I'm surprised you haven't lost it," Shuri teased and gave it to Bucky.

"Not a bad ring boss," he tossed it back to you and caught it. But Shuri is right," he said, taking his usual spot by the door. "You better pop the question before you lose it, or she finds it." Your team laughed.

"Why are you all picking on me?" You groaned. "I can fire all of you." Natasha chuckled.

"Please, your name is on the building, but everyone knows we run this company," you said, flipping the redhead off.

"Right, just remember I sign your checks each week," you deadpanned. "Let's go over any last-minute changes and questions we want to ask them." Your team was meeting with Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Bruce Banner of Stark Industries. When the holidays were over, an email from Pepper was in your inbox looking to form a business deal and collaborate with you. It was a dream come true to work with the Starks, and you wanted everything to go smoothly, which is one of the reasons why the ring was still with you and not on Wanda's finger. You were busy; if this meeting went well, you would be even busier.

You loved your job—making high-tech wearable devices like smartwatches, fitness trackers, and smart clothing. But at the end of the meeting, you were hoping to create a new line with Stark's AI system—FRIDAY. Wanda was supportive through it all, making you love her even more. She would ensure you were eating, drinking enough water, and spending time away from your desk. All of her actions made the ring feel heavier each day.

*

A gentle knock on your home office's door pulled you away from your paperwork. Much needed to be done since the deal was made with Stark Industries. It was Wanda, wearing one of your button-up shirts, and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. You were pretty sure she was speaking, but the only thought in your head was how good she looked. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her red underwear. Her bare feet closed the distance between you and her. Carefully, she maneuvered onto your desk and sat down on the space. She could have ruined months of work, but it wouldn't have mattered to you. "Darling," she cupped your face in both her hands. "I was talking."

"And I wasn't listening," you admitted and grabbed her right foot, digging your thumb in the soul as you kissed her ankle. "I was thinking how beautiful you are, but how sexy it would be for my bite marks to cover your thighs," you bite down on the inside of her thigh. A hiss turned into a quiet moan left your girlfriend's lip. "Tell me what you were saying, baby."

"The boys are finally asleep," you continued your assault, littering her thighs with hickies. "Maybe," a quiet moan left her lips so she wouldn't wake the twins. "Extreme ice cream sundaes on a school night was not a good idea," you smirked. That was your idea, wanting to celebrate the deal with them.

"I'm sorry," you stood up slowly, undoing the shirt's buttons. Groaning when you saw she wasn't wearing a bra. "Tell me how to make it up to you," you loved the goosebumps that covered her skin. She was so sensitive, you loved it. When she didn't respond, you kissed her cheek and down the column of her throat. A sharp bite sent her hands to grip your hair. "Tell me, baby, I won't ask again."

"I need," her voice shook. You could feel heat radiating off her skin. "I need you to make me cum." It was the consent you needed. You pulled her hips to the edge of your desk and knelt between her lips. The paperwork that the team required tomorrow was no longer important. All you wanted -no, all you needed was to make your woman cum. Over and over again.

*

You splashed the cold water on your face to clean off the face wash. You were trying to be quiet as Wanda was asleep in bed. She tried to stay up with you as you finished the rest of your work, but it was a battle you knew she wouldn't win. She fell asleep on the couch, and once you were done, you carried her to bed and got ready. You were exhausted. Your work was terrific and essential, but some days, it felt like your brain was melting and dripping out of your nose. Sighing, you pulled back the covers and were about to join your sleeping girlfriend until your phone rang. You quickly silenced it, jumping at the sound. Luckily, Wanda remained asleep. "Fucking hell," you whispered and looked at the caller ID.

It was a number you hadn't seen in a long time—three years, to be exact—your father. You felt frozen; all you could do was watch the call and go to voicemail. "Sweetheart," Wanda's voice brought you back to reality. Are you coming back to bed?"

"Yeah," you said, silencing your phone and plugging it back into the charger. When you lay down, Wanda immediately placed her head on your chest.

"What's wrong?" Her accent was always deeper when she was tired. You thought it was cute. "Your heart is racing." Dammit. You hated how much your family affected you.

"It's because I'm in the presence of a goddess," she pinched your side and moved to rest her chin on your chest. You seemed to get lost in the green of her eyes. "I'm okay, baby. Just got a lot on my mind at work." She squinted her eyes at you.

"We are a team, remember?" You smiled and nodded.

"I remember," she kissed you softly and placed her head in the crook of your neck. "Sleep, baby. I promise I'm okay."

*

There was only one knock on your door before it opened to reveal your secretary, Sarah. "You have a visitor," you glanced at the clock. It was around lunch, and Wanda texted you this morning to say she wanted to spend it with you. You waved her in and focused on the phone call with Tony.

"Look, all I'm saying is we could partner with Odinson and Laufeyson and cut the cost of materials. It's a win-win" It was innovative thinking, and expanding both companies with New Asgard would be amazing. You watched Wanda walk, still in her uniform and a food bag. “Brunnhilde owes me a favor. She could set up the meeting," your girlfriend sat in front of your desk. You put up one finger to tell her you were almost done. She nodded and pulled out the food she brought.

"Yeah, it's a smart idea," you glanced at your calendar. The twin's birthday was marked on it, and it was coming soon. You made a mental note to order their birthday presents so they would arrive on time. "See if you can do it in a few weeks. I'm a little swamped at the moment." you chuckled.

"I've been telling you, kid. You need to delegate and hire some interns," you rolled your eyes and pulled the phone away from your ear, sending a playful glare to Wanda as the billionaire went on a tangent. It's fair. It was on your to-do list. Wanda giggled.

"Tony, I love you and hear you," you cut him off. "But my girl is here and I want to have lunch with her. Can we table this for another time?" You liked the blush that covered Wanda's cheeks. The man laughed.

"Enjoy, kid. Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do, which isn't saying a lot," you chuckled. The billionaire was insane, but he was also a great business partner.

"Bye, Stark," you hung up before he could say anything else. "Sorry, I think the man likes to hear himself talk." You opened the sandwich she brought for you.

"It's fine," Wanda smiled. "How's your day been?" So you told her about your day; the endless amount of meetings and phone calls was taking a toll on you. She suggested taking another short vacation, just you and her. "It would have to be after the twin's birthday. You know that is coming up, right?"

"How could I forget? It's marked in my calendar." You showed her your calendar. You wrote it in red and circled it so it would stand out, and you wouldn't forget.

"I have something to ask you," you hated her tone and the way she played with the rings on her finger. "It's on behalf of the boys." It made you feel a little better.

"Baby," you reached for her hand and squeezed it. "You can ask me anything."

"The boys want to have their birthday party at their father's house," that made sense. His house was bigger; he had a yard and a pool. It was the perfect spot for a middle school birthday party. You figured this was about spending their birthday on a different day. "They want you to come to the party," you dropped her hand in shock. They wanted you to attend a party at your current girlfriend's ex-husband's house with his girlfriend. Fuck no. Hell no. "I know it's a lot, and you do not need to make a decision now. I told them it may make you uncomfortable?"

"Does Vision know they want me there?" Wanda sighed.

"He does and," you gave her a look to continue. "He was okay with it as long as you are." You blinked at her a few times, mouth opened slightly.

"Come again. That man has not liked me from day 1." You weren't looking for his approval, but you wanted things to be civil. Unfortunately, he was the twin's father. Wanda took your hand.

"I think he's starting to realize you aren't going anywhere," Damn straight. You were here to stay. "It helps that the boys like you, and we may have had our differences, but he loves them." That you knew was true. A small part of you, the younger you, was jealous that Wanda and Vision could still be parents to the twins through their divorce. Their main priority was Billy and Tommy, unlike your parents, who prioritized themselves.

"I'll think about it," if they wanted you there, then you could consider it, but God, it would be awkward. You hated awkward situations.

"Thank you," she helped you clean up and walked her to your office door. "Are you staying late?" You nodded. She brought her fingers to your temple and rubbed them. You moaned and fell into her. Her laugh made you feel lighter. "Don't stay too late, okay? You need sleep."

"I know. I'll text you when I'm done," you kissed her softly. "I love you." It was such a simple three-letter word, but it made your heart soar every time. You wondered if you said it enough.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Please take care of yourself," she said, fixing the collar of your shirt. "The boys and I need you," you said, cupping her cheeks and brushing your nose against hers.

"I need you too. Always."

*     

It was late. So stupidly late that you were annoyed with yourself that you couldn't keep your promise to Wanda. There was one thing left to do on your to-do list. All you had to do was sign the contract Pepper sent over and send it back. However, your mind was so focused on what Wanda asked you that the words blurred today. So you opened a bottle of whiskey and poured yourself a glass. Soft jazz music played from the record player that Melina got you. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Natasha opened and closed your door. "Don't you have a woman keeping your bed warm?"

"I guess I could ask you the same thing," you said, grabbing an extra glass and filling it. "Instead of a woman, it's more like two strong and muscular men," she said, taking the full glass you offered.

"Are you jealous?" you cringed. Dating and sleeping with men were not your thing. "Come on, tell Mama Nat all of your troubles and how she can help," she sat down on your couch and flopped on the spot next to her.

"You can never say that in my presence. Keep that in the bedroom," the redhead threw her head back in a laugh.

"Come on, boss, what's going on?' You joined her on the couch with the bottle and your glass."

"My mind is all over the place. With the deal with Starks, Wanda asked me something, and-" You took a sip of your drink, stopping yourself from telling her about the phone call from your father.

"What happened between you and Wanda?" You sighed.

"The twin's birthday is coming up. No, you can not get them anything," she pouted in protest. "I'm still apologizing for the Christmas mess," she shrugged. "The party is at Vision's house, and they want me to go."

"Oh," Natasha let out a slow breath. "Shit," you laughed, finished your drink, and poured yourself another one. "So, do the boys want you there or Wanda?"

"The boys asked Wanda to ask me," you simplified. The redhead nodded. She was biting the inside of her cheek and moving the liquor in her glass.

"So you go," she shrugged. Your jaw dropped. Was she serious? She knew you hated awkward situations; you avoided them like the plague. "Look, it's huge. The boys want you there. It speaks volumes that they want you there to celebrate with them. You go for them."

"You make it sound so easy," you groaned, throwing your head back.

"Because it is," she flicked you on your cheek. "The twins love you. Everyone sees it. It's no surprise they want you there. Besides, if Vision gets on your nerves, throw him in the pool," she tried to hide her smile in her glass. "He uncanny acts like a robot; it may short-circuit his motherboard or something." You laughed hard. It made your stomach begin to hurt. The red joined in, and you fell against each other. Natasha always knew how to make you feel better. You were grateful for her.

Your phone ringing caught the laughter between you and your friend. "It's probably the misuses," you fished the phone out of your pocket as Natasha picked up the two dirty glasses. It was not Wanda. Oh, how you wished it was. "Who is it?" You forgot Natasha was still in your office. She ripped the phone out of your hand when you refused to answer. That snapped you out of it. "Your fucking mother. What the fuck does that cunt want?"

"I don't know because I didn't answer it," you deadpanned. She ignored the call and threw it on the couch next to you. You caught it before it bounced off.

"How long has seen been trying to reach you?" Her green eyes turned stormy, and you felt yourself shrink under her intense stare. It was impossible to lie to her. You used to joke that she was a Russian spy in her past life.

"Not long," you mumbled. "My father called me a few days ago. It's the first time she's called me," she huffed and threw her arms up, then on her hips.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not that big of a deal," your phone beeped, and you saw she left a voicemail. "Nat, you know how they are. They call when they need money. I ignore them, and when they find the money through someone else, they stop calling. It's the same way every time."

"I'm calling Melina."

"No!" You said suddenly and stood up. She raised an eyebrow at you with her phone in her hand. "I do not need the Russian mob going after my deadbeat parents. It will blow over."

"My parents aren't in the mob," you weren't 100% sure you believed her. Alexei had tattoos that would make any criminal go running. But she placed her phone back in her pocket. "I don't like this." You knew she wouldn't. It was another reason why you didn't tell her. She was very protective over you when it came to your parents. She had to mend a lot of the broken pieces caused by them.

"I know," you stood up, walked over to her, and placed your hands on her arms. "But they can't hurt me anymore." Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her noise.

"Promise me you will not give them anything. They don't deserve it," you nodded. "And promise me, if you don't feel safe, you call Maria or Melina." You nodded again. "I need to hear you say it."

"I promise." You knew they wouldn't intentionally hurt you, but to ease her nerves, you made the promise. Natasha pulled you into a hug, and you slumped against her. You felt safe. You felt like everything was going to be okay."

*

"Now, where are you off to?" Sarah asked when you stepped out of your office.

"I'm going to surprise Wanda at work," you smiled. "Can you transfer all calls to my personal? Oh! Do you want anything? I know you like their Ruben." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and get me a slice of their cheesecake." Now that was a brilliant idea. She reached for her purse.

"If you hand me money, so help me, woman, I will slap you," she threw a piece of paper at you. Before you could retaliate, your phone rang. You stuck your tongue at her and answered it. "Hey, Wands, I was about to come see you."

"Actually," your smile dropped, and you stepped away from Sarah. "I need a favor." You hated how fast your heart started to beat. "Tommy and Billy have a half day that Vision and I forgot about. Can you pick them up? Vision will get them from you when he can."

"Of course. Jeez, you almost gave me a heart attack," she laughed. "I'll leave right now. I love you. See you tonight?" You questioned.

"Yes, and I love you too," you smiled and hung up. You faced Sarah.

"Duty calls," you gave her a salute. "I'll get you food whenever the boys want to go." Sarah laughed with a wave of her hand.

"Enjoy your time with them. We'll hold down the fort here."

Picking up the twins was always a walk in the park since your name was on the approved pickup list. The only annoying thing was the receptionist, who liked to flirt with you. You clarified that you were seeing someone, but she didn't care. The twins loved to tease you over it, much to Wanda's dismay.

You brought them to The Western Flavor for lunch. "Okay, we need to establish some rules," you said as they opened their menus. "Real food first, then desserts or your mother may break up with me." Billy laughed.

"It would take a lot for Mom to leave you."

"Yeah, I think you are stuck with us." You were more than okay with that. As you decided what to order, the twins updated you on all the school gossip. You forgot how crazy it was to be in middle school. Once the waitress brought your food, you noticed a change in their behavior. "Alright," you took a sip of your drink. "What's going on? Why are you acting weird?"

"Puberty," Tommy answered. You glared at them both. Billy rolled his eyes.

"Has Mom asked you about our birthday party?" Shit. Wanda asked you three days ago; the party was in a week.

"She did," you answered slowly.

"And?" Billy asked.

"Boys-," you sighed.

"Please, we really want you there," Tommy pleaded. "You are the only adult who will play with us in the pool." You laughed at that. He wasn't wrong. The weather was in that weird phase of not spring but winter. You looked at the weather for next week, and it was supposed to be in the mid-70s to early 80s.

"Plus, we asked Dad, and he said it was fine." Billy took a French fry from your plate. "Well, we didn't ask Tiffany, but it's not her house, so her opinion doesn't matter." Tommy nodded along with his brother. The twins' clear dislike of their father's girlfriend made you snort, which caused them to laugh at you.

"Okay, fine, I'll go," they cheered, and you couldn't help but smile at how excited they were. "However, if I find myself in one awkward encounter with him, I will use you two as my decoy."

"Aye, aye, captain," Tommy said.

"Sir, yes, sir," you rolled your eyes and threw your straw wrapper at them. They discussed everything that was going to happen at their party. You made a mental note to ask Wanda how you could help. You groaned when your phone started to ring. The boys laughed at your displeasure. Glancing at it, you saw it was your mother. They could not take a hint. You silenced the ringer and focused on figuring out what milkshake you wanted.

"Who was that?" Billy asked.

"No one important," you answered and stole a look at the twins. They were staring at each other. It reminded you of Wanda's look when she didn't believe the story the boys tried to spin. It was a little uncanny how similar the look was. "It was my mother. We don't have the best relationships?"

"Is that why you spend holidays with us instead of your mom and dad?" Billy asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Yes, before you guys, I would celebrate them with my coworkers or Natasha and Yelena." You spent a lot of Christmas and Thanksgiving at the Russian household. The last holiday you spent with your parents was when you were 11.

"Why don't you like them?" Tommy questioned.

"You don't have to answer that," Billy quickly added, glaring at his brother. You smiled. Kids were curious by nature, but it was okay. Besides, you've spoken about your relationship with your parents in therapy. It was easier.

"My parents divorced when I was around your age, but unlike your parents, they don't care about me," Billy frowned at your confession. "So they only call me when they need money or something from me."

"Parents shouldn't do that," you agreed with Billy, but sometimes, that wasn't the case. The waitress came by to collect your plates and asked if you wanted dessert. The twins wanted a milkshake, and you got a fudge sundae. She left with your order.

"Tiffany says that about mom," Tommy said. "That she is just with you for the money."

"Tommy," his brother hissed, slapping his brother under the table. So it was supposed to be a secret. You wanted to have a few words with Tiffany.

"You know that's not true, right?" They nodded.

"Trust me, we know," Billy said. "If mom were with you for the money, we wouldn't still live in our small apartment." You laughed, shaking your head.

"I don't like Tiffany," Tommy cringed, twitching his nose like Wanda when she said or tasted something she didn't like.

"Tommy!" Billy said again.

"What? Stop trying to be all high and mighty. You don't like her either," you smiled as Billy slumped in the booth.

"Your secret is safe with me," you promised.

"She's just so-" Billy groaned, unable to find the right words. "There is something about her we don't like." The waitress brought you the desserts.

"Maybe because she's dating your dad," you suggested and ate a spoonful of ice cream. It was weird; you liked the feeling of the brain freeze. Tommy shook his head.

"You are dating our mom, and we like you," he said. It was always nice to hear that. Anyway, what are you getting us for our birthday?" You laughed. You loved these boys so much.

*

"Pop a squat, boys," you told them when you entered your office after you dropped off Sarah's food. "Your dad will pick you up when he's done with work. So homework than video games."

"Awe, come on," Tommy whined. "Aren't you supposed to be the fun parent?" Parent. He called you the fun parent. It was so strange how that single word could fill you with butterflies.

"Homework while I do my job, then we can play Mario Kart," you compromised. They seemed content, and they got to work on your couch. You figured you had 45 minutes to tack your to-do list. So you followed their lead and got to work. You were 15 minutes off, and 30 minutes later, they were standing in front of your desk with their homework done. You glared at the boys and ignored the smiles on their faces.

"You promised," Billy said. Sighing, you reorganized the papers on your desk.

"Come on, boys. It's time for me to kick your butts in Mario Kart." They cheered and followed you to the conference room. You kept a few game consoles set up in there. So you set up the game and began to play.

You loved this time with the boys. When you first started dating Wanda, you were worried about the twins not liking you. They were a little standoffish, but you bonded with them over video games.

You were gifted an early copy of "Edge of Vengeance: Retribution," the second game in the franchise, by the developers. The first one was okay but not your favorite. So when you were at dinner with Wanda and the boys, you overheard the twins talking about it. You gifted it to them the next day. The smile on their face was something that would stick with you forever.

"No fair!" Tommy wined and dropped the controller onto the table. "You have to be cheating." You crossed the finish line, once again in first place.

"I'm sorry, little man, I'm just better than you," you teased and dusted off your shoulders. Billy laughed. He gave up trying to beat you a few rounds ago. You laughed as the door opened. It was Sarah.

"Their father is here," she told you. You nodded and paused the game.

"Alright. Grab your stuff," they put their controllers away without asking them.

"I almost beat you in the race before the last one," Tommy said. You stood between them as you walked to the elevator and into the lobby. "It was so unfair you used that shortcut." You smiled.

"Then you should have said we couldn't use short cuts," you said as the door closed and descended. "It's your fault." Billy laughed.

"She's got you there,"

"You are supposed to be on my side, jerk," Tommy lunged for this brother, but you grabbed his backpack and pulled him back.

"Enough," you told him. "The last thing I need is for you to break the elevator." The doors opened, and you walked out with your arms around your shoulders. "You'll get me one day, buddy; just don't give up." You found Vision as soon as you entered the lobby. Dressed in a suit and his arms crossed, he seemed a little out of place.

"Hi, Dad," Billy walked over to him and hugged him.

"Hello, boys. Did you have fun?"

"We did!" Tommy smiled. "Y/n, let us play Mario Kart." Their father looked at you.

"I made sure they did their homework first," you weren't completely useless when it came to kids.

"Thank you for picking them up. It slipped our minds."

"It's no big deal," you told him and shrugged. "I know my schedule is more flexible, so whenever you guys need me to pick them up, I can," he nodded.

"Dad, dad," Tommy pulled on Vision's arm. "She said she'll come to our birthday party."

"If that's okay," you added on quickly. "I don't want to intrude." The man must have given himself whiplash on how fast he looked at you and his son.

"You won't be," he said, even though his voice sounded strained. "You are always welcome." Your jaw almost dropped. What was happening right now? "Come on, boys. Let's get out of her hair. You can be quite a handful," he teased and ruffled their hair. The boys said goodbye, and you waved after them, unable to find any words after that bizarre encounter with your girlfriend's ex-husband.

"Are you okay, boss?" Bucky asked, walking over to you from his post.

"I think I need a drink after that," the veteran laughed.

"You are so dramatic," he said. You stuck your tongue at him and walked back to the elevator. After a few more hours of work, you will be home with Wanda. 

*  

"Smells good," you smiled over your shoulder as Wanda entered the kitchen after her shower. Once Wanda's shift ended, you met her at the diner and drove you back to your house. While she showered away the day, you started on dinner. "Do you need help?" You shook your head.

"If you want to pick a wine to go with this, go right ahead," you had a pretty impressive wine collection and knew Wanda loved pairing a bottle with whatever dish. When she quit the diner, you would push her to culinary school. Once you placed the food, you carried the plates to the table, and Wanda brought the wine. She thanked you for cooking with a kiss. You spoke about nothing and everything. She caught you up on the latest drama at the diner and you gave her updates on work. Most of the time, you ate in a comfortable silence. It was one of your favorite things. There was no need to talk and fill the silence.

"So," you sipped on the wine. "I talked to the twins about their party." She nodded slowly and poured more wine from the bottle into her glass. "I will be going," you watched the relief wash over her. "If you wanted me to go so bad, you should have said so," you chuckled.

"I didn't want to put you in a situation you weren't comfortable in. I can deal with Vision. I don't like Tiffany," her nose scrunched in disgust. You laughed. Mother like son.

"What do you need help with?"

"Nothing," you glared at her. "I'm serious," she laughed. "Vision hired a catering service so I don't have to cook, and he rented extra chairs and tables from a party company. I may decorate the backyard, but everything is taken care of," your eyebrows went to your hairline. "I was shocked too, but all you have to do is show up," she stood up and picked up the dirty plates. "And look hot while you swim." You laughed and joined her in the kitchen. She was rinsing the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. You wrapped your arms around her waist.

"Are you ready for all the horny moms to eye fuck me the entire time?" Your girlfriend tensed up. You chuckled and pushed her hair out of the way to attack her neck with your lips. "Don't worry, baby. I only have eyes for you," you moved your hand underneath her shirt and felt goosebumps that appeared on her skin. "So sensitive," you teased. She dropped the plate in the sink and spun around quickly. Her lips attached to yours.

"You are mind," she mumbled against your lips. You picked her up with your hands underneath her things. The dishes could wait a little longer.

*

"When are you going to be home? I miss you." You chuckled. "What? Can I not miss my girlfriend leaving me alone in a cold bed."

"That bed is not cold because you like the house at 79 degrees," your girlfriend huffed. "Not even an even number when you know I hate odds," the woman had the audacity to laugh at you. "I miss you too, by the way. You know I'd rather be there with you than here."

"I know," she sighed. "How much longer are you going to be?" You looked at the stack of mail on your desk Sarah brought in before she left.

"30 minutes, an hour tops," you answered and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I have a headache," you whined.

"Drink some water and wear your glasses," you groaned. "I'll try to stay up and wait for you."

"Don't worry about it, baby," you leaned back in your chair. You need your sleep. I'll try not to wake you when I get home." Wanda was pulling a double shift tomorrow, and the ring on your desk seemed to tease you.

"I love you, sweetheart," you smiled at Wanda's sleepy voice.

"I love you too, baby," you said as you hung up and picked up the jewelry box. You were so busy. Thor and Loki agreed to work with you and Stark Industries, so that meant more paperwork, deadlines, and headaches for you. You wanted to get as much done before the birthday party as possible before the short weekend getaway you and Wanda planned.

You didn't have enough brainpower to plan a proposal. You wanted to involve the boys, but that's all you had figured out.

Sighing, you put the box down and picked up the stack of mail. A lot of it was junk, a few letters from organizations thanking you for your donations and a magazine subscription you don't remember signing up for. However, an envelope caught your attention. There was no return address and no postage mark as if someone had just dropped the letter off. Carefully, you opened it up and pulled out the letter.

Your stomach dropped immediately. The letter was created by cutting out maginze letters and gluing them together. It was something you saw out of an actual crime show. It read: 'Pay us what you owe, or they will get it.' A snake wrapped around your heart. It was difficult for you to breathe. You ran your hands over your face. As your hands shook, you picked up your phone and called an old friend.

"Why do I smell trouble?" Maria answered on the second ring. "Do I need to bail you and Natasha out of jail again?" You could have laughed if bile wasn't forming in your throat.

"Maria, I need you to come to my office," you said. "It's an emergency." Could she hear the shake in your voice? Fuck, your heart was pounding against your ribs. You were going to have a panic attack. "Ria, I need you."

"Shit," you heard movement on her side. "I'll be right there. Do I need to stay on the phone with you?"

"No," you said. "I'll be fine. Just hurry, please."

"I'll be right there. Do your breathing exercises for me, okay? You're no use to me if you pass out," she managed to make you chuckle.

"Thanks, Ria. I'll see you soon," she hung up. You stood up and walked away from your desk. You needed to get away from that letter. So you paced—5 steps one way, turn around 5 steps the other way, and repeat and repeat. It helped lessen the tension in your chest, and you began to breathe normally. It was going to be okay. You kept repeating that mantra in your head.

* 

You opened the door before Maria could knock. "I heard you," you answered your unasked question.

"If you didn't sound so flustered on the phone, I'd joke about how creepy that is," she got you to smile. "Alright, what is it?" You waved her over to your desk and pointed to the letter. She put gloves on and picked it up. She read it over a few times. "Has anyone else touched this?" You shook your head.

"I was the only one to touch the letter, but Sarah may have touched the envelope." She nodded and placed the letter in an evidence bag.

"Okay, your fingerprints should still be in the system, so we can cross-reference yours on the letter," you rolled your eyes.

"You get arrested once, and it's all anybody talks about." The agent smirked.

"If I remember correctly, it was four times, and Fury was the first one to arrest you." You smiled and sat down on the couch.

"How's the big man? Still causing you headaches." Maria sat beside you, throwing her feet on the small table.

"Always. He misses you. Had to handcuff him to his chair when I told him you called and needed something." Now, that would have been a sight. You missed the man, too. There was a part of your childhood where you rebelled; not even Natasha's family could ring you in. It was a desperate attempt to get your parent's attention. Instead of getting their attention, you got the attention of Nick Fury. The man arrested you for breaking into an abandoned building and vandalism. You liked tagging buildings when you were younger. Since it was your first offense, you were sentenced to community service, which Fury oversaw.

He saw something in you that not a lot of people did. A young girl who was looking for someone to believe in. So when his agents brought you in three more times, he kept it off your record and became a mentor to you. If it wasn't for him and Natasha's family, you would not be the CEO of your own company. You owed them a lot.

"So, who do you owe money to?" You gasped at the accusation. "Look, you know I have to ask and look at every angel." You knew that but still it hurt.

"I don't own anybody anything," your headache was coming back full force.

"When was the last time you spoke to your parents?" You sighed, crossing your arms.

"3 years ago, almost 4. It was about the boat incident on Oneida." Maria nodded. "They've been calling me the past week, but I've ignored them."

"I will get a judge to sign off on your phone records and security camera. Hopefully, we can catch who dropped this off," she placed her hand on the back of your neck and squeezed it. "We'll figure out who did this," she promised. "It could also be a competitor. The deal you made with Stark has made headline news. Do you want me to assign agents to Wanda and the boys?" You shook your head.

"I don't want to worry them. I'll," you sighed and rubbed your hands across your face. I'll talk to them about it." She nodded, and you rested your head on her shoulder. Maria was similar to you. Her home life was not ideal, and it seemed Fury had the tendency to adopt strays and keep them underneath his wing. Unfortunately, she had to bail you and Natasha out of trouble every once in a while.

"How long have you been here?" She softly asked. You closed your eyes.

"I got in around 9," you answered. It would have been earlier, but Wanda held you hostage in bed, and it was very hard to say no to sleepy Wanda.

"You realize it's 11:30, right?" you groaned and nodded. "Go home, bean," she said. "Go home to Wanda and the boys. We'll take care of everything." You believed her. She was the deputy director and the leader of an impressive team. You trusted her with your life.

*    

When you closed the door to your house, you felt the weight on your shoulders leave. It felt easier to breathe. You threw your bag on the couch, took off your shoes, and made sure to set the house alarm. Walking to your room, you checked on the boys, who were fast asleep. Good. You kept walking and found Wanda fast asleep. Her hair framed around her head. The blankets were pulled up to her chin. The sight made you smile, and you stripped out of your clothes and climbed into bed beside her. Usually, you would shower and change into pajamas, but you wanted to be in the safety of your shared bed.

Trying to avoid waking her, you pulled back the covers and laid yourself next to Wanda. Your head in the crock of her neck, inhaling her sent. She smelt of lavender and soothed your throbbing headache. On instinct, she wrapped her arms around you. Most nights you held her, you loved the feeling of her in your arms. Sometimes you needed to be held. "My baby," she mumbled, still clearly asleep. You smiled and kissed her shoulder.

"Yours, my love," you whispered. "Yours now and forever." You weren't going to let anyone hurt your family.

*  

Oh, you were going to throw up. You desperately wanted to arrive with Wanda, but a video call with Tony, Shuri, and Thor was scheduled, and you could not reschedule it. The party officially started in two hours, but you wanted to show up early and help. Pumping yourself up, you knocked on the door with your free hand. The presents for the twins were in one hand, and your swimsuit, change of clothes, and a bottle of wine were in your backpack. The door opened. "Y/n," Vision said. Was he smiling at you?

"Vision," you forced a smile of your own.

"You're here!" You heard the thundering footsteps of the twins racing towards you.

"I'll take these," he took the presents right before Billy and Tommy threw themselves at you. "They've been on a sugar rush all morning." The man looked fondly at his sons, who were crushing you. Damn, where are they always this strong? They may break a rib. "Alright, boys," Vision chuckled. "Let her breathe." What the fuck was happening? Did you walk into a different timeline? Billy let go of you first, but Tommy kept hugging you.

"Happy birthday, boys," you ruffled Tommy's hair. "Are you excited for the party?"

"Yes!" Tommy said. "Let's go swimming." He grabbed onto your hand and began to drag you to the pool.

"Tommy," the boy froze at his father's tone. "You promised to help Tiffany in the kitchen. Go help her with your brother, then you can go in the pool." Tommy groaned and headed towards the kitchen, dragging his feet behind him. Billy rolled his eyes and followed his brother. Vision sighed. "They may send me to an early grave," There was a smile on his face.

"Oh, I can take these back," you reached for the presents, but he shook his head.

"I can take these to the table. Wanda is outside," you stared at the man as he left you in the entryway. You shook your head and walked over to the back door. Vision was right. Wanda was putting together a banner. Her back was to you. Quietly, you opened the door and walked over to her. She jumped when you wrapped your arms around her waist. The smell of her perfume helped you relax. Soon she relaxed in your arms.

"Hi baby," you whispered and kissed her cheek.

"How was the meeting?" She asked as she worked on the banner. You sighed.

"It was okay," you threw your bag in a chair and began to help her. "I think Thor has more energy than Tony." Wanda chuckled. You continued to place the letters together to spell 'Happy Birthday' in silence. Until a question was burning on your lips. You glanced at the house. "Is Vision okay?" You asked slowly. "He's acting strange, like Tommy hit him in the back of the head with a football." A smile slowly crept onto Wanda's face.

"No," she laughed. "He's been in a good mood since I got here," she shrugged. "I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." You narrowed your eyes at the house. Something strange was happening here.

You hated to admit how much fun the party was. You spent a lot of your time being dragged around by the twins and involved in whatever game they wanted to play. They somehow convinced their father to play a game of chicken with you in the pool. You learned that the man would do anything to make his boys smile. It was annoyingly adorable.

The only issue you had was Tiffany. She cornered you in the kitchen when you made another pitcher of lemonade. Well, corned was a strong word, but she was interrogating you about your work and family.

Besides that, you enjoyed spending time with Wanda and meeting the parents of the twins' friends. It felt like you were part of the family. You sang Happy Birthday, ate cake, watched them open presents, and cuddled with Wanda while you watched Tommy and Billy run around with their friends.

Once the party was over and the last guest left, you grabbed a trash can and began picking up the backyard. It wasn't long till Vision joined. You held open the bag for him as he picked up bottles that missed the trash can. "You made their day by coming," he said, breaking the silence. I think they'll be talking about it all year." You stared at him, eyes squinting. Did I say something?"

"Vision, what the fuck is going on?" He seemed startled by your sudden outburst. "This is the most you've spoken to me since Wanda and I started dating." The man sighed. He walked over to the cooler and opened it. Returning to you, he handed you a beer. You watched him open it and offer you the bottle. You hit yours against his and opened it. You've never seen this man drink before. You really were in a weird timeline.

"I did not like you when you first started dating Wanda," you chuckled. Everyone with eyes knew that. "It was mostly my fault our marriage fell apart. I became complacent and did not realize what I had, and then she was gone." You frowned. Vision took another sip from the bottle. "And Billy and Tommy loved you. On my weekends, they would not stop talking about you." You understand now.

"I'm not here to steal your family, Vision," the man sighed.

"Well, I know that now," he said. "Billy helped me realize how unfair I was treating you. You always thought that boy was wise beyond his years. "So I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me." You weren't one to hold grudges, especially when the person was open and vulnerable with you.

"Water under the bridge, Vis," you said. "But thank you for being honest with me." He smiled and began to take down the remaining tables. Since it was a day full of confessions, you had one of your own. You took a sip of your beer. "I have a hypothetical question," he glanced at you while he laid the table on the grass. "How difficult is getting an Order of Protection in New York?" The man froze. "Hypothetically," you said again. Vision was a lawyer and part of the team for the district attorney. If anyone knew the process, it would be him.

"Am I that bad?" He joked. You rolled your eyes and mumbled, 'Jackass.' He chuckled and sipped his beer. "Hypothetically speaking, it can be filed in a criminal case or family court. Would this hypothetical order of protection be against a family member?" You crossed your arms.

"Hypothetically, yes," he sighed, watching his eyes look you up and down.

"Then hypothetically, you would need to file a petition that tells the judge and respondent what you would want," you nodded and took a step forward. "This hypothetical order of protection," you rolled your eyes. "Are Wanda and my sons in danger?"

"No," he gave you a look that he wasn't convinced. "No," you repeated. "Nothing will happen to them. I promise."

"Have you spoken to Wanda about this hypothetical order of protection?" You looked at the house and saw Wanda trying to get the twins to help clean up and put their toys away. She caught you staring, and she waved, but you saw the question in her gaze; 'Are you okay?' You nodded and waved back.

"I have not," he hummed.

"A little advice," you looked back at the man. "Tell her. She hates being lied to. She rather know the truth no matter how bad it is," you knew that. Sighing, you rang your hand through your hair. You felt his hand on your shoulder. "You are good for her."

"Thanks, Vis," you smiled. He nodded and began the original task of cleaning up. You finished your beer and threw the empty bottle in the trash. You placed your hands on your hips and looked around the backyard. Today was good. You hated to ruin it with your family bullshit.

*

"I am tired," Wanda slumped on the couch, not bothering to take off her shoes. You smiled, dropped your bag, and toed off your sneakers. Sitting by her feet, you unclipped her heels and dropped them to the floor. You massaged her calves and thighs. She groaned and flipped onto her back, letting her hair down from the ponytail braid.

"You did good, mama," you whispered. "A successful party if I say so." Wanda climbed onto your lap, her hands behind your head, playing with the hair. It was relaxing, and you felt your eyes closed.

"What were you and Vision talking about?" Your eyes snapped open, and you cringed.

"Can you not say your ex-husband's name while on my lap and the less-than-PG thoughts running through my head?" She laughed and rested her head in the crook of your neck. You ran her hand down her back, and she slumped against you. "I wanted some legal advice regarding my parents." The mention of your parents caused your girlfriend to tense up. She leaned back to look at you.

"Why ask Vision and not your lawyer?" Well, your lawyer was Melina, and you did not want to tell her what was happening. For the company, it was Carol. You learned very early on that mixing business and personal was messy.

"Because I was just looking for advice," she narrowed her eyes at you. "They've been calling me a lot."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You hated her tone. It made you feel like you were in trouble. You winced.

"They do this all the time when they want money," you said, feeling major deja vu when you were having a similar conversation with Natasha. You laid her down on the couch and hovered above her. "And I didn't want to worry you," Wanda sighed.

"What do you tell me all the time?" It was your turn to sigh.

"We are a team," you mumbled, kissed her cheek, and rested your forehead against hers. "I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" Her eyes filled with worry and concern. You nodded. It was the truth. You were okay. "Is there anything else?"

"No," you said right away. The lie felt bitter on your tongue. She put her arms around your back and pulled you closer. When she first did this, you worried you would crush her. But she loved having you close. It was a physical reminder that you were hers, and she was yours. You kissed her shoulder. This was perfect. The little bubble of peace you both created was everything to you. You wouldn't change it for the world.

*    

"Wanda," she looked up from her notepad while she took her table's order. It was her manager, while another server was walking over to her. "It's your son's school," Wanda's heart plummeted. She apologized to her table and walked to her manager's office.

"Hello," she said once she was alone.

"Hi Wanda, it's Amanda." Oh, Wanda knew who she was. It was the receptionist who kept flirting with you. "Billy and Tommy haven't gotten picked up yet. We tried calling Vision, but it went right to voice mail."

"They are still at school," Wanda said slowly as if Amanda spoke a foreign language.

"Yes, ma'am. They are in the office, perfectly safe. Will you be in to pick them up, or will you send in someone else?" Wanda didn't miss her flirtatious tone but she was so stuck on the fact her sons weren't picked up from school on the day you said you would do it.

"I'll be right there," she told her and hung up before Amanda could respond. What was going on?

*   

When she frantically walked into the building, Wanda knew her boys were behind her. Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow but buzzed her through. It was rather comical when she ran right into Natasha. The collision caused the redhead to drop all her papers. "Wands, where is the fire?" She chuckled. "Isn't this how you fell in love with the boss? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm spoken for." The memory always brought a smile to her face, but it tugged at her heart. Wanda and the boys helped pick up the papers. "Wait, I thought it was Y/n's day to pick up the little gremlins." She winked at the boys.

"It was, and clearly she didn't," Wanda handed her the papers she had picked up. So where is she?" Wanda hoped you forgot—that you got dragged into another meeting. Natasha's green eyes said something different. Her green eyes flickered to the trio in front of her and then to Bucky, who joined the group.

"She left about 45 minutes ago," she looked at Bucky, who nodded to confirm her story.

"Her phone is going right to voicemail," Billy added. Wanda watched your best friend's eyes turn stormy.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Natasha let out a shaky breath.

"Why don't we take the boys to the conference room?" she smiled. "I think the switch is still hooked up." The twins cheered and walked towards the conference room, leading the way. Natasha pulled out her phone and began to follow her sons, but Wanda stopped her.

"Who are you calling?" She glanced at the twins, who Bucky was now following.

"Maria Hill. She's-"

"An agent over at SHIELD," you spent one drunken night recanting all your stories with the agent and the red head. At the time it was funny but hearing Natasha say the agent's name made Wanda realize something terrible was happening. "Nat, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she put the phone to her ear. "But Maria will be our best bet." Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?

* 

It was the pain radiating from your neck and the side of your head that woke you up. Black dots covered your Vision, and you blinked a few times for them to disappear. You were bound to the chair in a room you didn't recognize. You yanked at the restraints, but they weren't moving. "I'd save your strength," the voice came from the corner of the room. You knew that voice.

"Tiffany," your throat was so dry. "What the fuck?" Vision's girlfriend walked out of the corner. She looked different from the party. Her hair was pinned up in a bun. No hair seemed to be out of place. Instead of her dress at the party, she wore black slacks and a red body suit. You remembered her face was dolled up with makeup, not bare. She gripped your chin and forced your head back. You winced. "What are you doing?" You hated how much your voice shook.

"How good is your Greek mythology?" Was she speaking with an accent? It felt like there was cotton in your eyes. "What is the mythological creature that is a serpent with nine heads?" You racked your brain for the answer. "Come on, sweetheart. Do you need another hint?" You tried to swallow, but you couldn't. Fuck, you needed water. "If you cut the head off two more, grow it back." It clicked. Tiffany smiled. "Say it."

"H-HYDRA," you whispered.

"Say it louder," she demanded, nails dug into your skin.

"HYDRA," you said. She dropped her hand, and your head fell forward. "What do you want with me?" You kept your head down.

"In due time, darling. Rest. The real fun will begin soon."

-

Don't worry Part 3 will be out next week :D

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff one shot #marvel oneshot #marvel au

[cowboykento]

cw: weed (edibles)

splitting an edible with cowboy!kento while you sit out on his porch in the cool spring evening.

you sit next to him on the swinging bench while you wait for it to kick in, your legs tucked against you and your pinky finger wrapped around kento's. you tell him about your day at work, and he replies with his own questions and comments as you go.

you can feel it behind your eyes and floating in your head first, in the middle of kento's question, and you wonder if he notices the way your eyes have slowly started to squint.

he can, but only because he's so aware of the tingling in his cheeks and the floating sensation in his head. he looks at you like you're a vision, his own eyes falling almost shut just like yours.

"'m sorry, what did you say?" you ask, too distracted by the sensation overtaking you to really have heard him.

"asked ya how that project ya started last week was goin'," he smiles widely at you, a kind of goofy grin pulling his lips in a way you don't think you've ever seen before. "y'gettin' distracted?"

you giggle at him, scooting in closer to him so that you're neatly tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder and your fingers intertwining with his.

"little bit," you reply. "hard not to with the way you were looking at me."

he nuzzles his cheek on the top of your head, "and how was i lookin' at ya, darlin'?"

you think about how much thicker his accent is already now that he's starting to really feel his high. you want to tease him about it, but the thought slips out of your mind as easily as it comes. it's easy to get distracted feeling kento so close next to you.

"like you're stupid in looove," you poke at his side, teasing him. "biggest grin on your pretty face, ken. mmm, you're so handsome."

he tilts his head and presses a kiss on your cheek, "i am stupid in love with ya, sweetheart. you already knew that though, don'tcha?"

you smile just as widely as him, turning and facing him so you can kiss his lips. you bring your hand up to cup his jaw, your fingers pressing against his skin gently, lovingly.

he kisses you back enthusiastically, letting himself melt into you, fully indulging in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. his head may feel like it's in the clouds, but your lips are what tethers him to earth, and he thinks that it's just perfect.

"i do," you pull away, taking a quick, smiling breath. "i do know that. you're the most perfect man in the world. can't even imagine not loving you."

he pulls your lips back against his before replying, "oh, darlin', i love ya more than anythin'," he kisses you again, pulling you onto his lap. "more than anythin'. it's so easy lovin' you, my perfect angel, oh i love you."

you giggle against his lips, your heart warm as you wrap your arms around his neck. kento's always loving, but you can't get enough of his affection right now.

his hands come up to hold your face tenderly, his love pouring out through his lips, his hands, and his heart all the same.

cowboy!kento masterlist || sfw masterlist

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jjk nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #cowboy!kento 🤍 #cw weed #cw edibles

[auspicioustidings]

Flinch

Summary: You thought you would die trying the day you tried to escape your abusive husband, but destiny has other plans. Words: 5.2k TWs: domestic abuse, rape

(I read this book months ago, forgot all about it and today it burrowed into my head again and I assume caused this so if you wanna read a good version of this concept I'd recommend it!)

You would die trying today. You had to. 

The 20 week scan had been yesterday and while your husband was away on a work trip he would return this evening. You knew your bodyguard had already told him that the baby inside you was a girl. He did not want a girl. You shook at the memory of when he left 3 days ago.

He had taken you on your hands and knees, no less cruel in how he did it than before you were pregnant, and told you about how his son would be his legacy. His hot, wet breath had been in your ear as he spilled inside of you. You’d better give me a son, wife. If you misbehave and grow a female I’ll need to fuck myself into your womb to get rid of the little slut and try again.

The baby had saved you the most severe beatings the last 4 months, but your husband found other ways to torture you. You could barely even look at your guard anymore knowing that he had been witness to the week your husband had made you spend in an open room penned in by glass. It had been a luxurious prison cell where everybody could see your every move, the bathroom facilities not hidden from view at all and your body on full display. He said it was so they could make sure you were healthy and happy during your pregnancy and then he had fucked your arse in front of his men and smacked you hard across the cheek when he was finished for being such a cry baby. 

He would certainly beat you black and blue for failing to bear him a son. But you didn’t really care about that, you had agreed to be his wife 6 years ago when you were 17 and thought he had hung the stars. But this baby who at first you had hated you had come to love. He would kill her. He would kill any of her sisters after her. You could take any punishment he gave you, maybe you’d get lucky and he’d finally kill you, but your daughter deserved a chance to live. 

So you would do something you had not done since your 3rd attempt 5 years ago had ended with broken ribs, a broken nose and a concussion that had made you dizzy and sick for months after. You were going to try and leave. 

It would be difficult. Your guard was loyal to your husband and never flinched at his treatment of you, so you did not expect help from him. Your left leg hadn’t quite healed right after it had been hurt a few weeks ago during a particularly rough fulfilment of your marital duties so you couldn’t put weight on it very well. 

Plus you knew you were ugly now. Your eyes had sunken in and were smudged underneath with purple from too many sleepless nights. One side of your face was mottled with bruises. The rest of your body was too thin but for your protruding stomach and covered in marks. You remembered your father yelling at you about beauty being the only thing women were worth when you were a child. Your parents had been happy when you got engaged to such a wealthy man and you had not heard from them since the day they handed you over. You had been pretty then. You wondered how disgusted your father would be with how you looked now. He certainly wouldn’t help you in such a state.

There wasn’t much time. Your guard was stuck to your side but for one hour in the afternoon where you were expected to thoroughly clean yourself and prepare yourself for your husband's return. The rules of that never changed regardless of your condition. You would spend the hour making yourself perfect, your holes clean and ready, your skin soft and fragrant, your hair braided how he liked it and a thin nightgown perfectly draping on your body. If he found fault with you then you could expect a great deal of pain before he brought in his men to redo the whole process. It was not pleasant when they did it. 

The fear made your mouth dry. Not only would you be punished for trying to escape, but you would be found lacking in your appearance and preparation and that would carry its own punishment. You could not do this.

A kick from your daughter argued that you could and it spurred you into action. This was it, your last chance to save her. 

–

“I’m gaggin’ for a pint.”

Ghost snorted a laugh.

“You’re always gagging for something Johnny” he quipped, Gaz elbowing Soap teasingly while Price just rolled his eyes from behind the wheel.

“You’ll behave back there. This truck has a no gagging on anything rule in place. Bunch of bloody moppets” he barked.

The Captain was mostly just glad to be heading back home. Some therapist would have a field day with him considering home to be a small off-the-record safe house on the edges of a tiny fishing village, but then he was sure they would quit long before he had gotten to that part with the amount of shite he had been through. 

His team had their own flats dotted around the UK, but they seemed to prefer to spend most of their down time together in the safe house. Maybe one day they would all admit that the safe house was just their actual house now, but it was unlikely to be anytime soon. It was still spartan after all, looking drab from the outside and as regimented and dull as any other military base on the inside. Not really homey. Garrick had sincerely attempted to start a little vegetable garden last year but it had been a resounding failure, meaning the little cottage was surrounded by weeds that choked the path. At this point the locals probably thought it was haunted. 

It was still a long way off. Two more hours to base where they could switch out the army issued truck for his own modern and well kept pick up and MacTavish’s frankly ridiculous little hatchback that should really not be able to handle the country roads leading to the safe house but was somehow still kicking. He swore he was some sort of car witch.

“Don’t worry Captain, I’m too classy to have a gag reflex!” Gaz shouted over to him with Soap snickering in the background.

“That right? Lieutenant.”

Price laughed at the carnage happening in the back of the truck as Ghost pounced on Gaz and tried to shove fingers down his throat to get him to gag while Soap took Gaz’s side as he almost always did when it came to a fight with Ghost and tried to fight him off. The rough housing in the back at least kept them occupied for a little bit while Price lit up a cigar.

He wasn’t paying as much attention to the road as he ought to, but then this stretch of road was almost always empty. They were more or less in the middle of nowhere, the nearest civilisation being some fancy gated community out past the right side of the forest this road cut through. 

Only 5 hours to go now and at least 3 of those would be done in his much more comfortable truck with climate control and not this tin can. 

Ghost chuckled as Johnny grabbed at Gaz’s top, trying to pull him back into the truck as Ghost was shoving him out. Poor Gaz’s top half was dangling precariously out the back and he could barely breathe through the wheezing laughter. Ghost was someone with fast instincts, so he felt Gaz tense and was immediately on guard even before the man yelled out and started scrambling to launch himself out of the back of the truck and onto the road before Price had a chance to properly stop the thing. 

“Stop the truck!”

“Bloody hell, Garrick get your arse back in here!” Price yelled and cursed as he brought the truck to a stop a little ahead of where Gaz had jumped out.

Ghost had a hand locked around Soap’s nape, the Lieutenant knowing if he didn’t keep the man grounded he would be out of this truck and by Gaz’s side without even stopping to check for danger. Price trusted him enough that he stayed put, watching the two of them who were watching out the back to see what Garrick did.

–

There was a man on the road. You were so sore and so tired, your adrenaline nearly exhausted. You had gotten so close, the road was right there. But he was one of your husband's you thought. Not one you recognised, but the casual clothes with military gear was just like your guards. 

The choice now was how hard to fight. It hardly felt like you could fight anymore, but somewhere in the woods you had made the decision that you were not going back. Better you die with your daughter than allow her to die alone. You hoped this man was ruthless and efficient about it, that he made this quick. You had to make sure he killed you. You were not going back. 

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Kyle and I can help. Are you hurt?”

He sounded painfully kind and that felt unfair. It had been so long since you had been afforded kindness, why now? Maybe this was your last meal. 

“I- I won’t go back” you said, screwing up your courage and trying to stand as straight and strong as you could with the exhaustion and pain blanketing your body. 

The man slowly moved one hand to take off his cap while the other was stretched open in front of him. He was showing you he wasn’t armed you thought as his cap was put on the ground and he raised his other hand to show it was also empty and crouched a little lower than his full height. 

“Ok, I’m not going to make you go back anywhere. I just want to help” he said, gentle.

Throughout the years you had learned not to trust. When you were 10 and your mother had promised you a birthday party but then spent the money on a night out to the pub for her and your father instead. When you got your first period and you asked your father what you should do but he just smacked you for telling him something so disgusting. When your husband promised he would be gentle on your wedding night and it wouldn’t hurt, but he broke both promises. When a maid promised to help you escape but instead told your guard your plan. Your husband had fucked her in front of you while you were laying unable to move from the beating. You had never seen him be so gentle.

You so wanted to trust someone and not have it backfire. Just once. Just enough to give you some hope that your daughter could have a good life with people who would look out for her. But when he shuffled a little closer you flinched and stepped back. It was too hard to try and trust him. 

The movement put you more in the dappled early evening sunlight. It would be dark soon. 

– 

Kyle fought to keep himself relaxed even when the light revealed what he had missed before. The scared woman in front of him was pregnant. Couldn’t have been very far along with how small she was. Her face was a mess of bruises. He wanted to hunt down whatever useless piece of shit had done this to her. 

But he had to stay calm for her sake. He couldn’t start demanding information when he hadn't even managed to get close enough to examine her. He needed to get her far away from the danger first, get her medical attention and then get justice once she was happy and healthy and safe. 

It also needed to be quick. This was a woman who was running, so it stood to reason there was somebody chasing. But how did he convince her to get into a truck with a bunch of armed strangers?

She startled, looking like she had seen… ah fuck, Ghost had hopped out of the truck and walked over.

“You know how to use a gun?” he asked her, almost casual despite the grit behind it.

She shook her head and her eyes widened as Ghost lifted his sidearm into his hands. Kyle thought perhaps his Lieutenant had lost his damn mind when he started calmly explaining the basics of the gun before stepping forward, putting it on the ground and stepping back again.

“Sergeant, back up” he ordered and Kyle reluctantly took a few steps back. “You need help and we can give it. You pick up that gun, get in the truck and if any of us touches you without your permission you point and shoot. We’re about two hours out from a military base, there’s a doctor there who can check you over, make sure the baby is ok.”

Maybe Ghost was a genius or maybe he was a maniac, but then it wasn’t the first time he had flirted with that line. Kyle watched the woman hesitantly move forward. She reminded him of a little mouse approaching a piece of cheese. When she got close enough she darted suddenly and grabbed the gun, holding it up to them. Her arms were shaking.

He was used to the sounds of a bullet firing by now, but he still felt himself jump when she fired out into the woods on the other side of them.

“Y-you actually gave me a loaded gun?” she said breathlessly, seeming almost outraged that Ghost would truly do such a thing. Kyle sympathised.

“You feel better?” Ghost answered, nodding his head to the truck where Soap was watching with rapt attention. 

“...yes” the woman said before walking (although he noted it was more limping) over to the truck and letting Ghost help her in only after trying herself and realising she wouldn’t be able to hop up and keep ahold of the gun at the same time. 

–

The man in the skull mask didn’t ask any questions and he seemed entirely nonplussed about the gun pointed at him as the eerily silent truck took off. The other two in the back seemed nervous and the man driving hadn’t interacted with you at all, instead keeping his attention on the road. 

Skull mask made a call and his voice sounded like a shout with how quiet it was.

“I need you at Stirling Lines in 2 hours… yeah, needs to be you for this… send me the standard form and I’ll get the answers over to you… she doesn’t need delicate from me, she needs help… thanks for this, see you then.”

The one that shared a bench on your side with the mohawk looked increasingly alarmed at the conversation. 

“LT…” he started, some worried warning in his tone. 

The LT ignored him, looked at his phone and then looked up to you after seemingly finding what he was looking for. 

“Name, gender and birth date?”

“I… what?”

“Jesus Christ LT!”

“I need to get information for the nurse I have meeting us at base” the LT said, ignoring the mohawk man’s outrage and staring at you with those unsettling eyes sunken behind the mask. “The questions are going to be invasive. The exam is going to be worse and it’s going to take hours.”

“That’s enough Lieutenant” the man driving hissed, only to be equally as ignored as the Lieutenant's eyes stayed on you.

“Get through it. Get through it to spite the bastard.”

You felt a flutter of panic try to take hold. Your adrenaline was gone so it was hard to even feel that, but he thought… they all thought you had been raped. 

“It’s not… I’m married” you said by way of explanation. 

The atmosphere was tense, but after you said that there was a distinct feeling of sadness coming from mohawk and Kyle, a feeling of pity. The skull mask had no such pity emanating from him. 

“He told you that because you’re married you couldn’t say no. Reinforced that. It’s brainwashing and you can break that. It wasn’t marriage they used as a reason for me, but they tried to brainwash me to think I consented to it just the same. I didn’t and neither did you. Spite the bastard.”

Nobody else spoke for the next 2 hours but you and the man in the skullmask. He asked questions and you answered them. At the start you took time to answer, hesitant from the humiliation coursing through you and making you feel sick. An hour in and you had no emotions left to give, only cold answers that floated through the truck and hung in the air like the twisted body of the saviour had hung on your bedroom wall, watching and judging. 

By the time the truck was pulling through to a base you felt rinsed of everything, numb. The only shred of warmth came from the hand holding yours and you could not remember exactly when the man with the mohawk had put it there. 

–

“Simon…”

“It’s not like you hadn’t read my file sir.”

Price had read his file. He knew what Roba had done to this man. It didn’t make it any less jarring to hear his Lieutenant say it out loud in the back of a damn truck with a strange beaten woman and his two Sergeants who until now had no real idea of his past.

“You solid?” he asked, not wanting to push him to talk about anything he didn’t want to. 

“I’m angry.”

He knew that from Simon’s record too. It had taken a while for him to be cleared after Roba because he was so angry all the time, his aggression too volatile for even the military. This whole situation was bringing up old wounds in his Lieutenant and he was lost with what to do about it. 

“Lieutenant Riley” came a call from the nurse finally leaving the exam room. She had an American accent, Southern. He suspected she was probably the one who saw Simon after Roba considering that had been in Texas.

“Appreciate you coming on short notice” Simon replied with a nod of thanks. 

“Consider it payback for getting me my visa. No point in mincing words, it’s bad.”

“Consider it a matter of national security” Price said.

Technically he shouldn’t be told anything about the state of the woman in that exam room without her consent, but then it would not be the first time he got around GDPR citing national security. The nurse was clearly versed in how the military worked and handed over the clipboard she was holding. Simon read along with him over his shoulder.

“Bleeding Christ. She’s 21 weeks?” he asked, shocked.

“Long term malnutrition. She wasn’t given any control over her food. They gave her enough to keep her alive, but nowhere near healthy.”

“This…” Simon started, looking at the results from the x-rays.

“Consistent with prolonged torture. Some of the breaks never healed right. She’s still healing from a fracture and some ligament tearing in the left leg, a few broken ribs and a crack in her orbital bone. She said he had been more careful with her since finding out she was pregnant.”

Price swore loudly. He saw plenty of civilian casualties. He had caused the deaths of innocent people in the pursuit of saving other innocents. He was no stranger to evil. But this wasn’t a terrorist attack. It wasn’t a hostage in a facility. The woman was just an ordinary person who was being tortured for no large cause, not for the advancement of some twisted doctrine. She was being tortured for the crime of being a wife.

“Can you keep it off record?” 

He was a bit taken aback that Simon was asking that. Surely they wanted this on record? But then he followed that action to its conclusion. They found her near a community that very rich people lived in, it followed that this husband had money to spare. They would know she was missing by now and they would know the radius of where she could have reached by car or train. 

The second she was admitted to a hospital as a malnourished and beaten pregnant woman she would go missing. He wouldn’t trust the police as far as he could throw them to protect a domestic abuse victim when the perpetrator was rich and powerful enough to track her down and pay them off. The military wasn’t any better. Hell he knew of monsters in his own department who would insist on taking her for a spin before handing her over. 

“I’ll talk with her” he said, Simon giving him a grateful nod. 

Somehow he needed to convince that woman that she was coming to the safehouse with them until they could deal with her husband along with every single one of his accomplices. They wouldn’t make it to prison.

–

You wanted so badly to sleep but the alarm in your head wouldn’t let you. You couldn’t possibly be safe. You were never safe. 

The nurse had been kind in her examination. She said this was specifically what she was trained for, that you were not alone. Others had been through this and survived. Others had went on to have brilliant and bright lives while their attackers had turned into insignificant, small creatures in their memories. You still found it hard to think of your husband as your attacker. All you had known growing up was that the man of the household owned the women in it and it was his prerogative how he handled them.

You hadn’t been allowed to shower first even though you wanted to. It was strange to think that it was deemed lucky that you weren’t permitted to shower outside of your hour preparation time and that you hadn’t been given that hour since your husband had last used you for his pleasure. He knew you desperately hated having to lay with his spend inside of you. You had begged your guard to let you clean up properly before getting your ultrasound, but he had only smiled as he said no. Of course he had. He was well versed in experiencing your humiliation and your husband was well versed in creating situations for him to do so. 

It was painful when she had examined you internally. She told you that it shouldn’t be, that you associated penetration with pain now so your body was seizing up making the speculum feel much worse than it normally would. She apologised, said that was something that wouldn’t happen forever once you got healthier and knew you were safe. You could hardly believe it when she told you sex wasn’t supposed to hurt for women.

You hadn’t thought you were capable of it after today, but you still cried when she did the ultrasound. There she was, still alive and well. You wanted to tell her it would be ok now, that you had done it, you had gotten away and she would be safe. But it didn’t seem real.

The exam had taken such a long time. Your clothes had been taken from you and the thin gown did nothing to make you feel less exposed. She wanted to take the bank notes stuffed into your pocket as well, promising that they would be replaced, but you had begged to keep them and she had let you. The MRI wasn’t mentioned when the nurse had first explained everything, but part way through she had asked if it would be ok for one to be taken. She made sure that you didn’t have to interact with anyone else but her which calmed you a little. 

Now you were alone. She told you that she would let you gather your thoughts and then a shower and clothes could be organised.

You needed to figure out your next move. £410 wasn’t a lot of money, but it would have to be enough to get your daughter somewhere safe. You could work. Your last job had been as a waitress when you were a teenager, but you were good at cooking and cleaning and willing to learn just about anything so you were determined you would find something. You didn’t have much choice. 

There was a knock at the door and you told them to come in. Your voice sounded awful, scratchy and hoarse. 

It was not the nurse. 

The man from the front of the car didn’t look at you unkindly, but it did not stop you from flinching as he stepped towards you. You wished you hadn’t let Kyle take the gun from you when you arrived. 

He immediately stopped and showed his hands just like Kyle had on the road. 

“My name is Captain John Price, the men in the truck are my team. You’ve been brave today and I know it’s been hard. I can get you a shower and some hot food, how does that sound?”

You felt yourself shrivel and shrink. A shower with him. You hated being in a shower with your husband, he always forced you to your knees. Whenever he gave you a chance to breathe it was only under the high pressure spray of the water and it made you feel like you were suffocating. He liked that. 

Could you get on your knees for this man? If it was for your daughter, if it kept her safe, then yes. It wasn’t so bad was it? You had survived worse. It was just your mouth. 

You stood shakily and nodded, eyes fixed on the ground as you picked up the bank notes on the side table and held them tightly in your hand. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I…” you started, taking a moment to try and think of a lie before giving in to the mental exhaustion and just telling the truth. “I stole it from my guard’s wallet.”

“Atta girl.”

The praise made your ears feel hot. You had half expected to be arrested on the spot, but the man, Captain John Price, just started leading you out of the room and down the hall to the showers. 

“Soap, that’s the moppet with the mohawk from the truck, volunteered some of his things. He’s a bit of a peacock, so there should be everything you need. It’s a communal shower but I’ll stand guard at the door for you so nobody will come in. You can lock the door, but if I knock I need you to answer so I can confirm you’re ok. Towels are here, clothes here. We don’t have anything for maternity so we’ve guessed on what size will fit.”

You were taken aback. He wasn’t going to be in here with you. You didn’t need to service him. Your grip tightened around the cash in your hand before loosening as you looked at it. 

“Don’t even think about it. You don’t owe anyone here a damn thing. Go shower.”

With that he left. You locked the door and waited for 10 minutes to see if he would unlock it from the other side and come in. He only knocked once and when you responded that you were fine he was silent again. 

Satisfied that at least you didn’t think he would come in you stripped off and finally had a shower. The hair products and shower gel left by Soap (you thought that was a funny coincidence) smelled nice, like pine and maybe a hint of something sweet. Your husband only ever let you use things with a heavy smell of roses.

The nurse had asked what you meant by preparing yourself when you mentioned that you hadn’t done so and escaped instead. She told you that you didn’t need to do that here, but then there wasn’t any of the equipment you were used to anyway. It felt luxurious in a way, to clean yourself just for yourself. 

The next time Captain Price knocked and you confirmed that you were ok, he kept speaking with you. 

“I would like you to come with me and my team. We are heading to a safehouse a few hours from here and it’ll be the safest place for you to recover. You would have your own room with a lock on the door.”

You were glad nobody could see the way your face screwed up in some grotesque mixture of fear, confusion and, worst of all, hope. 

“I… have money. I can pay rent.”

“...ok.”

He sounded somewhat reluctant to accept that but you couldn’t not pay for this. You would constantly be waiting for one of them to collect in some other way if you didn’t give them cash. 

You touched your stomach, silently asking your daughter if it was ok to trust this man. She gave a kick. 

–

Johnny didn’t think he had ever seen anyone so fragile. She had fought it Price had said, but eventually their new housemate had fallen into an exhausted sleep in the passenger seat of his truck. 

When they arrived it had been him who bundled her in his arms and carried her to bed. God she was so small for someone who was supposed to be halfway through a pregnancy.

He had watched her since Gaz had jumped out of that truck. She had flinched then, she had flinched when Si got out of the truck, she had flinched when Price had went into the room (he probably shouldn’t have been hiding out in the hallway watching through the open door, but he just couldn’t stop himself). 

She hadn’t flinched at all when he threaded his fingers through hers in the truck. Her hand was so tiny. Too tiny, much like the rest of her.

He put her to bed in his room since the spare was a bit of a wreck and he bunked with Gaz. They could sort it all out tomorrow after he had gotten her a massive breakfast. He was shite at cooking anything but a greasy fry up but he wanted only the best for her, so he’d already fired off a message to the girl who owned the best cafe in town and asked for a priority breakfast delivery that he was going to be paying a fortune for since it was last minute and out of the ordinary. 

He didn’t know this woman, but he knew intrinsically that he would.

–

You dreamt sweet dreams. A cottage made cosy. Cooking whatever meals you wanted with ingredients you grew yourself in the garden outside. The gentle pleasure of careful hands and tongues, opening you up to a new world you never thought existed, one where your pleasure was first and foremost and the press of a body into yours didn’t hurt. The give beneath your fingers when you touched your own body, fat and soft rolls that reminded you of how safe you felt, how happy and healthy you were. 

And a little girl running towards a returning hero, being swept up and laughing delightedly about it. 

Best of all in that wonderful dream, you didn’t flinch once. 

#mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #well well well #look who has dissociated and written something jumbled and nonsensical in one go #I am once again asking my brain to do this with the series I am trying to finish instead of with a random completely different concept

[amity206]

Have some random skykid appearance headcanons!! Bit of a long read so it’s below the cut:

The outer layer of skykids is made of something closer to charcoal or clay, the light flowing through them keeps it flexible (hence why they sound all crunchy and start staggering when they lose light - the “shell” starts turning to stone). Skykid “blood” looks like liquid golden light (because it kind of is), and quickly crystallizes outside of the body, cooling to blue. Nobody knows what’s on the inside of a skykid (do they have bones? Organs?) but they are capable of eating and drinking. They do appear to have a “heart” of some sort - the glowing orb on their chest, where their soul candle is. Their light tends to shine through their eyes, which are whitish to orange-yellow unless they’re bonded with another type of light.

Though most moths tend to look fairly similar, even at that young age they’ll have subtle differences in things like shell tone, and they may or may not have some sort of limb gradient or star freckles. I feel like some could also have cloud-like patterns in the tone of the limb gradient.

Skykids will often decorate their bodies with a waterproof paint (lasts about a week before it starts needing a touch up) in various colors, sometimes glowing. Most are white or gold, but some skykids get extra creative. These are generally referred to as tattoos even though they aren’t permanent.

Most skykids appear to be young children, though older ones may appear closer to teenagers. Going to Eden sort of “refreshes” skykids and strengthens their light - if a skykid doesn’t go to Eden for a very long time, their flame starts to weaken and burn out, making them vulnerable to darkness and corruption.

Cosmetics are not given by spirits, but skykids will generally style the cosmetics they make after one they see spirits wearing. A skykid’s first clothes (when they fall) are formed from stardust and light, much like the skykid themself, but the ones after that are generally made by other skykids. They make dyes out of flowers and berries found in Prairie and probably grow something similar to cotton.

Still trying to figure out how winged light works…

Want more cool Sky stuff? Check out @kindatiredtho’s blog - they’ve got lots of cool stuff about our Sky world in there! (Kinda I’m pretty sure everything in here is stuff we agreed on but let me know if something isn’t)

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatskygame #sky cotl art #sky fanart #my art #sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #sky cotl headcanons

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When they misunderstand and kiss your cheek - svt 96z

💋Who; Seventeen 96z (individually) x reader 💋What; lil fluff reactions 💋Wordcount; 1.7ish altogether 💋Warnings; Nothing, I don't think

Read the other versions here; 95z - 97z - Maknae3

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I wrote Jihoon's one maybe 2 weeks ago so that's why his is longer, it's not a favouritism thing or anything lol, just happened that way.

💋Junhui💋 Your relationship with Junhui has always been very playful. Of course, you can both be serious when you need to be but you like the carefree atmosphere between you, it's brought you closer quicker than you've ever experienced with anyone before.

At any given time you two can be found playing around together. Today is no different. You're both seated on the floor and you can't even remember why anymore, all you know is you have Jun's pretty face in your hands as you playfully squeeze his cheeks and smoosh his skin around while he lets you, giggling along to your teasing babytalk.

"Look at your handsome face Junnie," You coo, pressing his cheeks in a way that pouts out his lips comically. "Kissy kissy," You make a kiss sound with your own mouth then lower your arms. You've been playing with his face for long enough that your arms are genuinely starting to ache.

But Jun thinks you're playfully making a move, he's aware there's something between you and has been thinking about making a move himself but just hasn't figured out how. So he takes a quick breath in to gather his nerve then leans in, fully intending to press his lips to yours yet you've turned your head to the side to locate your phone so his lips land on your cheek.

"Oh, you moved," He realises, instantly leaning back a little. You look at him in shock yet he doesn't notice, already gently cupping your face to make sure you don't move as he leans in this time. The kiss is very soft, very sweet and lasts only a second or two before he leans back to look into your eyes. He doesn't even notice you're shocked.

It's not until much further into your relationship that this situation comes up in conversation and he learns that you hadn't been making a move at all. Though you make certain to point out that you are very glad he had misunderstood and kissed you.

💋Soonyoung💋 Lately, Soonyoung has been working longer harder hours so when it comes to hanging out you invite him to your place to just relax with some home-cooked food, instead of one of your usual little adventures wandering around and finding new places to shop, eat and explore.

After eating, you move over to the couch and you're not surprised by how close Soonyoung chooses to sit, he's affectionate enough normally so when he's sleepy, it's even more intense. But you don't mind, it's cute. He's cute.

Something in the movie you've been watching reminds you that you need to order some new items for your home so you start to scroll through your usual sites on your phone while Soonyoung fights to stay awake to watch the film.

To try and force himself more alert, Soonyoung lifts his heavy head up from the back of the couch and looks at you. What he sees it you mindlessly tapping and poking your cheek as you scroll and add things to your basket.

Normally, Soonyoung would be very aware that it's pretty common behaviour for you, he's witnessed it so much that he doesn't even really notice it anymore. But today, the poor guy is far too sleepy to recall that information.

A soft little pleased and interested sound leaves his parted lips and then he leans over before you can question the sound and plants the sweetest kiss against the apple of your cheek. And then immediately settles his head on your shoulder to happily curl up and finally give in to his body begging for slumber.

You can't see his face from this angle, but he has a content little smile on his lips and after a moment of registering what had happened, you wear the same one.

💋Wonwoo💋 It's a given that being close to Wonwoo means that at some point, you will wind up playing video games with him, whether or not you're all that into them.

Although he won't go easy on most people, he does you, or at least he used to because these days after playing together so much, you've improved a hell of a lot. He's still better than you in this particular game you two always play together but you can more than hold your own now and he trusts you as his teammate to back him up without constantly glancing over at your screen to make sure you're playing right. He knows you are.

During a break after winning one level and waiting for the next one to be ready, Wonwoo looks over at you and finds you cutely pouting and poking your cheek. He doesn't realise you're practising a trend that your friend wants to record with you later.

He just thinks you're asking for a kiss so he leans over with his heart racing and presses his lips to your cheek gentle, barely a brush of his lips against your skin really before leaning back.

You look at him with wide eyes. "What was that for?" You whisper dumbstruck.

"You were being cute and pointing to your cheek like you want a kiss." He shyly copies the action you had been doing in explanation.

"It's a trend."

"Oh," He blushes darker and looks away as he adjusts his seating position and tries to pretend the whole thing never happened.

"I guess it's a good thing I was poking my cheek and not my lips." You joke, trying to break the tension that's appeared.

"Why?" He returns, sounding and looking offended as he frowns at you a little. "Is that such a bad thought?"

Your response comes out in a mumble. "You kissing me?"

"Yeah."

You stare at him for a few seconds then lower your gaze to his lips shortly before locking your eyes with his own, your cheeks now pinkening to match his own. "No."

Wonwoo is clearly surprised by your answer, he inhales with a soft little almost gasp as his eyes widen slightly. And then he leans over the arm of his gaming chair to gently touch his fingers to your jaw and lead you to meet his lips. "This isn't a prank thing, is it?" He checks when he suddenly pulls back to look into your eyes.

"I wouldn't do that to you."

And he knows that really, but he just wanted to double-check so he doesn't make a fool of himself again. Wonwoo smiles at you softly and then he's kissing you again with the game entirely forgotten.

💋Jihoon💋 It's one of the rare times you manage to actually get Jihoon to leave his apartment on his day off. You even managed to convince him to go for a walk through the park, though you've now been sat side by side under the shade of a tree people watching for at least an hour as you make up stories about the strangers that stumble into view.

"What?" Jihoon asks confused when you cut off mid-sentence about the elderly couple on the bench by the path being secret supervillains. "Did they kill someone?" He jokes, looking over at the couple yet he just finds them sitting cutely, hands clasped together on their pressed-together thighs and smiling at one another utterly enamoured. Jihoon can't deny it, it's a heartwarming sight. His lips even twitch up a little when the husband kisses his wife's cheek sweetly making her giggle bashfully.

"I don't remember the last time someone kissed my cheek." You admit with a sigh. Seeing the couple had made you feel a little sad and like you're missing out, all because you saw the husband kiss his wife, twice now. It was sweet and made you crave that yourself.

Jihoon stares at you for a moment, he knows you have a habit of not outright saying what you want so he regularly has to put the pieces together himself, not that he minds. And that's what he assumes is happening here, you're indirectly telling him to kiss you. It's not exactly something you two do but he can never turn you down.

So with pink cheeks, he leans over and softly touches his pursed lips to your cheek. He lingers for a second before settling back against the tree behind you both while looking back over to the bench. The couple are now walking off arm in arm and still smiling adoringly at each other.

Jihoon can feel your gaze on him so when his cheeks aren't quite so flushed, he bravely turns his head to look at you. You're staring at him wide-eyed with your fingers delicately touching where his lips had been less than a minute ago.

And this is where he realises he entirely misunderstood. "I thought you were hinting!" He explains quickly as his blush darkens rapidly, even spreading over the back of his neck and ears, though luckily his hair covers those areas from your view. "You're always saying things and I have to read between the lines to understand what you want! I thought this was that!"

For a few long seconds, you say nothing, just stare at his panicked expression, and then you grin slyly. "I don't remember the last time someone bought me dinner."

It has the intended effect and Jihoon immediately relaxes with an incredulous laugh while vaguely throwing up one arm a little. "Yah! You brat! I bought you dinner last week,"

"Did you?" You sigh dramatically and flop over to cutely rest your head on his shoulder while batting your eyelashes at him. "I can't remember, it was so long ago, Jihoonie."

He stares at you for a moment then, like always, he gives in with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"For you to know that I love you endlessly." You coo and poke at where his cheeks are warming all over again at your words. The tone may be joking but he knows you're being sincere, he knows you well enough to at least know that much.

"Shut up and pick somewhere to go." He huffs, gently shoving you off of him so that he can get up. He pulls you up a second later and lets you take hold of his arm as you walk off together.

You may not be smiling adoringly at one another like the elderly couple and the love in both of your eyes may be shyly directed elsewhere, but it's a start.

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt reactions #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jun reaction #seventeen jun x reader #seventeen jun fluff #seventeen soonyoung reaction #seventeen soonyoung x reader #seventeen soonyoung fluff #seventeen hoshi reaction #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi fluff #seventeen wonwoo reaction #seventeen wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo fluff #seventeen jihoon reaction #seventeen jihoon x reader #seventeen jihoon fluff #seventeen woozi reaction #seventeen woozi x reader #seventeen woozi fluff

[guardianofnightmares]

Forbidden

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot.

... or, rather, for any sensible Prime.

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

"... is it wrong that I feel... bad for the prisoners? That I... periodically... h-help them?"

----------

Hello everyone, long time no see). Can hardly believe it's been a whole year since the last @blitzbee-week event and man, was I glad to participate in it once more. All of works were submitted on time to an event chat, but, unfortunately, I am uploading them here only now (full-time job drains me up).

Anyways, here is my first drawing from BlitzBeeWeek event Promts List. I think it will be fair to mention that this and next couple of my works will be dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". I will leave a link [here] for anyone interested to give it (and an existing teaser) a try. And yes, I am, in fact, going to finally upload first chapters pretty soon, it's happening, guys))). Thanks a ton for everyone who left their kudos there throughout a year, you have given me courage to put this behemoth of a story on paper and actually work it through.

As for the current entry for an event, I will provide part of a draft to one of chapters which is related to a depicted scene. It'll be "hidden" under a cut line for anyone wishing to get a more... fleshed out picture of what's going on here. Hope you'll enjoy reading it)

----------

“Bumblebee… are you listening to me?”

It was beyond confusing for Ratchet to see a younger Bot acting so out of touch with reality. He’s hunched over a console, helm resting in one servo while a wielding tool was twirled slowly in digits of another. Bumblebee looked so tired, clearly not caring about a task at servo, nor about an advice coming from his elder friend.

White and red Autobot knew how cheerful Bumblebee got each time they met via video calls, clearly waiting for a chance to talk to old teammates, even if these calls didn’t last long. That’s why him being so silent and lost in own thoughts was that much more worrying to witness. 

Upon being prompted again, the young bot finally raised his optics, the weight of his gaze almost making Ratchet flinch in surprise - to think that a recently promoted Prime was capable of behaving so out of character was indeed an alarming sign of change. 

The truth was, the minibot couldn’t help but to act all secretive, as if he’s done something wrong. 

Because, all things considered, he has. 

Minibot was well aware of what his actions could lead up to. All those rendezvous and revelations were such a dangerous subject to talk about, something that surely could lead him to being court marshaled if he’s caught by anybot. And what’s even worse - Bumblebee wasn’t certain whether telling friends what’s been troubling him was a good idea. 

Surely they’d not rat him out… but would they continue interacting with a yellow Autobot if he shared said secret with them? Wouldn't it be more mature of him to leave mechs oblivious (in order to protect them) and let his fears to silently fester in his processor?

... yet, to his shame, a minibot felt his resolve to keep his intake shut breaking upon seeing a haunted expression on Ratchet’s faceplates. Bumblebee wished he hadn’t looked up into the wise optics of his, those that seemed to read him as an unlocked datapad. How could he play it cool when a medic was looking at him in such a manner?

“…kid?” Now Ratchet was truly worried for his companion. He wasn’t even certain he’s ready to hear an explanation, but knew in his spark that he had to get to the bottom of a problem for minibot's sake.

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot. 

… or, rather, for any sensible Prime. 

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

“… is it wrong that I feel… bad for the prisoners? That I… periodically… h-help them?” 

… a fleeting moment or relief at voicing his concerns instantly evaporated, changed to regret once he saw Racthet’s optics widening beyond usual capacity and heard Optimus sputtering and coughing on his energon ration off the camera. 

Such reaction made Bumblebee hide his helm between shoulder pauldrons in a clear sign of dread - so much for the support coming from teammates it seemed. 

“What?” Optimus asked after standing up from a table he’s sitting next to, the stool screeching audibly after a mech span in it. “Help them? What do you mean by that, Bumblebee? Are you alright? Do they… force you to do something for them or..?”

Minibot didn’t answer any of those questions. Wasn’t able do it under the searching gaze of an elder mech’s optics which seemed to pin him to his own stool. Bumblebee felt like energon was going to freeze in his lines and tubes from a rising horror. Time seemed to stop for him, not unlike inner mechanisms in a frame of his. He couldn't utter a single sound, words swimming in a jumbled mess that was his processor.

What could he possibly say in his defense, now that his teammates knew of his secret? That there was a proper reason for him to feel pity for the inmates? That he was the only one to keep those mechs alive because nobody else did? That perhaps, Primus help him, all this time they were held in prison, somebot tried to take them out of game by starving them to their deaths?

A yellow Bot clearly hasn’t thought the conversation through, just as he always did, hasn't prepared himself for such a reaction even, and now that mistake was biting his aft. 

But then… then minibot heard something that immediately tore him from a panicking state he got stuck in. 

“I’ll take care of it, Prime.” Ratchet announced in a calm tone, breaking the tense silence which settled over the video call. Bumblebee was so stunned that he didn’t register those words right away, looking dumbly at warm optics of a mech on the other side of a call line. 

“But-“ 

“Optimus.” Medic cut off his commanding officer in a stern but good-natured manner, showing that he knew what he’s doing. Trusting the judgement of an older Bot, red and blue mech nodded to him and stepped away from a console, giving both of his friends some room to talk to each other. 

Young Prime could hardly believe what he’s been witnessing in front of him. Afraid to hope that his situation might’ve not been so dire after all. Baiting his breath, he watched red and white Bot turning to him again and leaning closer to a screen.

“Bumblebee, tell me, what’s happening back on Cybertron.” Ratchet asked his young friend, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, ready to tentatively listen to everything minibot’s about to say. 

And that’s when Bumblebee understood, felt it in his spark which gleefully thrummed in his chest that his old teammates were not mad at him - only worried for his well-being. Said realization made the built up over orbital cycles tension leave his frame and gave him courage to answer as honestly as he could.  

“You don’t know even half of what's going on, guys,” He stated after a breath moment of silence, then scooted on his chair closer to a screen as well and continued speaking in a hushed tone as to not to be heard by anyone else on his side of a video call. 

While retelling the recent events, which took place in Tripticon Prison, young Prime couldn’t help but periodically glance at a screen to his right side, a list of main convicts taking up most of its surface. 

Their stern gazes seemed to burn a viewer with hostility. Evil, cold, sparkless optics on unsightly faceplates. That’s what fellow guards always tended to whisper to each other either in fear or in bold mockery while walking down the hallways.

But to Bumblebee the very same pairs of optics, those he'd looked into more times then any of the local mechs, more then his friends even, told another story. Each time he saw Decepticons, bound and stripped of their weapons, there was no rage in their expressions, nor malice or contempt - only an eternal tiredness, hopelessness... and resignation with Fate.

Warframes. Mighty mechs being brought to their knees and stripped of their pride. Truly a sight which made minibot feel more miserable then three inmates he tried to take care of.

“Bossbot… Ratchet… please, come back here as soon as you can," Recently promoted Prime finally said as a conclusion to his speech. "I… I am afraid I won’t be able to handle this situation on my own anymore.”

#blitzbeeweek2024 #blitzbee #bumbleblitz #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa lugnut #tfa blitzwing #tfa megatron #tfa optimus prime #bumblebee #ratchet #lugnut #blitzwing #megatron #optimus prime #transformers #transformers animated #tfa #TFA: Icarus #gn projects

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 28. what comes after heartbreak?

note: word count is 3.2k (^O^)

atsumu was face-to-face with the person he used to call his “love.” what would usually be the feeling of butterflies or warm rush of affection through his body was replaced with pure contempt. now, he only saw a witch—a girl that had insidiously beguiled him into falling in love. 

atsumu was already inside the record store when he saw emma. long hair, rosy cheeks, full lips—the epitome of pretty privilege. from afar, she looked as approachable and friendly as a lily; however, get close and she might bite you like a venus flytrap. 

atsumu understood why he was so charmed by her all those years ago. nevertheless, that was then and this was now. a switch was flipped the moment the two broke up, and all the sweet affection was drained from him. 

one moment, atsumu was inside the record store; the next, he was sitting across emma in a nearby cafe. this was against everything atsumu stood for. however, he needed answers and he didn’t want to rush headlong into a sudden confrontation. he didn’t want to destroy his one sanctuary just because of emma.

“why are you here? how did you know i was here?” atsumu demanded firmly. a vexed wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, matching the guarded way he sat with his arms crossed over his chest. his body was completely tense. atsumu miya’s defenses were all up and his system was working overtime on full alert. 

“oh, please. it’s a public place for crying out loud.” she retorted. 

atsumu stared at her in disbelief, his frustration completely inflamed. “first, it was that photo you posted. now, you appear in front of me in the record store. how much more selfish can you get?” 

“what? selfish?! this was the only time i’ve been back to that scruffy place filled with junk. besides, i just asked around for your schedule. today’s your break and i know you always go there to clear your mind.” she drew in an exaggerated breath, her index finger twirling a strand of hair. she continued with a scoff, “especially after everything that happened last week, i had a feeling you’d come back here.” 

one thing about emma was that she always got whatever she wanted. but not here, not with atsumu. 

“never come back here again. i thought i made that clear when we broke up—guess i’ll have to drill it into your brain for you to actually understand. if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll reveal every single detail of what you did during the time we dated to the public.”

emma’s eyes widened. “are you crazy? are you threatening me right now?” 

that was another thing about emma: she only ever cared about herself. 

“our agreement was that i keep your shamefulness a secret. in exchange, you were to never associate with me again; never message or mention me; and never step foot near the places connected to me. this included the record store. you broke the rules first, i have every right to ‘threaten’ you.” 

atsumu’s body was less rigid now, but his eyes were still narrowed in earnest hatred. his disdain for emma ran deeper than anything anyone could ever imagine. 

when a waiter stopped by, atsumu waved an absent hand in dismissal. “i’m not ordering. i won’t be staying long enough for a drink anyway.” awkwardness swirled in the air and atsumu could feel the thundering displeasure coming from across the table. after the waiter walked away, emma grumbled, “could you have at least saved me some face? now i look desperate.” 

“funny. that’s rich coming from you.” 

“listen, i think there’s been a misunderstanding. i didn’t come here intending to break our agreement. i came here because i was worried about you.” 

emma’s third thing: her dedication to her cruel artifices, honing them like a mad lady. that was how she’d fooled him into becoming so disastrously lovesick. if he didn’t know better, he would’ve been swayed by her endearing concernment. 

“why would you be worried about me?” 

“because of the movie theater incident obviously. i recognized the denim hat you always wore, and that hoodie, it’s the one your brother gifted you, right?” 

atsumu’s gaze bore into her. he wanted to laugh at her absurdity but her words had brought up another issue he’d been dealing with: you. he hadn’t been able to talk to you all week. his mind was restless wondering how you’ve been doing. 

he wanted to talk to you in person, be surrounded by your warmth again and experience the fervid comfort you bring him just by being there. even now, in the disturbing presence of his ex-girlfriend, all he could think about was you. he thought about your worrisome craze for coffee, wondering if you’d like the small cafe he was currently in. he thought of all the puerile topics he’d talk to you about if you were sitting in front of him instead of emma. 

“still obsessed with me are we?” atsumu asked. 

to be honest, he was exhausted. he’d only come here to be alone in the record store absorbed by all the captivating music it had to offer. but no, he was wasting his time talking to a brick wall. he wished you were here instead. 

emma huffed, crossing one leg over the other. “honestly, how could you be so reckless? how could you get caught with a no name actress? good thing that guy cleared things up. do you know how damaging it could’ve been to you?” 

the fourth thing about emma was her shameless ideology: reputation and prestige mattered more than anything else. obviously this was all masked during the time they dated. for two years, she concealed her dishonesty and false compassion—even her friendliness and good nature weren’t real. she had played atsumu miya like a fool. and he often wondered if she ever went to sleep laughing quietly to herself while being cuddled in his arms. 

atsumu rubbed the bridge of his nose. of course he didn’t realize how damaging his actions could’ve been, he wasn’t even the one getting bashed on by randoms. it seemed—similarly to them—emma also lacked critical thinking skills. she failed to see that her fans were targeting you instead of him. so while she sat here blabbering ludicrously, you were probably still dealing with crazy fans in your comments. 

there was another thing atsumu couldn’t let go. how could she call you a “no name actress,” when you weren’t the one that paid your way into the industry? her comment was just ridiculous. 

“never talk about y/n like that ever again. i’m serious about my threat, emma. i wasn’t the one that wanted the agreement in the first place. you’re the only one who'll get hurt if i release a statement.” 

he prepared to stand when emma reached over and caught hold of his arm. he pulled away immediately, disgust written all over his face.  

emma let out a defeated sigh. “wait, please. look, i don’t think we ever got the closure we needed, so i came here to say i’ve changed a lot after we broke up. i don’t do that thing anymore…”

atsumu rolled his eyes. it’s been more than a year since they separated. what closure did she need now? 

“and by ‘that thing,’ you mean your habit of bribing people,” he sneered. 

emma’s gaze faltered. his words had made her hesitate. “yes, i’m just grateful to director sage and his film. it allowed all of these opportunities and sponsorships to come in.” 

atsumu’s hands curled into fists by his side, his knuckles turning patently white. at that moment, he wanted to scream at her. she’d learned nothing; this whole time, she barely needed to lift a finger. all those opportunities were handed to her after she paid for a role on director sage’s film. it was still bribery. she still paid her way to success. 

“then what about your current role? why am i hearing people say you paid for that too?” 

“what? where are you hearing that?” she asked, enraged. emma’s fifth thing: she hated being criticized and proven wrong. 

“you forget that everyone in the industry hates you. staff members talk shit behind your back and actors despise your guts. even director sage hated working with you. it’s astonishing really.” 

emma was too dazed to reply. she didn't know if it was true or not, but she hoped it was just an attempt to rankle her. 

atsumu continued after her silence: “tell me, did you or did you not pass the audition?” 

“this again? i told you, i stopped doing that stuff a long time ago!” emma groaned, tapping her index finger against the table frantically. “obviously i passed. that’s why i have the role in the first place.” her finger continued to tap, her feet flicking up and down in a similar rhythm. 

“liar,” atsumu said plainly. “you’re lying right through your teeth. you did it again, didn’t you? used your dad’s money to buy the role you failed to get.” 

“i’m serious!” tap, tap, tap— everything about her was becoming a nuisance. she was a disturbance to the cafe’s homey atmosphere; her honeyed voice, the one he’d once loved so dearly, had turned rough and utterly annoying. 

atsumu shook his head. “oh, c’mon. you claim you’re an actress but you can barely lie to save your life. stop doing that thing with your finger and foot whenever you lie, it might help you save some embarrassment.” 

“are you being for real right now?” 

“extremely. so stop it, emma. stop trying to be so glorious. stop trying to act like jolie.” he scoffed in disbelief, “did you really have to stoop so low?” 

he watched as her face twisted in confusion. “i know you tried copying her personality. did you know she still gets hate for it? when your quote-unquote fans noticed similarities between how you both acted, they went rampant on jolie for ‘copying’ you. you’re poison, emma. you only cause people harm.” 

emma waved a dismissive hand in the air as if his words were a pest. that action alone embittered atsumu beyond belief. he could still remember how jolie felt after receiving hundreds of tirades from people online. she was torn between being true to her selfless nature or containing it. she’d chosen the latter, and it was only recently that she started loosening up again. 

“i’m done. i don’t know why i wasted my time here with you. if you post another picture as a ruse to get people talking, i really am going to expose how you cheated on me.” 

that garnered an immediate reaction. “it wasn’t like that!” 

“right. on our business trip, in our hotel room, on our bed. who were you even fucking? some a-lister you randomly met?” 

“i was drunk!” her exclamation received stares from nearby staff members. emma’s drink had been on standby for a while now, except no one was brave enough to bring it to her. they didn’t want to get caught in the heated conversation, preferring to tend to other customers. 

“you already gave that excuse,” atsumu said, his voice barely above a whisper. he was reliving hell just by sitting there. the memories of the heartbreaking incident were unfolding in his mind—the memories he wanted so badly to suppress. 

it just had to be on valentine’s day of all days. the two of them were invited overseas to partake in a modeling event; they were there for three days and on the last, emma reid got bored and messed up. 

atsumu learned two things that day: first was his girlfriend’s incompetency, and how she resorted to bribery to get acting roles. the next was her disloyalty and how their relationship was a complete lie. it all happened in a single evening. 

the last day of their trip was dedicated to solo activities only. emma had finished her duties early and was free to do whatever she wanted around the city. atsumu, on the other hand, was stuck at a stuffy and formal gathering. people of various reputable statuses were there and atsumu was invited as a guest by a brand he was modeling for. being social and talkative was one of atsumu’s strong suit—but it also led him to discovering a truth he never wanted to know. 

that night, a young man around atsumu’s age approached him with a smile. he was another model that was invited as a guest, and the two got along quickly. then, when the man asked about atsumu’s relationship, atsumu watched as he started to laugh boisterously. apparently he’s worked with her before. the world really was small. 

“oh, but isn’t her family really rich? i heard her dad’s loaded! looks like he dotes on her a lot.” 

“and?” atsumu asked, wondering where the conversation was going. 

“well, i heard she only gets roles and gigs through underhand tactics. y’know, like bribery, using her family’s name and wealth to—“ 

“but you only heard that though. it’s not true, just gossip.” 

he gave atsumu’s arm a playful slap. “hey, man! stop hurting my feelings, i have lots of connections so i know everything that happens in that industry. it’s fucking twisted honestly,” the young man laughed again. “i heard a director talking about it once, so my suspicions are cleared. do you want another dri—“

by then, his words were already drowned out by atsumu’s racing thoughts. his mind was engaged in a futile debate, but he already knew what was true and what wasn’t. atsumu was slowly piecing together all the coincidences during the time they filmed with director sage. he was always so distraught by her for no apparent reason; he was also much harsher on her compared to the others in the main cast. he was more displeased, more spiteful of the film despite it becoming a large success. connect that with everything else and a complete puzzle was formed. 

atsumu was too lovesick to see anything at the time. he was too convinced and blinded by her geniality to notice her hateful schemes. still, this was something the two of them could overcome… they could talk about it, resolve things, and he could help her become better. 

but could he? would his conscience allow it? would he be able to sleep soundly knowing he was with someone who stole opportunities from others? 

the rest of the event was a blur. when everything ended, atsumu rushed back to his hotel room, clinging onto the diminishing hope that everything would work out—that the two of them would still be okay after this. then, he saw someone leaving the shared hotel room: a man atsumu was sure he’d seen on one of the city’s billboards. the attractive man faltered when he saw atsumu in the hallway, and atsumu felt his world falling apart. 

a million assumptions ran through his mind and he reached the door in hurried steps, bypassing his girlfriend’s accomplice completely. the sight of her naked on their shared bed had said enough—said everything. 

clothes on the floor, crumpled sheets, tangled hair. all atsumu could do was whisper her name in crushing anguish. he stood there as she fumbled to shield herself with the blanket, shame overriding her previous smiling expression. she’d been caught. she’d messed up. 

he watched as she clothed herself, a swarm of emotions rushing through his veins. he swallowed his heartbreak and bore his defenses. he needed to prepare himself for the next few agonizing minutes. 

at first, he was calm. perhaps a bit shaken up, but he’d just returned back from an exhausting event. the collar of his dress shirt was digging into his skin, and he feared he didn’t have enough energy to argue. 

emma—beautiful and serene, the one person atsumu confidently loved with his whole being—sat in front of him avoiding eye contact. she didn’t say anything; she didn’t even apologize. the gesture made atsumu question their whole relationship. 

through her silence, atsumu found his strength to speak up. defend himself. he inevitably triggered a tug of war, a painful back and forth between him and her. both were persistent and defensive, becoming increasingly inflamed with anger.

their words sharpened into blades that pierced one another’s hearts at different angles. atsumu continued to sit while emma stood with ire surging through her body. she was on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by his barrage of accusations and questions directed at their relationship. 

did she even love him? did she even care about their future? about him? what was he to her? 

then, atsumu brought up her bribery and her facade instantly cracked. she didn’t give him any honest answers. the only thing that increased with her excuses were his sighs. so this was how they were going to end things. 

caught in the heat of the moment, emma admitted that atsumu was only a publicity stunt to her. she’d only dated him for more recognition and immersion into the acting industry. his good looks and charms were only a bonus. she’d said out of spite, hoping to hurt his feelings, and it’d accomplished just that. 

it was done: their relationship, their future, everything. 

atsumu moved past emma to pack his belongings. he’ll get a new hotel room and flight tickets; he’ll get to see his brother again, maybe even visit rin in his studio, or just invite all three of them (omi if he’s not too busy) to play beach volleyball. yeah, he’ll be fine. everything will go back to normal when he lands in tokyo again. 

then, emma grabbed onto his arm. she begged him to keep everything a secret—to have the faintest sympathy towards her. if emma’s cheating schemes were exposed to the public, even her family’s wealth wouldn’t be enough to calm down the media. her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks had convinced him. while he might’ve been in love with a facade this whole time, he’d still experienced happiness. she’d kept him content and smiling for two years; keeping this a secret was the least he could do. 

however, if he was going to do this, she needed to agree to his conditions as well. peace was all he wanted and he’d set up the agreement with it in mind. 

back in the cafe, emma continued to insist on a false reality: “atsumu, honestly, i didn’t know!” 

he saw her tapping finger and felt something ugly and twisted wrap around his tattered heart. he felt regret for ever comparing you to her. clearly, you were far greater and more special than emma will ever be. he truly wished her the worst. 

“we’re finished here. i don’t ever want to see you again; i know how precious your reputation is to you.” he stood from his seat, his sudden action surprising the nearby weary staff members. “oh, and, stop with your stunts, they’re embarrassing. you should know better than to drag rin into this. he hates your guts as much as i do, maybe even more.” 

“what?” she craned her head upwards to stare at him. “but he always waves back when i see him in the studio. he… smiles sometimes too.” 

“here’s the nice thing about rin: he’s not an actor but he can still lie. did you know he tells us everything behind your back? he always has a good laugh, saying how stupid you are.”

“he—!” 

“go buy some acting classes with your dad’s money for god’s sake. you have so much at least put it to good use.”

atsumu didn’t wait to see her reaction. he left the cafe immediately, calling for a taxi home.

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

atsumu was able to hang out with osamu, rin, and omi when he got back to tokyo. however, he fell into long periods of stagnation afterwards, finding it difficult to stop thinking about emma and their previous life together. it ultimately led to his year long hiatus.

the cafe staff members were lowkey eavesdropping, but they were completely clueless about what was happening. they're just teenagers trying to get a paycheck, someone help them. all they knew was that the girl messed up and the blond guy was right (as they should!).

please join the emma hate group along with me, atsumu, jolie, and rin (there are probably more members we hate this girl)

emma actually fumbled. why would you cheat on atsumu in the first place, please!!

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: idk if my writing is inconsistent pls tell me if it is actually no actually yeah. hmmm anyways act 3 guys !!!

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface @azharyy @mimi3lover @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @dazball @whykirbo

#haikyuu smau series #smaus #social media au #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #hq smau #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x yn #haikyuu atsumu miya #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x yn #atsumu miya smau #actors au #celebrity au #romance

[cripplecharacters]

Hi there! I'm working on a modern supernatural story, and I've got a side character (the main character's best friend) who deals with chronic fatigue syndrome. He's a sweet, goofy, confident guy, and he has friends who are happy to change plans to accommodate him when he has flare-ups. They'll also help him out with chores or errands when he needs, with his consent. Naturally he gets bummed about his condition from time to time, but he's accepted that it's how he lives and with the help of therapy he's found ways to manage it. He also has plenty of hobbies and interests and grievances outside of his condition.

My question is this: I have a side-plot where the characters learn that a vampire has been feeding off him for weeks without his knowing, most likely using some kind of hypnotism. I'm wondering if the effects of consistent blood loss - fatigue, headaches, dizziness, etc - could reasonably be chalked up to a particularly bad CFS flare-up. Or would that be something where it's more likely he would notice the difference in severity of his symptoms and realize something else was wrong? Assuming the vampire can heal up any bite marks he leaves.

For the sake of clarity, he's had CFS most of his life and I'm taking care to avoid implying that it has anything to do with the vampire attacks. I'm just wondering if his symptoms would help hide the feedings or not.

Thank you!

The short answer: absolutely yes, this seems like it could be chalked up to a bad flare-up.

The long answer: I'm going to use the CDC's description of CFS/ME to lay out pretty exactly why it would work for both you and anyone wondering why exactly it would work.

A list of symptoms from the CDC has 3 core and 2 that you only need 1 out of 2 symptoms to have CFS.

Core: Lowered ability to do usual activities due to fatigue [that is not relieved by sleep/rest] that wouldn't have been an issue before illness

Core: Post-exertional malaise (PEM), which is a worsening of symptoms after physical or mental activity that wouldn't have been an issue before illness. Often described as a 'crash' and can include feeling dizzy, having difficulty thinking, headaches, or feeling ill. It can take days, months, or longer to recover from a crash and it's hard to predict how long a crash will last or what will cause it.

Core: Sleeping problesms; even a full night's sleep doesn't help symptoms much and might not help at all. Might have trouble falling or staying asleep.

Other: Problems with thinking and memory, like 'brain fog' or slowed thinking or trouble remembering things or paying attention.

Other: Orthostatic intolerance, meaning that symptoms can get worse while standing up. This can make people feel lightheaded, dizzy, weak or even faint.

I've bolded the symptoms on the list that match your stated symptoms of vampiric blood loss: "fatigue, headaches, dizziness, etc." and as you can see they match up pretty exactly!

Your character could perhaps do something that required a decent amount of mental or physical extertion, and perhaps it did or didn't cause a crash but at around the same time the vampire could have started to feed off of him. This might seem to prolong the 'crash' and your character might not think twice about it, just realize that they're feeling pretty miserable in a way not unknown to them.

I hope this helped!

PS, I really enjoy modern supernatural stories, and if you ever feel like sharing it I'd love to read this.

— Mod Sparrow

#chronic illness representation #chronic fatigue representation #mod sparrow #fantasy setting #anonymous

[undertheopensky]

Extinction

Whumptober Day 27: I misread Alt Prompt #7 Examination, so I guess this is now a Skies-specific prompt of Extinction. Though if you wanted to get poetic about it, I guess ‘Scars’ would also work.

Characters: Sky, Four, everyone’s kind of there especially in the first part

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, grief, dehumanisation, it makes sense in context

Read on Ao3!

–––

“No, see, wolves are to wolfos what unicorns are to horses,” Hyrule is explaining to a perplexed Wild. “And rabbits to a pols voice. Y’know, the non-monstery version.”

“Out of curiosity, what the fuck do you think a unicorn is?” Legend asks, visibly fascinated by the whole conversation.

Hyrule thinks for a moment. “I’m pretty sure it’s like a horse with fairy wings? That doesn’t want to kill you.”

“Okay, I think we need to introduce you to more horses than Twilight’s monster.”

“Oi!” Twilight protests, looking up from his leatherwork.

“Last week she stomped and then ate a deku baba,” Legend says flatly.

“So?”

“Oh my god,” Legend mutters. Then, as Time walks up, his patrol apparently finished, “Hey, old man! What’s a unicorn to you?”

“Horse with a horn,” he replies easily.

Wild wrinkles his nose, clearly struggling to imagine it. “What’s the horn for?”

“For stabbing people, obviously.”

“What?! No!” Indignant, Four looks up from his book. “They cleanse water and purify poisons! There are no legends associating them with the battlefield, except for one country that uses them as the heraldry device for medics!”

Time shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“No wings, then?” asks Hyrule, slightly crestfallen.

“Nah, that’s a pegasus,” says Warriors.

“Like the boots?” Legend squints at the wings on his own.

“I think so? It’s a horse with, like, bird wings. One of the noble families back home uses them in their heraldry. There’s a lot of mythical creatures on heraldry, actually.”

“Rabbits ain’t mythical,” says Twilight.

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“Wait, back up – what’s a rabbit?” says Wind.

“A non-monstery pols voice.”

Wind isn’t pleased with Hyrule’s answer. “And what the hell is a pols voice?”

“It’s like…” Hyrule is stumped by the question. “It’s like… a, a blob with whiskers and long ears, except then it opens its mouth and it’s ALL mouth, and all teeth, and –”

“Oh, those! Huh, I never knew what they were called. I only came across ‘em once. And a rabbit is…”

“Smaller and less evil,” says Legend dryly, which which for some reason makes Twilight sputter with choked laughter.

“Oh, yeah - Sky,” Hyrule turns around to address him, “Sky, you’re the earliest -”

“I have never seen a unicorn,” Sky interrupts. “And I’m not sure what a rabbit is, but there’s a lot of flora and fauna on the Surface we’re still struggling to figure out, and I haven’t seen much of it that’s familiar while travelling with you. Things must change a lot through the eras.” He feels his face fall as his heart does. “Like loftwings, I guess.”

“What are loftwings, anyway? You’ve mentioned them before.”

Sky’s brow furrows. “Have I not explained loftwings yet?”

“You got partway through and then we were attacked by those chuchus and got distracted,” Wild offers.

Sky pulls a face. Right, and then cleanup had taken forever, because chuchus. Of all monster species, why were those ones so universal? They were barely even functional! “Okay. Loftwings are… huge birds, I guess is the easiest way to describe them. Each Hylian gets a loftwing partner when we’re young, and we grow up together. It’s - everyone has one. It’s been really weird to me that none of your eras have them. Since we’re on an isolated series of islands - or, well, we were - loftwings are essential to carry us from place to place.”

“They carry you? How big are they?”

“Pretty big.” Sky squints for a moment. “Crimson’s wingspan would stretch between that log and where Twilight’s sitting, easy.”

“Giant birds?” Wind screws up his face. “Like the Helmaroc King? Don’t like that.”

It’s Hyrule’s turn to make a face. “What’s a helmaroc king?”

Wind shrugs. “Massive bird monster. Oh, hey, maybe that’s what happened to Loftwings?”

“Hm?” Sky blinks back from where he’d been imagining Crimson sitting between Twilight and Warriors, sneakily tugging the captain’s scarf whenever he looked away. Goddess, he misses him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You said it was weird that they don’t exist in any of our eras, right? Maybe it’s because they turned into monsters over time, like wolves and rabbits!”

Sky doesn’t know what noise he makes at that, doesn’t know what his face is doing. He feels cold, and sick, and horrified, because no no no that can’t be what happened please tell him that’s not what happened -

But why did the loftwings disappear? Left behind only in heraldry and insignia, not even their names left to history? How could they have been forgotten so completely?

“No,” he chokes out, “no, that can’t be. Loftwings aren’t monsters.”

“But sometimes animals can become monsters when they’re exposed to lots of dark magic over many years, like with wolfos. It would make sense why we’ve never heard of them, right, if they all became, like, kargarocs or something.”

The voices of the others die away to an indistinct hum. Sky thinks he should be concerned about that, except he’s already occupied with the sudden chill against his skin, the way his heart feels simultaneously too large and too small for the space it occupies, straining and racing, the way his lungs burn when he tries to breathe and ache when he doesn’t.

His head hurts.

His heart hurts.

Slowly, the buzzing fades.

“If we find a unicorn, do you think we can smuggle it back to my Hyrule?” Hyrule is asking.

“The hell do you want one of them for?”

“If they can really purify water, then –”

They’ve moved on from the conversational bomb that had rocked Sky to his foundations. Accepted the explanation without comment or question. To them, it’s just another strange fact about the world, like the way monsters in Wild’s Hyrule will all spring back to life when the moon turns red, or that there’s magic trapped in music. Over time, animals can turn into monsters.

And Sky just – doesn’t know how, doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain to them that loftwings aren’t animals – they’re people.

(He’s never had to explain it before. On Skyloft, everyone knows this, from the smallest child to the most forgetful elder: loftwings are your partner, the other half of your soul. They’re people.

When they can’t even understand that much, how does he even begin to explain how horrifying it is to think of them becoming nothing more than monsters, over the millenia?)

–––

Maybe this time, Sky thinks. Maybe this time the portal will take them home.

To his home, at least. He’s never been away so long before. And his jaunts to the Surface had in no way prepared him for the loneliness of being eras and countries away from his friends and his family and his loftwing. And maybe - maybe with it all close to hand, the feelings at his fingertips - he’ll be able to explain it better to the others. Explain it so they’ll understand.

The saturated colours and faint burr of magic through the earth raise his hopes briefly, but - no. This isn’t Skyloft. Isn’t even the Surface beneath it. It’s - it’s easier to define it by what it isn’t. The Surface has lain untouched by Hylian hands for centuries, ancient and wild. This place - it feels tamer. Steadier. Young, almost, but not in the sense of age - in the sense of, of rawness in its magic. It feels new.

And for all that - he knows the days of Skyloft and her Knights are long behind this place.

“Mine,” announces Four, unknowingly confirming Sky’s thoughts. “We’re not far from Lake Hylia, from the looks of it. Anyone wanna watch Wild go fishing again?”

“Hell yeah!” Wind cheers immediately, over Twilight’s groan of frustration.

“Cub, really -”

Wild brightens. “We should compete! See who can catch the most fish for dinner!”

“Now that’s jus’ not fair, Wild, yer explosions will scare off any fish they don’t kill -”

Always happy to stir the pot, Legend says, “Sounds like a skill issue,” and grins at Twilight’s dark look.

Sitting at the base of a tree - or slumping, more accurately - Sky watches their antics with a quiet gaze and no interest in joining in himself.

He’d known it wasn’t likely. The number of times they’ve gone to a familiar Hyrule are far outnumbered by the times no one can identify, and even then, there’s eight other time periods they could land in. He can’t help the disappointment, is all.

Is this what homesickness feels like?

It kinda sucks. No wonder Wind was so miserable.

He’s drawn from contemplating the pooling unhappiness under his ribcage by Four inching closer, hands tucked behind his back. He looks - nervous. Not like he’s going to try to drag him into the water fight now happening on the lake’s shore, at least. Just uncertain. The smile Sky musters for him is probably not a very good one. “Something up, Four?”

“I, um.” Four rocks on his heels, looking almost uncertain. “I… wanted to show you. Something.”

Sky doesn’t actually want to be left alone with his thoughts, so he nods agreeably and hauls himself to his feet. “Lead the way, then.”

Four takes him far enough into the forest that the shouts and laughter and echoes of Wild’s small explosions fade entirely, before choosing a wide clearing to pause in. “I, um.” Four spins, clasping his hands behind his back again. “I noticed that you - well. When the others were talking about loftwings the other day. You got really upset when they were talking about them becoming monsters, or going extinct.”

Ice shoots through Sky’s heart, freezes over his throat for one critical moment. “Yeah,” he finally rasps. “I don’t - it’s - they don’t -”

Four shakes his head. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it. I just wanted to show you -” He fumbles with his pouch, pulls out a child-sized ocarina that’s not quite too small for his hands.

The tune he plays sounds almost like a birdcall.

It’s pleasant, if mournful. Sweet-toned and piping like wind instruments tend to be. Sky wonders why Four had moved them so far away just to play him a short song, and then -

Wingbeats. Loud and unmistakeable.

He startles and looks up as a shadow passes overhead - a shadow too large to be any of the birds of Four’s era - and all he can see is a half-silhouette framed in the sun, but his heart leaps at the familiarity.

And when they land -

A loftwing.

Small, but distinctive: the beak broad and long and golden, the curl of their crest and their tail. Pure white, save the bars of colour across the feathertips - Sky’s never seen one like them and he’s never been so relieved.

“Her name is Zeffa,” Four says, from where he’s half-wrapped around the loftwing’s neck in a hug.

“You never told me you had a loftwing,” Sky breathes, stepping forward to greet them - to greet her, as she reaches out in curious welcome.

Four shrugs, feathers ruffling against his back. “I never knew what they were called. She was always just Zeffa, to me. She came to me when I was eight, in the middle of my first adventure. She saved my life,” he adds, snuggling his face into the side of hers as she ducks down and croons at him.

Sky takes the opportunity to look her over more closely. Definitely smaller than average, but with Four as her rider they’re perfectly proportioned. Her feathers are all clean white, no countershading or freckles or markings except the traditional wing bars, the gold fringed by something he’s never seen before. He’d thought it was a simple deep blue at first but it keeps changing colour as Zeffa shifts and the light hits it in different ways. Green one way, red another; a rainbow trapped in keratin fibre.

Sky can feel the grin creeping across his face; wouldn’t dream of trying to stop. “She suits you.”

Four grins back. He looks so comfortable, standing in the shade of Zeffa’s beak and leaning up against her. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Her mind is different to Crimson’s, all shades of cool water instead of open sky and cloud, but it’s still crystal clear. Greetings, Chosen Hero.

“Been a while since I heard that one.” Been a while since he’d last spoken with a loftwing, for that matter; he hopes he’s not rusty. Hopes she can sense his delight and fondness and gratitude, for the care she shows to Four.

She clacks her beak at him, pleased.

“Do all the loftwings call you that?” Four asks, riveted, and Sky’s heart swells at the knowledge that Four can hear her too.

“Usually just the ones who don’t know me personally, or the ones who are making fun of me.” He steps closer, with her approval.

The top of her head barely clears his own. Taking that into account, Sky thinks her beak is a little smaller, too. She smells of feathers and ozone and rain. She smells like home.

“So loftwings do still exist.”

She regards him with something like sorrow, and his heart drops.

I am the last.

I was born towards the end of your reign; the last true loftwing born to Skyloft. And I knew even then that I would be waiting a long time for my beloved. I was born knowing it.

You grieved that, even then. I was too young to tell you, but I will say now, in hopes you will remember: I do not regret the waiting. They were worth waiting for. She tugs Four’s headband playfully, making him shout in protest when it slips over his eyes.

“How long did you have to wait?” Sky whispers, heart aching. Even if she says - he knows it’s a long, long time between Four’s era and his own.

She shrugs, wings settling back against her sides. Who can say? What is time, and how does it pass? Is it truly waiting, to simply live?

And oh, her personality is shining through - mischief hidden under patience, the glee of being deliberately and annoyingly cryptic. No wonder Four didn’t know what she was. Every attempt to ask was probably met with a riddle until he gave up. Sky finds himself smiling again. Even though it hurts. “You still had to be alone, and for that, I’m sorry.”

There is no fault to claim. All things change. From the kikwi to the zora - as the world changes, all must change with it, or be left behind. She runs her beak through his hair, an attempt at comfort.

Sky buries his face in the side of her neck.

I am the last. But do not grieve us.

Four tugs on his sleeve, breaking the focus of his connection. “C’mon, I wanna - I’ve still got something to show you, Zeffa’s not all of it.”

Sky glances back towards the lake. “Is it far?” They’ve been gone long enough as it is, really, and he doesn’t want the others wasting their time searching for them in a panic.

Four shrugs. “It’s fine. I told Time where we’d be going. C’mon, hop on, it’s not far by air but I wouldn’t wanna walk.” He follows his own advice, clambering up Zeffa’s side with ease and sitting across her shoulders, legs in front of her wings. He doesn’t even seem to notice the lack of saddle.

Why would he? Sky thinks with another pang. Loftwing saddlers haven’t been needed for centuries. Does Four even know they existed? “Are you sure she can carry us both? I’m pretty heavy.”

Four looks offended on Zeffa’s behalf. “She’s not that small! And she’s taken multiple people before!”

I will be fine, your majesty. Zeffa clacks at him, amused.

Sky deliberately does not pay attention to that last part. “If you’re sure I won’t hurt her…”

“You won’t,” says Four, and he’s so confident with him that Sky believes him.

There’s nowhere to jump from so like Four he mounts up on the ground, Four in front and Sky behind. It makes him nervous, riding without a saddle - not because he thinks he’ll fall off, but because what if he hurts her? Crushes her feathers the wrong way, clamps down too tight without leather to buffer the force? And is Four sure she can take off from here, getting airborne is hard enough without carrying so much extra weight -

She turns her head to laugh at him with one large, dark eye.

Her wings spread wide. They’re beautiful in the sunlight, red and green flashing at the edges of her primaries. There’s even some purple in the shadows closest to her body, all four of Four’s tunic colours shining through her wings. Goddess, she fits him so beautifully.

Two steps and a powerful wingbeat and then the air is rushing up around them, catching them like they were already falling, and they’re in the air. It can only have been magic but Sky doesn’t know where it came from; can’t bring himself to care, when the forest is getting smaller and blurrier under their feet and the wind is streaming ice-cold against his face and neck and ears.

Goddess, he’s missed this.

The sky looks so much more beautiful from up here; the clouds like they could be solid enough to walk on (though he knows that’s not true). Laid out beneath them is the kingdom, in lines and squares and patches of colour, abstract and strange. Could he draw a map of this, Sky wonders? Could he figure out where things used to be, if he can find the right landmarks?

Four grins at him over his shoulder, delighted by Sky’s happiness.

True to Four’s word, they’re not in the air long before Zeffa is banking, beginning a descent that for the first time in years makes a pang of disappointment rise in Sky’s gut. Goddess, he wants to go home.

Four lets him jump off when they get close, but doesn’t follow. Sky has a moment of panic before remembering Four definitely has a gliding item, he’s not trapped up there, and then Zeffa’s actually landing with the Hero of the Four Sword still perched on her back. There’s another blast of definitely wind magic as she touches down, cushioning what might otherwise have been a heavy landing. That explains it. Does that happen every time? Is it something Zeffa learned, since there are no sky islands to jump off of here? He’ll have to ask her, later.

“Where are we?” Sky says as Four swings off the loftwing’s back. The ruins they landed in are ancient and unfamiliar, but he thinks - he can almost understand the text carved into stone, if he tilts his head and squints. He doesn’t know this place - it just - echoes, somehow.

“The Fortress of Winds,” Four says. He hasn’t moved from the centre platform, still pressed up against Zeffa as he watches Sky move around. “This is where I first met Zeffa.”

“Uh huh?” Sky’s listening, he swears, but there’s something about the letters on this stone tablet, almost but not-quite the same as his own. If he squints just a little - no, maybe this way -?

Four comes over to tug on his sleeve again. “C’mere, I think you’re moving too much.”

They both sit in the shade thrown by Zeffa, as she spreads her wings to sunbathe.

“Are we waiting for something?”

“Shhhh,” is all Four says in response.

Sky gives up and settles in. With Zeffa’s wing breaking the worst of the wind, and her dusty feather-smell surrounding him, Sky’s the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

Then he starts to hear something.

High-pitched chitters and whistles, the beating of small wings. Four had said there were no monsters left in the fortress, but that sure sounded like keese to Sky. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he turns his head to peer around the edge of Zeffa’s wing.

His heart leaps into his throat and stays there.

Birds. Brightly coloured, greens and blues and oranges, perching on the rockwork and hopping around the lichen-covered floor.

Their beaks are short and sharply curved. They’ve lost the long, flexible tails that streamed out behind them in flight, replaced by a fan of feathers that seems impractically small. The feather banding is missing, the white and gold of the goddess and the contrasting partner flashings.

And of course, they’re tiny. Small enough to sit on an outstretched arm; the smallest could sit on his hand.

But the crests are still there, three wispy, curling feathers on the back of the skull that flex and stretch as they chatter amongst themselves. There’s still a flash of intelligence in their small, dark eyes. The nearest hops closer and chirps in greeting, and he feels a press of joy! and welcome! and sneaky, mischievous play? Play! Play with us!

Sky doesn’t realise he’s crying until the tears spill over in hot rivers. Four shoots him a worried look.

“They’re still here,” he chokes out, and smiles.

After everything, the loftwings are still here.

#whumptober 2023 #skies writes #linked universe #lu fic #lu sky #lu four